Well, it was just the two of us.
Covid-19 has prevented friends getting to us in France to crew, and Italian 5-day quarantine has also ruled-out use of newly-arrived Brits crewing on the leg to Alghero. What about local Spanish sailors? Well, the Balearic mad-season meant that all Spanish professional crew were already booked up for the islands.
We had been monitoring the 3-day forecast on the best weather site ever: Windy (I highly recommend it for passage planning). At 6 knots speed over the ground, the Maiden Voyage would take 48 hours. There were strong winds predicted to rise in north-western Sardinia early on Sunday morning. So, we agreed that our cut off departure time would be 20:00 on Thursday
I was getting a bit agitated that the dinghy had not arrived. 12:00 on Thursday marked the 48 hours since the courier had collected it in Canet, apparently on a 24-48 delivery promise. I emailed the capitania to ask if they would watch out for the delivery of a large box and call us as soon as it arrived. Almost as soon as I had hit the send button, the capitania replied. It is here! “Thank you!”
Alix and I had prepared the boat to go, all except topping her up with fuel. Fortunately, the capitania is next to the fuel dock, so we slipped Missy Bear’s lines and motored there and tied up alongside. We moved her up the pontoon a bit to let four Spanish lads in a small sailing boat get some space to refuel as well.
One of the lovely helpful capitania women opened the store and we dragged out a very heavy box. We had not time to inflate it and check it; we simply emptied the contents onto the quay and photographed it - inflating it and testing it would be a job for Alghero. The dinghy is a 2.7m Honwave with an inflatable V-shaped hull/floor. It is quite heavy. Fortunately, the Spanish lads saw us struggling to get the rolled-up block of rubber onto the yacht, and did it for us. We chatted about them and our plans, all in pretty good English; the skipper had lived in Bristol.
We put in 30 litres at one of the self-service pumps; not quite full but probably 180 litres on board. I was pretty confident that, at 3 litres per hour, we would have enough diesel (60 hours-worth) to get us there, even if we had to motor all the way. And there was not a lot of wind predicted. We would probably have to motor-sail a lot of the way to maintain 6 knots, but that was OK; it was a small price to pay to be on our way at last.
So off we went, passing the web-cam on the harbour entrance, and waving at Sari and Thorne, who were watching Missy Bear’s Maiden Voyage departure from the comfort of their living room in Portel.
We checked that the AIS was transmitting, so that anyone interested could watch our progress, but - more importantly – so that other ships could “see” us.
Our course to steer was almost due east, 95 degrees. As the sun set on both nights, Venus always appeared directly behind us, due west, and was always the first light to appear. Jupiter and the smaller, fainter Saturn, always appeared at about 60 degrees south of our course, rising and falling on the ecliptic. The Great Bear always pointed to Polaris, which was always on our left. The half-moon rose just north of east, so just off our port bow. You could now see quite easily, how ancient trading mariners would use the stars to guide them eastwards towards the lucrative markets of the Levant.
What I couldn’t imagine so easily, was how they coped during days with little wind. Nor when that wind was forward of their beam? We had the internal combustion engine; they just had a lot of patience.
I was quite keen measure our fuel consumption, because it’s a key part of long passage planning. Alarmingly, the fuel gauge dropped quite quickly. I did some calculations and we were using way more than I was expecting – probably 4 litres per hour. At one point, I even thought we might be short of fuel. But boat fuel gauges are notoriously fickle beasts, and any bounce and heeling will slosh the fuel around and affect readings. So, I flattened the boat, by easing the sails. That was better, but still less efficient than I was expecting. Over time we kept checking and, at about 62%, it seemed to fall much more slowly. We have a quirky fuel gauge that we will learn and grow to love.
As it turns out, we arrived at our destination with 42% fuel remaining. We used 98 litres over the course of 44 engine hours, or 2.22 litres per hour, which is bang in line with what I was expecting.
We spotted dolphins on three separate occasions. Mike had told us it was 100% certain that we would, so he was right. Sometime on my watch during the afternoon, I saw a strange, dark wave coming down our starboard bow. It was much darker blue than the bright blue sea around it. As it passed, I saw about 12 feet of body and a blow hole as a solitary whale glided by. I have no idea how big it was (as I only saw the top of its back) nor what species it might be. Mike had been correct again.
