a typical day aboard taka trois while crossing the atlantic ccean
The day begins with whoever is on watch at dawn, that is the 6-9 am slot according to the Krasno watch schedule.¹ That person has also been on duty from 9-12 pm and hopefully got some sleep in the 6 hours between those watches, but most likely got a lot less because he/she got bounced around with the boat’s endless rocking or woken up by the crack of the head-sail as the wind from behind tried to straighten it out or by the dozens of other clanks and bumps and noises that a boat makes as it battles its way through the wind and swells of the mid-Atlantic.
So that crew member is usually somewhat bleary-eyed when the sun does appear, but is very grateful that the long night and its interminable watches are over. If I’m on watch then, I like to be up on deck to watch the show. Although less spectacular than a sunset, a rising sun is indeed a sight to behold and I am always humbled and very thankful to God that I have been given another day to live on this earth.
So that crew member is usually somewhat bleary-eyed when the sun does appear, but is very grateful that the long night and its interminable watches are over. If I’m on watch then, I like to be up on deck to watch the show. Although less spectacular than a sunset, a rising sun is indeed a sight to behold and I am always humbled and very thankful to God that I have been given another day to live on this earth.
The rising sun makes itself known beautifully behind Taka Trois even before it reaches the horizon.
Usually by 8 am, one or two of the other crew members will be up and someone will get coffee and tea going. Breakfast is a self-service affair and is rarely shared although for those who would like to know, Patrice usually has instant oatmeal with tinned fruit and Alan and I have granola, although if there is bread, I have a slice with peanut butter and jam.
At that point, we share and compare notes on what happened during the night; any change of course due to squalls, change of wind direction, speed, etc. After checking the latest satellite weather report and trip advisory from Michel, our router, we discuss the sail plan for the day and make any necessary sail adjustments or changes. We also discuss the menu for the day and decide who will be doing any cooking or preparation.
At that point, we share and compare notes on what happened during the night; any change of course due to squalls, change of wind direction, speed, etc. After checking the latest satellite weather report and trip advisory from Michel, our router, we discuss the sail plan for the day and make any necessary sail adjustments or changes. We also discuss the menu for the day and decide who will be doing any cooking or preparation.
Our skipper checking in with Michel, the weather router.
The person who has been on watch usually crashes for an hour or so and the rest of the crew will get going on food preparation, especially if there is bread to be made, cleaning the boat, showering or ‘sponge-bathing’ as best as we can given that any activity is always an aerobatic feat and a battle as the swells constantly toss the boat and its occupants around. It’s frustrating and we all get our share of bruises, but we manage--having a sense of humor really helps. If possible, the fishing lines go out at this time, as well as our hopes for some fresh fish, but given our speed and the rough state of the sea, the chances prove decidedly slim.
By mid-morning those not on watch take a nap and shortly afterwards it’s time to throw some lunch together. Unless one of us has the energy to make something special, lunch is usually some form of a sandwich and a bit of salad. We have a lot of lovely spanish ham, chorizo and cheeses for sandwiches and for salads, we have lettuce at the beginning, tomatoes throughout the first week and during the latter part of the journey, I make coleslaw from some cabbages, carrots, onions and apples that go the distance.
Then it’s often nap time again for the two not on watch and otherwise the afternoon is spent reading, playing electronic games (solitaire and suduko for Alan and Patrice and scrabble with the Kindle for me) and of course, discussing interminable statistics of how many miles we’ve traveled, how many more to go, our average speed over the whole trip, over the past day, over the past hour, estimated time of arrival, etc. etc. etc. Patrice and Alan relish these discussions, but quite honestly it drives me completely crazy and I finally put a limit on the number of times they may include me in these discussions--once in the morning and once in the evening.
Tea time is an important ritual held between 3 and 4 in the afternoon which we enjoy with slice of homemade cake. Alan brought some Christmas cake from home as well as two of his own excellent ginger cakes and when the mood hits us we bake something fresh; lemon sponge, apple cake and chocolate moeulleux to name a few. More napping, reading, etc. follow and then at 5:00 everyone is on hand for the evening ritual.
Tea time is an important ritual held between 3 and 4 in the afternoon which we enjoy with slice of homemade cake. Alan brought some Christmas cake from home as well as two of his own excellent ginger cakes and when the mood hits us we bake something fresh; lemon sponge, apple cake and chocolate moeulleux to name a few. More napping, reading, etc. follow and then at 5:00 everyone is on hand for the evening ritual.
