That sixth sense when sailing transatlantic

The stories of open ocean crossings few people tell....
When sharing stories with other sailors about ocean crossings, in my experience, those are mostly tales about winds, sail settings, provisioning... But, for me, there is more to an ocean crossing than that... For me, an ocean crossing is about opening my senses... And at times, my senses go "really open" :-)

Here is one story.. I am looking forward to hear other stories from other ocean sailors about "extra-ordinary" things that happened to them, which make "open ocean sailing".... eh... "special"...

This is my story of my most "meta-physical" experience when crossing an ocean:

The setting: It is 2006. It was my 4th or 5th ocean crossing, and my first trans-atlantic trip...
One night: We were somewhere between Cape Verde and the Caribbean. I had the night shift with Pete, who had been my watch-mate for over a month already by then, as we are re-locating our boat (a 57ft Beneteau) from Southampton to the Caribbean.

Pete and I, initially, banged heads as we were both strong-willed people, but through the daily watches (sailing, cooking and cleaning) we did together, we grew to like each other, trust each other, and started to have loads of fun together, especially during our mid-night watches.

That one night in the mid-Atlantic, I remember very well!
The skies were clear, but it was dark. I mean "pitch dark". There was no moon. Around our vessel, we could not see anything. Meta-physically, it seemed our 57ft boat was sailing at 10 kts into a void of nothing-ness.

At a certain point, around midnight, I told Pete: "I feel we're not alone....." Pete looks at me with void eyes... I tell him: "I can feel a presence around us..... Someone is right here, close to us, very close"..
At that point, Pete laughed at me, asking if I smoked the wrong stuff, or had snorted some of the dried mushroom soup we found in the galley earlier in the day, in a plastic bag. But I insisted: while we could see nothing, and had no visual contact with any land or another vessel for days, I... I... I just could sense someone was close to us. Very close.

We did not have AIS ("Automatic Identification System) back then, in 2006. So, we looked at the radar, and strangely enough, one second we could see a faint blip close to us, and then, nothing..... The blip looked like reflections from a wave....: A small radar-blip and then nothing again... Was there someone?
The blip was quite close to our boat... But it was there and the next second, it was gone. And a minute later, it appeared again.

We always had our VHF radio in the cockpit on channel 16, but had not heard a beep for days. On a hunch, I just pushed the PTT ("Push to Talk") of microphone on our VHF, on channel 16. I did not say anything, but just keyed the microphone on and off, and that's it. And, ......... a PTT-click came back on the radio. Loud, strong and clear. The hair on the back of my neck stood up... Someone clicked his VHF radio, And that someone was someone close by....

Pete and I looked at each other in disbelief. After days of radio-silence, days without having seen any other signs of life - or another vessel -, we heard a PTT-click on the radio. I keyed the VHF radio again, and this time, I said something like: "General call on one-six, this is sailing vessel Persuader Too, at (coordinates)".

Lo-and-behold, immediately came an answer with a clear and loud voice "Persuader Too, this is sailing yacht Daddledu on one-six, hearing you loud and clear".
From the clarity of their VHF transmission, we realized that Daddledu was close to us. We asked them to give a light signal, so we could physically locate them. And a single white light signal, probably from a flashlight, came back......... Daddledu was not just "in our vicinity"....... they were about 100m off our starboard. We could almost touch them.

We chatted on the VHF radio. They were a German crew and on their way to Barbados. They were not taking part in the ARC, as we were. We asked why they were not showing any navigation lights? They responded they had been dis-masted some 500 miles back and hence were trying to conserve as much power as possible, while they put up a make-shift jury-rig to continue some sailing. So they had switched off all navigation lights.
Their skipper was a guy called Jens. Asking if we could assist, he said they were all OK but would appreciate it if we could relay a communication or send an e-mail to the skipper's wife Angelica back in Germany, to let her know what happened to their rig, that they were safe but their arrival in Barbados would be much later than expected.
Which we did.

We never actually "saw" Daddledu. Only saw their single light flash and heard their voice on VHF. By the time daylight came through, we had already passed them by 30-40 miles. A light ping in the dark, and a VHF-voice in the void.. In the middle of no-where. That was our encounter.

From that moment on, Pete never doubted by sixth-sense again.

Picture: Me at the helm of Persuader Too in 2006, in the mid Atlantic, the morning after our Daddledu encounter... 🙂

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The Flying Dutchman. Or not

Another story of "real weird stuff" happening during an ocean crossing...

The setting: It is late 2022. We are sailing S/V Nerio, a 72ft Jongert 2200S, from Gibraltar to the Canaries.
We are three onboard: "Peter One", the skipper and owner; Hanne, a friend of the skipper; and myself "Peter Two". Hanne does not sail, but helps with the cooking and boat chores, so the skipper and I sail this thoroughbred racing cruiser with 4 hour single watches: 4 hours on and 4 hours off.

One early morning, just around sunrise, we must have been 3 days into our passage from Gibraltar to Las Palmas: As I wake up, I hear the engine running: there is no wind, we’re motoring.

I come on deck, ready to start my watch. The sea is flat calm. Not a whisper of wind. I find both Peter and Hanne in the cockpit, looking intensely towards the horizon on our port.

They look at me, as I take a seat in the cockpit. They say "Good morning", and immediately turn their heads again to our port side. I ask them "What's up? Anything wrong?!"

And Peter says: "We seem to have a Flying Dutchman" and points to the navigation screen, which shows an AIS signal close to our boat. For the non-sailors: "AIS"= "Automated Identification System", an automated data-gram transmitted via VHF radio from each boat, identifying who they are, where they are, their speed, course, and optionally destination, length-width, etc..).

And the AIS screen indeed clearly shows a solid green IAS blip of a cargo vessel which is supposed to be about half a mile off our port side.

Even though the sun is just rising, and the sky is quite bright already, in a pale-white/light grey way, we don't see any vessel. We see water and sky, all in different shades of light grey-ish, making it difficult to distinguish between sky, horizon and the sea. But no ship. Very calm sea with a light ocean swell transitioning into a rather grey sky, somewhat typical for a morning pre-sunrise.

"A Flying Dutchman", Peter repeats, "A ghost ship.. Seems there is nothing there".

Now I know it is possible AIS, like any computer system, gets screwed up, and transmits or receives wrong data. But still... this is all slightly worrying, as according to the AIS, we should have a 250m long cargo vessel about 600 meters from our port. In land-lubber terms that might sound like quite a distance between us, but when you are sailing, that is a distance --mmmmh.. slightly outside of our comfort zone.. Normally we like to keep 1 Nautical mile or 1.8 kilometers from cargo vessels, as a safety buffer zone.

We look again. And see nothing. "Yep, probably a phantom signal, showing a ghost ship on our AIS..", we conclude...

But... we keep looking... The sun is not out yet, so the sky is light-grey and there is slighter horizontal darker-grey rim, which must be the horizon, we guess. But no sight of a vessel. Just to make sure, we switch on the radar (which we only run occasionally, to save power), and gosh: the same blip we have on AIS, we can see on the radar too....There MUST be a vessel out there. No way both radar and AIS could be wrong....

And right at that moment, something happens... Some of the slightly darker grey horizontal layers in the sky we saw earlier on our port side, which we mistook for a horizon, clears up, making it now obvious what is happening: we are sailing in a really low fog-bank and had not even realized it, with all of that grey-ish-ness around us.
Like in the movies: the fog parted in just a few seconds, and like curtains on a stage opening up slowly, the mist bank clears, and we see a massive cargo ship, indeed, half a mile off our port side.

We are sailing in a fog bank without even realizing it. It was not a ghost signal from a "Flying Dutchman"... All our instruments showed the correct data... The early morning mist had fooled us.

And that is what I find intriguing about sailing. No matter my 20 years of sailing, every single day at sea, I learn something new. And nature, the elements, or circumstances, present me something new, not experienced before. And we learn. Sailing is not about training certificates, it is about experience. And no matter how much I sail, no matter how the experiences rack up, I am still learning new things, experience new stuff, e-v-e-r-y single day.

That day, I learned to trust AIS and radar, beyond relying solely on what I can see...
And there is also an other story coming up, showing that solely relying on instruments, without visual verification, is not enough either :-) :-) ...

Sailing, hey! :-)

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Know the navigation tools you use!

