Atlantic Crossing IV

Whilst St John's has a number of things going for it the one thing you don't get is rest and with a longish trip coming up that's what we wanted. Hedley and Karen took us, by car, to look at Petty Harbour a few miles south of St J's and having chatted to a couple of locals we decided to move there. H&K came with us for the seven mile trip and before long we were entering the narrow harbour. Once inside the ebbing current became very evident as in a moment of inattention I allowed the bow to fall off and the current swept us sideways. No doubt our guests wondered what on earth we were up to but we regained control and eventually docked alongside. That afternoon we had a stream of visitors as locals wandered down to see what we were about and several new friends were made. No doubt about it; Hannah certainly attracts fans.

The locals were very friendly but unfortunately the harbour isn't. With any wind from an easterly quarter a, sometimes violent, surge sets up and although we tried numerous techniques nothing we did seemed to make a difference. We're limited by our draft as much of the harbour is too shallow for us but looking at the fishing boats on the other side I'm not sure it would have made much difference. We even tried, with permission, to tie up on the dinghy pontoon which put us beam on to the ebbing stream and, whilst it eased the surging issue it raised the possibility that we may very well snap the chains holding the thing to the harbour wall. Sleep would have been impossible and we opted to leave at 9pm June 3, into a lumpy swell and not much wind. Not a good start.

The first two days, as expected, were foggy but our real concern was how far south the ice had got. The ice-charts suggested we should work our way east before making any northerly and so we did. But toward the end of the second day we spoke to a fishing boat who had seen no ice and we cut the corner and started the journey north east. The intention was to give Cape Farewell a wide berth and then hopefully make a quick passage to Iceland avoiding as much of the bad weather that comes out of Hudson Bay as possible. “No plan survives contact with the enemy” as Tilman was fond of quoting and so it was with us. A day or so later we heard a metallic sound on the deck but couldn't find what the cause had been. We subsequently found the nut has dropped off the gooseneck bolt and in the intervening period the bolt had begun to work itself out. Luckily no damage was done but it was a sharp kick up the arse to take a bit more care. 5 days out and we were picking up weather from passing ships and we were told that we could expect 35 knots + and 4 metre seas (13') from the NW. We opted to turn away from it to take the waves more on the quarter than the beam and under trys'l, storm stays'l and spitfire (what is he talking about!!) we raced along at 6 or 7 knots completely comfortable and relaxed. As it eased a day later we hoped to head back onto our course but the seas remained lumpy and water over the deck and then below savaged morale and we hove to to let the sea sort its self out. The morale was a real problem for me as I couldn't really settle into the trip and I found myself longing for it to be over. As we continued to get pushed east rather than NE, the angle to Iceland narrowed and the wind favoured a direct crossing to Scotland that's what we opted to do. In the whole trip we had two sunny days but the predominant colour was grey:sea, sky, mood. We seemed to be mentally caught between the old and new destination........

A passing tanker told us that day was the last of the bad weather and we should have two days of good sailing winds and weather. He was right and before long we managed to pick up the strains of “Sailing By”, the theme tune to the 00:48 shipping forecast on BBC R4, and a long time favourite. A day later we were warned of “an unusually vigorous low heading across the Atlantic toward the north of the country. We'd been hoping to make landfall at Mull but altered course to Barra in the Outer Hebrides as the harbour is easy to enter irrespective of the weather. And so it proved to be. At one point with some 18 miles to go, Hannah hurtling though the night at 7 knots and 4 hours to go before daylight we reduced sail and of course the wind soon dropped, speed followed suit and then almost died away completely. On came the motor and we ran on in through the rain and fog. We caught brief glimpses of the islands but Barra remained hidden until we were close. Into the harbour we motored and found 5 boats on the mooring buoys layed out for visiting yachts. We too picked up one, cleaned up a bit and then slept. 19 days to cross and possibly the most uncomfortable crossing yet. Lumpy and sometimes big seas, cold and damp all combined to make it a less than enjoyable experience. We loved the trys'l combination, particularly for off the wind sailing as, even with the 2 deep reefs in the main, the boat can still be a handful. However the parrel balls that are used on the sail scour the mast fairly heavily so we'll be making changes there.

I have no idea how many sail changes we went through but it was a lot and interestingly we wore harnesses on several occasions when working on the foredeck. Might be because conditions suggested it to be the sensible option....might be the tumble over the side last year has made us a tad more cautious....

