THE passage. The PASSAGE. THE PASSAGE. THE PASSAGE.

We’ve been talking about this passage – aka crossing from North America to the Azores – for a loooooooong time. Indeed there are several posts in this blog that mention it, speculate about it, list long preparations for it, worry about it.

Well, we did it. It’s done. Freaking crazy.

Now that it’s in the rear-view mirror it both feels not as big as we built it up to be before leaving, and also fairly monumental. Maybe it’s like when you have a kid and all the gory, painful details quickly fade in memory and you just look back with rose coloured glasses – nature’s little way of trying to convince you to do it again…In our case, we will be soon for another 10 days to the UK.

However, before we start the next passage we need to cleanse our minds and souls of this one. More importantly, we need to organize and capture our thoughts on the matter before the memories become a jumble of oceans, days, and dolphins.

Knowing a record would be appreciated more after the fact than during, when we left Florida I dutifully started taking daily notes...aaaand made it to about Day 6 LOL! By Day 6 we were talking quite a bit about weather, and honestly, I was starting to feel like the act of writing and reflecting was somehow bad luck. Yes, I am serious. We actually all got pretty superstitious and the adults couldn’t go 10 minutes in conversation without “knocking on wood”. So I let go of the note-taking.

Fortunately my brother-in-law, Andrew, had committed to keeping day-by-day detailed notes and was sending his wife, Heidi, daily updates. Once I voiced my fears of potentially cursing us all by writing my daily reflections, and I learned that Andrew was doing it anyway, I freely dropped the act all together. To be clear, I didn’t think Andrew was cursing us, I just felt like I was. Does it make sense? Nope! Did that matter? Nope.

So this the summary is actually a combination of many sources including Andrews notes, the notes that I had taken, texts we sent to family include the ones I sent to my sister for Instagram updates, our boat log book that everyone wrote in, our log on our PredictWind tracking that mostly Greg wrote as well as recalled anecdotes that popped up as a result of this compilation process (with the rose coloured glasses off as much as possible). Be warned, this is going to be a loooooong blog post. And it might not be as exciting as you hoped …it’s many hours across the Atlantic and we are grateful there wasn’t too much drama to write about, despite wanting you to be entertained :P In order for the Daily Log to be more digestible, I’ve broken it up into 2 parts.

Part 1: Tuesday June 7 – Thursday, June 16 (you are here)

Part 2: Friday, June 17 – Saturday June 25 (you are not here)

If you would like to learn some facts about the passage without all the extra details jump here.

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Tuesday, June 7 (Departure day!)

Breakfast: chocolate protein muffins

Lunch: chickpea salad

Dinner: mahi curry

06h30

The day had finally arrived. Everyone was up early and moving well despite being a bit nervous. Not crazy nervous, no tears or fears expressed. It was all business with a side of chill. Regardless, it was an unusual morning so I made some coffee and high protein chocolate muffins as an easy grab-and-eat breakfast that people could have whenever they felt ready to eat. We were trying to just take things one step at a time rather than contemplate the vastness of the job ahead of us and at this point in the morning that next task was to make sure our diesel tanks were full before we set off. We slipped the lines from Port Canaveral Yacht Club and made the quick motor next door to Cape Marina where Greg docked like a pro and we felt off to a good start 

Greg’s note: I remember it being very surreal docking and fuelling the boat for the last time on the west side of the Atlantic for the foreseeable future. The act of doing it was the same as we’ve done many times before, but it somehow held a bigger significance as the start of our journey – at least for me. The fuel dock attendant made a comment about how ‘sea worthy’ our boat looked with a lack of clutter on the deck and all lines neat and tidy when she was used to seeing cruising boats with decks packed with all manner of paddle boards, jerry cans, fenders, lawn chairs, and who knows what else. That made me chuckle and think, yes, probably because almost all the boats you see are on their way to the Bahamas which is only about 100nm away at most…

Here we go! Dead calm and motoring away from our slip at the Port Canaveral Yacht Club.

We pulled into the fuel dock at Cape Marina almost like we knew what we were doing. I guess we’ve learned a few things over the past couple years.

09h45

We left the fuel dock at Cape Marina and headed out the short channel leading us to the ocean. As we officially entered the ocean Greg, Andrew and I each opened a giant American beer, had a sip, then poured the rest to Neptune, asking for a speedy and safe passage. Yes, perhaps we should have used something more precious than American beer (and Yeungling at that!), but it felt appropriate because it was already balls hot and we were leaving the US…

13h20 (SOG: 6.5, miles: 19.5)

Most (all except Greg) were sporting the anti-seasickness patches we had put on the previous night but we knew we’d all (except Greg) feel a bit squishy in the next few days so lunch was a simple chickpea salad and then Andrew and I grabbed some sleep while Greg was up with the kids. They were surprised by a pair of a manta rays off the port side - a first for us! Despite not seeing them with my own eyes (suuuuure you saw manta rays you guys), it felt like a great start in the wildlife department for sure. Otherwise the conditions were as expected for the day, glassy, light winds, with swell against us left over from the passing of Tropical Storm Alex and we had to keep motoring.

