Well you’ve all made it this far…I’d better not keep you waiting!

At the end of the last blog post Matriarch was just getting past a massive front with nothing but some exciting memories and fatigue. Andrew and I were on an extra-long morning shift to let Greg get a bit more sleep…

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Friday, June 17

Breakfast: plantain pancakes

Lunch: avocado toast

Dinner: squash and bean burrito bowl

After our big weather adventure we were all a bit punchy. It had been about 24 hours of being alert, on guard and at times, working hard. Greg woke up and relieved Andrew and I around 9:30am and the wind had been effectively turned off so we had other mother nature troubles to deal with. Too much wind is dangerous, too little wind is SUPER annoying…especially with leftover seas from a storm. UGH.

Shockingly the boat wasn’t a hot mess like it was after our first front / big low experience in 2019, so there wasn’t a big clean-up of books, glass and various other debris. It was really more of a priority for people to rest, wash, hydrate and eat because of course, you never know when something might go wrong out there and it was important to all of us that we be at our best as much as possible all the time.

From Greg’s written notes:

“Truly, Matriarch has performed beautifully all through the high winds, big seas, torrential rain, lightning, etc etc. She was stable, easy to handle, and had good boat speed throughout the day and night. There were only a couple times when she started bounding off the tops of waves and down into the back of the next swell, but that was because we hadn’t reduced sail quickly enough and she got a little overpowered.”

12h45 (SOG: 5.5, miles: 1790)

We tried to capture what little wind there was with putting out the spinnaker pole to hold the genoa in a better position. Liam and I loved having Andrew on board for many reasons but one of them was that he was always eager to learn how to do things he hasn’t done before (just like his brother) and Liam and I were more than happy to let the two of them rig the pole, especially in those heaving, rolling conditions.

15h15 (SOG: 5; miles: 1800)

From Greg’s written notes:

“As the day wore on we were frustrated experimenting with different sail configurations and points of sail in an attempt to find a compromise between comfort, speed, and heading in much lighter winds and 3-3.5m leftover swell from the front’s passage. Our desired easterly course was proving just too uncomfortable with big swells rolling us from the side and not enough wind to keep us moving and relatively stable. So after a couple gybes to head north, then back again east, with nothing working well, we ended up in a wing-on-wing configuration with full main and poled out genoa which enabled us to steer NE’ly with the mixed swell approximately behind us. That worked for awhile, but there just wasn’t enough wind to keep the sails full. We’d accelerate with a push from the following swell, speed up faster than the apparent wind causing both sails to backwind, then slow down again as the swell passed at which time the sails would fill, and (“thwomp”) open up with a big jerk on the boat and rig. So. Frigging. Frustrating. And a lot of work trying to get the boat to sail well when you’re already tired!”

A side note about swell: When talking about swell people talk in averages (like above where Greg writes 3-3.5m swell). Swell height corresponds to the average height of the highest one-third of the waves in a given period. However, the reality of swell is that if the average swell is 3 meters, 1 in 10 will be 4.5m and 1 in 100 will be 6 meters…which is pretty big and we definitely saw. When you are sailing non-stop it doesn’t take that long to see 100 swells go by (around 15 minutes or so). When we decide to go out sailing we often look for swell under 3m, it’s one of our “weather window” parameters but of course when a big system passes you it generates a huge amount of wave energy and that energy can take days to dissipate.

23h45 (SOG: 6.2, miles: 1861)

Thankfully as evening approached we found some slightly higher winds, dropped the pole, and accepted a due north beam reach that made things a lot quieter and more comfortable for sleeping. We noticed when we dropped the pole we had some chafe on the genny sheet (even after just a few hours!) and decided it was unlikely we were going to use the pole again unless we put on the chafe guards that we bought but didn’t install in Florida.

Throughout the night we kept sailing between close haul and close reach behind the remnants of the front which was 100-150nm to the east. We knew eventually we would need to motor through a dead spot before picking up E-NE’ly winds which we can then ride northerly to the approximate latitude of the Azores which we could now see on the chart plotter if we zoom far enough out! Progress…

Saturday, June 18

Breakfast: blueberry lemon muffins

Lunch: We didn’t write it down!

Dinner: tofu and rice

If the “front day” was our most stressful, this day was our most frustrating. BY FAR.

We were all looking forward to a day of rest after the uncomfortable motion of yesterday immediately following the front. I contemplated baking a cake or something special and, along with Grace on my watch, spotted a whale fairly close to the boat…good start. Andrew kept the boat sailing nicely while he was on watch and I made some very tasty muffins around 9:30. We were looking forward to the seas continuing to settle, we expected to be becalmed for a bit and motor but then the wind was to fill back in. All-in-all it was to be a fairly chill day.

NOPE.

Log book entries:

10h45: Autohelm and plotters failed. We think it’s an issue with the autohelm. Restarted. Did not work. Still troubleshooting…

10h55: Autohelm back on but not sure why

11:15 Autohelm still failing consistently. Greg checking for a poor connection at the auto helm computer in the aft cabin…

Then things got worse. I will defer to Greg’s detailed notes of the day.

