Arriving in Spain - Vigo

During Thursday, the NNE 27 - 33 knots showed signs of moderating. Our met info had suggested that as we worked South that this could be the case, and when I came on watch I could actually hear myself speak above the scream of wind and roar of sea. We set the the staysail, and shook out the reefs in the #2 yankee and mizzen. Infanta started to romp along at her customary 7 knots - almost too fast still for the sea conditions, but they were getting better slowly.

We kept her going throught the night, crossing the busy shipping lanes in good visability. When I came up at dawn, we had some 35 miles to go, and the wind had mercifully dropped away, and what a great pleasure and relief. Infanta had taken a severe pounding over 72 hrs, including some crashes off the top of waves, and a number of big breakers crashing down onto her deck in the night.

We could see the mountains of Galacia, and started to see the colour of the heat scorched rocks and parched forests, and we were now motoring along with virtually no wind, and early morning fog lifting to unveil a beautiful warm Spanish day. Spirits rose sharply, and were celebrated with some rum and Cokes.

We could now see the entrance to the Ria de Vigo, between the mainland on the N side, and some big rocky islands protecting the wide opening to the Ria to starboard. On one of these islands, we could see a nice looking sandy beach with pine tree covered smooth rocky outcrops each end and backed by pine and |Eucalyptus forest. “Lets go for a swim!” went up the cry, so we lowered the sails and diverted our course towards the beach. Anchoring in 3m of water, we flung the dinghy over the side to get at the boarding ladder stowed beneath, changed into our swimmers and all plunged in to swim ashore.

Douglas got there first, and I saw he had his tongue hanging out, and I thought it was because he was panting from the swim, but no. We had swum straight into the middle of a nudists beach, which after nearly 4 weeks on Infanta with only me and Alastair for company, came as quite a shock to Douglas. Luckily, as is usual with these beaches, there were sufficient fat middle aged men to keep the amusement level higher than the blood pressure level caused by the (few and far between) shapely curves of the Spanish girls.

We sat on the beach, looking at the only girl that really mattered, which was where every body else was looking, as Infanta lay prettily at anchor.We swam back proudly to our ship, raised the boarding ladder, and weighed anchor to motor the last 3 miles through the hot sun. We made use of the time furling down the sails well, putting in the sail covers and making Infanta look good and ship shape, and finally arrived in the Real Club Nautico Marina at 1700 hours our time, which was 1900 local time - and felt jolly pleased to be there.

As a matter of interest, Edgartown on Marthas Vineyard is about 72 degrees West, and Vigo 9 degrees West, so we have sailed 63 degrees to the east. Out of a total of 360 degrees around the globe, we have sailed 17.5% around the World - which is quite along way

We fell into conversation with one admiring Vigo couple, Fanny and George who were very interested to hear we had arrived from Halifax, and they invited us to their appartment for breakfast the next morning. It was alrady 8 pm, so we took their advice on a local eatery and had fantastic and most welcome steak with a bottle of Rioja. Unable to resist a couple of bars on the way back to the hotel (yes we had three dry beds in a hotel room organised!), in one of which, overcome by exhaustion and relief, Douglas passed out, but soon revived, and we celebrated our success - reminissing on the struggle of the previous few days and how we each mentally and physically coped.

We duly arrived at Fanny and Georges appartment, and found a note on the door “Infanta Crew Breakfast”. They had spent the last 12 hours printing off the entire website in Spanish, reading it and becoming “members of the Infanta family” as they described it. They then helped Alatair and Douglas get their bags off Infanta and drove them to the airport for their 15.55 flight back to London today.

For Infanta, the journey is not quite over, with some 600 miles left to come home, but the Atlantic crossing is complete and a great achievement, and I want to pay tribute to the grit and strength of character shown by Alastair and Douglas in not being beaten down by the impediments which seemed to be thrown in our way. Well done.

This year of “Infantas Oddissey” has taken her from Cowes to Dournernez, to Agadir, to St Barts, St Martin Classic Regatta, all the way down the Carribean Islands, back to Antigua, Antigua Classic Regatta, Virgin Islands, to New York, Greenwich CT, Newport RI, Vineyard Haven, Edgartown, Halifax NS, and now Vigo.