Three weeks ago.

Things are a bit intense here aboard Manami II. We are about 100-150 Nm WSW off the Portuguese SW corner. It is very early in the morning hours... The sky is dark grey, half lit,... but we don't know if the faint light comes from the moon or if the sun is actually raising at dawn. And the wind is absolutely ***howling*** in the rigging, at 30-35 kts. We are wet, we are cold, we are tired, and we're in the deep end of a low pressure area, sailing South.

Normally, when sailing to the Canaries, I don't venture that far West, in the open Atlantic ocean, as normally I come in from South Spain, Gibraltar or Southern Portugal and cut across the most Western Gibraltar Traffic Separation zone (TSS), which is wayyy further East.

But this time, we came from the UK, hugging the Spain and Portugal West coast, to cut across to the Canaries.

Apparently.......... there are two shallow areas (20-25m depth) underwater mountains raising steeply from 1000-2000m depth to +-20m, in the middle of the ocean in the area we were about to cross (picture below - iSailor screenshot).

It took me by surprise as normally, when I come in from Gibraltar we don't venture that far offshore, west. But the real surprise was that the (expensive, annual renewable) Navionics charts we have on our tablets/phones/chart plotter,... did NOT show any details of these shallows, unless if fully zoomed in. Reminds me of Vestas/11th Hour crash onto a non-zoomed-in reef off Madagascar, in the Volvo Ocean race some years ago, right?

And even when fully zoomed in, those Navionics charts did not show any details at all. (see pic below of a Navionics screen shot - no details of the depths, and no details there were actually two underwater peaks - compare to the below iSailor screen shots)

Meanwhile, my mickey-mouse cheap (and no longer supported/updated) iSailor maps on my Iphone, clearly showed the shallows, even when zoomed fully out.

WTF Navionics/Garmin?!?! Like, really, WTF?!?

I mean.. we came across those shallows in 35 kts wind in the dark. There must have been significant weird currents and standing waves, if we were to have gone over these shallows.

Navionics, hey..!? A cheap no-longer supported app like iSailor with outdated charts, payable “once and good for life”, outranks an app like Navionics in details?! A bit scary, knowing Navionics is used and dearly paid for - thru annual expensive subscriptions - by many cruisers?!

Lessons learned: Electronic charts are fine, but know the limitations of the tool. And compare different tools. I am sticking to iSailor which saved my *ss so many times in the past. Even if the tool is no longer supported, and charts have not been updated for a while.

And by the way, over the years, I had too many instances of navigation bouys marked in Navionics, but which nowhere to be spotted in “real life”. That means, as a full-time sailor, I would never rely on this over-priced, faulty piece of crap software, as my sole navigation aid. 

*end of rant*

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The Skipper's Rules for Ocean Passages

Over the past years, I have been mentoring/guiding yacht owners to prepare for ocean passages. Many of them had previously sailed for years and knew their boat well. But typically, they day-sailed, adding an occasional overnight passage, but had never done a long open ocean passage before.

The main challenge I have seen is that many skippers consider an ocean passage of e.g. 17 days, as “just 17x a day passage”. A common mistake. An ocean passage is very different from day sailing. I wrote an earlier blogpost about how to prepare a boat for an ocean passage. In this post, I want to focus more on the crew, management of expectations and clear understandings of what both the skipper and the crew expect from the trip and each other..

One of the things I have been insistent on, is to establish clear “rules” onboard, clarifying what a skipper/owner expects of his/her crew and how the crew is expected to work and live on the boat.

Unclear rules, lead to confused expectations of either side – the skipper or the crew - and lead to conflicts or bad feelings during a passage. And you do NOT want that… As a skipper, you’d want all your crew to be “tuned in”, and agreeing what and how you want to do your upcoming ocean passage, and for all to have an enjoyable passage. As a crew, you’d want to know not only “what” to do, but also “how to do it”.

Here is an outline of “The Skipper’s Rules” for an ocean passage which I use, where you, as skipper, can start from. Adapt where you see fit. None of this is cast in concrete. The important thing is “to establish the rules and expectations”, in whichever form.

(1) Our goal

Our main goal is to get the boat and crew safely from A to B, with the least wear and tear on the boat. Our secondary goal is to be able to enjoy the uniqueness of a passage in an open ocean, an opportunity only few people are privileged to enjoy.

(2) The Skipper

On any boat, there is only one skipper, who makes the final call on anything related to the boat and passage. He/she might consult with others, but the skipper makes the final call.

(3) The First Mate

The first mate is the 2nd in command on a boat, and typically takes care of the day-to-day management of the boat and crew. If the skipper becomes incapacitated, the first mates takes over command of the yacht.

(4) Safety first

- When new crew boards a ship, the skipper or first mate should give a thorough safety briefing. A safety briefing consists of a run-through of all equipment on board (fire extinguishers, fire blankets, main cut-off switches, person-over-board and emergency equipment) and the basic safety procedures, including "MOB"- or "Man (person)-over-board".
- Rule #1: don't fall overboard. Rule #2: don't fall overboard. Rule #3: don't fall overboard.
- PFDs ("Personal Floatation Devices" or "Life jackets") are to be worn at night, as of sunset to sunrise, for all crew on deck, even in the cockpit. PFDs are also to be worn when working on the top/foredeck in rough seas, even during daytime. Beyond that, if the skipper deems the seas to be rough or winds to be unstable (e.g. incoming squalls) or strong (e.g. 20+ knots) winds, he/she can call for "PFDs on" for all crew on deck at any time.
- Beyond that, crew can always put on their PFD, whenever they feel uncomfortable.
- In high swells, particularly at night, crew is to be clipped on with their lifelines, even when in the cockpit. In rough weather, crew is always to be clipped on when working on top/foredeck, day or night.

(5) Night sailing

- PFD's on, at all times during night hours, for any crew on deck, even in the cockpit.
- Crew stays in the cockpit area, and do not go onto the top/foredeck unless if it is really needed.
- If work needs to be done on top/foredeck at night, there always have to be at least two crew on deck: one in the cockpit and one doing the work on the top/foredeck.
- At night, crew uses head torches, with red-only lights. White lights can be used to occasionally look at the sails or to look forward of the ship, but in general, white lights should be avoided, even below deck.

(6) Alcohol

- No alcohol during the passage, except, an optional sunset crew-toast (if the skipper agrees) with a beer/glass of wine (and one beer/glass of wine only), but no hard liquor. “Dry boat” or “sunset drink only”, is a skipper’s choice/decision. I am equally happy on a total dry boat, or one where we have a sunset drink).
- The night before leaving for a passage: no heavy drinking or partying. For the start of any passage, the crew has to be at their best.

(7) Drugs and smoking

- No drugs allowed on board.
- The skipper defines if smoking is allowed onboard - which is a deal-breaker for me, as “my only vice in life” is that I smoke. But I try to be really “social” in my smoking: I only smoke downwind, and put my ashes in a small lid-locked ash tray.

(8) Watches

- Watches are pre-scheduled, agreed by and followed by all crew.
- Watches come on deck, on time. Keep in mind, that in rough or cold weather, you might need 20 minutes to get your gear on, and prepare a coffee. But… be on time!
- At any time, at least one person is to be on watch.
- The person on watch is in charge of the ship’s operation and crew safety during their watch. The person on watch pays full attention to the boat, traffic, sea state, wind, potential hazards (fishing pods or nets, objects in the water,..) and weather.
- A person on watch uses eyes, ears, and feeling to their full capacity to ensure safety of ship and crew. As such, even when sailing on autopilot, the watch sits at – or near – the helm, paying full attention to the boat and its surroundings.
- As a watch keeps an “eye”, “feeling” and “ear” on the boat, it is preferred not to use headsets or ear-phones as it dumbs your hearing. If you like some background music during your watch, use a bluetooth speaker…
- Each watch has a "buddy system". The watch can call on their "buddy" for sail changes or any assistance needed during their watch. If need be, the watch calls on the skipper when in doubt, or before any significant decisions.
- If, for any reason, those who are to be on watch are not up to their task (sea sickness e.g.), they ask an alternate (typically "their buddy") to take over their watch.
- If the person on watch observes a significant change in weather or sea state, which requires sail changes, they call on backup crew (typically "their buddy") to assist with sail changes. Some sail changes (e.g. dropping the spinnaker) might need “more hands on deck”, a call to be made by the watch.
- if those on watch feel uncomfortable at any time, or question themselves if sail changes or significant course changes etc… are needed, they call on their buddy, or call on the skipper to confirm their intended changes
- If in any doubt, do not hesitate to wake up the skipper. The skipper needs to trust you to call on him or her, if you need help

