carina2011

After 235 days at sea and more that 40,000 nautical miles Carina and her crew (Walker, L Rives, and Allen) returned to a fog covered New England on May 25th.  Our 5 day trip up the east coast was quite pleasant, despite lightning every night, busy shipping lanes and our only waterspout of the trip.  Pulling into Pilots Point we were greeted by Rives Potts and other Pilots Point employees,who were happy to see Carina back in one piece in her regular berth.  This leaves us a little over 2 weeks until the Newport Bermuda Race start on June 15th, however, Carina will be competing in the New York Yacht Club Annual Regatta on June 6th,7th, and 8th.  Great to be back in the United States!![

]

Quick stop in the Virgin Islands

Although we all felt like we had been on the home stretch since leaving St. Helena nearly a month ago, it wasn’t until May 4^th that we set eyes on Antigua and we finally felt as though our last major leg was behind us.  After a stop of less than 4 hours to fuel up and grab a bite to eat, we set off on the shortest leg of the entire trip – 180 miles to St. Thomas in the Virgin Islands.  Looking at our GPS screen and seeing ourselves within range of so many islands was a great change of pace.  To be back inside the sheltered waters of the Caribbean Sea was almost therapeutic, and we felt like finally we could take a deep breath after so many days of continuous open ocean.  The one day push from Antigua to St. Thomas was nice and uneventful, with calm seas and a few fish biting.

Here in the islands we’ve enjoyed a ticking off the few little jobs on the boat while anchored out at Peter Island, where we could snorkel, fish, and bbq on the beach with a few good friends in one of our favourite spots on earth.  The time down here has been a bit bittersweet though, as our faithful companion since Australia, Kit Will, left us to take care of some things back home, and Jeremiah has also hopped off here to pursue another great opportunity now that he’s crossed his own track sailing around the world on Carina over the last 9 months.  We were also happy to join up with Owen, who was on board from England to Panama and is now running a charter boat down here.  The reunion of Carina veterans was completed with Allen flying in, which will make the last two legs of this trip an even more family affair, with the trifecta of two brothers and a cousin!

We’re leaving tonight with a great breeze out of the ESE, and expecting to make Charleston in 6 days.  Wednesday at the City Marina should be a great time for anyone who can make it down there on the afternoon of the 16^th!

After nine repetitive days at sea following our departure from St. Helena Island in the South Atlantic, we were eager to reach the Equator – a major milestone of progress on this 4,000 mile leg across the Atlantic, and the first holiday in Carina’s holiday season (Rives’s birthday coming up on April 24).  This crossing would mark Carina’s re-entry into the Northern Hemisphere after nearly 7 months south of the belt and what for us on board feels like the beginning of the home stretch.  Over the past week, the temperature had been steadily increasing to the point where almost no amount of shade or buckets over the head could provide relief, and living on the sun-seared deck of Carina conditions would be unbearable if it weren’t for the minor respite of the light breeze.  We had all had surrendered to a pattern of stagnancy to avoid the inevitable onset of profuse sweating – moving only when necessary, reading lots and chasing shade, trying to drink enough water to keep up with the rate at which we sweat it out.  In addition to the heat, we were all concerned that Kit might be forgetting how to interact with other people after his week-long binge-reading bender, hardly coming up for air.  We hadn’t heard him speak in days.  Only the epic battle to bring in the Granddaddy Marlin on the 20^th had snapped us out of the quassi sun-comas into which we had been slowly lulled by a week of tedium, and we were ready for an excuse to break the monotony and celebrate Carina’s second Equator crossing of the journey.

