I was going to write about “Petticoat Breeze” an Oyster 435 yacht that I sailed across the Atlantic with its owner in 1994, but quite frankly, and this may sound odd, but……….well, it was pretty boring! Apart from a B1 Knockdown about half way across which put Brian and me on the cabin sole with a full breakfast following and the excitement of catching “One” yes “One” fish in 21 days! It was uneventful. The skies were unbelievable though. There can be few places on the planet where the total lack of light pollution, other than the soft phosphorescence of the sea, afford one an astronomical experience that will stay with you a lifetime. Oh, and the occasional flying fish smacking you in the ear at night! That is one weird feeling; it really IS getting slapped in the face with a wet fish!
It sort of went like this: Left Gibraltar (that’s always a pleasure, fucking dump!) three days “reaching” down the coast of Africa to Gran Canaria and Las Palmas. Two weeks of party and social events, Briefing for passage/race. Day of race, 200 plus yachts vying for position! That was “Fun”! Then bang, off we go. Head off down the African coast once again until Cape Verde then Hang a right and put everything up. For “running” (With the wind) we decided to put 2 genny's up and leave the main down. Whisker poles made sure they stayed where they were in case of lack of wind, and “preventers” so they didn’t flap around (that was why the B1 was a little scary) anyway, every 4pm B would say, “Right, time for a cigar” on the aft of the yacht. Only ever Havana’s. Conversation dries up pretty bloody quick on 40 odd feet of yacht after a few days! Believe me, if you are going to do this, take a “partner” (relationship kind) that’ll fuck it for sure!!
So, that’s it really. We sailed into Rodney Bay St Lucia at 9pm. I had a week of hard partying (much to the annoyance of B) and then flew back to Spain.
Now if you want an exciting sailing adventure you need to take a sixty five foot wooden motor yacht from Gib to Valetta! You can call her “Sea Crest” if you want, the skipper did. And you can do it in 5 days of howling Mediterranean gales, now “That” will be “interesting”
Most people don’t realise that the Med is probably more dangerous than sailing the Atlantic.
We had enormous “rollers” crossing the Atlantic. Deep troughs and huge peaks spread over a decent distance are like a rollercoaster and incredible fun in good weather. You find yourself shouting “yeeeeehaw” when helming these seas. But the Med? Fucking awful “short confused opposing” seas. Incredible violent winds such as Mistral, Ghibli, Tramontana, Merak, Kamsin, Bora, they didn’t name most of the Maserati’s after “Breezes”! They can be wilder than a “Cougar with a pool-boy”
Anyway, Sea Crest was a TSDMY (twin screw diesel motor yacht) 2 beautiful Rolls Royce engines stuffed below acres of teak. She was Old but well loved if a little quirky. For example, to make the port prop go forward you turned this wheel clockwise half a dozen turns, then you have the throttle that controls this engine now “THAT” requires “TWO” hands! To make the port engine go in reverse, you spin the wheel anti-clockwise and if you need to do that when you are already in forwards, it is a lot of wheel spinning. Now that would be ok if you only had one engine, but Sea Crest has two! So you get to do the same thing with the Starboard engine too. Anyone who understands Boating with a twin Screw will likely know you can have one engine in forward and one in backward revving at different speeds and can manoeuvre the boat quite well that way but with all these permutations! Sea Crest was a bitch and three quarters! Not an issue out at sea but in a Med marina stuffed with plastic gin palaces! I can tell you, there are a lot of worried faces on the “Plastics” when Sea Crest starts moving.
The owner Jim was taking her back to Malta and I went along to help. As is usual in the Med, we had left port in good weather and it wasn’t until we were far enough out to make returning a bore, that the weather changes. Forecasting is not particularly exact and it is major fickle anyway. We knew we could expect 5-7 and were not concerned by that, but we ended up with 8-9 and 10 which whilst amusing for short trips, become unbelievably draining after 24 hrs let alone 3-4 days.
We had a stop in Menorca for fuel and set off for Valetta.