From Greg’s written notes:

“Then at about 11:00 our instruments, chart plotters, auto pilot, and GPS started throwing unexplained errors rendering them unusable. That’s a pretty big issue when you’re literally halfway between Bermuda and the Azores. We immediately started hand steering and troubleshooting. After brainstorming and reading the manuals (yes we even resorted to getting out the freakin’ manuals!), Megan woke up Andrew and she steered while he and I took apart the boat’s electronics network (the thing that connects the instrument, GPS, AIS, chart plotters, radar, etc., etc.) piece by piece, inspecting everything for a fault and then reassembling and testing, and testing, and testing.”

Greg’s written notes continued:

“About 10 hours later it was getting dark and still no resolution.

In the meantime we had resorted to verifying our position and setting a desired course using a combination of the Iridium Go and the chart plotter (when it would work intermittently) and hand steering using the good ‘ole analog compass. We also tried using the Navionics boating app which we have installed on our iPad and phones, but for some reason none of our mobile devices could find a GPS fix. Frustrating! We later surmised this was a very poorly timed coincidence due to the region we were in, because overnight we were able to verify they were all working again. Either way, we went into the night watches planning to hand steer and watch the compass like sailors used to do before all these convenient electronics came onto the scene.”

The list of devices on our network. We’re disconnecting and reconnecting these one by one to try and identify which is causing us problems!

Greg’s written notes continued:

“At a loss for where to go from here, I sent an email to our friends Joshua and Miranda at Long Hull Outfitters who we met while at the Port Canaveral Yacht Club. They are experts in all things marine electronics and power related and Joshua came through for us big time by replying within an hour with a couple good suggestions on what could be the source of our issues and what to try next. Which we would start in the morning.

Ok so it seems we have a hopeful ending to this traumatic tale, but wait there’s more!

While we were deep in the throes of pulling apart the boat to access, inspect, and test all the network nodes, we heard the sound of our propellor dramatically change (we were motoring at the time in zero wind and it was tremendously uncomfortable motion) and become a thumping, rattling, mess. Megan and I looked at each other with a “holy shit what was that?!” expression and jumped up into the cockpit to throw the engine into neutral and stop the propellor from spinning. We drifted for a minute, then slowly engaged the transmission in reverse crossing our fingers whatever it was would untangle and slide off. It sounded bad at the start, but we patiently idled in reverse for a minute then gradually increased power until the boat was moving backward at a decent speed. Megan saw some flakey plastic bits disperse off into the water, but no evidence of rope or discarded fishing gear which is what we were afraid was the problem. Then we put the boat back into forward and slowly throttled up again, listening with trepidation for any sign of trouble, and thankfully the prop sounded normal again so whatever we had tangled with must have come clear. Who knows what it actually was, but needless to say it was pretty stressful for a few minutes while we had the boat torn apart with no instruments working and our propellor potentially fouled in some floating sea garbage!

Ok so it seems we dodged a bullet there, but wait there’s more!

Early in the evening while still actively troubleshooting the GPS and hand steering we were contacted by the United States Coast Guard rescue coordination centre in Norfolk, VA advising there was a vessel requesting assistance in our general area and asking if we were willing to provide help. Based on the information given, the vessel in trouble was 190nm from us, but fairly close to our planned route to the Azores. Needless to say we responded that we were changing our routing to the vessel’s reported location with an ETA of 30-35hrs depending on the conditions en route. We were told there was a motor vessel with fishing gear tangled in their propellor and unable to free it (sound familiar?) so they were drifting. Apparently it was a pleasure vessel and they did not have dive gear on board. It was unclear how or what we could do to assist other than strap on our masks and free-diving fins and go under their boat to assist on a rope cutting mission, but nonetheless we decided we needed to do whatever we could in the event they were still dead in the water by the time we arrived.”

Sunday, June 19

Breakfast: cast iron pan sausage, potatoes, cabbage onions and cheese

Lunch: ramen with edamame

Dinner: chicken and mushroom stew with cheesy biscuit dumplings

Ok after such a sh*tty day yesterday, this day was So. Much. Better. With assistance from many people both onboard and off, the GPS problem was solved. And I knocked it out of the park in the food department (just saying…that stew was transcendent).

Liam cleaning off the deck from the usual nighttime flying fish invasion.

From Greg’s written notes:

“So after a night of short 1hr watches, hand steering, and thankfully some pleasant close hauled sailing under a very bright moon, we disconnected our external GPS antennae from the network in the early morning after some sleep. This was Joshua’s first suggestion as to what could be the source of the errors. We reconfigured to use the internal cockpit chartplotter GPS as the location source instead. And voila! No more random errors and autopilot failures (touch wood) so we were back in business. Fixing the external GPS antennae would have to wait until we’re at a dock or at anchor since it’s on a pole 8 feet off the aft deck and would have been tough to work on while our at sea.”