The inspiration for this wonderful experience has been Infanta herself. In the past, she has been a great part of very many peoples lives, and this voyage somehow brings together everyone who has been part of her life, and in doing so, she has made many many new admirers. I could list here 100 people who have been part of this voyage, crewing in Antigua or St Martin, making passages, new friends on other classics, everyone in the Transat Classique Lagasse, people who have helped in so many ways, engineers, sailmakers, yards, just loads and loads of people, and they too feel part of Infantas family because for them all, Infanta is just unforgettable. I want to mention Peter Lane, who owned her in the 1980’s (and who came to see her when we were in Carriacou) as his excellent structural rebuild work at that time was definately under test this week and proved that she is immensely strong. Thank you Peter.

For me, the most powerful inspiration to make the journey has been the wonderful Bill Hudgins, whose Dad had her built, and Bill was pictured at her launch, a small boy on her foredeck. Reuniting Infanta with her original owner family completes an amazing spiritual circle and is an incredible enrichment of her provenance. I feel proud to have been able to do that.

And for me, a journey of a lifetime? Of course, but it is a journey which runs parallel with other life journeys, the greatest of which is my passage through life with lovely Josephine, who has encouraged supported and taken part in this wonderful experience, and embraced the concept of our months living together on Infanta in the Carribean and then America as our honeymoon. Well ……. life doesn’t get much better than that.

FINALLY: Whatever the future may bring, it cannot take away the personal enrichment of an experience like Infantas voyage, but it sure can take away the opportunity to do it. As Bill Hudgins says “This ain’t a rehearsal. This is the real thing and you won’t be coming round to do it again”

Tim

No improvement

Well … it continued to blow 30 knots yesterday,  last night and this morning. The seas are mountainous and difficult, nearly everyone drenching us and Infanta. We have to take them forward of the beam. The wind is NNE and we are heading ESE to try nad reach Vigo. La Carruna is not longer an option. We have 140 miles to go.

Not for us te glory of arriving at our home to a croud of proud welcoming family and friends, but a bedraggled exhausted entry to a foreign port after what amounts to a trans Atlantic with a Fastnet Race tacked on the end for good measure. And now the further complications of flights home, new crew, weather and missed arrangements.

If the wind does not worsen and/or change to the east, we should arrive in Vigo this time tomorrow - 1400 hrs Friday.

Will let you all know.

Tim

Tempset non fugit

10.45 UT

44*13N 14*35W

We battled all day yesterday in a building wind and sea from the ENE. whilst the apparant wind was around 22knots, the main problem was the big seas against us. At 1200, we dropped the double reefed main, and pressed on under #2 yankee, staysail and single reefed mizzen (we have just taken a huge sea over the top as I write). Our course was into the middle of the Bay of Biscay, so that would keep La Corruna as an option at a distance of 360 miles

Dusk was a disgusting yellowy orange colour with the spectre of huge black clouds all around. It looked really stormy When it got dark, we put Infanta on autopilot, went below and lit the coal stove. An hour or so later we watched “Trading Places” with Eddie Murphy and Dan Ackroyd played on the laptop. It was really surreal, with all hell let loose in the pitch black on deck, and Infanta heeling, lurching and banging, and the warm fire and whitty banter before us on the screen.

Going into the cockpit to check all ok was not a popular task, but we did it none the less.

At 0300, with now almost 30 knots of wind, Alastair and I went on deck to shorten sail, reefing th #2 yankee. The problem with the seas like this is that if the boat goes too fast, she drops with a crash into the troughs, and a lot of water gets thrown across. With the speed and course set about right, all this is minimised.

This morning, its sunny, but wet and cold and no let up in the wind. We are feeling wet and weary, drained and demoralised. It is our intention to try to get to La Corruna, which is now 250 miles away, but the wind is due to head us off by coming into the east. If so, we will have to go to Vigo, south of Cap Finisterre, to rest, refuel and I will have to get a couple of replacements as Alastair and Douglas are both reaching the end of their time frames. Infanta will then resume her trip home with (hopefully) kinder weather - just a fair wind would do the trick!!

Tim

Terrible Weather

Since 0500, we have been beating into 20 knots of nne wind, dont know how long it will last. very uncomfortable and unpleasent. Still heading for cowes, but forecast is it will head us off.

Tim

Ups and Downs on Infanta

Position: 43*24N 20*11W

Monday 7th Sept 1030 UT. (UT means Universal Time, which is what Greenwich Mean Time is now called, which I think means London has taken over the universe)

Sorry about the silence yesterday.

We had a fantastic sail on saturday, with a stiff breeze just abaft the beam, and we sensed that records could be broken. Before Alastairs watch at 1200, we tweaked the sheets setting Infanta to perfect balance, and despite 22 knots of breeze, she carried no weather helm at all, and drove straight as the sea would allow. When a big wave comes under her windward quarter to starboard and she slews around, if you have complete confidence, and do not turn the wheel at all, she comes straight back on course as the wave passes beneath. This is of course the fastest way to sail, because each time you swing the rudder around, you are effectively applying a sea break. I asked A if there was any weather helm, he said a bit, and easing just 6 inches on the mainsheet removed it.