(9) Proximity to other vessels

- In open sea, we keep a nominal safe distance ("CPA" or "Closest Point of Approach") of 1 nautical mile from any cargo vessel. In more close quarters (coastal passages, busy traffic lanes), 0.5 Nmiles CPA (aft or alongside a cargo vessel) is acceptable, but no less. If in doubt, we call them on VHF to agree how we will pass each other.
- By preference we cross the path of cargo vessels aft of them, and not in front of them. If we have little other alternative but to pass in front of a motor vessel, we keep a safe distance – e.g. 3 miles separation in front of a cargo vessel moving at 15 knots is fine, but we keep much more separations from catamaran ferries moving at 40 knots! If in doubt, we call them on VHF to agree how we will pass each other.
- As fishing vessels tend to make erratic/random course changes, we keep a minimal separation of 1 mile with fishing vessels. We keep in mind that fishing vessels can troll long nets or miles-long floating lines, so by preference we cross in front of fishing vessels, giving them plenty of separation dependent on the speed they move at. If in doubt, we call them on VHF to agree how we will pass each other.
- Even when under sail, by preference we change course to keep a safe distance from cargo or fishing vessels, except if we have little maneuverability (e.g. when sailing under spinnaker, or in areas with very dense traffic). We keep in mind that e.g. a 200m long cargo vessel travelling at 20 knots has very limited maneuverability. If in doubt, we call them on VHF to agree how we will pass each other.
- Other sailing vessels, we can pass at 0.5 miles separation, or less, but the closer we pass other sailing vessels, the sharper we keep a look-out: Other sailing yachts might not pay attention, or not know/respect the collision rules,.. As such, we always have an “alternative/emergency maneuver” in our mind, to avoid “close calls”. If in doubt, we call them on VHF to agree how we will pass each other.
- Whenever in doubt, don’t be shy to call the other vessel on VHF to confirm (1) if they see us on AIS/radar and (2) how we will pass each other.

(10) Wear and tear on the boat

- The sunrise watch makes a tour of the vessel to inspect any wear and tear of the standing and running rigging, and to inspect the deck.
- The sunrise watch clears the deck of any flying fish or other bits (e.g. sea weed) and if need be (if fresh water is available), rinses the cockpit windows
- any bits and pieces which might have fallen off the rigging, any damage, wear-and-tear, or any points of (possible) shafing, is to be reported to the skipper.
- Nuts, bolts, rods or other hardware bits found on deck, can be a sign of an impeding larger problem, so do not take this lightly…

(11) Weather predictions

The skipper or first mate check weather predictions daily. Based on the predictions, the skipper can make changes in sail plan, course or overall passage plan.

And now for a slightly less “black-and-white” authoritarian advice. But still, just as important…

(12) “Everything has its place”

Or in other words: on a well-organized boat, “everything lives somewhere”. If everyone (especially guest crew) start “using stuff” (tools, cooking utensils, etc…), it is important to “put it back where you found it”.
It is frustrating to have to look through the entire boat to find the darned binoculars, the deck flashlight, or the darned can-opener. Or the preventer lines, which seem to keep on moving between different lazarettes etc..
From experience, I know, as the ocean passage goes on, crew often get more tired, and “the temper fuses” start to get shorter. Simple stuff like “Who did not put the cutting board back on its usual place?”, “why does the coffee jar keep on moving between cupboards?” can become a source of frustration.
But there is also a safety component: If the VHF handheld, the binoculars, the deck flashlight, the backup head torch, spare lines etc.. all have their dedicated place, we won’t lose time looking for them, when “things get hairy”.

(13) Cost sharing

- Agree with the skipper which costs will be shared amongst the crew, and how the common costs will be tracked. In the past, we had different agreements: on some boats, the crew agreed to share the marina fees and fuel, while on others, we did not. Do agree on forehand.
- Other common expenses, such as crew dinners and drinks, provisioning, communications’ (Starlink!) costs etc.. can be tracked via simple apps such as “Tricount”. Common crew expenses should be settled before any crew leaves the boat.

(14) Visitors

- For a yacht owner, his/her boat is his/her home. So, as crew, we need to take that into consideration when inviting other people onboard, while at anchor or in a marina.
- Agree with the skipper/owner, if it is ok to bring visitors aboard, even for a quick visit.

And now moving onto even less “black-and-white” advice.

“A well-fed crew, is a happy crew”. And the way meals are scheduled, prepared, and shared, is very often a reflection of the dynamics amongst a boat-crew…! It is important to agree, before the passage, when meals are prepared and who prepares them, as it often takes – dependent on the sea state – considerable effort to prepare meals on a rolling and pitching boat.

Here is my advice:

(15) Cooking

- Each day, one person (or a pair-of-persons in larger crews) is pre-appointed to cook the main meal of the day. This is typically the evening meal, preferably to served before sunset.
- If possible, we extract this person (or pair), called “the mother watch”, out of the normal sailing watch schedule for that day. E.g. with four crew, three crew can rotate and cover the 24h sailing watch cycle while one crew can be the mother watch without any sailing duties for that day.
- The mother watch can rotate day per day, with each crew, in turn, taking on the mother watch duties for a day.
- The mother watch is also responsible for cleaning the galley after the cooking: washing dishes, drying them and stowing everything away.
- If it is agreed that the evening meal is the “main meal” of the day, then breakfast and lunch (and anything in-between), can be prepared by anyone or as an additional task which the mother watch can take on.
- As the provisions on a boat are (always) limited in choice, it is preferred one crew is responsible for the overall provisions management. He/She will know what will need to be "used" first (we don't want to throw away too many left-overs, or fruits/vegggies/meat going off because it is not eaten in time). It is preferred, the mother watch checks with the person managing the provisions, what should be "used" first.
- As a courtesy to the crew on watch, and anyone awake at any time, if any of the crew makes breakfast or lunch, it is basic courtesy to check with the others on deck, on watch or awake, if they want breakfast or lunch too. It is not that much of an extra effort to throw in some extra eggs in the pan, or make some extra sandwiches, while you are preparing something for yourself.

I am open for more comments and suggestions, but in the mean time, I wish you a happy and safe ocean crossing!

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"All systems down" - a sketchy arrival in Mindelo - Cape Verde

28-Nov-2022 15:00 Approaching Cape Verde

We had a good passage from Las Palmas to Cape Verde aboard S/V Nerio. With a crew of five plus the skipper, we sailed this ship, un-eventfully, 800 Nm (about 1,500 km) through some pretty stiff winds in five days.

Note that I use the term "ship". Nerio is not a "boat", she is a proper "ship": An aluminium racing cruiser of 72ft (22 meters), with its 30m tall carbon mast, 18 winches (two hydraulic and two driven by pedestrals), 4 meters draft, 40-odd tons of displacement, carbon-laminated mainsail,... She used to dominate off-shore regattas with a crew of 22. She is big, and by far the largest yacht I ever sailed on.

I met Nerio and Peter, her skipper, in Cartagena, a few months earlier, in October. Peter and I had been talking on taking Nerio transatlantic for over 16 months by then. And we stroke a deal then in Cartagena - somewhat induced by one-too-many strong gin-and-tonics (What can I say. The waitress liked me, so double-served the gin part): as I was looking to get the experience in "managing" a bigger yacht, Peter would allow me to be Nerio's first mate, preparing the passage plans, weather routing, pilotage, watch schedule, provisioning...

Kudos to the skipper, in giving me that opportunity and challenge which started early Nov when him and me (plus one more non-sailing crew) ferry'd Nerio from Gibraltar to Las Palmas, in a "4 hours on and 4 hours off" watch schedule between him and me -- the first time, I handled single watches on a big ship like this, raising and dropping sails as we negotiated the Gibraltar straights, one of the world's busiest cargo traffic areas and most complex current/tidal areas.