Patrice enjoying a cup of tea and a slice of Alan's now world famous ginger cake.
First, preparations for the night need to be made. Someone gets dinner going, fishing rods are brought in and the sails are adjusted for night sailing. As sailing is not always easy at night given the lack of light and potential crew fatigue, we try not to make any sail changes at night and taking the latest weather report into consideration, we prepare for the worst case scenario. What that means is on most days we take down the mainsail or reef it down (make it smaller) and just sail with one of the headsails, the genoa (the bigger one) or the jib (the smaller one). At times, we even reef in the headsail just in case. Although that means we lose a bit of speed, we are surprised how little time we lose in the end--the wind is that strong and Taka Trois is that responsive. We also gain speed from the waves when they push us in the right direction.
Once Taka Trois is tucked in for the night, we make preparations for our ‘not unhappy hour,’ beginning with establishing how many miles we’ve traveled that day, voting on the ‘delight of the day’ (the person who has been exceptional, in a good way, during the course of the day) and then writing the daily update for our friends and family which we send in an e-mail via satellite to our daughters in New York who then post it on my blog.
Once Taka Trois is tucked in for the night, we make preparations for our ‘not unhappy hour,’ beginning with establishing how many miles we’ve traveled that day, voting on the ‘delight of the day’ (the person who has been exceptional, in a good way, during the course of the day) and then writing the daily update for our friends and family which we send in an e-mail via satellite to our daughters in New York who then post it on my blog.
Condensing the events of the day into less than 200 words takes some concentration while balancing the computer at the same time.
Once drinks are served, we crank up the music, raise our glasses and congratulate ourselves on completing yet another day at sea. We then take turns each evening throwing the prepared bottle with its message² into the churning sea behind us. Watching it float away, wondering where it will wind up and whether someone on a distant shore might actually find it and read our message is very satisfying. Admittedly it is a rather primitive and uncertain method of communication, but it helps us to feel somehow connected to humanity. At the end of the trip, there will be 20 bottles with our message floating on the Atlantic Ocean in a trail from Gran Canaria to Antigua. The anticipation and the hope that someone will find one and be able to read the message is most enjoyable.
Whoever is feeling creative throws together some nibbles (we have lots of those onboard) and concocts some ‘virgin’ (non-alcoholic) cocktails. Much to the amusement of those who know and love us, we decided from the start that in order to keep our wits about us at all times, we would not indulge in any alcoholic beverages for the length of the crossing. It was a wise move and honestly, aside from missing the occasional glass of wine to complement a meal, not as difficult as you would expect.
After drinks, dinner is served and is always in the form of a one-dish meal easily eaten with a spoon as sitting down to the table with a knife and fork is quite impossible and possibly even dangerous due to the boat’s constant motion. Shortly afterwards, those not on watch quickly scurry to their berths to try to get as much precious sleep as possible before it’s their turn for the night vigil.
The nights are undoubtedly the most difficult. A three hour watch doesn’t seem that long in the whole scheme of things, but when you’re awakened in the middle of the night out of a sound sleep (if you’re lucky to be sleeping that soundly) and realize that you’re not at home snug in your bed, but on a 45 foot piece of plywood that is being bounced around like a cork in the middle of a heaving ocean and that you have to drag yourself up and into your gear and somehow jumpstart your brain into the active duty of keeping an eye on the sails, the radar, the AIS, the wind speed and direction, well, it’s hell.
One of the biggest worries is hitting something (!) and significant changes in wind or squalls; small-scale storms packing incredibly strong winds delivered down from the atmosphere.³ Thanks to the instruments we can usually see anything coming at us including the squalls before they hit us, but that doesn’t make them any less terrifying. I generally glue my eyes to the instruments, get ready to release the sails if necessary, brace myself and pray. As the instruments are fallible, we also check the horizon as best we can to see if anything is out there. Not Fun. In case of a real problem, I wake up my dear skipper, whose passage berth is right next to the chart table. Poor guy, he gets less sleep than any of us and never complains.