Actually it turned out that the external GPS antenna wasn't operating properly and probably hadn’t been connected to the network at all since we purchased the boat, but we had mistakenly plugged it in while in Florida. Greg and I both recall the moment where he had his head down in the aft locker with Liam and said “huh, there is a cord not plugged in. We must have knocked it out when we cleaned out this locker. I’ll plug it back in I guess?”…which sounded logical to me so I replied affirmative. So the whole time that GPS antenna had been shorting out and/or sending bad data into network. Andrew thought that the bashing from squall finally really broke it. Yesterday Greg and Andrew removed the antenna from the network while the rest of us hand-steered but it was part of other troubleshooting so the test wasn’t isolated and we couldn’t tell if it helped at the time. This time; however, being the only action taken, the network immediately came online and the systems started functioning normally.

Thank you Poseidon – you must have loved that American beer we gave you on Day 1.

As if to underscore that Poseidon was on Team Harris Crew, Andrew was visited in the morning by a small whale, very close to the boat. Later, in the Azores, we were able to identify it was a rarely seen Cuvier’s Beaked Whale! Very cool encounter and the species confirmation in Horta settled the debate Andrew and I were having over it at sea…he thought it was so small it must be a porpoise and I thought it’s fin and shape meant it was a bigger whale and we just weren’t see all of how big it was. We were both wrong which is nearly as satisfying as being right hahahaha…

10h23 (SOG: 9.3, miles: 2069)

At this point we were full white sails, beam reaching and FLYING high emotionally from our fix instruments as we also flew through the water! And then, our celebratory big breakfast was interrupted with more good news. We got another email from the US Coast Guard and the vessel in distress we were sailing towards got their props untangled and were now making way to the Azores. The call for assistance was cancelled and we made the tiniest adjustment to our course and continued feeling relieved for all parties.

From Greg’s written notes:

“We feel a little saltier today, like we managed the challenges pretty well, and got some timely help when we really needed it. We’ve travelled about 2020nm so far, with approximately 1000nm to go based on our current routing and we’re expecting generally favorable conditions the whole way (albeit mostly upwind sailing, but I guess having a good sailing monohull does have it’s advantages sometimes!).”

Understandably we didn’t have many log book entries on this day, nor did we make a post on our PredictWind track about the remainder of the day. Aden and Grace entertained their uncle by reading to him all the plays and stories they had written over the last few months (which he kindly and patiently endured), we ate, we napped, we basically basked in a day of things going so right after going so wrong…

But of course as I’ve said before…everything is temporary when sailing…

Monday, June 20

Breakfast: pancakes

Lunch: We didn’t write it down!

Dinner: pasta and red sauce

“My theory that important things are perpetually breaking on a boat that is still intact.”

- Andrew Harris

Temporary can be a beautiful and exciting and comforting concept. It’s centering to know that you have to appreciate the moment while you are in it. It’s invigorating to know that change is in the future. And it helps ease distress to know that “this too shall pass”.

However.

We were hoping to get more than ONE DAY of peace before our next big debacle. And no, I am not using hyperbole here. Read on.

03h00 (SOG: 7.0, miles: 2149)

From Andrew’s written notes:

“Was rough getting up and staying up on watch. Super groggy for some reason. A lot of stars visible now that moon is 55% waxing. Think the bright full moon definitely had been making the stars seem less bright, though very nice to have almost full vision all night. Any part of cockpit not covered by nightfall has a layer of dew from the big temperature differential. Couldn't sit in back of cockpit to see stars without getting wet. Not worth getting limited clothing more damp.”

06h18 (SOG: 9.1, miles: 2175)

We were crushing nautical miles at this point. Just flying through the water, sailing upwind on a course that Matriarch absolutely loves. We knew the angle was going to get progressively tighter which meant the boat eventually would slow down and things would start to become more uncomfortable when we were bashing into waves rather than slicing through them, but for now we were loving the conditions. Real upwind sailing, the first in this whole trip so far. It wasn’t going to last of course, the sail plan at this point was to get into the area of light, easterly winds at the bottom of the central high before spending a few hours motoring through it to the other side where we’d find winds filling in from the north. That should set up a nice reach or downwind sail the rest of the way into Horta. Our fingers were crossed that this was to be the case. We were excited that Aunt Heidi (Andrew’s wife) had booked her flight to meet us and booked their apartment in Horta as well. It was all feeling pretty real.

Enjoy the view from Matriarch’s cockpit as the boat is powered up and close reaching. Check out that angle and then imagine doing anything down below…cooking, sleeping, going pee…it’s all tricky.

17h17 (SOG: 8.0, miles: 2266)

The problem with sailing upwind is that is goes from nice to sporty to uncomfortable pretty quickly since more wind speed equals more boat speed, which equals more wind speed and so on…the additive nature of the apparent wind angle results in quick changes with sustained gusts or building winds. While the day was pretty good, there were moments the previous night that were rough and we were expecting the same this night as well.

And speaking of problems.

This is not where you want to be when the boat is sailing upwind at 7+kts jumping through the waves.