Where was I.. Oh, right, we were approaching Mindelo, Cape Verde... Mindelo is notorious in the yachting community: The marina is pretty tight, and the larger anchoring area on its Western side is dotted with unmarked wrecks, unlit mooring buoys, abandoned vessels, and sailing yachts at anchor. Most pilot books state "Do NOT approach this port and anchorage at night"...

28-Nov-2022 17:00 Approaching Mindelo

But I had been there a year ago, and stayed at anchor for about a week in front of the marina, so I knew the "lay-of-the-land" a bit.
So, as we approached Mindelo, inbetween the islands of Sao Vicente and Sao Antao, the skipper said: "Right, Peter, you have been here before, you take her in"....
In the days before, via the satphone, I had negotiated a slot in the marina, but I also knew that, by sunset, the marina staff would go home. And we had no time to waste.. Sunset was in about an hour or so..
As we came in the narrows between the islands Sao Vicente and Sao Antao, the sun was setting. We had planned to approach Mindelo on Sao Vicente, in day light, but -as it often goes-, planning is one thing, and the winds is another thing.
So,.. we were late. Mindelo is not a port you want to approach after sunset...

As we saw the lighthouse on the rock of "Djeu", in front of Mindelo approaching, I took over the boat. I briefed the crew of the approach plan. We took the sails down, and put all fenders out, we were ready.

As I had expected, the wind funneled between Sao Vicente and Sao Antao, but the prevailing wind direction (from the NE), really accelerated the wind. Talking about funneling, hey..? This was proper funneling. From a 15 knots wind, approaching the islands, the wind now increased to 20-25-30-35-OMG-40 knots, as we came inbetween the lighthouse on the Djeu rock and the island of Sao Vicente.

As I was standing at the helm, aft of the ship, with the main navigation and monitoring screens further forward in the main cockpit area, and the crew spread on deck, ready for the approach, I throttled the engine into neutral, and Nerio, was still speeding at 3-4 knots, just on the windage of its mast and running rigging. "Interesting,...", I thought, "I never sailed a yacht purely on its windage"...

And that is the moment, it started to get really "interesting"...

28-Nov-2022 18:00 All systems down..!

Just as we rounded the Djeu lighthouse, with all crew ready to pass the commercial port of Sao Vicente on our port side, in 40 kts of wind, I was looking at the different navigation screens and all of a sudden, all screens went blank......... (that is a lot of dots.. reflecting my "OMG" thoughts)...

I had no more chart plotter information, GPS or wind data nor depth reading. I was in command of a 72ft vessel, which was sailing on its windage in a 40kts wind, into a notoriously difficult anchorage, in the dark.., well.. blindly.

Peter, the skipper, tried to reboot the systems, which was a UNIX-based home-brew system, but in vain.... As the sun set behind the horizon and darkness fell, we were blind.

From memory, I recalled I could not take a wide berth to approach the marina, as there were too many half-sunk vessels on the Western side, and many yachts would be anchored there. So, as all crew was standing by on their positions ready for the approach, and the wind hooooowling in the rigging, I took out my iPhone. I had saved the track of the approach we did a year earlier, and I knew, if I followed that track, and stay East of the abandonned vessels, and a bigger fishing vessel (which never seems to move), called "Croix du Sud", we would be safe.

So out came my $800 iPhone, with its saved track,.. and we safely navigated past the commercial port, staying free of the anchored sailing vessels, and all other hazards, approaching the Mindelo marina. I called them on my VHF handheld, and with a torch, they gave a light signal, where to dock - next to the fuel dock -.

As we approached, I gave Nerio's reigns back to Peter, and he safely docked Nerio, to be followed by abundant shrimps dinner, spiced up with local beers.

How a $800 iPhone saved the day, hey?

PS: After some debugging, we found that the navigation systems crashed as the buffer files of the UNIX navigation systems filled up the hard disk, crashing the whole system. A problem which we cured in 1 minute, once identified, by putting in a batch routine to flush all buffers every hour - for the nerds amongst you -.

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A basic checklist for your next ocean passage

I have now done quite a few open ocean passages, and I start to be picky which boat and crew I want to sail with. A well prepared boat and crew is not a guarantee for a pleasant and safe passage, but surely a good starting point.

This is the checklist I made for myself before committing to crew on a boat for an ocean passage, and -though not complete- might also be a base to start from, for any skipper planning an ocean passage, specifically if this is his/her first ocean crossing.

Let me start first, with my key advice: The common mistake I experienced is that many owners or skippers (who never did an ocean passage before) think: "Oh I sailed the Med for 2 years, and did 2-3-4,000 miles in day passages. An ocean passage is just -say- 20 days, so only 20 times a day passage." It is not. Ocean passages are far more stressing on a yacht and its crew. A 20 days open ocean passage needs more preparation than 20 days of day sailing in the Med (or Northsea, or the Baltic). So: prepare well. An open ocean crossing can be your experience of a life-time. You do not want it to be your "this was the time I thought we were toast".

The list starts with stuff related to the boat itself:

Rig inspection

Prior to your trans-ocean passage, have a certified rigger do a thorough standing rigging inspection: condition of the stays, chainplates, spreaders, split-pins, and all connections. Check the condition of the mast. Check all running rigging for chafing. Bring along least one spare halyard and one spare sheet.
And during your ocean passage, part of your early-morning watch duties, is to do a "round-the-boat" visual check on all the rigging and the deck. You might find it silly when I tell you, that I take it really seriously if I find any nut, bolt or any other piece of hardware on the deck, in my morning shift's tour. "Anything that fell off", had a function, and might be a sign of a bigger problem to come. Do not underestimate the continous stress on the boat's rigging, during an ocean passage.

Sail plan

Many ocean passages are done downwind. What is the sail plan? While it is perfectly possible to cross e.g. the Atlantic East-West with a small 100% self-tacking genoa, it might not make for a fast and comfortable crossing.
I'd rather look for a 120+% genoa, preferably with a whisker pole to pole out the genoa: downwind waves will push the boat left-right, deflating and inflating the genoa several times per minute, which will wear out the genoa, and put a lot of stress on the rigging.
Find ways to keep that genoa open. If no whisker pole, possibly find a way to sheet your genoa aft (through spinnaker tackles?), and use a barber hauler to keep pressure on the genoa sheet and trim it better.
Of course it would be nice to have a light downwind sail: a symmetrical or asymmetrical spinnaker (gennaker), or a kite (like a Parasailor), to be used in lighter (<20 kts) winds.
Have a good preventer system for your boom, connected to the end of the boom and onto your deck, preferably onto a cleat. Crash-gybing your mainsail can be a cause of major, if not catastrophic, damage. On several boats we did a crossing with, we always had both starboard and port preventers on, not only to prevent crash gybing but also to avoid excessive deflating/re-inflating of the main sail. The stiffer your mainsail (e.g. with batons), the more likely your mainsail will deflate/re-inflate rather violently, wearing out the sail and cars - and putting pressure on your mast, goose neck and rigging.

Chafing

On an ocean passage, anything which rubs against anything, will cause wear-and-tear or chafing. Even while, for instance, there might not be any tension or pressure between a sheet rubbing over your rail, after 2 weeks of ocean passage's "rubbing", for sure, there will be chafing damage.
Anything flapping (like a loose bit of sail cover) for weeks on end, will get damaged or worn. The foot of your genoa, at the luff e.g., rubbing over your bow's rail, will cause wear and tear.
My advice is to bring along some cheap and real thick plastic water hoses. Any running rigging rubbing against something else? Cut a piece off the hose, splice it, and clamp it over those bits rubbing. It will limit your wear and tear.
One note -though not part of the preparation but as part of your actual ocean crossing-: Twice so far, in a transat, we chafed through our spinnaker halyard, at the top of our mast (see picture). We learned to, every day, tighten or loosen up the spinnaker halyard a bit, changing the point where the halyard is "frictioning" at the top of the mast. A halyard chafing through (with a bang), with your beautiful spinnaker graciously falling into the sea and wrapping itself around your keel and rudder, can cause a major disaster or at least have you loose/damage your spinnaker.

Autopilot

Bless those who sail an ocean passage by hand-steering, but "most of us" use an auto-pilot, which, if well tuned, will steer far better and longer than a human. When is the last time, your autopilot was inspected? Do we have spare pieces for the autopilot, or a backup? I have never sailed with a wind-vane autopilot before, but that looks like a good alternative or backup to an electric autopilot.

