By Jade CouturierOn

It’s been a week since we arrived in Antigua & Barbuda as I begin to type these words of our passage south. We’re sitting on anchor in the lee of an island speckled with cacti and century plants displaying spurts of their last act in life. Back in town, fresh baguettes are delivered to the boat. “Pain au chocolat” echos through the anchorage – a most wonderful morning sound, and we’re not even in France yet. Turtles swim around us, life is good. 

I don’t think Ben and I really thought about the forthcoming sail in the literal sense. We had been so tuned in for the last years and more intrinsically months, getting our boat and systems ready to go sailing. Caprivi has always been seaworthy, we were just preparing her for a different kind of trip; one with longevity and soul for her human inhabitants. This offshore passage was more of a default; something that was obvious, almost deservedly necessary for both parties. We were ready and just needed to get going. 

Near the mouth of the Chesapeake Bay, we motored out of Fort Monroe anchorage in Hampton, Virginia on the 16th November. I had been asleep when we sailed through a week prior, and the entrance felt a lot less uneventful than the first time we came through here back in 2017. I remember we were with current and 30kts of wind, every limb and finger covered in polyester; no dodger and we were screaming down the bay on this new-to-us boat. I’m so glad that Jacques helped us get her to Key West. (We promise the berths are more comfy now!). 

We headed due east with the wind and asymmetrical spinnaker. I sent off a few messages to loved ones and quickly got the previous blog out. We passed by giant windmills and gorged on potatoes and eggs. By afternoon, seas were choppy with winds calming making for sloppy and frustrating sailing. We caught a bonito and yes, we ate it – cause wild meat is wild meat – nothing that butter, salt and some lemon can’t fix. Dinner. Sleep didn’t happen too much that first night, adjusting to such a trip along with pitch black skies by 530pm.

The next day we hit the Gulf Stream as it veered east from Cape Hatteras, rigged with a double-reefed mainsail and the working staysail that Ben had purchased in Newport – our ninth sail. The seas were lively with 25-30kts of wind behind us. Knowing it would ease the following days we just had to maintain a good position with the wind and seas and deal with the oncoming gusts. Schmitty, our autopilot, was doing great but we were on edge with conditions and at times sailing more than 10kts. There’s definitely another element to the seas when current comes into play, especially this powerful river in the middle of the ocean.

No real meals were had this day, except for my pre-made frozen dhal that went flying all over the galley. All I could think of was Mike’s face (Ben’s dad) when I get turmeric all over the RV kitchen when we go camping! Delish nonetheless. By afternoon we decide to veer south sooner than anticipated to get out of the streams path, instead of riding it’s energy east. The wind and seas kept building and became a little too much. 

Day three, conditions eased and we put the fishing line out again with rejuvenated sleep and energy. Cappuccinos and breakfast burritos were devoured; layers began to fall off with some naked sailing as the sun peaked out. Dark blue ocean hues abound; discussions of what on earth we are doing with our lives began and we finally settled into the groove of things. The asymmetrical spinnaker came out during the day with the wind clocking for a beam reach as we made way nicely. We caught two mahimahi and some sort of Jack, fridge and freezer full – a fantastic day. 

By day four the wind clocks south as we time our tack to head back east, sailing a reach to close reach in an ESE direction. It happens to be a shower day with fish tacos, which is always a good day. We motored for a couple of hours while the wind changed some more and to charge the batteries – our nav station chart plotter sucks the juice but it’s a nicety to have during the nights. No seasickness reported, although slight headaches from intermittent coffee. Excitement grows for the fresh start in the Caribbean. Ben spends the night in the cockpit to adjust for the continuous wind shifts. 

Day five: we’re now upwind, close-hauled on a starboard tack heading east with winds pushing us towards Bermuda. Waiting for the forecasted shift, it’s a bit of a slog even in 15 of true wind. We watch as the skies bring in a front of epic visuals but only getting a little rain, always making me want to jump into the flattened waters. With the shift we’re now beam to broad reaching, sailing a beautiful 7.5kts. Bacon, eggs and cappuccinos for lunch. We get some chores done. The crew is happy and refreshed. We’re hoping to have these conditions for the next day or two. 

The evenings have been completely pitch black, the moon not rising until early morning and we can’t see a thing. Tonight the seas are oddly calm as we slice through the water. Winds start to pick up, sailing 7-8kts and we decide not to reef the sails for the night since the seas are calm. It’s quite like perfection, with bioluminescence spluttering outwards from the passing hull. Ben opens his first can of ravioli – not terrible.

On my watch into day six as the sun rises, the winds do the same. We’re still moving swiftly through the water with the seas slowly building. In the aft cabin, on this particular tack, the sound of the water rushing by is intense. Bermuda is about 130nm to our northeast. The waves have begun to gather themselves but not in any particular form, and the wind builds to a maintained 25kts apparent on the beam. It’s a stark difference from first light and it’s not great. 

We’re sailing as close as is comfortable to the wind and seas, trying to maintain our easting as it’s supposed to clock in front of us, pushing us S, SW. Caprivi is holding steady now with a triple-reefed main and the working staysail as we surf along waves. We get the odd cross wave on the beam sometimes crumbling in the cockpit. It’s wet, salty, humid and a little unsettling for the entire day. Ben spots a humpback whale breach a ways in front of us, I tease and suggest it was a sunfish, however, it’s a little unnerving with the conditions so we keep a sharp lookout. Alas, butter chicken is somehow served for dinner, even if from a jar.