Greg’s note: This was the first offshore passage where I chose to forego any seasickness meds and thankfully it ended up working out fine. Previously I’ve always taken ½ scopolamine patch as a preventative measure, but we recently found out the patch had been discontinued by the manufacturer in North America so supplies were very hard to find. Since the rest of the crew is more sensitive to the sea motion than I am, it made sense to conserve the stash we already had onboard…

We were visited by our first pod of dolphins and caught a smallish mahi for dinner. It was a bit smaller than we’d like to catch but was caught in a way that required us to take it regardless (we didn’t think it would survive if we threw it back). So Greg and Liam fileted it and I made a veg and fish curry. I’m not going to lie, I was very close to puking in it! Something about catching a fish on our first day and rolling all over in light winds made it obvious that while I had my sea legs, I didn’t have my sea stomach yet…ooof. I had a few bites but basically left that untouched…and am ashamed to say I didn’t really do that poor mahi justice. It wasn’t my best work.

22h37 (SOG: 9.5, miles: 94)

Going into the first set of night watches felt easy, if not breezy, while we continued to motor through the calm seas. While Greg was on watch with Aden from 21h00 to 23h00, Aden noticed some lights in the distance and upon further inspection by eye and radar it became clear that there were many tiny signatures moving at 30 knots. Those weren’t boats! There was a US aircraft carrier a few miles away from Matriarch and they could see the planes taking off and landing. After watching for a bit, one of the vessels maneuvered toward us and then hailed us on the VHF to inform that they were training and we were fine to hold our course and speed while they executed a starboard turn to course 265. It was all very exciting for those two on their first night watch!

Greg’s note: Aden and I were scratching our heads for the longest time trying to figure out where the sound of thunder was coming from when we couldn’t see any lightning on the horizon or squall activity on the radar. Then when she saw a ‘radar tower’ of red lights off in the distance where there should be open water I knew something was up! Turns out the radar tower was actually the red navigation lights of fighter plans stacked vertically as they flew in formation in the distance and the sound of thunder was their engines as they took off and landed on the carrier. The carrier was well within visual range and closing quickly when we got hailed by “US Warship 55” – intimidating to say the least, but I tried to sound competent on the radio as they told me to stand on while they maneuvered around…

00h37 (SOG: 9.3, miles: 113)

Less exciting for Andrew’s, Liam’s and my watches where we all noted the calm conditions but a messy swell in the log book and eventually a slight wind shift to aft of us. The worst of it though was the almost unbearable heat. SO SO SO hot. And as we were just starting out we didn’t want to have the port lights open and get our stuff wet so we were relying on the fans to keep us alive during our sleep…omg they did but just barely.

The upside was that since we were still in the Gulf Stream we were booming along at 9.5 knots all night with a 2.5 knot current with us…helped to make some miles for sure!

Wednesday, June 8

Breakfast: tofu crumbles with sauteed veg and cheese + toast

Lunch: cold plate (chicken, cheese, cucumber, peanuts, apple)

Dinner: quinoa + kale salad

07h00 (SOG: 9.5, miles: 178)

By morning, the leftover swell from Alex had come down but we still had no wind. The updated weather confirmed we should expect it to fill in from the S/SW by the evening and we were all looking forward to some freaking breeze! We still had to do the coffee thing though because we were just getting used to night watches and were dragging a bit. Andrew made espresso with the stove top espresso maker our friends Nick and Sarah gave us from their boat (Otoka) and it proved to be an awesome hand-me-down…enough coffee for 3 in just a few minutes, or for one or two if everyone wasn’t up. And so easy to make more. Much better than our “at anchor” process of pour-over coffee. Sweet upgrade!

Seeking out a tiny patch of shade with a tiny whiff of breeze in the hopes of a tiny bit of relief whilst working on our Daily Challenges set by my brother and sister-in-law…

15h30 (SOG: 8.1, miles: 246.6)

The heat, even in the morning, was unbelievable and unexpected. We all thought it would be much cooler out on the ocean. Bah! We still didn’t have wind but knew it would be coming…we all leaned eagerly out of the cockpit despite the sun to feel some air movement from time to time. I tried to keep things cool with a cold-plate lunch…the idea of the stove on made us all shudder.

Greg’s note: Yes it was hot, but even crappier from my perspective was the constant drone of the engine and occasional smell of the exhaust when the minimal wind swirled around and blew it back on us from behind. Sailboats are meant to be sailed, not motored, and as the hours ticked by I found myself checking and rechecking the forecast for when the wind was going to fill in. On the bright side, it was a very relaxed and drama-free start to the passage, so I guess the initial motor-show wasn’t all bad…

Despite the heat, Andrew, Liam and Greg bravely fought demons on the Nintendo Switch to pass the time a bit in the afternoon as well as bravely faced very hot bunks for naps.