The following day we phoned customs to let them know we had arrived.

We made our way slowly up the Hebrides to Stornoway where this  post was written. A couple of things we've noticed: More boats cruising these waters than when we were last here we feel. Think we saw 20 in the first week...ok it may not sound much but after several years of cruising Labrador it comes as a shock. Plus many boats feel the need to file passage plans with the Coast Guard and so the VHF is full of chatter.

The up-side of it all was meeting up again with Andrea and Eve, some of the locals from the village they live in and a very enjoyable evening over a meal and our home-brew.

Heading east.........sort of

It seems a lifetime ago that we were anchored in the Harbour of Refuge at Cape Henlopen having enjoyed a motor through the C&D canal, feeling homesick as the countryside reminded us so much of England...........at least until we saw the buzzards hanging around by the waters edge. We'd read a lot about the currents and shipping through this canal but it treated us well even when this one loomed out of the mist at the approach to the western entrance.

Something large slides out of the mist........

 

 

 

 We left Russ and Alison a day or so previously and worked our way north toward an anchorage for the night. An early start the following day gave us time to enjoy the scenery and the journey down from there was ok, helped by the engine we pulled into the refuge late one evening.

Think we spent a couple of nights there, complete with thunderstorms, before pulling up the hook about noon on Sat May 11. The start was good with reasonable winds and speeds but by the evening the seas were big and lumpy but the wind was dying. Not a pleasant state of affairs and a situation that had Bee throwing up from sea-sickness and even left me feeling a tad quesy. Worse was to come. In the early hours of Sunday morning we gybed as the wind shifted (the self-steerer was in command...) and as we struggled to bring her back on course on a pitch black night the boom came over with a crash. No rigging was lost but the mainsheet caught around a dorade and ripped it completely off the box and another unidentified line ripped a cleat from the boom. Not a happy chappy as I cursed and fumed about the perils of crash gybing gaffers in the dark. The rest of the day improved, the sun came out and we were able to get stuff dried, speeds were good and we both felt optimistic.

Osprey nests

  Falsely as it turns out as the trip was a mixture of light winds, drifting interspersed with a day ot two of strong blows. One day had us bouncing around in 5 metre seas with the odd one or two coming aboard. Thankfully the changes we'd put in place over the winter seem to have paid off and very little came below. However one wave, which seemed to fill the cockpit, succeeded in taking both our favourite winch handle (newly acquired as a cast-off from Morgans Cloud) and a great diving knife which we used mostly to puncture tins before casting them to the deep.

Our route had taken us firmly off-shore as I wanted to avoid the fog and fishing boats off the Nantucket Shoals and then again off Nova Scotia. So the primary benefit was we had fog free days and very little inter action with fishing boats. The down side was we were out of range of the weather forecast and we resorted to calling up ships for a report. They were. for the most part, pretty useless and seemed, in retrospect, to be completely out of date or possibly for a totally different area. On one occasion we resorted to calling up a Canadian Surveillance aircraft that flew over us. They answered our call and responded to our request with great civility although their response of "cloud cover at 4,000 feet and good visibility from here to the mainland" (140 miles away) was not really what we had in mind for a forecast. We pushed our luck and asked if they could obtain a marine forecast for us and although they tried they were unable to get anything specific. Our final "request" for a pizza delivery was met with barely suppressed hoots of laughter as they wished us well, turned and flew EXTREMELY low over out mast tops. Nice folks and good natured with it.

Toots modelling her new hat, a present from Alison!

So the trip went on. In keeping with our philosophy of "why motor when you can drift" we achieved some startling mileages. 5 miles in 4 hours was not uncommon, even 3 miles between 12 noon and 4 pm on May 22nd which all helped to keep daily mileages below the 100 we work on when "planning" a long trip. At some point we did become fairly disgruntled about the whole thing, Bee wishing we'd taken a route closer to shore but still outside the fog banks and both of us contemplating changing course for Cape Breton and even, at one bottom of the barrel moment, saying stuff it and we'll just keep going and head for Iceland/Scotland or wherever our destination ends up being. A tally of the amount of water we had left knocked that idea out but for some hours it was definitely the choice aboard!