Electricity - power management

Talking about "autopilots": if your autopilot is electrical (and not a mechanical wind-vane), your "Bob" (as we used to call our autopilot), will be one of the main sources of electricity consumption. Tip: most electrical autopilots can be "tuned" to helm less aggressively in calmer weather. Reducing your trim rate, rudder gain and counter rudder (or whatever those parameters are called on your autopilot) when you have less wind, will not only reduce your electricity consumption by A LOT, but will also reduce the wear and tear on your autopilot system. You will have to use more aggressive autopilot parameters when sailing in strong winds or bigger waves, though: too slow reaction time/helm correction in heavier weather might have your boat broaching. And broaching in big waves/strong winds hardly ever ends up well...
Back to "electricity": Atop of your autopilot add the consumption of fridge, freezer, pumps, radar, communications (Starlink! - see further), navigation, inverter, charging devices, watermaker etc etc etc ... and it is highly likely that whatever battery charging solar panels, wind generator and hydro-chargers you have, to charge your batteries when doing day-cruising, will not be able to keep up with the demand for electricity on an ocean passage, sailing for 24h/day, for weeks on end.
Wind generators are not very efficient when sailing downwind. The efficiency of hydrovanes is questionable - and sooo many buddy boats we sailed with on ocean passages had structural issues with hydro-generators getting hammered by the ocean waves, coming in from aft.
The efficiency of your solar panels might be limited in hazy/cloudy conditions, if not shaded from the sun by your mainsail/rigging.
Choice is yours how you want to top off your house batteries: do you have a built-in generator aboard? Will you charge from the alternator on the main engine (maybe not a good idea if you have a turbo-charged engine, as charging batteries is typically done on lower RPM without engaging the turbo).
On several boats we sailed across oceans, we had a small 0.9-1 KVA standalone generator we used to charge the batteries at night. A cheap and effective solution.
Oh, and those two 5-year-old 120 Ah lead-acid house batteries you used -up to now- for day cruising in the Med, might not be enough to hold the charge or keep up with the power consumption needed for a longer ocean passage, especially if you cycled (discharged) them too deep in the past, even once: deep-cycled lead-acid batteries typically only hold 50% or less charge than their spec'd capacity.
The good news is that it is pretty easy to calculate your electricity consumption versus your battery capacity versus your charging capacity. So,... make the calculation, and figure out an efficient and cost effective solution to charge those batteries!

Water

Sure you can cross an ocean using the capacity of your normal 200l water tank and some spare jerrycans. It will demand strict water-usage "rules", though. Better if you have a water-maker, and better still if it is built-in, in the boat, with its saltwater in-take through a built-in seacock. A "portable" watermaker, with an intake via a floating tube, did not work well in our previous passage: we never found a way to ensure the intake tube stayed well under water. The intake sucked air bubbles (might have been cavitation bubbles), which can damage the membranes, and made any "water making session", a labour-intense and tiring venture.

Emergency and safety equipment

I do insist on a (properly registered and serviced) EPIRB (satellite emergency beacon), serviced life raft, "throw overboard" MOB buoys/lines fixed to the boat. Properly serviced quality self-inflating life jackets (PFD's) are a must (standard "rule" on past crossings was: PFD's on, from sunset to sunrise and any winds above 20 knots). Preferably PFDs are to be fitted with MOB (VHF-AIS auto-deployed location device) and proper tether lines (Oh, I had long discussions with the ARC safety crew, whether 2-point or 3-point tether lines are better. I stick to 2-point tether lines). I like crew to wear PLB's (Personal Locator Beacons) at night - these are small personal EPIRB devices, allowing to send a satellite distress signal to a coastal rescue station, when overboard and out of VHF/AIS range.
((And yes, rules #1, #2 and #3 on a boat are all the same: "DO NOT fall overboard"))

Navigation equipment

While you can cross an ocean single-handed on a raft with a paper chart and without any auxiliary equipment, I do prefer, on any yacht I sail on for thousands of miles, to have a good chart plotter system - preferably also with a screen at the helm position - with an AIS - Automated Identification System - receiver/transmitter connected to it. Hardly any boat sails across oceans, these days, without AIS.
And a radar, even if only run e.g. once per hour (to save power), can make a passage more safe at night. Not all boats (referring to those &&%%$$!! many small Chinese fishing boats we crossed paths with in our last transat...) transmit an IAS signal, AND a radar will help you to spot rain squalls building up behind you, allowing you to dose your spinnaker in time, or change course to avoid the squall.

Long-range comms

Being a radio-amateur ("ham"), I love HF radio, but long gone are its days as the main long-range comms system on a yacht. "Starlink", is the new norm now: affordable and reliable. And useful for safety, social communications, and downloading weather routing etc... When, last year, our fellow ARC+ boat "Hilma" lost their mast 3 days out of Cape Verdes, one hour after their distress Whatsapp message to the group chat via Starlink, three other ARC+ boats were standing by her for assistance. Do I need to say more? And beyond: my family and friends loved my daily updates during our crossing, via pictures, videos, microblogs, and progress plots.
Beyond Starlink, as a contingency, a small portable satcom device (Garmin Inreach or Iridium Go), is advisable. Not cheap though, comparing their bandwidth/functionality with Starlink, but a good fallback. And -God forgive- something you can take with you in a life raft.

Insurance

There is a more-than-a-fair chance your Med cruising insurance e.g. will not be valid for an ocean crossing. What insurance do you have for the crossing? Insurance fees are notoriously high for ocean crossings, but so are the fees to rescue your yacht and/or crew in case something goes wrong. See also the ARC-chapter.

And now moving onto more "non-boat" topics.

To ARC or not to ARC.

Every year about 100 boats cross the Atlantic in the ARC+ flotilla from Las Palmas to Grenada with a stopover in the Cape Verdes (Mindelo). 200 more boats cross from Las Palmas to Rodney Bay Marina in Saint Lucia about a week later.
I did two transat crossings with the ARC/ARC+ and two crossing "by ourselves".
Participating in the ARC/ARC+ is not cheap. But it has its clear advantages: It is nice to cross the ocean as part of a like-minded group of fellow sailors and the ARC organizers are great in creating that social environment to meet up with fellow ocean crossers. AND the ARC crew create a whole safety/experience-based environment to "chaperonne/mentor" participants into a safe passage.
Once the fleet assembles in Las Palmas, they do safety inspections, run a ton of seminars on topics ranging from "ocean fishing" to "weather routing" or "downwind sailing", organize social events, day-care for the kids (so their parents can prepare their boat), facilitate customs and other administration, help with booking your berth in the marinas, etc..
During the actual passage, they are super-efficient and professional in providing assistance in case of emergencies or incidents. All-in-all VERY well run, and my utmost respect goes to the ARC/ARC+ "yellow shirts"!. Over the years, I often heard a lot of criticism of the ARC, from non-ARC-ers, but I am yet to hear from anyone who sailed with the ARC/ARC+, who thought it was not worth the money.
When we did not cross as part of the ARC, we kinda created our own social network of buddy boats who we picked up sailing months prior in the Med or in preparing the crossing, and we kinda created a virtual buddy-boats' flotilla, with many parties held in our "assembly points" of Gibraltar, Gracioso, Las Palmas and Mindelo. But it is up to you to engage and/or to organize.
Beyond the main transat E-W transat passage, the ARC also organizes group W-E transat crossings, the "yearly migration" from the UK to Las Palmas, and the "World ARC" - a global crossing.
One thing to check out, though is: Many insurance companies give a significant premium discount when you are part of the ARC (or ARC+), as the ARC rules and inspections are rigorous. In our past crossing, our skipper said that his crossing's insurance premium discount, as an ARC+ participant, was bigger than the actual fee he paid for his ARC+ participation. Keep in mind, though, that in order to pass the ARC/ARC+ safety inspection, you might have to buy/install some extra stuff (and spares) which you had not planned for, thus incurring extra costs (also for the sake of extra safety of course).

Food... ah.. Food...