19h00 (SOG: 7.5, miles: 273.5)

Andrew noted that both the moon and sun were high in the sky and the sunset was already getting late. The conditions were quite beautiful despite not sailing.

By the evening we thought we had started to exit the Gulf Stream as evidenced by the quickly dropping current. We had travelled 287nm at this point which we felt was pretty fast for just about 35 hours. Thank you Gulf Stream!

We also had a weather briefing where we discussed a new front developing off the east coast next week and whether or not we should plan a stop in Bermuda to ride it out. Since we were still several hundred miles away we decided to play it by ear for a bit yet and watch the next few updates.

Greg’s note: We had decided before leaving that it would be a good idea to have at least 1 daily weather briefing where all crew were present. We wanted to make sure everyone knew what to expect in the coming hours and days and had a good understanding of our planned route and reasons for it. We also felt it was important that everyone have a chance to voice their thoughts, opinions, concerns, and preferences with respect to the weather and our routing choices. We kept it up throughout the passage and it proved very successful, but especially as this developing front became more and more of a feature dictating our sailing choices over the coming week…

21h10 (SOG 7.2, miles: 289.4)

On Greg’s watch we were finally able to start sailing! We were moving at about 7 knots to start which was just fine by us. What a relief to be able to turn off the motor and have that relative silence! Not actual silence of course because sailing is surprisingly noisy…

Greg’s note: I was by myself on watch listening to a podcast when I felt the first of the freshening breeze. I waiting about 15 minutes to be sure it wasn’t just a passing moment before unfurling the main and genny and shutting down the motor. Oh what sweet relief to hear the sound change from that drone of the diesel to the sound of water rushing by the hull and the occasional cresting of a wave from our starboard quarter.

Thursday, June 9

Breakfast: mango pineapple protein smoothie + biscotti

Lunch: hummus with spinach and dry breads + cucumber

Dinner: one-pot pasta with peppers and sausage

05h40 (SOG: 5.8, miles: 345.1)

We had to reset the chart plotters because they crashed for some (at that time) unknown reason. It has happened to us before and it was not often so the fix always had been to restart plotters (turn breaker off). It’s a two-person job though because someone has to hand-steer for a few moments while the other goes down below to flip the breaker. So when it happens when just one person is up it’s annoying. Greg and I reset and then I crashed for a few hours.

After I crashed, Greg was left to fight what we thought was a Gulf Stream eddy we found ourselves in and decided to head a bit further south to try and get out of it and minimize the time with a counter-current. We also (fortunately) noticed we had tied the outhaul improperly back in Florida and were getting some major chafe quickly. Next time we furled in the main we would cut off the chafe and retie the knot in the proper place behind the protector rather than in front of it (duh).

Greg’s note: We were using a combination of the Mercator and RTOFS ocean current forecasts route east and out of the gulf stream’s easterly turn at about the latitude of Charleston, South Carolina. While these models did a very good job of telling us where the gulf stream was located and where it would start branching, we found their accuracy in predicting the various eddy’s and counter currents wasn’t as good as we’d hoped. On top of that, these ocean currents cover VAST amounts of distance, so trying to sail into or out of an unfavourable current can easily turn into a fool’s errand and send you a LONG way off course. Ultimately we decided we were better off sticking with our desired routing plan (which took into account the forecast ocean currents), even if the actual ocean currents ended up going against us for several hours or longer.

09h54 (SOG: 5.5, miles: 367)

Andrew enjoyed a sunless and therefore cool start to the day and when I was up there as well a bit later we saw a large pod of dolphins off feeding (surrounded by sea birds) which still was just as exciting as the first time. It is just so fun and sporty and joyous to see even just one dolphin come visit. It is so clear that they are curious and often swim sideways keeping perfect pace with the boat speed so they can look right at us. Sometimes you can even hear them squeaking and clicking as they talk to each other. Completely amazing. It feels like such a personal interaction that we can’t help but wave back at them.

Yum! Beautiful, perfectly ripe pineapple for breakfast is a great way to start the day. I still have sleepy eyes and it’s just too hot for clothing.

Hey, why do we have fish scales on the mangoes? Guess this flying fish just couldn’t resist the sweet fruity aroma from our fruit and veggie hammock! What a way to go :(

16h47 (SOG: 8, miles: 412.9)

The boat was fairly uncomfortable and frustrating in the afternoon with a strong current on our port side, surfing waves and moving fast (9 knots) but with close together waves against the wind knocking us around. And not to sound like a broken record but the heat was just awful. And worse for Andrew who was NOT as acclimatized as we certainly were. We were all sweating but he was really suffering…for us 30-35C was pretty standard and 25C felt cold but that is not Ontario weather except for a few weeks here and there. He was doing such a good job of taking good care of himself; pounding so much water than the rest of us and he barely ever complained about the temperature.

Adding to the frustration was the testing and failing of the hydrogenator. Yes, the hydro-generator that we worked VERY HARD to get parts for back in Florida. The hydro-generator that we have had for 3 years and has NEVER produced power for us and we really wanted to have fixed for this passage. Yes, the hydro-generator that we spend $2K on to make sure it was good to go but couldn’t test until we were sailing…yes that one.