By Friday 24th the inevitable happened and we had gradually moved northwards and into the fog and life changed. I really do not enjoy sailing in fog even though we now have radar but we spent the next 48 hours moving slowly through the wet dreariness of life in a fog bank. Very little wild life could be seen or heard, from time to time we'd hear or see a radar image of a fishing boat or large ships on the AIS but otherwise our visual world was reduced to a grey wall. Not until, as it did last time, we rounded Cape Spear just 4 miles from St John did we glimpse and then see land. We had, of course, long ago given up the idea of going to St Pierre so entering the Narrows was very welcome. Surprisingly at this time of the year there were already 2 boats moored to the docks and unsurprisingly one of them was BO, a Dutch boat we'd last seen in Castine as we all sheltered from some hurricane or other. There are only 2 individual docks and one had no gangplank so access to the shore was non-existent. We rafted up, tidied up, phoned the Customs and settled down to await their arrival. A couple of very laid back officers arrived, cleared us in with the least fuss we have received anywhere and departed. An hour later we were aboard Bo, downed a hefty glass of Cuban rum to celebrate our arrival and soon after crawled off to bed. 15 days and change for 1200 plus miles, so a slow trip.

The Battery, St Johns from the Narrows

Since then we've sorted out a few jobs, showered and done laundry at The Mighty White. Not only do they have cumfy seating but they also have free wi-fi on site lending itself to a pleasant couple of hours catching up. A day or so later I happened to be on deck one evening and heard someone call my name, turned and found myself meeting someone who had followed the blog for a number of years. Hedley had worked out that if we were going to St Pierre we might well turn up in St Johns and had swung by the waterfront on the off chance. He and Karen came aboard for a glass and a chat and as Karen later pointed out it must be strange, for us, to meet folks who know so much about who we are and what we've done when we have never met before. They're like a number of people we have met who seem to have evolved a great lifestyle that involves a mixture of land and water. Like us they have no inclination for heat and crowds, love the solitude that sailing around here provides but can retreat to a rural winter isolation and simplicity. Or at least that's how we see it.......In the meantime they've generously put themselves at our disposal and made life a whole lot easier.

So that's the first leg over and soon we'll think about the next one. An early look at PassageWeather showed a band of fog stretching from here, eastwards for 700 or 800 miles or more. Luckily it seems to be short lived but it'll be something we'll be checking on before we push off. Our initial thoughts are to move away from here and find ourselves a quiet spot to get ourselves ready. St Johns is a great place but is noisy with the amount of shipping moving in and out daily plus the docks are opposite the entrance to a SE wind will lump the seas up quite quickly we suspect. However the east coast does not have an abundance of good sheltered anchorages so we'll head down to Fermeuse or round the top and into Conception Bay. After that we'll head east to clear (by a long way) Cape Farewell on the south of Greenland before turning for Reykjavik. Well that's today's plan. Stornoway is also in our minds as a landfall and I'm thinking we won't really know until we get there.

St Johns, Newfoundland

Buckets...Pensions and Plungers

Well here we are, with less than 50 days to go before I officially retire, before I become a genuine, state registered pensioner but, unlike virtually every other couple entering this twilight zone, our income will rise dramatically...but to the business in hand.

This will probably be our last update from the USA as we get ready to make one last journey from these shores. True, at this stage, we're still planning on heading up the Bay to see Russ and Alison  as they ready themselves for a jaunt up to northern Labrador and beyond for the summer but from Annapolis we're hoping to transit the C&D canal, slip quietly down the Delaware Bay and head on up to the French territory of St Pierre, a small island off the Newfoundland coast, about 1200 miles away. We're still undecided about whether to leave from there or somewhere else or even where we might go to...well, we know we're heading for Iceland but we watch the ice charts for Cap Farvel and note the speed at which the pack-ice has moved from the west coast of Greenland. Not so the east coast however, which remains blocked by 7/10 ice so ensuring that our hoped for trip through the Sund, at this stage, remains in doubt. In some ways we're clutching at straws as history indicates the Sund clearing around July or August which would be far too late for this years "plans" We'll see what mid-May brings.

A rare sight - our dinghy with the bow section separated.