The nights are undoubtedly the most difficult. A three hour watch doesn’t seem that long in the whole scheme of things, but when you’re awakened in the middle of the night out of a sound sleep (if you’re lucky to be sleeping that soundly) and realize that you’re not at home snug in your bed, but on a 45 foot piece of plywood that is being bounced around like a cork in the middle of a heaving ocean and that you have to drag yourself up and into your gear and somehow jumpstart your brain into the active duty of keeping an eye on the sails, the radar, the AIS, the wind speed and direction, well, it’s hell.
One of the biggest worries is hitting something (!) and significant changes in wind or squalls; small-scale storms packing incredibly strong winds delivered down from the atmosphere.³ Thanks to the instruments we can usually see anything coming at us including the squalls before they hit us, but that doesn’t make them any less terrifying. I generally glue my eyes to the instruments, get ready to release the sails if necessary, brace myself and pray. As the instruments are fallible, we also check the horizon as best we can to see if anything is out there. Not Fun. In case of a real problem, I wake up my dear skipper, whose passage berth is right next to the chart table. Poor guy, he gets less sleep than any of us and never complains.
A squall approaches
We each do our best to establish our own little routines to get through the night. Mine starts with sitting in the cockpit, well attached of course, with a cup of tea looking at the sails to assess how we’re doing and looking at the sea and the sky while keeping an eye on the instruments. Sometimes I’ll just sit there taking it all in and sometimes I’ll listen to music or an audio book and once I get my sea legs I even watch a few DVDs while sitting at the chart table. It’s always such a relief when Alan appears to take the next watch and I gratefully crawl back into my berth bracing my body so as that it doesn’t roll off the bunk and praying that I will get some much-needed deep sleep.
The best nights are when there are no clouds and we see a breath-taking number of stars or watching the rising moon and the way it eventually generates a million sparkles on the the sea or seeing the brilliant phosphorescence appear in the wake of the boat. I am both humbled by the beauty and vastness of it all it fills me with with a wonderful joy at being a part of it. The worst nights are when I have to fight to keep my eyes open, fight to maintain balance or just get myself into a comfortable position as the boat’s rocking and rolling seems so much worse at night and fight the demons that plague me with ‘what-if’ thoughts...That’s when I thank God that I have faith in Him trusting Him to get us safely through the night and before I know it another day has dawned and we are one day closer to our final destination. Can’t wait to get there and I admit that I spend hours dreaming of it...
The best nights are when there are no clouds and we see a breath-taking number of stars or watching the rising moon and the way it eventually generates a million sparkles on the the sea or seeing the brilliant phosphorescence appear in the wake of the boat. I am both humbled by the beauty and vastness of it all it fills me with with a wonderful joy at being a part of it. The worst nights are when I have to fight to keep my eyes open, fight to maintain balance or just get myself into a comfortable position as the boat’s rocking and rolling seems so much worse at night and fight the demons that plague me with ‘what-if’ thoughts...That’s when I thank God that I have faith in Him trusting Him to get us safely through the night and before I know it another day has dawned and we are one day closer to our final destination. Can’t wait to get there and I admit that I spend hours dreaming of it...
¹The Krasno Watch Schedule
|
WATCH
9 pm - Midnight Midnight - 3 am 3 - 6 am 6 - 9 am 9 am - 1 pm 1 - 5 pm 5 - 9 pm |
DAY 1
Patrice Debbie Alan Patrice Debbie Alan Patrice |
DAY 2
Debbie Alan Patrice Debbie Alan Patrice Debbie |
DAY 3
Alan Patrice Debbie Alan Patrice Debbie Alan |
²The message for the bottle:
From the Yacht ‘Taka Trois’
Date
Greetings to the person who found this message!
We are a crew of three crossing the Atlantic Ocean from The Canary Islands to Antigua via Cap Verde. Every day we put a message in a bottle like this one and throw it over-board in hopes that someone like you will find it.
We would love to know who you are and where you found the bottle. If you are willing and able, please e-mail us at: dorleach@gmail.com.
May God bless you,
Patrice, Debbie and Alan
Date
Greetings to the person who found this message!
We are a crew of three crossing the Atlantic Ocean from The Canary Islands to Antigua via Cap Verde. Every day we put a message in a bottle like this one and throw it over-board in hopes that someone like you will find it.
We would love to know who you are and where you found the bottle. If you are willing and able, please e-mail us at: dorleach@gmail.com.
May God bless you,
Patrice, Debbie and Alan