From Greg’s written notes:

“So. Our brand new generator decided to stop working (it only has 35hrs of run time!). It starts up, runs smoothly, and generally sounds perfect; however, it’s just not delivering voltage to the electrical panel. So off we go again into the engine room to see if we can figure out what’s going on. After checking all the external connections, we opened up the electrical box containing the voltage regulation module, the relays, fuses, and internal breakers, and to our surprise found a screwdriver sitting inside. It must have been left behind during the installation and our working theory is it’s been tossed around enough inside the generator’s electrical box that it finally ended up damaging something critical. So for now we’re back to living without the generator, which means no water maker and using the main engine to charge batteries. We can manage it, but it’s definitely not ideal and very very frustrating given how much time, effort, and money we spent on replacing our old, failing, generator with something that was supposed to be ultra reliable!”

Extra credit to anyone who notices what doesn’t belong in this picture…Hint: there are two things.

Now Greg’s notes here sound fairly frustrated but calm. We were not calm. We were infuriated. We spent so much time and so so so much money to get this new generator installed and tested before we crossed the MF ocean. It was the one thing. THE ONE THING. We thought we could rely on to not fail. We had spare sails, spare hylards, spare parts, spare spare spare spare spare everything. We were sure this brand new, top of the line, ultra reliable machine would provide us with unlimited power and we wouldn’t have to stress about making water, charging batteries, and thus powering the radar, chart plotters, fridge and freezer, water pumps, lights, laptops, and all the other things we use and rely on daily while sailing. And I’ve got to be honest. The cost of it all was a huge stress for us. We don’t spend tens of thousands lightly. We are able to live this life because of some serious saving, some fortunate business success and me continuing to work part-time in my consulting company. The cost of a new generator is like our cost of living for half a year. And now it was not working. In the middle of the ocean. And we had no leads. None.

22h00 (SOG:6.8, miles: 2298)

Log book entries:

Squally, 20-25knots, reefed, crazy wave motion.

Turned on engine and discovered new smell.

Checked engine temp (ok) and no indication of problem in engine room.

Seems to be exhaust leak in aft cabin.

Moved Grace to salon.

Batteries stopped charging at 22h00. Problem with the alternator?

Turned off engine.

Turned off fridge and freezer to save power.

To windy to troubleshoot aft cabin leak. Will continue in morning.

Good times. Late at night. Aft cabin ripped apart and mattresses and bedding thrown in the salon. Smell of exhaust coming from somewhere, but virtually impossible to pinpoint. Boat is sailing fast here, but leaping and rolling as she does.

We were hit by a small local system exactly as we started the engine to charge the batteries because, you know, no working generator now. In doing so two things happened at the same time. Or didn’t happen I could say. The exhaust didn’t vent properly and the alternator didn’t work properly. Two problems at the same time, to brand new problems on top of other problems and we started to feel like things were unravelling quickly. If we couldn’t charge the batteries with the generator AND the alternator died we were f*cked. Truly in trouble. The solar and the wind couldn’t keep up with the instrument demand and we’d be in a crazy state of power conservation, including no auto helm or radar.

This was the moment were Greg and I looked at each other across the chart table and said “I don’t know if I can do this” in unison. Usually one of us breaks down while the other is strong. It’s reassuringly consistent. I honestly can’t think of another time in our 30 years together where we both were just so…so spent at the same exact moment.

But what the hell are you going to do??? I mean we were in the middle of the freaking Atlantic Ocean. We had to just keep going. And we knew we could. I knew in the back of my mind that we would fix this, we would get through this too and that a better moment was coming. I honestly don’t know if Greg had that same small candle of confidence burning in his brain (his brain works differently than mine – which is an understatement) but he also just kept moving after that pause.

Together we decided to sit and contemplate the “what ifs” in the cockpit. Through that discussion we decided that the law of averages dictated that the exhaust leak was probably because we were heeled (aka leaning to one side) so hard in this wind and sail angle that we were getting some backflow and that somewhere in the big rubber tube that flows exhaust from engine to out-of-boat that runs under our bed, there is a spot that couldn’t handle the backflow. We don’t smell that ever in normal conditions, we told ourselves. It must be due to the heel. Ok so reduce the heel and try again in the morning. We both felt better having a plan.

It was a tough moment for us and doing what we always do together, sitting down and rationalizing it out from different perspectives with different styles yielded what it always does. A plan and eventually a solution. Thank f*ck we have that down as a team. I swear I don’t know how other couples / families do this without that kind of partnership. Anyhoo, I am approaching a digress so back to sailing.

23:11 (SOG: 6.6, miles: 2306)

Andrew’s log book entry reads “11:11 make a wish.”

Apt.

Tuesday, June 21

Breakfast: bagel with cream cheese, smoked salmon, onion and capers

Lunch: tuna salad wraps

Dinner: chili with cheese curds

01h02 (SOG: 7.5, miles: 2329)

There was a log book entry that reads “It’s cold in the cockpit” at 1am and later that morning “Good speed, bad beats”. Needless to say it was not a comfortable night. Or morning. Or rest of the day.

What the heck is this?! After 3 years in the tropics, hoodies are not a piece of clothing we’re accustomed to!