I hope your yacht has a fridge. A freezer is a great "plus": Frozen pre-prepped meals for those "difficult" days, are heaven-sent when the boat is rolling left-right so heavily, it is hell even just to cut those ever-rolling and escaping veggies, leave alone to stand on your feet next to the stove, or keep the boiling water in the pot even on a swivel stove....
Lacking a freezer, and maybe confined to a small fridge: manage your provisions and your meals well. Some fruits and veggies (in those swaying nets!) will last for almost 2 weeks (potatoes, cabbages, carrots, oranges?), and some will last only for a few days (any soft fruits and veggies, bread,...) and are best kept in a fridge. Some food, e.g. cold cuts for lunch sandwiches, meat, etc. is best kept in the fridge and if well managed, will last well into your passage.
We keep 3 tiers of food and store accordingly: (1) short lasting: to be consumed in the first week - in the fridge (2) longer lasting: fresh food to be consumed in the first two weeks kept in nets and dry storage and (3) for ever lasting: canned, jarred or dry foods (or frozen in the freezer).
God bless you if you can bake your own bread/pizza/cake/cookies. After two weeks at sea, the cook becomes the hero. And bless the cook who can dish out a savoury meal after two weeks at sea without a fridge! And heaven-sent is the smell of freshly-baked bread or pizza a week into a wild crossing!

Itinerary and weather routing

Moving on.., but no less important though! No matter the safety equipment, how well the yacht is equipped, with the best cook and food, if I can not agree on a sound (and in my mind "the right") overall itinerary with the skipper, I will hesitate to step aboard.
First of all, good weather routing software/apps are a must. Forecasts to be downloaded daily. I swear by Predictwind's ECMWF forecast (with the GFS model as a backup), for wind, swell, precipitation and CAPE (lightning!) forecasts. AND I like a way to download those forecasts - in high resolution and over a wider area - fast! ("Hurray to Starlink!" - higher res forecasts over a larger time-period and larger area via Iridium Go take forever, argh!...)
But even then, a solid overall routing plan is a must, avoiding the turbulent areas, favouring the -maybe slower- trusted routings. E.g. In an E-W transat, I favour the longer route to go down to 12°-11°N or even 10°N to avoid wind-still or even upwind turbulent areas. Longer, but safer, is what I like.
Note: I take Predictwind's automated weather routing as "advice", but always make up my own mind what route I want to take, based on an overall weather systems in a wide area.

Emergency procedures and basic rules

I have crewed in trans-ocean sailing yachts where the safety briefing took 5 hours and on other yachts where we never got a safety briefing.
I like to sail on a yacht where the basic emergency procedures and rules are clear. E.g.: Safety jackets on between sunset and sunrise and with windspeeds above 20 knots. No-one on the bow at night unless a 2nd person is present in the cockpit..., etc
But also basic procedures like "what to do in case of MOB ('(Wo)Man Over Board' - my nightmare scenario), and a clear agreement on the chain of command if the skipper becomes incapacitated, are a must. Or even more basic: what are the rules on the consuming alcohol onboard? On my past passages, we either agreed on "no alcohol" or "one beer only at sunset".
Or more basic: in case of emergency: who to contact on what telephone number, in what way, giving what details, for what purpose?

Crew and watch systems.

Sure you can sail across any ocean single-handed, or short-handed. This might not be the most comfortable and enjoyable crossing you had, though. Depends what you look for and prioritize: excitement, comfort, or safety,..
I sailed a 72ft racing cruiser with only me and the skipper. And I loved it. For 5 days. Not sure if I'd like to do this for 2-3 weeks in a row, with 4 hours on and 4 hours off watches (and cooking, repairing, cleaning in-between)...
An ocean crossing should be an adventure to enjoy, according to me. Running with two people for days and weeks in a row, might not allow you to fully enjoy the unique experience an ocean crossing offers you. Crossing shorthanded is perfectly "doable", but is that what you want?
An additional note for families with young kids: I met loads of boats with only a mum and dad, and 2-3 younger kids, who cross oceans with the goal of making this "a true family experience". My hats off to them, but if I were them: I would take 1-2 additional crew on board: If not for safety (in case anything happens to one of the parents, or one of them is not feeling too well for some days), then it would be to also spend more time with the kids - who need to be kept safe, and "busy" too: Ocean crossings are typically very boring for younger kids. Talking to many "family-cruisers" with kids, after their passage, most regretted not taking some additional crew onboard.
Ideally, I'd say a crew of 4 sailors is a good quorum. This will allow for a watch system of e.g. 4 hours on, 8 hours off watches, with one of the crew, every 4th day, responsible for the "mother watch": cooking the main meal, cleaning and general house keeping. More crew than 4, is a luxury - and will need more food/water/space,... Less will be more stressful. Your choice to make.
Apart from the "system" of keeping watches etc.., I am picky on how the crew is selected. Are they actually sailors? Have they lived in closed quarters with others before? How do they handle stress? What are their personal goals for this crossing? Are they fit? Do they get sea-sick? The smaller the crew, the more critical the people you select for a crossing. Luckily for you, dear skipper, there are LOADS of people looking for a crew-spot, sharing the crossing's food cost, who are very capable (and often ocean-crossing-experienced) sailors.
As a skipper: select your crew well. As crew: select your boat well, as, believe me, it is the "people" which will make this crossing a heaven or a hell for you.

I hope this basic checklist helps you in preparing for safe(r) and enjoyable ocean passage! The better prepared, the more you will enjoy those fabulous ocean sunsets, the stars at night, the pod of dolphins swimming at your bow, with the wind in your hair and the salt on your skin. And that is what ocean passages are all about: to enjoy a life's unique experience!

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To cat or not to cat? My experience crossing an ocean on a catamaran.

While I have been sailing yachts for over 20 years, I always sailed on monohulls and never sailed on a cat, a catamaran. Came last winter, I finally had the opportunity to crew on a catamaran from South Portugal via the Canaries and Cape Verde to Grenada in the Caribbean. And that gave me an equal opportunity to compare sailing on a cat versus monohulls.

Just as no two types of monohulls are the same, neither are two types of cats the same. Some cats are geared towards cruising and comfort, while others are more performance oriented, or even racing cats. So my reflections are limited to that single type of cat I sailed on, and are - I realize - highly subjective.

The cat I sailed on, was a cruising cat: SV Sturdeee (yep that's with 3 e's - like "echo-echo-echoooo") is a 45 foot Lagoon 450F. The "F" stands for "Fly bridge", which is an option for this type of Lagoon: The fly bridge is a superstructure on top of the main saloon, acting as the main helming position. It features a solid roof and a large bench - and of course the helm, all navigation instruments plus all winches and clutches to handle the running rigging.

Sturdeee was about five years old, purchased two years earlier by its current owners Ian and Dee, a pilot and flight attendant couple. - And it was interesting to experience how their professional experience also translated in how Ian and Dee sailed, maintained and managed the boat. By itself, this is a golden tip if you want to crew on a boat and with a crew or owners you never sailed before: their past professional background DOES profoundly affect the way the boat is set up, and run. Which, on Sturdeee, was a good thing! :-)

When I stepped on Sturdeee for the first time, in Faro (South Portugal) mid September last year, I was immediately impressed: A 45ft catamaran is big! Sturdeee features a large saloon and galley (with three fridges/freezers - what a luxury!), generator, two engines, a large "cockpit" (aft deck sheltered seating area), a large foredeck seating area, a sundeck, 3 double cabins (each with their own bathroom or "head"), plus an extra cabin used as work/storage area.

This immediate highlighted the first (and obvious) difference between a 45 ft cat versus a monohull of the same size: A cat has MUCH more space (seating, cooking, sleeping, stowage). Pretty obvious, knowing that instead of one hull, you have two - and that, by itself, already +- doubles your space compared to a monohull. And on top of that, you have a large platform connecting the two hulls. That platform holds the space for the galley/saloon, aft cockpit, and, on Sturdeee, also the flybridge.

We were kinda joking that Sturdeee felt like an apartment with 5 floors: "Deeper down", slightly below sea-level, you had (floor 1) the 3 cabins and bathrooms. You take one set of stairs up, and you come into the saloon/galley and aft seating area - the cockpit (floor 2). From there, you take a set of stairs to come to the main deck (floor 3). And from there, some more stairs to get onto the flight deck (floor 4). From there, there were more steps to climb onto the roof of the fly bridge where one could reach the boom and the mainsail running rigging (floor 5), about 4-5 meters above the water level...