We had to depower the boat to get the thing in the water; Greg did most of the heavy lifting on the sugar scoop (yes obvs everyone was hella careful and clipped in) and Andrew assisted on the aft deck while I was at the helm in case of emergency. Once it was deployed it was clear that it was going to be a moaning / wailing sound when this thing was going so I creatively dubbed her Moana. In the first few hours it seemed as though it was generating power (blue light was on the regulator so that was good) but then the light was flickering…looked like a loose connection somewhere despite everything looking ok under the aft bunk. So Greg, in true Greg form, spent time puzzling over this and being generally tenacious but between the late hour and the noise from the now unproductive hydro-generator we decided to yank it and troubleshoot later. Soooo back to depowering and precariously standing on the sugar scoop in the Atlantic while the boat sloshes around in waves and current to get Moana back up to rest after basically doing nothing. We charge the batteries with the Northern Lights generator and new Mastervolt charger instead.

Greg’s note: This equipment failure really, really pissed me off. Megan and I debated getting rid of the hydrogenerator entirely before the passage because we had just installed a brand new generator plus battery charger, and we had solar, plus the main engine in the worst case to charge batteries (more on that later…); however, we ended up deciding we wanted the redundancy of the 300-400W of continuous power the hydrogen should produce at our expected sailing speeds. We spent a lot of money and a lot of hassle to fix the issue we knew about (the failed regulator), went through the pain in the ass to get it deployed (honestly it’s not worth it unless you’re sailing for multiple days), but then to see it still not work was infuriating. In the end I had to box up all those feelings, stay positive, and cut our losses because it ended up being too difficult, too risky, and too time consuming to keep experimenting with fixes by slowing down the boat and hanging off the transom where the thing is deployed.

21h21 (SOG: 9.0; miles: 449.8)

We were aiming to stay just ahead of a front that was currently behind us and were expecting squally conditions over the next couple days but also some good, fast sailing as we continue mainly eastward roughly along 32N toward Bermuda. We were seeing lightning off the stern from this first front and continued to stay out in front of it all night. This one wasn’t the front we’ve been discussing; we knew fairly well the whole time we’d outrun this one and timed our departure from Florida in order to do so. It was nevertheless satisfying to see the lightning so far behind us proving us correct in our calculations (or just lucky!) but this feeling we knew was temporarily as there would be no avoiding the next one unless we stopped in Bermuda which none of us really wanted to do. We didn’t want to lose time on the other end in the Azores, the current passage-vibe momentum we had and potentially get stuck for weeks if weather got bad.

Friday, June 10

Breakfast: yogurt and granola

Lunch: rice + eggs with soya sauce

Dinner: ramen + edamame and kale

07h08 (SOG: 8.0; miles: 531.6)

We could still see evidence of the front we outran behind us with big thunderheads and it was reassuring that they weren’t any closer…and why would they be when we were moving so darn fast!

That said we had some unsettled weather around us too. Very different than the front of a well-established low though…that was coming in a few more days. With a double reefed main and a double reefed genny we were still moving fast but prepared for the gusts as they came and went with the squalls around us. We were seeing between 15-25 apparent and we didn’t want to be overpowered if something puffed up quickly. We were fast beam reaching for most of the day, regularly seeing >8kts of boat speed through the water, offset by a small countering current. The boat motion was pretty comfortable as well, with the waves 2-2.5m from our starboard quarter giving us a few nice surfing sessions now and then.

We played the game “squall dodging”…which consisted of spot the squall, judge by eye or radar where its going and if it’s going to miss us, and make your call…there aren’t so much winners or losers as there are those on a roll with the guesses. We didn’t often change course for squalls because that feels like a zero sum game…like changing check-out lines at the grocery store. For most of the day the squalls would appear behind us and then pass on our port side. Andrew was particularly good at “squall dodging” and it lasted most of the day. It’s honestly not a bad way to pass the time provided you stay dry (which we do in our enclosure).

Here we’ve acquired the squall off our stern as a radar target which gives us it’s speed and course over ground. In this case, it looks like the squall dodger on watch is going to slip through without a scratch (or drop…).

Here you can clearly see the squall dumping a ton of rain. It’s almost impossible to judge by eye where the squall is headed, but we found the radar did a pretty decent job.

From Greg’s written notes:

“We spent most of the morning today watching squall lines on the radar as they came up on us from behind. We decided only to alter course if we thought it would help us avoid the worst of the rain, but for the most part we just sailed on and reefed the sails, closed the portlights, and put in the cockpit enclosure windows if the rain got within a couple miles or so. We only got wet a couple times and luckily didn’t see any lightning or experience any gusts over the mid 20s.