Sea Crest was a lavishly appointed yacht with everything you could possibly want, including a “Bath” she was also equipped with a “Vosper Thorneycroft Gyroscopic Stabiliser” “Oh yes!!” unfortunately neither Jim nor I realised it was really only meant for sickly swelly seas. We didn’t make this realisation until a day and a half of constant whirring from the room it was housed in. it was a loudish bang which needed investigating, the poor sodding thing had been attempting to correct the heavily rocking yacht for 36 hours when it decided to pop a pipe! I don’t know how many gallons of incredibly slippery hot oil ended up on the floor but it was a laugh and a half trying to clean it up in that sea! Jim had a fantastic attitude partly due (probably) to a stomach cancer remission. He knew how to have fun. I wish he hadn’t sold me that shotgun but that’s another story!
It was a Sunday and the sea was still raging and tossing the Yacht all over the place. We hadn’t eaten properly for a while so I told Jim I was going to make a full roast, Yorkshires an all. This meant wedging yourself between whatever you could in the galley; it was probably a bit daft having three pans of boiling water on the go even with a “gimballed” cooker, Sea Crest had a normal household one which made it even dafter but I persevered and a couple of hours later we were eating the full Monty chicken three veg roast spuds AND Yorkies! With chicken gravy from the stock. I love a challenge!
There is more to this but I am tired…………………………
Ok, awake again!
After 2 days of this awful weather and constant unrelenting rocking of Sea Crest, things generally start to “loosen”! On the back of the yacht is a system of retaining a small launch/dinghy, “Davits” and Sea Crest had a rather nice expensive RIB complete with powerful outboard motor. This “Should” have been stowed away for such a long trip but it wasn’t; it was simply drawn up on some ropes in the usual way. Well, inevitably it broke free on one side and was crashing about half in the sea and banging against the transom. I saw this happen and legged it outside to try and save it. It was bloody lunacy hanging over the stern rails trying to pull it up but even though Jim was all for “cutting it loose” I kept trying. Eventually I managed to get it clear of the water and hauled it back up onto the Davits. Made sure it was well lashed this time. Looking back, I realise I never see the danger in things at sea. I feel totally comfortable doing things that I really shouldn’t risk! It wasn’t even “My” dinghy but the challenge was too strong to ignore.
It was getting dark as we approached Malta and the weather was an easterly gale (think it was Easterly) we could see lights on the coast and so examined the Charts (don’t ever call them Maps!) to see where the entrance to Valetta was; we thought we could see port and starboard harbour lights in the distance and so called the port authority on the radio and let them know we were arriving. Sea Crest was equipped with Radar and so we set it to about a mile and looked for an entrance; we couldn’t see one but were pretty sure these lights must be the entrance, the port said,”nope, we can’t see you on OUR radar?” we still headed for these lights. I suppose we were a few hundred yards away when the depth sounder started showing a rapidly disappearing depth! And then we realised these lights were on a nightclub or disco! We Jim threw the wheel over and we headed back out before we became an artificial island!
All sorts of info is available to sailors re navigation and port info so we looked to see if there was anything to help figure out exactly where we were. There was a ferry that went between Valetta and Sicily I think it was, and we spotted her lights off to our port. The port guide book said “never try and enter Valetta in an easterly gale unless you have knowledge of the entrance!” we were too pissed off with being at sea in such crap weather to take heed and so decided another night at sea was a no go.
Jim took the helm and I stuck my face into the rubber cowl to look at the radar. Jim said, “tell me when to turn” this was a dodgy manoeuvre as it meant presenting Sea Crests beam (side) to huge waves and risked a capsize. We had to time it precisely. The Ferry had disappeared into the entrance as I could see on the radar; Jim kept saying “now?” I replied, “wait……. Wait…………wait” then we were at midpoint to the entrance and I said “Now!” it was a little nervy as the helm went over to turn, the sea picked her up from the port stern quarter and she was in a strange position for what seemed ages pitching forward but also listing heavily to port. Then she slid down a wave and “surfed” into the harbour entrance! It was crazy but fun, a 65 foot 30 tonne surfboard! And then………. Peace, totally flat water, that is an eerie feeling going from terrible seas to the calm of a port. We secured her into a berth and stepped ashore, Terra firma always feels very odd after such a trip but it was wonderful. Your body totally relaxes but your brain still rocks.