I had never sailed on a yacht with that many different "floors"... And it might sound funny, but in our passage, we sometimes "lost track", of where our crew was: "Where did Ian go? Last seen in the galley, but have not seen him for 30 minutes - maybe he is on the aft deck? or maybe he is in one of the cabins? or maybe on top of the fly bridge?"... Oh, look, he is sitting on the sunbeds on the foredeck!

Apart from the space on a cat, another more obvious observation: a cat always has two engines, one in each hull. So you basically have "a spare" if one engine dies.. But that also means double engine maintenance, and maintenance costs...

For two years Ian and Dee had prepared the boat for this ocean passage, and their planned upcoming cruising years in the Caribbean and Pacific: She was VERY well equipped for her upcoming adventure: redundant satellite comms (Starlink and an Iridium Go), plenty of solar panels (flexible panels atop of the fly bridge and solid panels aft above the davits holding the dinghy), water maker, large house battery bank, generator,...

This showed another (obvious) difference between a cat versus a monohull: As you have more top-deck surface, it is easier to fix plenty of solar panels to charge your batteries. Important, as "electricity management" is quite crucial while cruising: the more "systems" (fridges, freezers, satcoms, autopilot) you have, the more you depend on a reliable electricity supply (and charging systems).

Beyond that, what impressed me the most, was that Sturdeee looked as if she was brand new. When I first stepped onto her, she looked "spic-and-span". Everything looked like she came out of the factory a month ago: the standing and running rigging, the deck, the interior, the engines,...: I could not see a single scratch, sign of rust, or even a bit dirt.

Sure, when I boarded her, Sturdeee had not sailed a lot up to that point - leave alone sailing long distances... But still, a vessel of five years old would typically already show "some of her age". Kudos to Ian and Dee, who clearly took pride in maintaining "their home" in a more than perfect shape.
I translated that observation to the owners' previous professional lives: Ian being a pilot and Dee being a flight attendant. Pilots tend to care for technical systems and details, while flight attendants take pride in a tidy and well run cabin with happy passengers :-)

Another short sidestep here: immediate impressions when stepping on a yacht for the first time, are important: In two minutes, looking around, you can see 95% of how a boat is maintained and up-kept. While those are more "superficial" observations, most of the time, this also reflects on how the boat's "inner guts", which you can't see at first glance, are maintained and serviced.

And that, by itself, contributes to (the feeling of) "safety" aboard a vessel. Important for me, as I came on board the evening of Sept 11, and we set off on the first leg of our ocean passage from Portugal to the Canaries, the next morning. So I would be sailing in an open ocean on a vessel I did not know, and with a crew I did not know neither. But I felt totally comfortable in slipping the mooring lines on Sturdeee, based on those positive first impressions...

As we left Faro to Lanzarote in the Canaries, the morning of September 12th, motoring in initial light winds, and gradually hoisting more sails, some of the main "on passage" differences between a monohull and a cat came up.

Sturdeee's "out of the box" sails consisted of a genoa (a 120% genoa if I remember well), originally sheeted through cars on the foredeck close to the mast, and a heavily baton-ed stiff mainsail with a broad top. In addition (not part of the standard sail-package), she had a Code-0 sail (which we never used as we never had upwind conditions during our passage) and a Parasailor wing/spinnaker, which would become our downwind powerhouse.

As the genoa was originally rigged, with the sheets running via the cars on the foredeck, in front of the fly bridge, there was no way to trim the genoa for a good broad reach or down-wind sail: The genoa sheeting was running too close to midships, which inhibited us from keeping the sail "open" in a broad reach or sailing downwind.
Luckily, Ian had planned for that, and we ran the genoa sheet via a home-made barber hauler through an aft block, onto a winch on the flight deck. That by itself, was a winner for our mostly down-wind transatlantic sailing, allowing the genoa to open up more. But it also meant a bit more work when tacking: each time we tacked or gybed, we had to move the barber hauler to the other side of the boat. A little extra effort for a lot of gain...

That, was not our main challenge. Our main challenge was more related to the mainsail: As we sailed further south towards the Canaries, with Sturdeee's stiff, battoned and large mainsail, it became clear that raising, dropping or reefing the mainsail while sailing mostly down wind, as we did, was a challenge. A challenge even more so, as the reefing lines on Sturdeee were very stiff and just a bit too thick and stiff, making it difficult to feed them through a number of bends (at the mast, the goose neck and at the end of the boom). This meant that the reefing lines had to be manually fed at the mast and at the end of the boom... So for any mainsail changes, Ian had climb onto the roof of the fly bridge, about 4-5 meters above the water line, to work on the main sail. A manoeuvre I did not feel happy about: Seeing Ian standing that high up, working at the end of the boom, with no secure place to hook his tether line onto, always gave me an uneasy feeling in my tummy. The more so as, to hoist, drop or reef the main sail, we had to motor into the wind, straight into the open ocean waves, which made Sturdeee buck heavily.

Later on, we refined any manoeuvre involving working on the main sail, by blocking the boom with two preventers, but still having anyone work on a sail 4-5 meters above the water line, does not make me happy... And any main sail changes, something which on any other boat I sailed on before, could be done single-handed, on Sturdeee, involved a "all hands on deck" call for our 5 crew: Ian on top of the fly bridge, Dee at the helm, and Lana, Michele and me, alternating on the main sheet and reefing lines in the cockpit and at the mast, and managing the preventers...
That is why, as we sailed along in our ocean passage, we were hesitant to do any mainsail changes during night time...

I have mentioned before that the mainsail reefing lines, as typically installed on a Lagoon were too stiff and too thick to be able to feed through the goose neck on the mast and on the aft of the boom. A similar challenge with the running rigging was faced with the furling line of the foresail. This line went through - if I remember well 6 - tackles angled at almost 90°. This caused quite a bit of inherent friction in furling or unfurling the genea. On other boats I sailed, a genoa could be furled easily "by hand", pulling straight on the line, or with 1 or 2 twists over the winch. On Sturdeee, this was not the case: when we wanted to furl the genoa, we had to fully winch the furling line and winch it. And winch it at full force. We overcame that challenge with one crew sitting on the foredeck and manually pulling the furling line, and the one at the helm station, just taking in the slack. An unconvenience, nevertheless.

Another observation was that the manufacturer of Lagoons, advised NOT to sail with only a genoa (without a mainsail up). A feat which still mesmerises me, especially as they did not object to fly the Parasailor without the mainsail - knowing the Parasailor is much more powerful and pulls the mast much more forward....
In past years, sailing on monohulls, we often sailed downwind only on foresails, which makes -in my book- a comfortable and easy passage, and a sail configuration which was easy to "manage" (it is easy to take in or shake out a reef on furling foresails). That by itself, limited our sailing abilities - according to me - on Sturdeee: We had several instances where we were sailing the Parasailor wing without mainsail, but the wind got too strong, and we had to dose the Parasail. What do you do then? My obvious choice would be to unfurl the genoa, but Lagoon advised against it, without raising the mainsail. A thing we hesitated to do at night. So, as a compromise, when, in the middle of the night, we dosed the Parasail, we were sailing on a tripled reefed genoa, crawling along - as we did not want to raise the mainsail in the middle of the night...

Moving on from sails and wind angles to wave angles...: As we were sailing on, from Portugal to the Caribbean, roughly 4,000 Nmiles, mainly down wind or in a broad reach, in the open ocean, we had the waves mostly from a starboard quarter. Even though ocean waves are less steep and short than what we experience in the Med, still each wave made the cat swing left and right.

That "swing" or "roll" was less than on a monohull, but it was just enough, to make the mainsail "swing" left and right. Even with two preventers on the boom, the boom was not moving, but the mainsail was flapping left to right. And a heavy battoned stiff main sail, as we had, deflating and re-inflating 2-3 times per minute, for days on end, causes a lot of strain, wear-and-tear- on the sail, the mast, the rigging, and the cars which fix the mainsail onto the mast. Each swing could be felt as a shiver throughout the boat. And each swing of the mainsail deflating and re-inflating, went with a loud bang, which did not make the skipper happy at all. Loud curses were usually uttered by Ian, at each "bang". Understandably...
The only solution we found, was to triple-reef the mainsail, so it had less power, and would have the mainsail "swing" less, or at least less violently. So in most of our passage, we were underpowered on the mainsail. Even while doing so, after our passage, Ian found some damage, and wear on the sail and the cars connecting the mainsail to the mast.

