Puerto Rico or Bust

Day 1:

So we got up today and headed out from Grand Turk. Still seems a bit breezy to me, but hopefully once we get away from the island it will be better.

We had a nice wind angle as we passed to the west of Grand Turk so we put the sails up and off we went. We had a wonderful send off by some of our familiar friends

Once we got to the north of the island and started heading out, my hopes and dreams of gentler seas were crushed. We were taking 20 knot winds on the nose and headed straight into 5-7 ft seas. It was exhausting just trying to stay upgright. We motor sailed for several hours as we didn't have a good enough wind angle to sail without the motors. Mike and I decided to break up the days on watch into 6 hour increments. He took the rest of the day, until 1800, then I took the 1800-0000 watch. The main thing I can say about the night's watch.....it was miserable. The winds were supposed to decrease throughout the day, but they never did. What they did do, however, was change directions.....several times. The thing about the wind here, it comes from the east, and varies from ENE to ESE. Our boat will not sail into the wind at an angle any less than 60 degrees, so trying to make our way SE from Florida to Curacao has been a challenge, especially today.

Shortly after my watch started the wind changed directions such that we could sail, which meant we would pick up speed. While normally that's a good thing, not so much today. With the sea state what it was with the swell and wind chop, I wanted to keep the speed under control to minimize slamming. This meant constantly adjusting the auto pilot to keep us at an angle that allows us to sail, but doesn't increase our speed. The miserable part came once darkness set in. It's one thing to be able too see the waves coming and brace for them or turn the boat to take them easier. But at night that's not the case. I was white knuckled all night at the helm as we repeatedly plunged into the ocean depths with each wave, slamming at the bottom. The boat screaming as if it's being ripped apart. I couldn't wait for midnight to come, when Mike would take over and I could go bury my head in my pillows and wait for sleep to take me to dream land.

Day 2:

The next day I woke to calmer seas and lighter winds, with a sense of great relief. We had reached the point where it was time for us to turn south. The winds weren't behaving as predicted and we found ourselves once again having to motor sail. At least today we could allow New L'attitude some room to fly. For the most part the day was uneventful. A welcome change from the previous day. As the day went on, the winds remained light to moderate and seas relatively calm.

The night began no differently. Tonight I was met by the moon, lighting the path ahead. It was beautiful.

What began as a perfectly lovely night suddenly took a turn. I was on the fly bridge in my beanbag chair enjoying the moon light and scanning the horizon for other boats and ships, when suddenly the boat stopped and whipped around, taking the wind on the beam. This is not a favorable position to be in. 😳

I had lost rudder control. I had no steering. I was not at all prepared for this. I called to Mike for assistance. I quickly started the second engine and dropped the sails. Somehow our rudders were fouled, most likely by something we ran over. We were finally able to clear them and get steering back. We were back in business. I got the sails back up and resumed our course.

Once I got settled I scanned the horizon.....a squall! In the darkness it's hard to tell how big the squall is, so I assumed it was big. Once again I dropped the sails, since I had the time. I passed through the squall, with no ill effect, just a little wet. "Well, I guess I'll put the sails back up". I started to hoist the main sail, but somehow the reef lines were hanging up on something on the back of the boom. With the passing squalls the sea had become very soupy and confused. So I certainly wasn't about to climb up there and figure out how to unfoul the lines in the dark, in these sea conditions, without Mike being close by. So I dropped the sail and left it down. I set the speed and the course on the autopilot, sat back and accepted defeat. Tomorrow will be another day.

Day 3:

The day was very similar to yesterday, light to moderate winds, 2-4 ft seas, scattered clouds, slight chance of squalls. The main thing we had to deal with today, was the sargassum weed. This area is called the Sargasso Sea. Blankets of sargassum weed thousands of square miles extend from the west coast of Africa to the Caribbean. It's a real problem for mariners.

https://www.seaweed.ie/sargassum/sargasso.php#:~:text=Sargassum%20is%20a%20brown%20algae,known%20as%20the%20Sargasso%20Sea.

During the day, you can see and try to avoid these yellow/brown patches littering the ocean.

But at night, it's impossible to see it. Remember how i lost steering last night. I probably ran over a large blanket of this and it got wedged in the rudders.

Again the afternoon brings a change in wind direction and an increased chance of squall activity. Once again we are able set the sails and make good time. The seas have also kicked up. And still there's that prospect of even lighter winds to come.

Once again, it's time for my watch. The skies are filled with turmoil, a sure sign it's going to be a long night. Mike and I decide to go ahead and put 2 reefs in the main sail. Turns out to be a very wise decision. I donned my life jacket and harness and assumed my place at the helm, ready for battle. As we headed into the night, our path illuminated by the light of the moon, my opponents waited for me off on the horizon. One after another I faced my rivals, as they desperately tried to blow New L'attitude off course and drown her with rain. But I was ready. I decreased the size of the Genoa to mimic a storm sail and let some of the wind out of the main sail. I used the size of the head sail to manage my speed as the wind changed directions, then changed again. If I wasn't paying attention my speed would quickly bounce up to 8 knots, allowing the sea to pummel New L'attitude. The sea and our boat were in a battle of their own. With every passing wave, Mother Nature would strike as if offended by our presence, and I would hear New L'attitude moan in agony with each gut wrenching blow. I'm convinced she's trying to kill New L'attitude. But neither of us would give up and together we passed through the gauntlet before us and came out victorious on the other side.

Finally, the skies before me have cleared and the winds have become manageable. It is now time for my watch to end and for sleep to welcome and comfort me.

Day 4:

I am completely and utterly exhausted. Three nights of battle has taken its toll. Every muscle and joint in my body aches, my head pounds. I am weary. I am not ready to take on another day. And I do not want to see Mother Nature. She bothers me, they way she lingers, looming. The way she breathes irritates me. But I will get out of bed and face her.

She greets me with a smile, as though she's no longer offended by our presence. The winds have calmed considerably and the seas have subsided. The tilt a whirl I have been on for four days is finally slowing. Today we will reach land and I am grateful.

At 1445 we see her, Puerto Rico finally shows herself. Thirty six more miles.

The day has been uneventful, and that made me happy. Winds have been calm and the seas have been light. The skies, however, have been threatening. Ahead, just off of Puerto Rico there is a large squall line.

As if on cue, the rains quit just in time for us to pass. What a blessing.

As we approached the island we made our way to Mona pass, as we will anchor on the west side in Puerto Real. As we entered the pass, the sea was flat and we were welcomed with a shower that washed away the wounds of our battle and refreshed our spirit. Darkness approached and a large beautiful moon rose in the east. We would have good light to show us the way to our anchorage.

We finally made it. The moment I have been longing for, dropping the anchor. Around 2300 we were finally stationary. Mike and I celebrated with a shot and a good night sleep. Our journey is finally complete. There is a great sense of accomplishment and pride The journey was difficult and at times I wasn't sure if I could make it, or if I even wanted to anymore. But I will go on and I am looking forward to it, because I am different now. I am a sailor