Line crossing ceremonies have long been a tradition of naval mariners, when Slimy Pollywogs are initiated into the kingdom of Neptune, thereby becoming Trusty Shellbacks.  Many ceremonies – often absurd and nonsensical, involving strange food and cross dressing – have been conducted in honor of the occasion, and this crossing was no exception.  As we were scheduled to cross the Equator at roughly 5:30 am, the beginning of our celebration was to take place under the cover of darkness, and Rives, who had been on watch, sounded a foghorn to awaken the rest of the crew.  As responsibility was to be largely abandoned for the day, the helm was handed over to our trusty autopilot, Biscuits & Gravy, who for the duration of the morning would keep us aimed to the North West through the doldrums in calm seas and light air.  Before we were awake enough to refuse, a shot of Tungi (a repulsive cactus liquor from the island of St. Helena) was issued to each of us, and the ceremony had begun!  We dragged ourselves on deck in the complete dark of the early overcast morning, and prepared ourselves for a little wake-up swim to prove our worth to King Neptune and the Order of the Deep.  Swimming in the limitless depth of the open ocean is sometimes unnerving enough in broad daylight to make one uneasy, but taking the plunge at night under a cloudy, starless sky is a different animal altogether . . . especially after our battle the previous day with a fish that weighed as much as any two of us put together.  We killed the engine and lights and entered ‘stealth mode’ to enhance the effect of being a thousand miles from anything, in the middle of the black ocean, totally alone, with not a speck of light anywhere to be seen.  Once we were blacked out and bobbing to our satisfaction, we dove overboard – one by one into the dark abyss.  The sensation of being 20 feet below the surface at night, with no lights and nothing for miles around is . . . pretty unique, to say the least.  There’s no question that it is unsettling; it’s nearly impossible to purge your mind of the creatures that inhabit in the deep, and we’ve all seen the likes of “Jaws” and “Open Water”.  But once the wave of short-soiling trepidation subsides, it’s also difficult to not feel the incredible tranquility and stillness of the ocean.  Below the surface there is not a single sound to be heard, and none of the horrible sea monsters that we conjure up in our minds to be seen.  Above the surface that morning, however, was another story.  It wasn’t long before Jeremiah was doing back flips off the spinnaker pole, and kit was dragging upside down from the afterguy.  There may or may not have been a character or two scantily clad in what could be construed as the garb of Anthrotrite.  A beer or two was cracked, music was playing, and an imaginative breakfast was cooked up which resembled a huge blueberry muffin that had been put through a wood chipper and caught on a paper plate.  Over the course of the morning the celebration continued, although some parts might be better left to be told in person.  By mid-afternoon we were winding down, and in honor of the occasion we changed into our most formal attire, and each made a sacrifice to Poseidon, King Neptune, and various other dignitaries of The Deep.  The flashlight that we lost earlier did not count, apparently, and we all chose something of significance to us to surrender to the ocean . . . something significant that is biodegradable, that is.  These sacrifices are deeply personal in some cases, and will remain unnamed at the moment for the sake of crew members and future employment.

Now back in the Northern Hemisphere, with the line-crossing celebration behind us, we, the Order of Trusty Shellbacks aboard Carina, are making for the North East trades which will carry us from here on to the Windward Islands.  With roughly 2,200 miles to go, we are hoping to be in the islands within two weeks, and shortly after will be on the short leg to Charleston, SC!

Below you will find the citations officially welcoming Kit Will and Walker Potts as Sons of Neptune in the Order of the Deep:

Know ye, that Christopher Will, on the 21^st day of April , aboard s/y Carina, appeared at the equator at Latitude 00°00.000 , Longitude 23°36.000 entering into Our Royal Domain, and having been inspected and found worthy by My Royal Staff and was initiated into the Solemn Mysteries of the Ancient Order of the Deep. We do hereby declare that it is Our Royal Will and Pleasure to confer upon him the Freedom of the Seas without undue ceremony. Should he fall overboard, We do command that all Sharks, Dolphins, Whales, Marlin, Mermaids and other dwellers in the Deep are to abstain from maltreating his person. And we further command sailors and all others who have not crossed Our Royal Domain, to honor him with the respect due to One of Us.

Given under Our Hand at Our Court-

(Signed)
Davey Jones — His Royal Scribe
Neptunus Rex — Ruler of the Raging Main

Know ye, that Walker Potts, on the 21^st day of April , aboard s/y Carina, appeared at the equator at Latitude 00°00.000 , Longitude 23°36.000 entering into Our Royal Domain, and having been inspected and found worthy by My Royal Staff and was initiated into the Solemn Mysteries of the Ancient Order of the Deep. We do hereby declare that it is Our Royal Will and Pleasure to confer upon him the Freedom of the Seas without undue ceremony. Should he fall overboard, We do command that all Sharks, Dolphins, Whales, Marlin, Mermaids and other dwellers in the Deep are to abstain from maltreating his person. And we further command sailors and all others who have not crossed Our Royal Domain, to honor him with the respect due to One of Us.