Because we’re taking wave splashes over the starboard side on occasion (I got a nice saltwater addition to my yogurt and granola when a decent splash came into the cockpit!), we’re only able to have the port side portlights open which doesn’t help with airflow very much. But I guess on the bright side we get to live out the last of the tropical heat for a little while longer before digging out the warm clothes…”

21h10 (SOG: 7.2, miles: 632)

By the evening the wind was more steady and the seas smoothed out a bit more with regular waves on the beam and stayed as such for the rest of the night.

We discussed and decided on the strategy for the big low with the powerful front we were expecting in a few days. We planned at this point to hold our course and then head south as needed to avoid the worst of the front. We decided the extra miles were worth less stress on crew and boat. We had been in regular contact with our friend, Julia, who is a climatologist, checking in on our plans and rationales. She was a great source of information we couldn’t get outside of the data we were downloading every 12 hours and verifying our plans as being sound. Lots of anticipation was being felt for this one and it was on our minds whether we were speaking about it or not.

Greg’s note: With the developing low still over North America and 5-6 days away, it was definitely a bit of a guess as to how far south would be far enough to avoid nasty conditions. On one hand, we all wanted to err on the side of caution, but on the other hand, the further south we went, the longer the passage would be and harder time we would have sailing the long way back north to the Azores.

Saturday, June 11

Breakfast: bagels + cream cheese with smoked salmon, onions, capers

Lunch: black bean nachos

Dinner: cauliflower potato coconut curry

07h55 (SOG: 6.0, miles: 700.0)

We were moving a bit slower in the morning in part due to a current that seemed to keep shifting every 12 hours, rotating in a big slow 360 degrees. This stayed consistent for pretty much the entire first half of passage until we started heading north; we didn’t ever really understand why but the current was significant, at times 1.5 knots with us or against us or on our beam…we stopped making note of it after awhile when we realized it wasn’t residual Gulf Stream eddies but just “ocean stuff”.

Greg’s note: We were judging current based on what our B&G instruments were telling us, so one theory is the speed through water (coming from the paddle wheel) wasn’t well calibrated, so when combined with speed over ground and course over ground (coming from the GPS), the calculation of current/tide impact wasn’t quite correct. At the end of the day, it didn’t make any difference in terms of our sailing or decision making so we just left well enough alone.

Our conditions throughout the day were fairly stable and we just trudged on, filling our time with talking and the excitement of opening the big bag of peanut M&Ms (this was a big deal)! Andrew and I had a great conversation in the morning covering most major topics – I love having a good hearty dialogue with someone outside of my immediate humans. Everyone else spent those hours playing Diablo 3 on the Switch.

We also filled some time by continuing to work away on the daily trivia challenges and brain teasers my brother and sister-in-law sent us before we left Florida. Each day a new collection of puzzles, trivia or otherwise to help fill our time. The girls VERY MUCH looked forward to these every day. Aden especially liked the consistency of it. Today’s package included a crossword puzzle that was all nautical stuff and most we nailed but there were a few we never figured out…and you know Greg with an unsolved problem (p.s. Andrew is the same way) so it’s surprising he eventually conceded.

16h12 (SOG: 8.2, miles: 757)

Dolphins! We were visited by a giant pod of a smaller species of dolphins who spent several minutes playing at the bow. The babies were so small that they popped out of the water completely when the jumped with very little bend to their bodies. The boat was rocking and rolling all over the place with some medium size swell and waves (at the moment of dolphins we were flying at 10knots) but the kids wanted to go up to the bow regardless so they all clipped in and made their way up there like nobody’s business. We’d be visited by the odd sea bird as well which has been pleasant…we wondered where they came from and where they are headed.

We had a detailed weather briefing again in the afternoon as we watched the big front and the path it is going to take – and therefore the path we are going to take. The plan at this point was to stay south until it goes by and then head NE. We were getting closer to Bermuda and it felt weirdly comforting to know there was land out there with people and stuff…like a safety net? Despite the fact that we didn’t plan to stop…

Weather briefing from Andrew’s perspective. Most days we did it in the cockpit so people had space but could look out at the horizon if the screen made them feel gross. Also it gave us a space away from the kids to focus on the discussion. The biggest challenge was keeping tiny salt spray off the laptop from the open windshield!

This evening the NOAA ocean prediction centre 96 hour surface/500mb forecast had the front from the complex double low extending into our path by sometime the coming Wednesday. We discussed the pros/cons of stopping in Bermuda but it really boiled down to the inevitability of encountering such a system regardless. Up to this point we had been fortunate to have fairly ideal sailing and as Andrew wrote to Heidi on this day “we know it can’t continue to last forever; will know even more with tomorrow's forecast.”

It was much cooler today thankfully, the only sweating came with making meals which is to be expected. It was wonderful to sit in the cockpit and not be making everything soggy. We were all looking forward to even a few degrees less.

