[Greyhawkupdates] Through the Gulf Stream

[Tim Allen GREYHAWK]

Just as we were in the max current of the Gulf Stream, 81F water moving at 4 knots or more to the ENE, we encountered one of the Gulf Stream's infamous thunder squalls. Boy oh Boy was it impressive. Raining buckets, and  I mean buckets. Lightning all around (fortunately we didn't take a strike). Winds gusting up to 35 or more knots. We struggled to get the sails in but keep the boat moving. We can't stay on course and bear off to the east a bit. Eventually the wind settles down, the lightning and thunder fade away, slowly the rain diminishes. This squall appears to be associated with a frontal boundary sweeping around the Low that was dragging with it all the SW and SSW winds we've had for the last day or two. Now the wind has shifted to NW, and we adjust our course and sails for it, continuing to make tracks for Newport. But as we sail on, the wind veers back SW. 

We have clearly sailed out of the Gulf Stream, over the north wall, big decline in temperature to 72F. The seas have flattened out significantly. We have picked up another positive current this time from the cold-core eddy that is north of the stream. With the moderate winds from just abaft the beam, we decide to try a spinnaker. Up it goes, but our increased speed brings the apparent wind forward and we can't keep our course to Newport, so we bear off a bit -- the forecast has the winds shifting to NE so moving more easterly should be OK. With the spinnaker up, we follow the wind around, making good speed but getting progressively farther from our desired course. The winds have been clocking ahead. So we drop the chute, and set off close-hauled on port tack back more or less on course. The winds continue to clock around, and again we end up sailing progressively further east from our desired course. I have just made dinner, and I would like Wendy to have a chance to eat her share while it is still hot. I take the tiller but realize that we really need to tack. Eat fast Wen. She says let just do it, it won't take long to tack, and puts her dish down. We tack, she takes a few more bites, but now the wind has filled in fairly strongly. We need to trim the outhaul, backstay, halyards. Wendy decides she has had enough to eat and takes the tiller so I can do all the trimming. The true wind speed is only 14 or 15 knots, but we are close hauled and moving fast with this current, so the apparent wind speed is much higher, and the rail is in the water.  We decide to put a reef in the main. The boat is still sailing on her ear, but we are making good speed. Wendy goes below, she has not had a nap all day. But within the hour, the wind has picked up to 18 or so. I decide to set up the inner forestay and staysail just in case. I tell Wendy my plan, and that she doesn't have to get up, but she decides she needs to watch to make sure I don't get washed off the foredeck.The foredeck light goes on (it's dark now) and I crawl up there with both long and short tethers clipped, brace my feet against the toe rail and spinnaker pole, loop my arm through the bow pulpit, and struggle to get the inner forestay lined up, pinned, and the hyfield lever thrown, while getting doused with each wave crashing over the bow. I crawl back and ask Wendy to send up the staysail. I crawl forward again and somehow get the sail out of its bag, hanked on to the stay, and tied off to the lifelines, without it or me getting washed off the deck. I crawl back. The next thing I need are the sheets. I  crawl forward with those, get them tied off and lead through the blocks, but by now the wind has eased back to 14 or 15  -- after all that work! -- so we leave the staysail lashed down and continue on under genoa. Wendy goes back to bed, although she complains of having trouble falling to sleep -- she's not comfortable with the boat being so much on its ear, the bashing to weather jumping through the waves like a flying fish, all the strange creaking and whining noises...

As I stand watch, the wind eventually picks up to 18+ again, so I crawl forward to clip the halyard to the staysail and remove the sail ties. Crawl back and roll in the genoa, hoist the staysail, get it trimmed, and we're off again still moving very fast, but not quite so much on our ear. Wendy is able to sleep. The wind varies from 18 to 22 -- if it goes higher I contemplate puttng a second reef in the main, but we're OK for now, and making tracks -- our WCV is generally well over 7 knots! Let's see, about 230 miles to go, at 7 knots, we'll be in Newport in no time -- if this keeps up... It does through most of the night. But it is wet and cold. Wendy doesn't want to go up. I tell her to stay in bed, I  am already all wet, I've got it covered.There's nothing to do but periodically check that we're on course and that the telltales are flying. Occasionally I punch the autopilot up or down a few degrees to keep us on the shortest path to Newport. Our success in playing the Gulf Stream currents and pressing the sail has put us a few miles ahead of Aggressive (our competition), and we want to stay there, stretch it out if we can.  I cuddle up in a corner of the cockpit trying to get out of the wind, but I just get wetter. I go below and put on more layers. Still I can't keep warm. I finally settle on going below and standing by the ladder, periodically sliding the hatch and popping my head up. Sitting on the companionway sill with the hatch slid closed into my lap isn't too too bad, it's just my shoulders and head that are exposed. I am envious of boats with dodgers. Heck, some coamings to keep the water from sluicing into the cockpit would be nice, too. It is getting light to the east, dawn will soon be upon us. The wind is easing a bit. Finally, I tell Wendy, it's your turn -- it's getting light and is not so scary anymore. She suits up and comes up. I go below and strip off all my wet gear,  jump into the bunk, pull a blanket over myself and fall asleep.

Two hours later, Wendy calls me up -- she is trying to shake the reef in the main and can't get it to go up. I struggle out of bed, and pop up in the companionway to grind the winch for her. I see that she has already rolled out the genoa and struck the staysail. The reason the sail won't go up is because both reefing lines were pulled in and so both clutches need to be opened. I grind, Wendy tails, and the sail goes up. Wendy thanks me, not just for helping shake the reef.

I am up, so I download the latest position report and weather files. Aggressive is only a mile or so behind! The winds are going to get light and shifty as the day goes on, and when we eventually finish this race it will probably be on the opposite tack. Cordelia is well ahead, but her speed suggests that she may already be experiencing the coming light conditions. OK, well the computer is open and I've got the sat phone hooked up, so why don't I finish writing the update I had started yesterday? And so here we are. We can see Aggressive off our port quarter -- the first time that we have seen another boat in the race for days (we did encounter a boat with the Marion to Bermuda race, and I saw a few others on the AIS as well that I recognized from having raced against them in the Lobster Run last year). As the wind gets lighter, I don't know if we can still call this a drag race to the finish, but we will have to work hard to keep the boat moving and on course to stay ahead. We still have a long way to go -- 159 miles or so -- another night at least, but hopefully we'll finish sometime on Tuesday (fingers crossed).

Tim and Wendy on GREYHAWK

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