In addition - something I had not previously experienced on monohull yachts: Sturdeee could not sail with a mainsail only: she needed a genoa to balance the mainsail. With only a mainsail, even when triple-reefed, the boat would turn into the wind, no matter how much you counter-helmed her.

That became a bit of an issue when sailing downwind in squalls: As we came closer towards the Caribbean, we had more frequent squalls, with the winds jumping from an easy 10 or 15 knots to 30 knots. When we hit a squall, we had to heavily reef the genoa on its furler. But that also meant we could not use the barber hauler anymore, and had to rig the genoa sheet through the cars on the foredeck, which were close to the mast. With just a "handkerchief" of a genoa out, rigged that tight to the mast, and the squall hitting us with a downwind of 30-40 knots, the genoa was difficult to control as it would not stay "open", and start to flap. A violently flapping genoa does not make me happy.
On top of that, with a heavily reefed genoa, and even with a triple reefed mainsail, both sails were not in balance, so in those conditions, the boat tended to turn into the wind.

I clearly remember one morning, about three days sailing from Grenada. I had just finished a double shift with Michele and Lana, during which we had dodged several squalls, and Ian came on watch. On the radar and visually, we saw a massive squall building up behind us, one we could not dodge. The main was already triple reefed, and I took off the barber hauler from the genoa, running the sheet of the reefed genoa through the car on the foredeck, trying to avoid it from flapping too violently.
When the squall hit us, it was clear the reefed genoa could not balance the power of the triple-reefed mainsail, and the boat tended to turn into the wind. Ian had to start the windward engine and throttle it quite a bit, to keep the boat holding its course.
It was tense. Even with a downwind squall of "only" 30 knots, which, on a monohull, with tightly reefed sails, would not be a problem, was.. eh.. uncomfortably tense on Sturdeee. I remember that instance very well: Lana and Michele were off shift and sleeping. Ian and me were on the fly bridge trying to keep the boat under control, and as the wall of rain in the squall hit us, Dee tried to close the sides of cockpit, but too late: all stuff in the cockpit got thoroughly soaked. As we were hit by a torrential downpour, poor Ian only had a T-shirt and shorts on, and was totally soaked. I just came out of a night watch, so I still had my rain coat on. After an intense hour, navigating through the squall, all three of us were shaking on our legs. No need to tell you we all hi-fived, once we came through the squall, but once again this reminded me, that on a monohull, that would have been less of an issue.

On the upside: We had a Parasailor spinnaker. On a cat, this massive and powerful sail can be run with tack lines on both front hulls, and its sheets, run aft on both sides. A Parasailor wing on a cat, is a marriage made in heaven: This was a configuration much easier to sail with, on a cat, than on a monohull. Jybing the Parasailor was a breeze: you just ease one side and tension the other side. We had great runs on the Parasailor. I loved that sail!

Another observation when running downwind: In the passage from the Canaries to Cape Verdes, our ARC+ fleet was hit by a 20-30 kts wind from a North-Atlantic depression. We had planned our course well, and kept a more westerly course than the rest of the fleet, so we had less violent wind, but still: Sailing straight downwind in 20+ knots on a monohull makes it "a very rolly day". Sturdeee, on the contrary, hardly moved, surfing happily on the 3-4 meter waves. First on the Parasailor kite, and when taken down, on genoa and mainsail, she sailed very happily and very stable on a true downwind track. At that point, I realized that monohulls, in the same conditions, would roll a lot. Like A LOT! That was one of the times where I felt lucky to be on a cat. Beyond that, we had several stretches where we could sail 100% down wind (with the apparent wind coming from 180°, straight aft), an angle which would have been very difficult, if not impossible, to hold on a monohull.

On the downside of it - and this now goes into one of the main differences between a monohull and a cat: A cat does not like waves coming from the side, and certainly not from a broad side. On a monohull, you basically sail according to the wind, but on a cat like Sturdeee, you also have to sail according to wave angles. She does NOT like waves from a broad side or an angled aft.

Aft-angled or broad-side waves would hit Sturdeee's windward hull first, with a bang. And do keep in mind Sturdeee's hulls are about 2 meter tall and vertical - So it looks like side waves are hitting a vertical wall. So first the wave hits the windward hull, then goes under the boat and would hit the horizontal platform upwards with another bang (at times almost lifting the boat up vertically). And then hit the leeward hull with yet another bang.
At times, each bang, each hit, was so violent, in the open ocean, that it made the boat shiver. I remember laying on my bunk, touching the hull with my hand, and feeling how my bunk moved differently from the hull. You can imagine the strain that puts on the structure of the boat. No wonder some Lagoon owners had complained that their bulkheads (part of the main structure of the boat) would delaminate due to the pressure...

Below deck that also translates into a lot of cracking and creaking of the floorboards and upholdestry (the doors and cabinets). That by itself was quite a difference with sailing on Nerio, our 72ft aluminium monohull we crossed the Atlantic with the year before - where at times we were sailing at 10 knots and I woke up in my bunk as I heard no noise - thinking the boat had actually stopped. A cat surely generates much more noise: bangs and creaks.... :-)

Beyond that, I observed more differences in sailing a cat versus a monohull, particularly a cat with a flybridge with a solid roof. And I would not qualify those as observations of a cat versus a monohull, but rather "a cat with a solid roofed flybridge" versus a monohull:
On Sturdeee, the flybridge is about 3 meter above the water line. So, at the helm, one has a good view of the surroundings. Which is a plus: in the tropics, sitting that high up above the water, one catches the breeze more, making it less hot, but one also feels the wind much more fierce than her actual speed. I remember that one time when we sailed downwind in 20 knots the sleeves of my jacket would vibrate in the wind, even though we only had like 14 knots of apparent wind...
But beyond that, as sailors, we always want to keep a good eye on our sails. With a solid roof above the flybridge, that was a challenge: We could not see the sails easily. To trim the genoa, Parasailor, or mainsail, one had to step out of the flybridge, or lean outwards, to look at the sails. Unlike a monohull, where, from the helming position, one could see the sails at a glance, making it much easier to trim the sails.

And of course a cat does not lean, as both hulls are always in the water. So on a cat, this contributed to the feeling that one gets far less "feedback" from the boat if you are over or under trimmed.

And yet another observation which I saw as we approached the Mindolo harbour in Cape Verdes, sailing close to the wind. Something I had not realize before: A cat has no keel to speak of, so she "drifts" off downwind by A LOT.. As we approached Mindelo, visually, it looked like we were pointing to the rocky outcrop of the island, but when we looked at the plotter, showing our actual course-over-ground, it indicated that while the boat pointed to land, our actual course was 30° off: lacking a keel (or dagger boards), had the boat drift quite a bit leeward. Again, a difference between a monohull and a cat I had not experienced before...

And all of that, would make me come to my conclusion while sailing on Sturdeee: On any boat I sailed on before, from a slow 35 ft Sunsail charter "caravan" to a 72ft racing cruiser, on each of those monohulls, after a couple of days, I felt like I got in sync with the boat. After a couple of days sailing on any of those monohulls, I felt a synergy between the boat and me, and a love affair building between me and the boat.

I never felt that on Sturdeee. In the 4,000 miles I sailed on her, I never felt that synergy, the moment where I felt truly what the boat wanted, and where I had the feeling the boat felt I could give her what she wanted. She continued to feel like a cat, a creature needing attention, and hicking up the moment I did not pay attention.

But maybe that is just me. And the way I am used to sail on monohulls.
Or maybe that was just me, sailing on a cruising cat, versus sailing on a performance cat.

In conclusion: Yep, sailing a cruising catamaran on an ocean passage was the experience I was looking for. I enjoyed the passage, and the company of Ian, Dee, Michele and Lana. And surely, we achieved our goal of a safe passage with no damage to the boat... But I would prefer sailing on a monohull any time above sailing on a cruising catamaran...

But that is just me... And hey... I did enjoy my time on Sturdeee, and appreciated the experience a lot... So, "to cat or not to cat"? as they say in French: "Les goûts et les couleurs ne se discuttent pas!" - somewhere translated into "You can not really discuss or agree on personal preferences of colours and taste"... As they are personal...
And I think I need to try sailing a performance cat, next!

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