Sunday, June 12

Breakfast: yogurt, granola and peanut butter

Lunch: pasta salad

Dinner: tofu stir-fry with rice

05h10 (SOG: 6.0, miles: 850)

Grace very much wanted to do a night shift with someone and had made us all promise to get her up. She is highly motivated by the “you can eat anything you want but not all of one thing” rule for night watch. She ended up doing a double shift with me from 3:00-7:00am to let Greg sleep through his (he looked like crap) and we ate chocolate and honey nut cheerios. Before the shift ended she was already trying to line up Twizzlers for the next night shift!

We were feeling a little sticky so another shower was in our future although the cooler breeze remained which was awesome. We were also looking forward to the milestone of passing Bermuda - which was pretty exciting as it marked 1/3 of the journey and we’d done it in really good time. In the night we surpassed our longest distance sailing non-stop and we also crossed our path from November 2019. In another day we will have also surpassed our longest time out in one go…lots of firsts!

11h37 (SOG: 7.5, miles: 888)

The morning forecast still had the front forecasted to meet us sometime between Wednesday and Thursday so we in turn confirm holding our present course. We wanted to keep making good time, especially since the front has planning to divert a bit south (i.e. away from the Azores) we put up the asymmetrical spinnaker in the light winds we had for a bit so we could keep sailing (rather than motoring). Made for a few good photo ops and lasted a few hours before the wind picked up again and we went back to our usual set-up, humming along at 7 knots. While getting the spinny set up with Greg, Andrew stepped on a dead flying fish that was missed in the morning look-around. He didn’t realize that fishy smell was coming from his foot until he looked down…super gross!

Greg’s note: I love flying the spinnaker and in this case we thought it was truly necessary because winds were expected to be light all day, too light to make decent boat speed with white sails only, and we were trying to stay ahead of the coming front as long as possible to allow it to weaken, and we still had about 2100nm to go to the Azores so it wasn’t practical to just motor it out. The downside was we had a lot of gear stored on one half of the v-berth, and the spinnaker was stored below that! On top of that, we had the dingy on the deck so we couldn’t use our typical procedure of sending the spinnaker up through the forward hatch because it was covered. So in order to get it flying, Andrew and I had to first move all the gear from the v-berth, then get the spinnaker out from it’s locker, then haul it up through the salon and cockpit and onto the deck, and only then get to the job of rigging it up and getting it flying. A nice little work-out to be sure, but once it was out and flying it turned into a gorgeous sail!

23h16 (SOG: 7.8, miles: 968.4)

We all waved at Bermuda as we sailed by about 50nm away. So weird. Nothing between us and Azores now unless we really mess something up.

I keep dreaming about sailing. Last night I dreamt that after this front passed us we got disoriented and sailed for another week thinking we were arriving at the Azores but we ended up back at Port Canaveral!! It was def a nightmare and we were all so shocked and frustrated that we were back where we started and no longer had the time to safely get to the Azores. Awful.

Greg’s note: It was kind of cool listening to Bermuda Radio traffic on the VHF as we got within range. It was nostalgic remembering our own conversations with them as we approached and arrived in Bermuda in 2019 as a stop on our way from North America to the Caribbean.

Monday, June 13

Breakfast: blueberry-mango smoothie

Lunch: stove-top quiche

Dinner: turkey and zucchini one-pot pasta

10h39 (SOG: 7.3, miles: 1046)

We were close reaching with a full genny and one reef in the main and flying for most of the day. An AWA of 60-65 is pretty darn nice and we often saw speeds above 8 without surfing. Today the autohelm kept rebooting which was frustrating and we didn’t know what to make of it. Was it the speed? Was it the sailing angle? (spoiler: it was not).

Matriarch just making tracks close hauled. A 1-2m swell meant that waves didn’t really slow us down…we just plowed through, up or down them nicely.

17h34 (SOG: 8.0, miles: 1100)

The day had us just crushing miles, and watching, waiting for each weather update. PredictWind downloads still showed the front crossing somewhere between late Wednesday and Friday, most likely Thursday based on our current speed and track. Given how fast we’d been sailing there was a chance at this point that we could stay ahead of the major weather but we weren’t counting on it. The last few days we had spent quite a lot of time talking about and anticipating weather so on one hand we were feeling a bit anxious about it but on the other hand looking forward to this front so we could move on with what we all saw as the “final leg” of the passage.

Greg’s note: With every new weather forecast the shape and speed of the front chasing us was changing, so we decided to keep sailing as fast as possible heading just south of east in hopes the front would stall up against the Azores high and we’d be far enough east to stay ahead of it. At this point we were thinking 50/50 chance of getting rolled by it, and so we wanted to make sure we weren’t too far north where the stronger conditions were expected.

Tuesday, June 14

Breakfast: yogurt, granola and peanut butter

Lunch: plantain pancakes

Dinner: pan-fried sausage, cabbage and potato with mustard

Oh baby plantain pancakes are the best! At this point we’re really thankful for the veggie hammock standing up to the elements, allowing us to still have beautiful plantains more than a week into the passage.

10h06 (SOG: 8.5, miles: 1220)

The feeling of a holding pattern intensified as we anticipated the front within the next 48 hours. The weather presented as an absolutely beautiful day for sailing but it also felt like the obvious “calm before the storm”. Another day of fast fast, fast sailing was good for morale though as all the comments with exclamation marks in the log book can attest!