Given under Our Hand at Our Court-

(Signed)
Davey Jones — His Royal Scribe
Neptunus Rex — Ruler of the Raging Main

Now back in the Northern Hemisphere, with the line-crossing celebration behind us, we, the Order of Trusty Shellbacks aboard Carina, are making for the North East trades which will carry us from here on to the Windward Islands.  With roughly 2,200 miles to go, we are hoping to be in the islands within two weeks, and shortly after will be on the short leg to Charleston, SC!

Here’s a screen capture from a video of the blue marlin we hooked yesterday. We’ll post the video once we get to land!

It’s been 8 days since we departed St Helena Island under the cover of darkness. The wind has cooperated for the most part, enabling us to continue downwind like the civilized gentlemen we are (we’ve been told gentlemen don’t sail upwind). Our new 1.5 oz spinnaker, which has been deemed our ‘moneymaker’, has been up for a week, with the exception of an hour or so following a broken halyard in the middle of the night. Fortunately we had light conditions during this ‘surprise takedown’ and were able to head to wind in order to get the spinnaker on deck. Now that we’ve got it back up and expect steady winds ahead, we’re hoping it won’t be coming down until we reach the Northeast trades after crossing the equator. Even with the light conditions since St. Helena, we’ve been averaging 170-180 mile days, and are making good way to the North West with only 2500 miles separating us from Barbados. As we make our way North, the air and water temperatures are both increasing rapidly. The water temp is now 84 degrees F, as opposed to the 57 degree water we saw leaving Cape Town. Air temps are in the 90’s with full humidity, making for stifling conditions down below inside Carina’s black hull. To our relief after the swelteringly hot days, the nights have been comfortably cool and we’ve been enjoying our night time watches wearing just our shorts (although certain individuals have made it clear during these solo watches that even this might be overdressing). With only a sliver of a moon and plenty of bright stars uninhibited by ambient light, these beautifully clear nights have been some of the most pleasant and cruisy of the entire year. To make things even better, the South Atlantic, just like its counterpart to the North, is full of great swimming holes which we’ve taken full advantage of. Being roughly 1000 miles from land it’s hard not to feel a bit vulnerable gazing down through masks into the blue abyss – knowing that the ocean floor is several miles below, and far from being alone, there are countless ocean creatures silently patrolling amidst the infinite blue surrounding us – many of which are bigger than us.

We were reminded of exactly that just this morning, April 20, when as the wind died, we came upon a fine looking swimming hole and decided to take full advantage, as we had no sail up in the light wind and we were eager to beat the already scorching mid-morning heat. We pulled in our fishing gear and enjoyed a 20 minute swim in the limitless blue – as always, contemplating what might be lurking just out of sight. Before we were even dry from our refreshin’ session, the wind began to build and we hoisted our mainsail and 1.5 oz moneymaker. The harmony of doing 7.5 knots with no engine was just settling in when, BAM! Our fishing rig began to sing as line was ripping off the reel. The yell of “FISH ON!” alerted the troops, and Rives quickly grabbed the rod, threw the drag lever to full, and gave a big tug to set the hook, while everyone else took up positions. After the initial hit it seemed like we had lost the fish as the line went slack again and we could see the lure popping in the distance. Rives began reeling in the line to check the hook, when a black shadow appeared just behind it. The shadow followed the lure, stalking it from just below. All of a sudden a large black fin broke the surface and sliced through the water in a rapid assault as the fish nailed the hook again! The monster fish thrashed and broke through the surface, revealing a long, stout bill and the 300 lb Blue Marlin attached to it, going fully airborne before making his first of many runs. The new 250 lb test line zipped off the reel like lightning as the fish ran, and Kit Will turned the engine on and gunned it in reverse to slow us down. Already twice on this leg we had been spooled – meaning the fish had taken all the line and broken it when the line runs out and reaches the bare spool – and we were doing everything in our power to ensure we didn’t lose this one. There aren’t many times that one needs to call for full reverse with all the sails up, but this fish was obviously massive, and with his strength plus the boat moving under full sail, we couldn’t hold him long before running out of line. Even in full reverse we were going too fast to fight the fish. We needed to drop the spinnaker. Kit at the helm turned to port and down off the wind, while Walker and Ellis ran to the foredeck to drop the chute, letterbox style. Just as they were getting back to provide backup to Rives, the fish went on another hard run out to the leeward side and streaked out past the boat. Still below the surface, we couldn’t see the fish, but the line tore through the water like a carving knife, throwing water high into the air. With our eyes focused on where the line was disappearing into the sea, we were shocked when a flash of white water seized our attention 50 yards ahead, and a split second later we got our first full view of the enormous fish as it exploded out of the water, jumping and thrashing its entire body well above the surface. Rives was standing up on the back porch with the rod bent over to an impossible degree, doing all he could to keep the rod tip and line clear of the many obstacles crowding the stern, while the fish took off once again to running for the depths of the South Atlantic. With his strong left arm burning out, Rives was cradling the rod on the inside of his elbow while he cranked the reel with his right. Ellis came through in the clutch, providing back up to Rives by standing below him and pushing up with both arms on the rod to keep the tip up in opposition to the mammoth force of the fish. This pattern kept up for what seemed like hours – the fish would run like mad and threaten to take all the line, then it would fade momentarily and the two on the rod would battle to gain back a few precious yards of line until the next run. It took nearly an hour to get the sea donkey within 30 yards of the boat, and after a long fight it seemed that he, too, was tiring. As he got close we got our first glimpse of the beast up close, and it gave us an idea of what we were dealing with. He was at least 7 feet long, and the top half of the fish below the huge, slender dorsal fin was a stony slate blue/gray color with waves of the same sliver color as his belly. His tail was two and a half feet from tip to tip. His head was massive and dark, with shiny black eyes as wide as hockey pucks, and from it protruded a long, sharp bill, roughly two feet in length and as thick as wrist at the base. He looked to be an older fish, and had the scars and markings of a battle hardened veteran.