Anyway, the race was on; 22 knots of wind, hot hot sun and deep blue seas all with curving crystal tops. Infanta definately joined in the fun, with the bit between her teeth she chased down each wave like a thoroughbred., biffing any cheeky seas out of her way which thought they might come across in front to impede her gallop. Standing on the foredeck was awesome, and I mean it! The wind, accelerated by the aerofoils of her sails roared across the deck. As a 4 metre wave came up under her stern, she charged down the front of it, her bowerful buoyant bows pushed deep in the sea which was pouring on deck through the fairleads, and clouds of spume streamed across her chrome and varnish as she biffed away at impudent by standers getting under her feet. She was like the Dowager Duchess heading loudly for the champagne bar at the Opera interval.

In the 6 hours, Infanta had logged an astonishing 50 miles exactly, giving an AVERAGE speed of 8.33 knots. Alastair in his 3 hours did 26.1 miles and I did 23.9 miles (but I did have a time when the wind moderated a bit!!)

The run for the 24 hours on Saturday was also an Infanta personal best of 180 miles.

Usually I would have written saturdays blog on Sunday morning. Saturday night sailing was not very relaxing, and crew were struggling to see out their three hour watches. As I dont sleep much, i was up early on Sunday so A could get his head down. By 0600, the sea was calm enough to start transferring fuel from deisel cans into the tanks. The tank openings are on the side decks, so we have to be careful that a wave doesn’t come along the deck and jump down the hole while its open. Having done that, I shook out the nights reefs we had put in, and by 0800 was pretty much spent. Alastair had emailed off for the latest weather charts to get an update on Hurricane Humungous to check that the route we had taken still held good. As the info came in, that fact was confirmed, but now the prediction showed that straight after HH goes passed, as massive high pressure follows which gives us NNE head winds.

The mood of annoyance this gave us really lasted all day. Everyone is on a timescale for getting back, We were looking at going to La Currunia in N Spain to get flights, still 4 days away, and difficult in NE winds. In fact, the NE winds blow us off Spain and Portugal, blow straight out of the bay of Biscay and The Channel, so you can see how we all felt.

At 1730 we decided to take off the #1 yankee, and put on the #2 ahead of predicted high winds in the night. We changed our clocks and watches to Universal Time, so it was now 2230, and we had missed dinner! A made some tuna mayo and sweetcorn rolls. I went to bed.

The night passed uneventfully, with 16 - 20 knots of SSW breeze astern, blowing us probably for the first time on the whole trip, exactly for the entrance of the English Channel, which is some 750 miles away. I was on watch from 0300 - 0600. I got up again at 0930 to make Alastair (on the helm) and me some tea. A seems in buoyant mood as Infanta is still careering along towards Cowes, and so far there is little sign of s change in the weather. We decided to have beans on toast for breakfast.

So I thought I should write the log before Alastair gets a chance to get the updated weather files in case our tiny weather dependent universe on Infanta gets affected by a deepening depression again.

Tim

1550 miles from Halifax

Position: 42*00N 27*37W

0845 - Our Time (1245 bst)

Our Time is interesting. This is of course the time in Halifax, which is where we last set our watches, which is an hour ahead of Edgartown from where we had set off. It was a good idea to change to Halifax time. There is nothing more Numbnutesque than standing outside a shop, banging on the glass door, stabbing at your watch yelling ” the notice on the door says you shut at 5. Its only 10 past 4!” and they shout back “its 10 past 5 …… Numbnut!” So to avoid any such confusion, and thus blend in well with the locals, we adjusted our time.

It was a shame we had to got to Halifax as it delayed us probably nearly 5 days in all, with the detour and 3.5 days there, but looking back we did have an enjoyable cultural experience. It seems that the Halifactions had taken Hurricane Bill to their hearts. When we ordered 3 coffees, 2 with milk please. Sorry no milk delivery due to H Bill. Well it hasn’t happened yet. Well yes we know, but the milk delivery was cancelled in case. Some shops were closed due the H Bill, and others were short staffed as half the staff hadn’t turned up because of the hurricane.