As long term readers will know we have a hard dinghy - we still have it as the various "purchasers" who swore on their mothers grave it was exactly what they'd be looking for and they'd give the full asking price..seem unable to translate the words in their email into actually parting with the cash thus ensuring that both us and Portland Pudgy got the run around as we tried to work out the logistics of selling and taking delivery before we depart. In the end we gave up and, sadly, the Pudgy goes on the back burner for now. But the reason I mention it is more for the fact that something caught my eye somewhere about one of the issues folks feel you're faced with if you use a hard dinghy, namely when they're tied off the stern of the boat they do have a habit of creeping up and T-boning your hull. It has happened to us but years ago we were given a great tip. So here it is. Tie a bucket (preferably one of those wonderful rubber buckets made from old tyres as they sink) off the stern of the dinghy and chuck it over the stern. As long as you're in tidal waters the bucket will be pulled away from the dinghy and the dinghy pulled away from the stern of the boat. Folks you visit will be eternally grateful that your dinghy is not attempting to batter a hole in the stern of their glossy Awlgrip'd hull. The hardest part we have found is to remember the bucket needs bringing aboard before you begin the 1/2 mile row to the dock....

Stashed away in our "diesel" locker we keep a plunger, the common or garden type used for unblocking toilets/drains and what have you.

We use it to periodically clear the cockpit drains from the detritus of everyday living, particularly if we have spent months tied to a dock etc and it ensures any water that comes aboard is easily able to drain. Much more effective than ramming a hose pipe in and hoping to flush everything out. It also works well as a simple washing machine by helping to agitate the water and muck in a bucket.

As the year moves on we're beginning to see the ducks and geese, who populate this creek, proudly showing off their new chicks.

 

So here we sit on a sunny Saturday with the list growing ever smaller as last minute jobs are knocked off. With luck Cary will soon be free and we'll drive out to the airport to collect 25 litres of aviation fuel to use in our cooker. Bee has conducted her final forays into the wilds of Portsmouth, hunting down the bargains - last week she ended up with 500 grams (1lb) of rice for 2 cents and is greeted like an old friend at numerous supermarkets around the town. To the extent that one staff member came over to warn her that all the reduced items had been moved and could now be found on aisle....

The changes we've made seem to work well. At least tied up they do. We'll let you know.

mbt
Portsmouth, Va

..a boat full of crocks..

Not a lot to write about this time around; numerous changes made to Hannah as we prepare for another season. The "Mooyak" has gone to another home after we took the decision to consider a Portland Pudgy as our dinghy of choice. The kayak had its uses but I really disliked the way it reduced the deck width and, more importantly, made reefing slightly more onerous. Now we have our spacious decks back and access to the port side of the boom is restored. Bee was sad to see it go but was instrumental in getting it up for sale. We'll see what happens with our two part dinghy and whether we will make the jump to a PP. Not cheap and only possible because of a long forgotten pension agreement I signed 20 odd years ago and now coming, rapidly into maturity. Ah the benefits of aging! The attraction of the PP is, for us, its versatility and that it can be a bona- fida lifeboat with a chance that you can sort out your own disaster rather embarking in a rubber raft and hoping for rescue. I might do a "rant" about my feelings on this whole "safety" issue one day, life-jackets at all times and the rest of it but it'll wait.

Toots, circa 2003...

Toots: lies stretched out alongside me as I type these lines, beginning to recover from her setbacks of the last 3 or 4 weeks. Beginning with an inability to put weight on her front leg which cleared after 10 days or so to be replaced by a seizure of her hips. Two vet visits disclosed mild arthritis in her hip sockets and we left, considerably poorer and with instructions not to let her jump about too much! She lives on a boat!!

Nevertheless,we rigged up a gangplank which, we have to say she gratefully used as the jetty here is fixed, so Hannah rises and falls with the tide leaving us all either stepping up or down from/to the boat. Now, with her mobility returned she has resorted to her nerve-racking leaps..


Bee would have made an brilliant researcher and can locate stuff on the 'net whereas I lose enthusiasm when confronted with "About 2,350,6790 results in 0.36 seconds" as Google returns my search query. In one of these quests she found numerous positive reports from cat owners about a joint supplement. In a local store (Krogers) she found said supplement being sold off......$20 reduced to $2.09. She bought the lot. Similarly with the 3 tablets we got from the vet at $21 could be found on-line for $1.99 each. The deal is even better in the UK where 30 tablets cost the equivalent of $30. She (Toots) is on the mend now although generally stiff when she first gets up. We don't think the last couple of years have helped her (or us for that matter) as we seem to have been in cold, damp conditions most of the time. I doubt this summer will be much different either.

A riot of colour, a roaring fire and Toots at full stretch.....

 The summer: We still intend to head up to Iceland though we're in two minds about the way we'll do this...Option 1 is to go directly from here to Reykjavik avoiding the fog around Grand Banks and the 'bergs coming down from Labrador.

Helen, emerging from Labrador waters with head wound!

