Friday 24 May, Passage to USA day 8: From (level with) Goose Creek NC to Cape Hatteras, riding the Gulf Stream in 20+kts nor’easter.
The new day comes in with Oana going off shift and me trimming the Parasailor as the wind comes further aft. I also closely watch the wind speed, which is slowly increasing. We are trundling along very nicely on a two-sail spinnaker reach. The Parasailor is on the spinnaker pole and performing with silent power in the moonlight. We are doing 7kts in 12kts of true wind (6 apparent) and the forecast is for the wind to keep this strength till about 9am. So we are hoping to sail like this all night then drop the spinnaker after breakfast once we see the wind reach 16kts.
But things appear to happen faster. Over a 30 minute period, the wind steadily increases: 12, 13, 13.5, 14 then quickly to 16kts. Cloudy Bay is now flying along at 9kts and perfectly stable thanks to the lifting power of the Parasailor wing.
I revise my “windspeed-for-drop” to 18kts because this thrill is simply too good to throw away. But then my voice of reason (Mr. Sensible) starts to question. It’s night time; can the four relatively thin sheet and guy lines and snap-shackles take this strain? We are in the gulf stream area where sea state can rapidly change. And I’m just about to say “shut up” to all Mr. Sensible’s blah-blah, when Cloudy Bay gives an extra surge like she just clicked down a gear and I see the wind now at 21kts! And at the same time, the guy rope gives an audible loud “twang” on the winch as it takes the stain. Holding it feels like an iron bar to touch. That’s it, I’m spooked, it’s gotta come down…. NOW! “Oanaaaaaa!” Dutifully she is up in seconds ready to go.
We come 20deg further off the wind and Oana eases the sheet to collapse the spinnaker behind the mainsail. I manage to pull down the snuffler and sock to midway pretty easily, but then the lower part of the spinnaker tries to re-fill. Not good! But once Oana also gets the lazy guy eased off, the snuffle is completed. It’s such a relief when that snuffler is back on deck and the beast is fully tamed inside.
Then we set the genoa to windward, on the pole, and retire to the cockpit for some peace. And we both tut/tut to ourselves about the wind… it’s now back down to just 12 kts! And 13-14kts it stays until mid-morning. What a bugger! It was after all just an extended gust that we had, nothing to have worried about. Screw Mr. Sensible! ( … this time).
At 3:30am the wind shifts west as forecast, in perfect timing with the start of Oana’s shift. We gybe the main and genoa. With the pole out, this used to take us about 20-30 minutes. But these days we do it flawlessly in 5-10, and in the dark! And as I go off-shift to bed, I reflect on just how far the pair of us have come in the last two years regarding sailing maneuvers on Cloudy Bay. Surely not many couples on a 54ft yacht would fly spinnakers on a pole at night – a pole that’s bigger than many yacht’s booms and a spinnaker with the area bigger than an average garden! Not boasting here, just reflecting on the team we have become. 20,000 sea miles together helps of course.
By mid-morning the real wind has arrived. It’s up to a steady 20kts and we are flying along under full main and genoa at 8-9kts. And by mid-day the wind peaks at 28kts and we reef the main by two battens. Cloudy Bay has been cork-screwing down the waves, with sails perfectly trimmed: as a wave hits the port quarter, the stern lifts and she screws slightly windward. At which time the sails are trimmed to fully de-power, thereby letting the autohelm quickly steer back on course. And as the sails power back up again, we surf down the next wave at 10-11kts, spray everywhere. 3 years ago this would have scared the crap out of us, but now it’s pure thrill to ride this freight train!
But at 28kts this cycle is getting close to out of control and we fear a possible broaching (where the wind knocks the boat down and holds it there!). Especially as the waves are seriously building now. Some are over 3m and they are quite short, with caps often breaking over the beam and aft quarter. So we reef for safety. Our speed drops a little, in that we no longer surf semi out of control!, but it feels much safer.
At midday we are greeted by a pod of dolphins, the sight of which is really uplifting. They play in the bow for a while, one doing a couple of jumps. Performance is over and they swim off. Such beautiful creatures. It’s the first dolphins we have seen on our bow this year! We missed them.
By early afternoon the wind is noticeably dropping, now gusting only 20kts. It’s tempting to put the full mainsail back out and continue the thrilling sleigh ride at full power. But before doing that, we need to have a look at the weather forecast for tonight, especially for when we round Cape Hatteras, where we turn north towards the Chesapeake Bay. This study brings a change in our strategy.
Currently we are heading directly for Cape Hatteras. But it’s now clear that we won’t make the deadline of 6pm for the big wind change, when it is forecast to quickly swing 180 degrees from SW to NE. We had hoped to turn the corner at Hatteras before the wind turned against us. Now we need a new plan especially considering the new NE headwind will be against the strong current. We are acutely aware that the Gulf Stream by the Cape is not a place to be in any wind-against-current, where the seas become chaotic and dangerous. But if we stay on our current track we will end up stuck west of the Cape with exactly that situation for the last 20 miles to the Cape. Not doing that, thank you very much!
So we have 2 alternatives: either run to shore and anchor behind Ocracoke Island (home of the pirate Black Beard!) and wait for a new opportunity to round the Cape, while also challenged with the faff of how to clear customs and immigration in the middle of no-where. Or, and this is the one we decide for: change course more east, to a waypoint 30nm south of the Cape with the Gulf Stream current helping us get there at the right time. When the wind swings clockwise, we go hard on the wind on port tack, then tack onto starboard and sail north to clear the Cape with the wind fully from the NE.