The sail angle for most of the day was beam or just forward of the beam with small chop consistently aft starboard…glorious! (with the exception of the odd autohelm drop having us scratching our heads…) The sun was out all day and as a result it was quite a bit warmer than we had experienced for a few days but not as soul-crushing as it was the first few days out of Florida.

Greg’s note: We were very, very happy with how Matriarch had been sailing. We’d been hitting higher daily mileages than we’d expected from day 1 and the boat was feeling good and continuing to move fast. We really started to appreciate what a truly good ocean sailing boat we have, something that’s hard to really get a sense of when you’re spending almost all your time day sailing between anchorages in the Caribbean.

Playing guitar is actually harder than you think when the boat is heeled over, bounding over waves, and sailing along at 8kts. But hey it was worth a try.

15h00 (SOG: 8.3, miles: 1261)

The sea state started to change in the afternoon and our perfect conditions were still good (from beam reaching in the morning up to close reaching in the afternoon) but not as comfortable as before. The swell was beginning to grow, either from the front behind us or just localized systems, and Matriarch started to lurch around a bit more than earlier in the day…sigh…just another reminder that everything is temporary in sailing, the good and the bad.

And speaking of bad, the weather forecast looked relatively the same other than the new long-term showing that we will have to go upwind towards Azores at the end of the passage which could make for about 4 days of pretty crappy bashing into swell and wind. We were hopeful that would change in subsequent forecasts.

23h22 (SOG: 8, miles: 1322)

Andrew was treated to an amazing full moonrise.

From Andrew’s notes:

“Large glowing round orb in a relatively cloudless sky off starboard. Was leaning out cockpit looking and trying to take a photo when I saw a big swell coming broadside - managed to duck in before it sent a shower of salt water where my head had been. Occasionally getting broadsided by swell but nothing major. Cruising at close to 8kts in moonlight so bright that it feels like dusk. Makes everything less intense at night being able to see the shape and size of swell.”

It’s always really hard to capture the moon while sailing at night, but this is one of the better images Andrew managed to get. There’s nothing like zooming along under sail with the full moon lighting your way in silver. Note the mackerel sky indicating the upcoming weather change.

Wednesday, June 15

Breakfast: no one wrote it down!

Lunch: tuna and kale pasta salad

Dinner: meaty chili

04h18 (SOG: 8.5, miles: 1364)

We were hailed by a tanker (TRF Mandal) early in the morning who spotted us on AIS and basically wondered what the hell we were doing out there (probably with a weather report in hand anticipating wee little us going through this front soon) by politely asking “Are you ok?!?!”. I responded in the affirmative and he asked where we were headed so I told him “the Azores” and he said “Wow that’s a long way to go yet”. Bahahaha what a thing to hear first thing in the morning by a boat that easily goes twice our speed and will feel nothing of the incoming weather. The person on the radio was very kind and polite and it overall was an unexpected and pleasant exchange – and honestly, such a small thing but it was a unique experience and even a small fun little blip in the day was welcome at this point. We weren’t feeling bored or anticipating our arrival yet, and the days weren’t yet a blur, but we hadn’t had any exchanges with other vessels in many days and it was exciting!

Red sky in the morning, sailor’s take warning! Megan took this sunrise picture on the morning before the anticipated front passage. No filters added!

09h16 (SOG:8, miles: 1404)

After our weather briefing in the morning we started to head further south per our routing to see if we can ride the wind shift anticipated being the powerful low after it passes. In Andrew’s notes he says “the timing of this looks somewhat difficult” which was well put. The center of the low will come further south than originally thought and was going to be closer to us than we would like before it started to track North and East around the Azores High.

23h55 (SOG: 8.0, miles: 1525)

The day was very fast and very bumpy with a swell on our beam. Our log book had an entry of 9.1 and the rest were all above 8 knots. We had another 200+nm day which was crazy! The motion was definitely hectic and at times felt overpowered so we reduced canvas a bit to calm things down a bit without losing any boat speed.

Greg’s note: We probably should have reduced sail a little earlier than we did. Megan always has a really good sense of when the boat is feeling overpowered and I always want to hang on to the sail area a little longer than we should. In this case, we were racing a front so I wanted to keep the boat speed as high as possible, but I think in retrospect should have been more cautious. The boat was really leaping off the top of waves and down into the trough of the next, so it was feeling more like racing than cruising. No harm, no foul in this case as nothing broke and no damage was done, but when you’re more than 1000nm from anywhere it’s better to be safe.

Thursday, June 16

Breakfast: no one wrote it down!

Lunch: no one wrote it down!

Dinner: no one wrote it down!

05h18 (SOG: 9.5, miles: 1570)

The morning dawned on our anticipated “Front Day” with bigger waves and winds. The weather had started to break down over night and the boat started leaping off of waves requiring further reefing. Early in the morning the waves were a bit close together as they were building and we were getting lots of crashing over the windshield rather than riding up and down them. By late morning they had spaced out a bit but were more on our beam (as anticipated) so we were warily watching for particularly large ones to crash over the high side.