From Greg’s written notes:

“Last night was pretty loud and uncomfortable as the wind and waves kept building and Matriarch was sailing fast enough to climb the face of one wave coming at us, then race down the back side and bury her bow into the next. Bow up, speed up, bow down, smash into wave, slow down, rinse, repeat. We ended up with 2 reefs in both the main and genoa in an attempt to smooth things out, but were only marginally successful. I guess sometimes there’s nothing left to do but grin and bear it for a few hours until it’s possible to get into more favourable conditions, but on the bright side covered a bunch of miles pretty quickly.”

The motion was inconsistent which really was the primary problem, comfort-wise. It meant that you couldn’t anticipate where to put your hand, or foot or butt without losing balance and usually bumping into things. It was tiring and frustrating and a bit painful. Fortunately, like everything, it wasn’t expected to last…we just had to endure for a bit longer.

Also we were on a port tack which we’d barely been on this entire time. Lee cloths were absolutely required for the first time as I discovered sleeping with Grace in the aft cabin. She slowly slid downhill to the low side (aka my side) and was sound asleep with her shoulder in my face and the other side of my face against the wood rail. It was awful, for me that is, she was completely oblivious. Never had I ever been so grateful for lee cloths as I was that night after waking Grace and getting them up.

Andrews notes were an excellent summary of the day.

“Woke up from my fetal non-sleeping position around 5am. Got up shortly after and homed in on expresso that Gregory was making. Was a rough night of getting slammed into the bunk walls. Used my half full laundry bag to wedge my lower back close to the bunk pillar for comfort.

Boat is humming along at 7-8kts with 1.5-2m swell just off starboard bow. Matriarch occasionally riding up swells and then lurching down the face and slamming into subsequent swells. Makes it hard to sit, stand or lay down comfortably. Feel slightly uneasy /dizzy with the motion despite the patch.

Wind and swell should die over the next 12 or so hours and have us motoring due east. We are already north of the Azores now and are setting up for the final push to Horta. Eta could be early AM Sunday or late evening Saturday if we continue to exceed the weather routing speeds.

Bagel, cream cheese, smoked salmon and cucumbers for breakfast. Grace told me the one half had expired cream cheese meant for Liam’s plate but had gotten mixed up. Several small dolphins swam up to check out boat but did not stick around or hard to see with the choppy swell.

Had 3 hour nap. Liam making tuna salad for lunch. Wind and swell have both calmed down to make for more pleasant conditions down below.”

In the afternoon, after the wind settled down and came back a bit, Matriarch was not heeled as hard and the motion smoothed out. We started up the engine again, holding our breath, and sure enough…no back flow of exhaust. After a slight delay, the alternator kicked in and we were able to see the batteries charging. Greg and I were both looking at the monitor together and then we hugged each other and actually cried a bit in relief. These were our only passage tears. Who knew watching batteries charge could be so emotional. Ocean crossing is for real at times. Greg was now working with the generator installers to troubleshoot or diagnose specific issues but we were certainly without a generator until Horta. We were trying to keep it positive and appreciate all the good we had at the moment.

Back to Andrew’s notes:

“Went up for watch around 1345. wind 15-17 apparent going 6-7kts.

Most recent weather routing / forecast has potentially a 1930 arrival in Horta. Changes polar efficiency to 85% to match the boat performance with the Predictwind routing. Chats with Megan and Liam. Gregory down below playing guitar.

Currently (17h45) sailing 52-55° at 5-6 kts with the wind dying slightly. Wind forecasted to die completely by 0300 where we will motor until mid-day Weds. Sail a bit more, motor another 12 hrs then the wind picks up and a sail direct to Horta.

Pretty sunset. Chili with meats and cheese curds on top. Peaky Blinders season finale.

Wind died completely and shifted at 2100. Motoring now on a more easterly course. Moved shifts back one hour. Wind returned and sailing at 6-6.5kts as of midnight.”

We’ve seen a lot of pretty spectacular sunsets from the boat, but the best are always the ones out at sea.

Someone flicked the switch and the wind completely died over night (as predicted) and you can see our hard turn to the east on the track indicating the moment we stopped sailing and starting motoring. We are expecting a motor all day tomorrow too but hoping for the wind to come back sooner than predicted. The motion and noise with motoring is much less pleasant, that and the nagging fear of snagging the prop on something has us always preferring to sail.

As we get closer to our destination time seemed to slow down and we have long stretches of Great British Bake Off watching, Diablo playing and napping. In fact we have come to the end of some series we started on passage (finished the last season of Peaky Blinders and watched all of the Mandalorian)…never fear, there are many more shows available to us for the last few days.

Officially the longest day of the year and it felt long to us for sure.

Wednesday, June 22

Breakfast: We didn’t write it down!

Lunch: leftover chili

Dinner: chickpea and potato soup

I think the uptick on log book entries was an indication of our excitement of arrival. In the middle of the journey, particularly as we anticipated the front (in Part 1 of the Daily Log) we would make an entry every 4 hours or so. Now we had entries every two or less hours – probably because we were watching the instruments in anticipation!