It feels like a racing tactic for an upwind leg in a shifting wind situation (we do miss racing… can you tell?). If we get it right we get around Cape Hatteras tonight. But the timing has to be absolutely perfect because we will be heading east into the strongest gulf stream current enabling us to make the tack at the right place; not too early to miss the Cape and not too late to be in the wrong place in traitorous sea conditions. So we need to be tacked then sail north, out of the current, before the seas have time to build. It seems a good plan but we are nervous about its execution!
The resulting sail configuration for a more easterly course is poled-out genoa to port and full main to starboard. We start the 80nm run to the waypoint at 8-9kts in 14-20kts of wind. For the rest of the afternoon, the sea gradually flattens off as the wind constantly decreases. Late afternoon we also meet the helping hand of the Gulf Stream current as planned. We need every knot we can squeeze to arrive at our tacking point early enough.
Just before sunset we have 3kts of current pushing us east and all our senses alert and eyes glued to the instruments. If the forecast is right, the wind will start its change any moment now. In preparation, we drop the pole and gybe the genoa ready to come up on the wind as it goes around clockwise. We have bright clear sky behind us and an unobstructed view of the sun about to set. But clouds are quickly coming in from the NE, in front of us, with the new weather front. Even without a forecast, you can sense something dramatic is about to happen with the wind.
And sure enough at 7pm, bang-on the forecast, the wind shifts 45deg SW to W within just a minute. And in the next 15 minutes another 90deg to the N. Soon we are close hauled on port-tack yet on the same course as we were on 30 minutes ago, when running before the wind. This is it, the wind change is here. While we dread it, we also now need it for our plan to work out. We are now in the full strength of the Gulf Stream current, which is helping us but will very soon build into nightmare seas with the new NE wind. The forecast is for only 10-12kts so we are banking on the sea state not building too quickly. This is the bit we got WRONG!
The forecast was right with regards to the wind shift. What it wasn’t right about is the strength, as we see 14-16kts already. So we reef two battens in the mainsail, which proved to be a good call as the wind soon starts to gust 19kts.
We go as hard on the wind as we can and as it turns N->NE we clock round with it, our course finally settling on due east. Just a few miles now till our tacking point due south of the Cape. Hey, this plan might just work! And while Cloudy Bay cuts through the small but building waves like a freight train, we rush for showers, as this is the right tack to drain the water 🙂
10 minutes later we make our planned tack onto starboard and we are ready for a new portion of adrenalin as we trim sails for power to get the hell out of this Gulf Stream current, around that damned Cape Hatteras, and into safe waters. As the wind touches 21kts we reef the genoa to the first dot. It’s shocking how quickly the sea builds up. We already start to feel the short choppy waves and it’s been only half an hour of this new NE wind.
30nm now to the waypoint we had set on the chart plotter to clear Cape Hatteras and the shoals around it. The tack timing seems to be perfect. And only 15nm to the 100m depth contour where the Gulf Stream edge is (we hope). By now the wind is constantly 18-20kts gusting 23 – that’s 30kts of spray whipping over the deck. We brace ourselves for the ride, as we know the sea will build up like nobody’s business.
Very quickly we start getting green water rushing all over the deck as Cloudy Bay ploughs through the short steep waves, and spray is constantly lashing the windscreen. Good thing we have the cockpit tent up, otherwise we would have had several more showers, salty ones.
As the ride gets bumpier and bumpier we decide to switch on the engine. It helps Cloudy Bay push through the waves and also reduces the strain on the rigging. And we carry on like this, getting thrown around and watching with concern how the wind picks up to 26kts. How can the forecast get the wind speed so wrong? The green water is now almost a continuous torrent coming all the way up to the windscreen and occasionally even over the spray hood and tent before flooding the aft deck. We reef even further both sails and although neither of us voices our inner tension, we are both concerned. Not feeling scared or in danger, but concerned. Our brains are working overload making scenarios on things that can go wrong, because this is boat-breaking conditions on a nasty lee shore.
Luckily, it was not the case and again it’s one of those few hours we are very glad to be sailing a Hallberg Rassy and have a reliable Volvo turning our propeller. Two hours later, as we watch the sea temperature and depth contours gradually reducing, we are relieved to come out of the Gulf Stream. And suddenly what a world of difference in the overall environment conditions: the wind quickly drops to only 13kts, and the sea is suddenly much calmer. It feels like somebody switched off the fan, the drums and the shaker. We can breathe normally again and our heart rates get back to normal.
At 11pm, out of the nasty area and finally passed Cape Hatteras, we switch off the engine and resume civilized sailing. Full mainsail and genoa, hard on the wind, heading north towards Chesapeake. It’s almost surreally calm compared to what we just endured. The water is totally flat as we now glide along – a great therapy after a traumatic event. As Cloudy Bay silently slips through the moonlit water, we can almost hear her soothingly us with: “there there, it’s all over now, you’re always safe with me”.
If these conditions were just 1 hour into wind over current, what on earth can it be like in a full-on world tee nor’easter that rages for days. Doesn’t bare thinking about.
This is going to be the last leg of blue water sailing before getting into the brown Chesapeake, and we take the opportunity to run the watermaker and fill both our water tanks. And by midnight it is all done, including watermaker pickled ready for “summering”.