13h46 (SOG: 8.5, miles: 1644)

We had wind from mid to high 20s all day and detected our first squalls on the radar around 2:00pm EST. Just prior to these squalls we changed our heading a bit to get the swell more behind us then beside us to avoid breaking waves on the beam as much as possible. At 3:30pm EST we had a major, and I mean MAJOR rain squall. I have never seen rain that hard before and I know Andrew and Greg felt the same. It was INSANE. You could barely see outside of the cockpit (good thing we were in the middle of nowhere) and the texture of the waves totally changed as they got pounded flat. It was quite amazing to witness and for awhile we were all dry and safe in our cockpit…until the rain unbelievably got even harder and then the weave of our excellent and recently treated enclosure just couldn’t handle the volume started to act as a fine mesh sieve filling the previously dry space with the finest fresh water mist…slowly soaking us. After a few more minutes we got a leak dripping down directly on the hood of my jacket as I sat behind the wheel…that was fun. Once that particular squall ended things were calm for about half and hour.

The main difference between a squall and the front of a big low is that a squall is a strong, short storm that is over in about 5-15 minutes depending on the size and front is squall after squall after squall after squall with big winds (or no winds or both) in between and confused seas for about 6 hours or more if you are unlucky. Now both can be dangerous because both can have similarly strong winds. But a front is where you will have bigger seas and more random shit happening…like waterspouts and crazy lightening…both of which we saw that day.

21H18 (SOG: 6.9, miles: 1700)

One of the first squalls in the evening saw the winds go from low 20s to around 45knots AWS at 120 AWA within about 20-30 seconds. We had too much canvas up for 45 knots and I couldn’t hold the wheel myself so Greg shot up quickly to hold it with me for a moment. Once it passed over us we put another reef in both sails (now triple reefed each) and we were of course still flying. Later we furled the genny all together and still just flew along.

For the night shifts we wisely doubled up; Andrew and I together, Greg and Liam together for 2 hours at a time. We knew it would be tiring but we knew it would be just one night and we could recover the next day. Totally worth it in my opinion. It was so helpful to have Andrew there, trading off between steering and managing the electronics while together we tracked the squalls and watched the lightening close in and then pass us. It was comforting to have someone to joke with through the stress and to make it, dare I say, almost fun…despite the hot, damp cockpit and the tons of gear we had on in case we needed to hop on deck in a hurry.

From Andrew’s notes:

“Boat was extremely hot as all port lights, hatches were closed as well as cockpit enclosure. Rain was getting into the enclosure and everyone was fairly wet. Waves were also crashing over the bow and flying into the cockpit windshield. Was so sweaty and hot was almost unbearable for me.

Megan and I had a watch while G and L slept. Watched lightning all around us in huge thunder clouds. Most of them passing on the starboard and in front of us, travelling extremely fast. We were starting to think that maybe the worst of the front had passed us and it was all over. Somewhat stressful trying to judge if storms would hit us or not. Staring for hours at the horizon and radar and wind instruments. Regardless if squalls hit us, often we would get gusts from the upwind squalls if the angle was right, or the wind would die when they passed.

Had first break sometime around 2130. Went down below and collapsed into my bunk. Was wired but very tired from the anticipation as well as the intensity the squalls caused. Megan and I came on watch at 11pm. We were told no squalls around, just a little rain. However, the moment our watch started the radar filled up with red and we had a hectic but fast 2-hour shift of getting pounded by squalls. Greg and Liam took over around 1am. We all were wearing life jackets and foul weather gear at this point as cockpit got increasingly soaked and damp.

Came back on shift around 3am. Gregory and Liam had been hit by several squalls. Unlike the previous shift, we also got hit constantly by a big squall line. Sometimes wind would gust into 30s apparent (40+kts true) but it felt manageable compared to earlier and we kept on sailing and praying that the next squall would be the end. I had to constantly unzip the enclosure and stick my head out and I felt like a tank commander popping the hatch, or a dog getting fresh air out a car window.

Megan and I stayed on shift until sometime mid-morning to let Gregory sleep as he had barely slept at all. But the end was in sight at this stage. No more squalls on radar and sunrise started at 0430 eastern time so we got to see the sky glowing as it came up amongst the storm clouds that surrounded us on all sides but behind.”

********************

Whew! Let’s hit the pause button here on the daily log. Nothing like writing (or reading) about an Atlantic passage to remind you how long an Atlantic passage actually is!

Next up in the Atlantic Crossing Series is a more in-depth look at the weather analysis leading up to and including the front itself, and then we will continue with the remainder of the Daily Logs before getting into our reflections and take-aways from the whole darn thing.

I hope it’s been interesting to share in our experience this way; Part 2 will close out this part of our adventure and end with the anchor dropping in Horta 

Much love,

M