Option 2 is to drop in on Phil and Helen in Maine before heading off for the south coast of Newfoundland and then,possibly, onto the Prins Christian Sund in southern Greenland. Swings and roundabouts to both ideas of course: Option 1 means we probably won't be leaving properly until mid-May, which seems a LONG way off and whilst #2 means we can leave fairly soon with southern Newfie a big attraction, it does mean covering the same ground for a while and bringing ourselves into the fog/berg scenario we'd hoped to avoid. The Prins Christian Sund is a 90 mile cut through which, in a normal year is "ice-free" around July/August and would be far too late for what we want. Looking at the two ice charts here you can see that there has been a considerable reduction in the ice in the last 3 weeks so perhaps we may be lucky. These are pdf files and I have no idea how to embed them in the blog so the links may be a temporary thing.

  March 17                       March 29                        Ice egg explanation

Lastly,if you have, as we do, an attraction for those cold and isolated places have a look at this site. The story of his building the boat is remarkable enough but the photo journals are just wonderful. It helps that he takes great photos of brilliant subjects.

Sailors and science

I came across this article on the BBC recently and it struck me as an excellent idea and one in which sailors could make a contribution with very little effort. It's a simple device to measure plankton for Plymouth University and this is part of what they say:

The marine phytoplankton account for approximately 50% of all photosynthesis on Earth and, through the plankton food web that they support, they both underpin the marine food chain and play a central role in the global carbon cycle strongly influencing the Earth’s climate. 

Living at the surface of the sea the phytoplankton are particularly sensitive to changes in sea surface temperature. A recent study of global phytoplankton abundance over the last century concluded that global phytoplankton concentrations have declined due to rising sea surface temperatures as a consequence of current climate change....
You can read the BBC article 

here 

and the stuff from Plymouth Uni

here

this second link has an additional link to downloading a mobile app to report the data you find. Apart from a phone they ask you to make a white 30cm disc, called a Secchi, take a reading between 10 and 2pm and a few other small points -  well you can read about it in detail on the second site. Seems a great idea to harness those already out there on the oceans to provide valuable data. Most yotties I know seem to have mobile phones so no reason not to get involved....

Here we go again...

It's 5.30pm, high water was about an hour ago and yet the water continues to rise...we're in the middle of, yet another, winter storm and the NW wind blowing around 35knots with, apparently, possible gusts of 45 knots from the NW. The worst direction in Scott's Creek and a chop has built up which will probably increase as the tides tries to ebb.

Bee working her way back down the jetty...

 Bee has just leapt off the boat in her wellies to collect a parcel our friend Cary has been expecting. The UPS driver was alarmed to see the wild haired woman trying to run through the water that has already risen above the jetty... and couldn't work out why anyone would be coming from that direction in this weather....

As luck would have it we have both the Carrie B and a local ferry in alongside us. Unfortunately the jetty they're on is really only long enough for one vessel so the Carrie B has about a third of its length against the jetty whilst the rest remain in limbo. Lets hope both the jetty and their lines hold or this place is going to look like a skittle alley.

I think it'll be a long night.

But it has been quiet and restful, well perhaps not for this fish. At the moment the top of this piling is struggling to stay above water as it continues to rise.

Redbird and Hannah side by side, a bygone era

Sometimes you need a little bit of luck...

Prompted by a series of posts on  here I was reminded of my recent experience of going overboard. The posts concern the sensibility of being either harnessed or wearing a life jacket at all times; not a philosophy we either share or agree with but each to their own. But it got me thinking, looking at where on the boat it had happened and whether a harness and or life jacket would have made a difference. You can read about what happened here if you haven't already but the conclusion I came to is this. Well OK lets first rule out the life jacket as we have never worn them ever on Hannah but we do, if we think conditions dictate, wear harnesses and on that occasion we did not feel conditions warranted harnesses. That's our decision, others may, and do, adopt a very different approach and that's fine by us. So thinking about what happened this is what I feel may have occurred and what a possible outcome may have been had I been wearing a harness.

When the boom swung back toward me I was moving to my left and I probably caught my left heel against the running backstay which is stretched taught between a block and a winch (not a good arrangement which we are now taking steps to change) It was this stumble, coupled to trying to dodge a swinging boom, that began the process of tipping me upside down over the side. Had I been wearing a harness it would have been clipped on to a jackstay and thus dangling vertically from chest level to the deck. Somersaulting backwards would have, probably, meant my legs passing either side of the harness as I went over the bulwarks. As I see it I would have been suspended upside down with my head underwater with my legs at 90 degrees to my body ( head at 6 o'clock, legs at 3o'clock) effectively trapping me in a prime drowning position. As those who have read the update know, plus the fact that I'm still writing is a bit of a give away, I simple fell off the boat and with two pieces of luck came back on board.