06h00 (SOG: 6.3, miles: 2491)

We were hailed by another sailboat! This was the first time we’ve been hailed, or even really seen, another sailboat this entire time! S/V Toile Âme (I think that was the name) from Quebec (Canadians!!) had 4 adults on board and left from St. Martin 3 weeks ago. We were all cheering and laughing and congratulating each other over the VHF on getting so far. It was a wonderful and uplifting exchange. After we got off we marveled at how long it was taking them but then waaay over on the horizon could see that they were sailing at 2 knots, and we were motoring at 7 knots….we have about a 3.5 knot tolerance for bobbing around in the ocean. Kudos to them for being more patient than we are!

21h06 (SOG: 5.3, miles: 2585)

The wind was just on the cusp all day and we went from motoring, to motor-sailing, to sailing and back again most of the day. The day just felt like anticipation.

From Greg’s written notes:

“The motor show continued today as expected, but it doesn’t make it any less annoying! We had a short period of 3-4 hours with enough wind to sail upwind nicely in pretty calm seas, but shortly before midnight it shut off again as the center of the Azores high moves south and west into our path. We’re proceeding to motor to the east in zero wind and glassy, flat water in order to pick up the N-NW winds on the other side. Can’t wait to get through this part and start sailing again!

We had 2 different pods of dolphins come visit this morning. One of the grey, speckled kind that are super playful and love to jump and cross through the bow wave. And another of the solid grey with stark white bellies that are a little larger and seem content just to cruise by and check us out. Seeing dolphins never gets old!”

Later, in Horta, we were able to identify those dolphins mentioned above as Spotted Dolphins and Common Dolphins respectively. They were both new species to us as they were definitely not the kind of dolphins we often saw in the Caribbean or in Florida (which I think were mostly Bottlenose, Fraser’s and Spinner dolphins). It felt so amazing to have these visits. Overall there were only 2 days were we didn’t have at least one dolphin come find Matriarch and play for a bit. Not surprisingly these visits helped us to feel less isolated and, irrationally, like we were being visited by friends who were looking out for us. I know, I know. It’s a bit cheesy but true nonetheless.

Thursday, June 23

Breakfast: Potato hash with kale and eggs

Lunch: We didn’t write it down!

Dinner: Pizza with peppers, turkey pepperoni, onions and pesto

07h05 (SOG: 7.0, miles 2652)

The morning was calm and cool and we were motor sailing along with our eyes trained to the spot on the horizon where we knew, eventually, there would be islands. At times we speculated about different cloud formations and if they were affected by the land we knew was ahead. Probably not, but the idea of islands just a few hundred miles away was a bit surreal and we were having fun trying to imagine it. With just water around us for so long now it honestly felt like “the new normal” and truly we felt like we could keep going like this for probably another week or so before we started to really crave the treats and trappings of land life. This morning had felt more north than west now and the plan was to motor until the wind picked up later this evening and then sail direct to Horta.

At some point soon we’re going to see land over there! In the meantime we’ll just sail toward the sun…

From Greg’s written notes:

“Super Pod! That was the shout that went up around 10am as we spotted hundreds of dolphins circling and jumping and splashing several hundred meters off the starboard bow. Despite some initial protests from the crew to “just let them be”, I turned the boat in their direction (south), knowing that if they didn’t want an interaction they could easily swim away from our paltry 6.5-7kts boat speed.

And wow what an amazing 20 minutes we had with them! This pod had solid grey top sides and stark white bellies, with the colours meeting at a line about mid-way up their sides. At any given time we could see 20-30 dolphins springing up from the swell in unison to take a breath and take a look at this strange looking creature, with 6 smaller creatures riding on its back, that just decided to pay them a visit. There were adults swimming along with babies, some of which were smaller than Grace. There were different groups that came by to play in the bow wave while other groups swam alongside and behind Matriarch seeming to wait their turn. We could hear them talking with each other. There were several babies that wanted to show off by leaping out of the water as high as they could to splash back down on their backs (“belly flop contest!”). Everywhere we looked we could see dolphins circling and and playing and generally looking as happy as can be until eventually, almost as one, they decided to continue on their way and we decided to turn back on course and continue on ours.”

13h58 (SOG: 7.0, miles: 2699)

Calm seas, light breeze, long rolling seas and whales! Whales! Today just kept giving to us and we were so grateful for it. Long forgotten was the non-functioning hydro generator, the instrument / GPS failure, the new yet broken Northern Lights generator, the stress of the exhaust and alternator combo blip…we seemed now to be in a pattern of good layered with great.

From Greg’s written notes:

“We’re so lucky to have Andrew, The Whale Whisperer, on board as he spotted whales no less than 3 times today. The closest encounter was with a pod Andrew spotted quite a ways away by their very large breathing spouts popping up every couple minutes. At the time we had no wind and the water was completely flat so it made the sight all the more recognizable. Of course I turned the boat toward the spouts hoping to get a closer look (but not too close!) and a minute later got a surprise when saw a whale heading right for us, just slightly to port. This one must have been off doing it’s own thing as it was much, much closer than the group of spouts Andrew had spotted. So we altered course slightly to avoid a collision and watched the whale swim by about 20 meters off our port side, breaking the surface every few seconds for a lazy breath, then continuing on just a few feet deep. Unlike the dolphins, the whale didn’t seem to care we were there at all and seemed to just assume we were going to get out of it’s way!”