The best one was The Royal Nova Scotia Yacht Club, which was at the marina where we had spent the Sunday morning snugging down Infanta. With that task complete, we planned to have a couple of beers at the bar, chatting to the local yachtsmen about the conditions, then have a leisurely lunch, followed by some coffees etc in the sitting room, all the while watching the mayhem unfold. We got to the club at lunch time; it was open but dark. The bar was shut, as too were the kitchens. We had nowhere else to go, so Geoff went on line to look at the weather, Douglas settled down to memorise a score and Alastair and I helped ourselves to the coffee machine (no milk) Within a minute or two, a gentleman approached to say he was shutting the club, could we leave? Oh, why? Because of the Hurricane! Gosh, are you expecting damage and floods. No, its just that last time all the members had a sort of drunken lock-in and there was some damage (allegedley).

On the Saturday, we had visited the Maritime Museum which was really good. Afterwards we found a bar for a drink. Beer seemed to be on offer, and a large quantity was served at the table in a glass bucket, with a centre column for ice (apparantly to keep the Stella Artois so cold that had it had any flavour, it could not be detected) and the bucket had a tap at the bottom so we could help ourselves. This soon led to amusing and constant bickering as to who was having more than their fair share, and glancing round the room, I found we had quickly joined in with the local culteral passtime.

There was a big screen in the bar, showing to Alastairs delight (as he is a New Zealander) a rugby match between NZ and Australia. I don’t know why they had it on as no one was looking at it, presumably as it was not played on ice, and the men did not randomly hit each other with long wooden sticks. Each time NZ scored, Alastair cheered above the deafening silence. Geoff warned us that if we should get in conversation with a local, to remember that ice hokey was their national pride, and the players national icons and so should not be insulted in anyway. It would be like saying “we are enjoying our visit to America.” “This is Canada.” “So why are you all talking American then?”

After this, Geoff introduced us to a kind of homophobic eye spy. He bet that in any group of 7 locals, we would not see a good looking one. This lead to observations like, could that be a No 7 over there? No, the beard needs trimming. Yes but shes got a pretty dress on!

Yesterday afternoon aboard Infanta, (in case you’ve forgotten where we are) there was a shout of “Wales”. Alastair and I immediately assumed that deluded Douglas had finally been effected by the sun and sea and thought he could see the hills of Merthyr Tydfil ahead. But no, half a mile or so to our south were indeed the spouts of whales. It is eerie to imagine these vast black creatures just below the surface. I was hoping they would not want to come over and be our friend or want to play or something, with awful consequences, but no they carried on their way.

On a navigational note, I am a little anxious as on my watch I found a waypoint on the chart plotter in central Switzerland.

As it was sunny yesterday, Douglas announced he would wash some clothes. Alastair, ever vigilant on water useage, declared he would, use the water afterwards to wash something. D washed a teeshirt and a pair of socks, and left the water in the bucket. It was black, so Alastair flung it over the side.

Alastair has been able to make this trip having bought the most recently invented sailing clothing which keeps you warm and cool, lets you sweat but stops you sweating, is waterproof and breathable and and and. I have been on the boat a year, and only boast a handful of teesirts, a couple of long sleeved shirts, 10 pairs of shorts and one pair of jeans. The idea being, as it gets colder, I can put on lots of teeshirts as insulation. The trouble with lowtech clothing is it gets wet and stays wet. So to go on watch at 0300, I have to get up at 0235 as it takes this long to put on layers of wet clothes, and then wet oilskins and boots over the top,

If you can imagine how labour intensive it is to get into these clothes in a space the size of a telephone kiosk which is being flung from left to right and up and down, you will understand the reason for not bothering to thread my belt through the wet eyes of the jeans. As a result, by 0430, my jeans inside my Oilskin trousers (which are too big also) are actually around my knees making my legs look about 18 inches long; added to which any agility I posess was completely negated. I could not even lift a leg high enough to get back into the cabin.

When I left England last August I was a manly 16 stone. By this May I was 13.5 stone, and at the beginning of this trip was about 14 stone, and now back I expect to 13.5. Well its well and good, but apart from not being able to keep my trousers up, all my clothes are too big and its also like having reverse Botox! (“Remove fat from under you facial skin, and you can look 20 years older!!”).

I hope that Richard will have posted a picture on the blog which is the grib file showing our friend Hurricane Humungous. You will not need to have a degree in meterology to realise where in the ocean we DONT want to be.

CAPTION COMPETITION:

In the next few hours we will post a picture of the Infanta crew on the blog, and invite you to send a suitable caption to us. First prize - a week on an ocean passage on Infanta. Second prize - 2 weeks.

Entries must be in within 24 hours of the photo going on line

You can have unlimited goes.

All the best

Tim