Alix did really well. It was a long trip with two overnights. Those trips can be very disorienting, if you are not used to them. Years ago, I worked on boats professionally and sailed miles on yacht deliveries and doing passages with RYA Yachtmaster candidates. Whereas I am used to it and quite enjoy the emptiness and solitude, Alix found the whole experience quite new; especially being literally “off-grid”, with no phone or data for 2 days. Alix was super; getting some sleep, when she may not have been tired, so that she was fresh for her watch. She is a great watchkeeper and spotted potential hazards early on.
As Mike predicted, we picked up 3G for a brief period when we were due north of Menorca. I was able to make quick call to mum and dad to say we were fine, before the signal vanished again.
I had lots of time and opportunity to go through all menus on the BandG instruments. One feature that is super is that you can wireless link the system to any iPad or iPhone and repeat the chart screen on your device! That saved a few quid as we didn’t have to buy multiple screens for the boat. You can even remote control the chart plotter from your iPhone!
The AIS is also brilliant. All transmitting boats appear as little triangles on your chart-plotter. You press on one - it’s a touch screen system (Zeus 3 if you are interested) - and the boat’s details appear: name, length, course steered, speed etc.
A function called Closest Point of Approach (CPA) tells you how close other vessels will pass you (assuming you all maintain speed and direction of course). TCPA is the time to the CPA. It all makes for much safer passages, especially at night as we decide not to have radar (the reasons are boring and complicated.)
We had two CPA incidents, both where I was stand on vessel: one just outside Barcelona, and one on the Spanish / Italian border. At the first one I gave way, discretion being better part of valour. But in the second instance, I stood on and watched the chart-plotter, noting how the small tanker changed course to avoid us and go astern - just as the rules of the road dictate that he should. (Good job he wasn’t an Italian captain being distracted by his girlfriend on the bridge!)
We hoisted the Italian courtesy flag as we entered their waters.
We had three hours of bliss when wind picked up and we sailed along on a fine reach at about 6.5 knots, in only about 11 knots of wind.
At 0700 on the final morning, Alix woke me for my watch. She said there was a strange ‘boaty’ smell. I agreed, I have quite a keen sense of smell and I could definitely
smell sulphur from the work room (our aft port side cabin). I looked in the starter-battery compartment, and sure enough the 100ah Exide Start/AGM battery was very hot to touch, reeking, and eventually oozing liquid from two of its cells. Agggh!
We turn off the engine and just kept sailing. We let everything cool and had a think. I texted Ruari (who was stalking deer in a forest on Arran, I think, and with poor mobile reception) and talked through the options. It seemed replacing the battery was the best option, but I was worried that not having bought a toolkit (there were none to be had in Port Ginesta chandlers!) might scupper my efforts.
Armed with only a Leatherman (my 20-year-old, unbreakable, trustworthy and faithful multi-tool), some WD40 and some gaffer tape, I replaced the boiled battery with one of the four house batteries (all the same type: 100ah Exide Start/AGM batteries).
OK, you should never, ever go on a maiden voyage without a toolkit, because brand new boats do break.
All good so far, but was it a dodgy battery, or a dodgy engine alternator or a dodgy regulator on the alternator that was overcharging the battery. If so, why was it not cooking the house bank? We would need to track down an electrician in Alghero, who can take a look at the set up on board, just to check it over. And to source a new battery...
With crisis over, we made the final approaches to Sardina and to the ancient fortied town of Alghero. We called the marina on VHF channel 74, and they sent out a chap in a rib to guide us to our berth.
I reversed in and gave the man on the quay the port hand stern line. He, in turn, handed the small lazy line to Alix who hooked it with the boat hook and then led it forward to the port side bow.
The lazy line is attached to a think anchor rope which is attached to a huge lump of concrete on the sea floor. Alix tied the thick rope onto the port cleat and then came back astern. By this time, I had also attached the starboard stern line. I motored hard astern against the lazy line and Alix and I tightened up the stern lines, until we were about a metre or so from the quay. Tied off, engine into neutral. And relax! And a celebratory, ice-cold beer!!
Missy Bear has successfully completed her Maiden Voyage and got use safely to Sardinia. Cheers.
