THE Sailing Day of the Trip

So, two days out from being over and done with this summer-long journey, we wind up having what may have been the best day sailing so far.

It started with the fresh breeze out of Lerwick, which persisted south of the Shetlands. And contrary to forecasts — not that they’ve been right once this summer — the winds persisted through the course of my 6-9pm watch.

We maintained an eight- to 10-knot speed for the three-hour run, and though the Finns were, let’s call them “directionally challenged” at the helm, we made a good, 25-plus-mile run. The sun went down in a blaze of pink cirrus clouds as the waxing gibbous moon rose in the southeast. And by the time we went off watch, we’d reached Duncansby Head, the northern tip of the mainland of Scotland. Even the Finns weren’t scowling as much as usual.

On top of that, we even had a fly-by by a tall ship. The three-masted behemoth, with sails flying from all the yardarms, appeared on the southwest horizon as an amorphous shape — an island where there wasn’t supposed to be one. As it grew bigger and began to take shape, we could see the brilliant white canvas driving the ship downwind to the northeast. And as she moved past our stern, the lowering sun brightened the fields of canvas into a mirage, an image from a bygone era: a lone tall sailing ship plying a foamy, spray-soaked sea beneath a cloud-streaked sky that spoke of rain to come.

The ship disappeared into the haze on the horizon, as anonymously as it had appeared. Norway’s tall ship headed home after a summer abroad? Seems a likely bet.

Our 3-6am watch that followed was, however, a tad anticlimatic as we came topside amid a field of North Sea oil platforms, ships servicing the platforms and a now-lessened wind that had us full-on motoring to the south. The lights from the plaforms were such that it felt like we’d gone to sleep in the middle of the wilderness and awakened in the middle of Times Square. On top of that, the flames spewing from the tops of the oil rigs recalled nothing more than the drive through the environs of Elizabeth, New Jersey.

Oh well. ‘Twas great while it lasted. In all, we covered about 176 miles in the 24 hours after leaving Lerwick. Now we’re still full-on motoring but the wind has swung through our bow and is now coming from the southeast and building. My watch team is about to go on duty at 2pm, a watch that will run through 4pm. I’m hopeful that we’ll be able to roll out the yankee headsail and maybe get our speed back up into the eights and nines (we’re in the mid-sevens right now), and maybe even get in a bit of steering. Yes, with the Finns at the wheel we’ll cover more ground than if we let the autopilot keep us on the straight and narrow. But if it placates them even a little bit, it’ll be worth it.

Two watches to go, in all likelihood: 2-6pm and then 12midnight-3am. We should be nearing the River Tyne around 10am, the time we’re supposed to be on next, which means everyone will be on deck and Boogie will be at the wheel. The countdown continues…

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Down The Homestretch They Come

And of course, since the trip is almost over, the sailing conditions are now spectacular.

We left Lerwick this morning amid a nice westerly breeze. The island being to our west, that meant that the wind was moving us along nicely but the seas remained calm. And move along nicely we did: we were over 10 knots for a good chunk of the run south along Mainland Shetland, as it’s known.

Now we’re out from under the southern tip of the island, exposed to the open ocean to the west. And though the seas are rough and rolly, the sailing is still spectacular.

I should say “motorsailing” as opposed to “sailing” because we’ve left the engine running, which is giving the wind, and us, a bit of help. While the droning of the damned diesel usually annoys the hell out of me, not this time. For one thing, with the engine going, we’re setting a torrid pace for our return to Newcastle and the completion of this trip. And for another, I like going fast so that little extra oomph is a kick in the pants after a summer of plodding along at five knots.

We’re in the mid-nine-knot range now and the sun is shining and the sea is shimmering. We’re on a close haul — we’re sailing close to the wind — so the spray is cascading over the bow at times, exploding in a million diamond-bright droplets in the brilliant sunshine. The diamond stardust hangs in the air for an instant and then falls back toward the boat, where it gathers into rivers of crystal-clear water that course aft along the decks and back into the sea. And then Polar Bear surges into the next wave and the cycle is repeated.

I’m below in an empty saloon, heating up the chili that I cooked for yesterday’s dinner — a dinner we all instead decided to eat ashore in Lerwick (as I knew we would). But it was my watch’s turn to cook so cook we did and now it’ll be ready for this evening. Maybe. Because we’re close-hauled, the boat is at a nice, steep 45-degree angle. Yes, the gimbaled stove keeps the big stew pot mostly level, but it didn’t stop a lurch a few moments ago from launching the lid of the pot across the galley. I’ll get this stuff cooked (though truth be told: it’s not my preferred chili; I’m forbidden from giving it any bite like my normal recipe because apparently not everyone likes spicy food); it will be interesting to see how many brave the boat’s heel and the rollercoaster ride to sample the fare.

My watch goes on at 6pm and we’ll be topside until 9 (well, we’ll see if the Finnish sourpuss is up there the whole time; if he gets to steer a lot, he just might). The wind over that period is forecast to ease a bit, and by the end of that stretch we should be nearing the coast of mainland Scotland, which should mean calmer seas. And then we’ll head south along the coast in ever-slower winds, winds that are also supposed to move forward and be right on the nose for the final day’s run into Newcastle.

But for now, it’s a great ride. Strap in, hang on and enjoy!

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And Still More Positive Vibrations

We’ve made the turn into Yell Sound and wow! Easily the best sailing of the summer so far. Talk about last-minute redemption.

The wind that had been on our starboard quarter is now solidly on our beam, and here in the lee of the outer shores of the mainland island of Shetland the water has calmed. But the wind is still running in the 20s and Polar Bear is reveling in the conditions, reaching along at nine-plus knots under bright sunshine. With the engine and generator off, the only sound is the wind in the rigging and the water racing along the hull; these are the conditions that make even die-hard powerboaters and landlubbers come to enjoy (if not love) sailing.

Boogie is letting each of the guests have a turn on the helm, trying to make hay — or sailing time — while the sun shines, so to speak. Even the Finnish sourpuss seems to be enjoying this run through Yell Sound.

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