It’s much more wind than forecasted, we maintain comfort and hope it doesn’t get any higher but it does with waves beginning to form breaking crests. We are too late in turning our vents backwards. Waves are hitting the hard dodger finding ways to penetrate the barrier – we’re thankful the water was warm. Ben does an all nighter in the cockpit locked into place as we make 90nm in 12 hrs and responds to the many squalls throughout the night. 

By dusk on day seven, the winds have begun to ease. But with the leftover slop of seas and now minimal wind, is making for difficult sailing. Our angle is wide as we tack a few times – sometimes going backwards before we finally find a groove as the seas die down. By noon it’s pleasant again and all is forgotten from the previous 24 hours – except for the mess the boat is in. 

We were finally able to keep our course heading southeast. Seas were decidedly calm so we cranked the BBQ and grilled eggplant for dinner. Temperatures were getting hot and muggy, with three ships passing on this day. We were close hauled in 8-10 of true with a full mainsail and genoa, and thus began the next three days of beautiful light upwind sailing that Caprivi seems to do so well in.

Dark dark nights were upon us with almost twelve hours of perfect starry skies. We spent time laying in the cockpit each night stargazing, trying to create our own constellation stories just so we could gain a little more recognition of the outer-world. Forecasts were that we would be in a no wind zone for these days so to be able to move so efficiently through the water was pure joy. 

Winds remained from the SE quadrant, the seas would build a little and then die down again. In the light winds we were sailing as close as we could, getting 4kts from not much. One night was filled with lighting shows, thankfully from a far. Our heading wasn’t very east but we took what we could get and enjoyed the sailing. Ben got some good rest during this time. The sunrises were brilliant. There was now no need for wool socks and slippers – the coconut oil had melted. Lots of introspection on life was had; a new life plan developed each day. Hummus, smoothies, BBQ chicken and salad enjoyed with the relatively calm sailing – some good food days. 

The strategy was to get as east as possible before hitting the trade winds which begin at about 25 degrees N latitude in which you won’t be able to make it any further east without an uncomfortable beat to wind, and if at all. For us they didn’t set in until about 20 degrees due to the Bermuda high pressure system being pushed south. Unlike trade-wind sailing which is what we have been accustomed to in crossing the Pacific and Indian Oceans, we’re having to route ourselves through a few different systems, so it’s been a lot more technical but a good challenge and enjoyable to learn more about the Atlantic. 

Our watch schedule was quite fluid. We were mostly up all day with cat naps when whomever felt like it and by dusk it’s discussed how we wanted the night to proceed. Half the time it’s three hours on, three hours off. Sometimes – quite often – Ben lets me sleep longer, especially when it’s dicey with a lot sail changes. Honestly, I think he gets his best sleep in the cockpit at night. I had an initial goal to helm an hour each day but failed miserably, Schmitty does such a good job. We’ve been meaning to get our windvane back up and running, our preferred helmsman, and a project that we haven’t re-gotten around to. Our project list now has an additional 20 lines added, a boat is never complete.

This shows the Gulf Stream near the time we left. We entered is as it veered east from the Chesapeake Bay.
This shows our route, with our position plotted each hour with the Iridium GO. The GRIB displays the changing water temperatures.

With another shift of wind we tack east and motor for an hour while the wind sorts itself out. The ocean is as deep blue as ever. Stunning mornings and great sailing, if only 4-5kts. Scones and cappachinos made. We watch for days as the earth rotates as we sit here on the same tack, on the same port cockpit cushion with the nights sky and milkyway cued on point. To port, Mars gets me every time at dusk, thinking it’s a passing boat on the horizon. 

By day eleven the conditions finally stall us and we motor for a good while but not before taking a dip in the ocean. It’s a bit dreary and hot with the motor and it’s hum. We go through a small squall and hoped to begin sailing again. A double rainbow appears and we swear it came to about 20ft from the boat – no pot of gold though. Maybe Caprivi is the prize? That makes sense. On this evening a couple of small birds land on the boat to drink fresh water from the rain and rest. One stayed the night but sadly ended up dying in the morning. Sea sickness? Or tired from being at sea? Albatross can get sick when they land on fishing vessels and it’s necessary to heave their dog-like bodies back into the water.

The winds pick up for our final day and we begin reaching in 12-18kts in the trades. It gets quite sporty and looks like it’ll be tight to make it into port before dusk the following day. The night was squally and Ben slept in the cockpit again. We pushed her a little and by morning it looks like we’ll be able to make landfall before dark, having averaged 7.3kts in the past 12 hrs. We wouldn’t want to be sailing any higher than we are, even at the 80 degrees were reaching in with the 18kts apparent and good swell. Pre-made chilli was heated and we cleaned the boat up a bit, find the correct flags and all our documents to clear in. 

The island of Antigua is a welcoming sight. We head straight for the customs dock. The officials are friendly with their Caribbean/English accents reminding me of home. I must say it was strange handing someone my U.S. passport for the first time. We did almost screw up as we didn’t clear out of the United States. Technically, it is not required by the U.S. but technically it makes a lot of sense to do so, and is a requirement for wherever you’re headed. I don’t know why the States do this but we were let off the hook – phew.

Motoring back out of the bay, we find our spot in the turquoise anchorage with the volcano of Monserrat in the background. We dig deep with the anchor and rest with two feet under our keel. We celebrate with a beer which gets us good! Time to sleep and wake up for Ben’s birthday in stillness. 

1670nm total (3092km) // 1440nm as the crow flies // 12 days 5.5 hours // 16-28th November, 2022 // five fish caught // about 12 gallons of fuel used // happy crew and salty boat.