To keep riding this amazing high we were all on we made a very special passage dinner of pizza – huge treat and was very much appreciated by all. Liam made the dough and Grace prepped the toppings. They turned out beautifully and we were all super stuffed. It felt almost unfair to have such a great meal after being at sea for almost 2.5 weeks at this point!

22h19 (SOG 7.0, miles 2752)

And then finally, finally the wind returned and we were able to get back to sailing over night. By Andrew’s watch we had full sails, comfortable seas and were moving along exactly as fast as we had been motoring. It’s a magical thing to anticipate the breeze filling in from calm to fresh and then watch it unfold in front of your eyes. Sort of reassuring, faith renewing and beautiful.

By around midnight we were 90nm west of Flores, the westernmost island in the Azores and about 225nm from Horta on the island of Faial which is where we planned to make landfall. After this night we were expecting only ONE MORE NIGHT after this night before arriving late in the afternoon on Saturday.

Friday, June 24

Breakfast: chocolate muffins

Lunch: leftover chickpea potato soup

Dinner: We didn’t write it down!

Sunrise in the rough direction of land. We’re getting close now.

07h44 (SOG: 7.6, miles: 2816)

We were sailing nicely but the swell had become a bit confused which made the motion increasingly uncomfortable and heavy feeling again. There were some small localized systems here and there and this time we were pretty sure it was because land was so close! I was starting to pass off some of the cooking to the kids to keep them busy and to give me a break and poor Grace got some sleepy instructions from me and produced some very dry chocolate muffins for breakfast. We choked them down with coffee but she felt bad and I told myself that I should just stick out the last few meals so we don’t have that happen again.

14h07 (SOG: 7.8, miles: 2861)

LAND HO!!! Greg was the first to spot the westernmost island of the Azores, Flores, around 2pm EST and about 30nm away.

Full disclosure though, I totally couldn’t see the island when first Greg, then Andrew, and then even the kids clearly could. I really couldn’t see it. Andrew thought it was hilarious and it lasted longer than I care to admit but then the line of the land just popped out at me and all was right with the world again.

From Greg’s written notes:

“The sailing has been a mixed bag today. To start the wind wasn’t quite strong enough to keep us powering up and through the swell hitting us from the beam, so the motion was uncomfortable and everyone was getting a little frustrated with it. Then we passed a rain band and the wind picked up and shifted more out of the north, enabling us to sail faster and keep up and surf with the swell motion rather than wallow in it. What a difference!”

From Andrew’s written notes:

“By 1600 could see entire island profile as we pass it. Still just a shadowy outline with a top of clouds but has more definition. Wind is 15-20kts aws on a beam reach. We are flying at 7.5-8kts with less than 150 miles to go. Hopefully will have the western side of Ilha de Faial in our sights midday tomorrow.”

It was a little strange to see something on the horizon (other than clouds) and as it got dark the kids were marvelling at how we could see lights on the island and the regular flash of the lighthouse as we sailed past Flores.

We started our last night with a full main and full genoa feeling happy, peaceful and safe.

Saturday, June 25 (Arrival Day!)

Breakfast: We didn’t write it down!

Lunch: We didn’t write it down!

Dinner: We didn’t write it down!

Funny how the last few hours can make you a little crazy. And by you I mean me. I went a little crazy. I can’t remember what we ate or what we did that day and none of us took notes either! In our minds we were basically there. We could clearly see Faial on the horizon in the morning and anticipated our arrival that afternoon.

Yet they were some of the slowest sailing hours of my life.

12h06 (SOG: 7.0, miles: 3012)

Watching the land creep closer, astounded by the giant cliffs and rolling green pastures. Already being able to see the blue hydrangea hedges (though at the time we weren’t sure what they were!), making note of newer, dustier looking volcanic ridges and older, greener ones. We were about 14 miles away from our anchorage.

Some of this distraction had us a bit over-canvased for the catabatic winds we encountered in the lee of the island. Big gusts and big heeling while I was at the stove making a lunch that I can’t recall, had me highly irritated. It wasn’t anyone’s fault, nor was it unsafe, I was just feeling totally jacked up and nervous about our arrival and over-reacting to everything. At one point I even made an issue about us sailing over a sea mount, a spot in the water that was more shallow than everything around it but still 20+m deep (aka completely freaking fine). In hindsight it was funny, at the time everything was making me mad. Greg is familiar with this lovely trait of mine when doing something new and just ignored me (and got out of my way), I feel bad a bit for Andrew who at the time was probably wondering what happened to my brain :P

What a crew! Look at those happy faces with Faial in the background.

We had to sail around a regatta (or through I’m not really sure because I was trying to remove myself from other humans) and then because Greg wanted to sail all the way up to the harbour entrance (totally reasonable but also !!!!!) we had to sail right past Faial before we could tack back. TORTURE.