Well the conclusion I draw from this is not that wearing a harness is bad for your health but simply that there are no hard and fast rules. People fall over board and are drowned wearing life belts and or harnesses. People are saved because they have been wearing life belts or harnesss. Neither is right or wrong, it's just a choice. Hopefully you make the right one.

Old guys rule...

We've recently stripped down, and put back together, our wonderful Simpson Lawrence windlass, a SL500 model no less and believed to date from the early 50's. It's a massively solid and comforting piece of kit with a cast iron case, two speeds, three pawls and five grease nipples. The handle we use to operate it is about a metre long and raises the chain on both the push and pull strokes. We've never bothered with the low gear, have no idea how many feet per minute we raise but love its simplicity, ruggedness and lack of frills.

Ahead of the windlass can be seen the swivel we inserted into the system to try to get the anchor to come up toward the roller in the correct orientation. Doesn't always work and we may not keep it there but you can see, in the photo below, that the swivel is NOT attached directly to the anchor. I've lost count of the number of boats I've seen where swivels are attached in that way; despite the numerous accounts of the damage done to the swivel when an anchor, buried deep or caught on a rock is unable to move sideways and the forces splay the swivel side walls. We use a short length of 12mm (1/2")chain to connect the swivel to the anchor.

We had an "altercation" with someone on line recently who accused us of being massively over the top in terms of the weight of anchor (33kg) we use for the size of boat. Well perhaps in his terms we are; but then, unlike him, we don't have the safety net of a home - Hannah represents everything we own and the only insurance we have is for 3rd Party i.e. if we wreck your boat our insurance will cover your damage but ours is down to us. On top of this of course, Hannah is very heavy, not because she is a ferro hull but simply because this is our home and we live aboard on a full time basis. The 700 books (no exaggeration) 1,000+ paper charts, cast iron wood stove and all the provisions etc add up to a lot of weight. Although our fuel tank is small at 60 litres we carry an additional 180 litres or so in jerry cans. Likewise water. I do remember when we were last pulled out in the UK, we'd stripped the boat of most things, no books or charts for instance and both masts, booms, gaffs and all sails had been removed and we still weighed over 16 ton (35,000lbs or well over 16000 kgs) Add to all that weight the windage of two masts, served rigging, baggy wrinkles and 1500 feet of running rigging and Hannah adds up to a wonderful target for wind and waves when we're at anchor. So we use what we feel is the best insurance possible - a heavy anchor with a rock solid manual windlass. It may not appeal to everyone and, it seems, nothing brings forth the arm chair pundits as much as anchoring threads on forums but this works for us.

Wintering in Greenland...but not us

In early August of last year we began to make preparations to leave Greenland and work our way south. A week or so later a 35' Wylo called Iron Bark made its way into Disko Bay and began searching around for winter quarters..... Trevor Robertson and 'Barky, as he calls his boat, were looking to embark on their third winter in the ice. Once in Antarctica and once, with Annie Hill, in the Arctic.

It came to mind recently as the daylight hours here are becoming noticeably longer, yesterday we had our first sprinkling of snow and I got to wondering how Trevor was getting on. Of course nobody knows as communication is non existent and even Annie is not sure where he decided to winter - the only clue may be that as a last resort he could always use the same anchorage they used in 2004/05.

So he is, based on the lat/long of the last anchorage they used (72 30.9N 54 58.6 W) at the moment still experiencing zero sunlight and probably won't see the sun until Jan 31st. Think about that. It is not something I would want to do (although Bee finds the idea appealing) and with a wood burner as our heat source it is never likely to happen but Annie's account of their Arctic time can be seen here whilst Trevor's account of his time in Antarctica can be seen here

When we begin to head north toward Iceland in late May, Trevor is likely still to be frozen in......

mbt
Portsmouth, Virginia

Memories

 It's a quiet time here as winter kicks in, we revise our plans about heading south and think more about this summers trip. With the wood burner keeping the chill out of the boat and little to write about we offer these great shots from the camera of Russ Nichols, taken during 2011

Pity about the line over the side...