We’re off!

10-11 Dec, Passage to Colombia, day 1: Chesapeake to Cape Hatteras.

Finally, yes FINALLY! Ray and I set off from a frosty Chesapeake Yacht Club at the crack of dawn, Saturday Dec 10th, starting our ~2000nm passage to Colombia, where Oana would rejoin me.
Last blog I alluded to “2 fearless boys sailing Cloudy Bay to Colombia” but the truth for me was anything but. I had two major anxieties (which is uncharacteristic for me). First: just what will break next? It seems I’ve lost my confidence in Cloudy’s systems after her recent successes at pulling hard on my short-and-curlies. And second: we are heading out into the north Atlantic, during winter for god’s sake!

The decision of what to do after Cape Hatteras was hanging heavy on me. Do we avoid crossing the dreaded Gulf Stream this far north and just tuck into the US coast with its many safe ports and worry about how we get upwind to Colombia only once we reach Florida. Or, do we dash straight across the Gulf Stream, and head out into the big-bad Atlantic steering south directly for a gap in the greater Antilles and risk being wacked by a winter storm with nowhere to run to other than Bermuda? Oh, and on top of that there’s the damned Bermuda triangle to worry about! Haha.
Until now, having been so busy, I had only looked at the weather up to Cape Hatteras. I knew it was good weather to round the notorious Cape and get to Cape Lookout for our first possible shelter. But I hadn’t looked in any detail beyond that, except to note there were some pretty nasty storms forecast next week. So, as we set off on the easy first leg (18hrs) down the Chesapeake estuary, I parked the route-planning decision for later. If nothing broke before we entered the Atlantic, that’s when I would refocus on the route-plan south.

With ice on the decks and just the faint glow of dawn to the east, we slipped lines at 06:45 with the help of our friend and neighbour, Jay. It was a beautiful dawn but OMG, soooo cold. I couldn’t even put the warps in the bow locker because the latch was frozen. Hard to imagine we should be basking in shorts and tee shirts in just a few days.
Having Ray to navigate was great because it allowed me to attend to all those tiny jobs and checks that we never quite got around to because of the saga with the lithium batteries. Running the pole guys. Making chafe protection on the ropes securing the dinghy on the foredeck. Checking mast fittings. Double checking we can receive GRIB files (weather data) via the Iridium-Go satellite phone. Listening to the propeller after my re-alignment project. Checking the Volvo for leaks following my rebuild. Double checking departure lists. Etc etc.
Prop noise was sweet by the way. Looks like shimming the Aquadrive did the trick. And everything else good too. I hold my breath and dare to hope it continues like this.

Once out of West River and into the main Chesapeake River we turned south. There was a light NE breeze but being on our port quarter it was not enough to sail with. So we motor sailed, which bought the apparent wind forward to 60 degrees, powering up the sails thus helping the engine. Later the wind strengthened to 13kts and we could sail goose-winged. Mainsail to starboard and poled-out genoa to port.
Close to the Chesapeake Bay tunnel barrier/breakwater we started to feel the swell of the Atlantic, swell that entered this lower part of the bay through the narrow shipping lane entrances in the breakwater. At these points the road that runs on top of the barrier goes down into a tunnel. Amusingly a friend, Jeff, sent us a phone screenshot which positioned his car in the tunnel as we passed over it. Message: “hello Cloudy Bay from underwater” 🤣

We pass the breakwater ourselves at 22:30 timing our exit, as usual, in between shipping as they steadily make their way to/from Baltimore or Norfolk. Once passed the barrier we quickly scoot back out the shipping channel to let freighter overtake us. But instead of sticking to the ship channel it directly followed us, catching up fast. Never a comfortable feeling seeing both red & green nav-lights approaching from behind. A call on the VHF was needed to which he thankfully steered away from us.

Then the biggest drama of the day. With distracting lights and shipping all around us, Ray suddenly, and luckily, saw a spotlight ahead shining directly at us. One of those lights where you are not certain if its 50m or 2Km away. Then Ray shouted, “it’s a sailboat! I can see his sails! And he’s coming right across our bow. Turn left, TURN TO PORT NOW!”. I swung the wheel without questioning and sure enough a completely unlit sailing yacht ghosted right across our bow. In our brief look before it disappeared into the darkness again we both recognized the boat as another Hallberg Rassy. Is this the week for HRs in the Chesapeake to have total power failures?!

As it passed I shouted “no nav lights?” But we couldn’t make out the answer. More worryingly he was going in the direction of the ship that was now passing us close on our starboard side. But on our radar we could see he missed the ship and carried on towards the Chesapeake barrier. Wow, what a place to be (lots of shipping) with no lights and no AIS! Following that, we put the radar up on the screen and started paying it closer attention.
After that we got on with our business. But a few hours later I was pained with guilt. We should have followed him and offered help. And certainly we should have at least informed the coast guard. Bad us. Very bad. And that niggled my conscience for the next few days. I just hope they made it safely to a port, somewhere.

We then sailed into the night, rolling along, sailing goose winged down the North Carolina coast, holding 6nm offshore because it was a lee shore with big Atlantic swell rolling onto its coastal shoals. Not a shore for any smart captain to be near. Not even this dumb one!

Meanwhile I keep deferring the “which route to chose?” decision. But I did at least have a detailed weather outlook now. Amazingly it would be a gentle NE wind at the Hatteras. Relatively good for crossing the Gulf Stream. That NE wind then increases dramatically, gusting up to 35kts and predicted 3-5m waves. Rather daunting on a boat I’ve lost my trust in. On the other hand, that forecasted wind would be behind us, and if we could brave it, it might just carry us trouble-free all the way south to join the easterly trade winds. And, more importantly, get us enough south before the next 2 (huge) low pressure systems roll out to sea on their disruptive path towards Europe. But … if it didn’t, and the next storm front hit us, we would be in for quite a ride, and possibly in deep do-do way out there in the Atlantic, 500 nm from any safe haven. Oh Cloudy, just once please behave yourself!

Hence I was tempted to be conservative, turning sharp right at the Hatteras and sailing down the US coast on the nice offshore wind, all the way down to Florida. I calculated we’d just about make it to St. Augustine (just north of Cape Canaveral) before the next weather front. But then we’d probably be weather-bound there for at least a week. And then we’d have the hassle of a long upwind sail through the Bahamas to reach the Windward Passage (between Cuba and Haiti), before we could turn south across the Caribbean Sea to Colombia. OMG Glen, what to do? Get a grip man and decide.

Finally, it wasn’t until nearly at the Hatteras we made the choice. Greatly encouraged by Ray we chose….
Well, I’ll tell you tomorrow 🙂