Note from Greg:

While Megan was freaking out about arriving somewhere new, I was feeling pretty good about our passage and our pending arrival in Horta. To begin with, while sailing past the south coast of Faial we were treated to views of an island very unlike any we had experienced before in the Caribbean. And at this point we’ve seen quite a few islands of all shapes and sizes! The sight of the volcanic hillsides, full of terraced fields and spotted with villages, made me think wow this is Europe, and what a different feel from anywhere we’ve been so far. It felt like a real accomplishment to have left somewhere very familiar, have gone through a sailor’s right of passage, and come out on the other side mostly unscathed and looking forward to new adventures.

Luckily, Megan and I tend to have confidence at different times and for different reasons, which is one of the reasons why we make a good team. In this case, I was totally confident in our ability to manage the last few miles of our sail in style, so I didn’t mind taking on the last bit of boat handling. After all the ups and downs of our passage (more ups than downs), I felt like dealing with a little bit of gusty wind coming off the island, sailing through a local regatta, and sailing up to the harbour entrance before dropping the sails was really not a big deal compared to the 3000 miles we’d sailed since we last touched land.

But most of all, at this point I was feeling relieved…and very much looking forward to not having to check the weather compulsively for at least a few weeks.

17h00 (SOG: 0, miles: 3028)

Finally, finally we dropped the sails and laid eyes on the actual anchorage.

THE EAGLE HAS LANDED. WE HAVE ARRIVED.

So now what? We were anchored, snubber on and backed down, and the customs office had closed so we couldn’t check in. Should we go drink beers or go to bed? Keep in mind we had been operating on EST the entire passage but now in Faial it was +4 hours. So our 5pm was actually 9pm. We opted to toast to our successful passage with rum my dad gifted us before we left (after offering a few shots to Poseidon in gratitude) and just tried to relax, reflect a tiny bit and wrap our heads around being here.

Celebratory drinks once the anchor was down. Don’t worry, we didn’t forget to give Poseidon his share.

From this picture it’s pretty clear who the better sailor is :)

Passage Epilogue.

The next morning we had showered (our water conservation skills are sharp and we still had about 500L of water despite not making any for the last 7 days) and arrived at the office to check in and make it official. We were hoping to get a spot in the marina; at the time we thought it would be simplest, which we now understand to not be not the case. In the marina you can be rafted against up to 3 other boats (so far the power cords won’t reach) or if you are small and lucky maybe a slip but we didn’t see it happen in the 10+ days we were there. Turns out the anchorage was awesome and even when offered a spot to raft we choose to stay on the hook, enjoying the space and privacy and the familiar motion. Also, while you have to pay to anchor it is half the price of rafting and you still get access to all of the marina amenities (laundry, washrooms, dinghy dock, etc.). All in all it worked out for the best and we continue to anchor in the harbours as we visit other islands now.

Greg and I had so much work to do upon arrival to troubleshoot and ultimately fix the long list of things that needed fixing that we honestly didn’t have any closure on this whole experience until we painted our sign on the sea wall in Horta Marine (a sailor’s tradition)…which was about a week later. At that point we had solved the generator mystery, made water, charged the batteries and successfully ran the engine and watched the alternator charge while at anchor (which we discovered it wasn’t doing the day after we had arrived). My friend, Sarah, asked what we had done to acknowledge our accomplishment and at that point I didn’t really have an answer for her beside “drink some beer”, we just didn’t feel like we could take our foot off the gas pedal until the boat systems were working properly or at least better.

We ended up playing email tag with the company that installed the generator (you know, after finding the screwdriver in the junction box we thought they might be relevant to engage in discussion!) and they were sort of helpful but also not really sure of the problem or if the screw driver was even an issue at all. At that time it felt ludicrous that the screw driver wasn’t some kind of contributing factor but, a few weeks later after MANY hours of work in Horta, it turned out that it wasn’t. I can’t overstate how much work it was to debug this situation, and especially hard because it was immediately after our arrival and we wanted /needed to explore, get the kids amped about where we were, share some experiences with Andrew and Heidi and just generally allow ourselves a second to breathe. About a week after our arrival, after a million Greg-and-Megan-hash-it-out-sessions and another million emails to Northern Lights, Greg found a faulty brush with a factory defect in the form of a tiny bump that was preventing the brush from moving properly. He fixed it. We expect the fix to work for a while but also will be picking up spare brushes as soon as we can.

It’s not Matriarch’s fault, she was a champ over the entire 18 days and kept us safe. Systems fail all the time so it’s fairly par for the course in a cruiser’s life. And on top of that, passages (aka 24/7 motion) are hard on even the best boat. It is unrealistic to expect a passage in the North Atlantic where nothing breaks. We knew this going in. Of course we didn’t expect those things to be the generator (we were thinking more like chafed lines).

Fortunately, we were able to celebrate before Andrew and Heidi returned to Canada and we could include Andrew, our beloved and highly valued 6th crew member in memorializing our arrival after crossing, as Grace puts it, one of the “biggest oceans in the world”!