Eventually we managed to get him alongside the boat, which was still sailing under a full mainsail, and Walker prepared to gaff him so we could loop his tail and attempt to get him onboard. We realized he was larger than anything we had caught in the past by a long shot, and would be more meat than we could store or eat in a month.  By the time the kill shot presented itself, we had decided to let him go.  Reluctantly, we freed him from the hook, bode him farewell, and watched as our spectacularly huge marlin swam away, just as stunned as we were from the battle.

Below you’ll find an image of our prize fish dragging Carina along like Zeus’ chariot. We’ll post more pictures and video when we arrive in Barbados in two weeks. Next checkpoint – THE EQUATOR!!

Arrival in St. Helena Island!! We on board Carina had a great 8 day sail from Cape Town, South Africa to St. Helena Island, off the Angolan/Namibian Coast. This will be roughly our 1/3 stop on our third and final Atlantic crossing this year. Leaving tomorrow, we have roughly 3000 miles between us and the Caribbean, and we aim to make landfall in Barbados in roughly 20 days.

The sail up from Cape Town was one of the most pleasant of the trip, with a mostly consistent 20 knots of breeze coming from the S/SE, pushing us along at a great pace to the unique little island isolated in the Atlantic.  Along the way we enjoyed spectacular weather, and as it was only a short leg of 9 days, we were grateful to have mostly fresh food the entire leg, including some good salads (fresh veggies!), ribs, curries, land-style bacon and egg breakfasts, and plenty of PB & J.  We had a few gear failures, including a broken spinnaker halyard and a broken after guy, but with spares on board, we fixed what we needed to and kept on moving, hardly losing any time at all.  Averaging nearly 200 mile days, we couldn’t have asked for a better sail coming into St. Helena.

Our overnight stay here in St. Helena has been short but sweet, with a wild little tour of the island compliments of Robert and his little truck with faulty breaks, which showed us all over the tiny island’s crazy roads and filled us in on the islands rich history, which was highlighted by Napoleon’s exile and some events of WWI. In the 36 hours we’ve been here we’ve managed to find time to go diving for crayfish (rock lobster), tour the island, and have a few beers with the locals. We also saw Jonathan, a 100 some-odd year old tortoise, who is allegedly the oldest vertebrate int he world! the By tomorrow we should all be worn out from our conquest of Jacob’s Ladder, a 699 step relic from the early days of St. Helena, before we fuel up and re-board Carina for another few weeks of life at sea.

Stay posted for more pictures to come, and expect us back in the U.S. in May!