“It’s a simple life. It’s peaceful. It’s exciting. It’s you, the ocean and your mates. All the other stuff, you leave behind. Out here is one of the last great unspoiled wildernesses on the planet. Here, it’s us and nature.”
“Sailing with Scoundrels and Kings” – John Jordane
(This is part three of a three-part series. Read ARC 2022 Atlantic Ocean Crossing (Part 1 of 3)- Preparations and Planning and ARC 2022 Atlantic Ocean Crossing (Part 2 of 3) – Daily Life at Sea, Flying Fish, and Weather Routing)
Our first big squall of the crossing hit us in the middle of the night. Squalls are most common on the Atlantic Ocean as you start to get closer to the warm, tropical air of the Caribbean. You can easily see them coming during the day. They are huge puffs of dark clouds, and they bring unpredictable high winds and rain. They can be somewhat fierce, especially on their leading edge. At night you have to carefully watch the radar to spot them. You don’t want to be caught with too much sail up when they hit you.
We knew they would be coming, and we had been on the lookout. We had seen a few cloud formations that day that looked like they could turn into squalls, so before bed, we had put a second reef in the main. (Side note: We actually tried something new during this voyage and reefed while being downwind, instead of turning into the high wind and swell, and it worked well! John Kretschmer has a great article for this in Cruising World: Reefing Off the Wind.)
We also put two reefs in the genoa when we saw the first squall on radar… and then it passed behind us without us ever feeling a thing! That one was good practice for us because we had many more squalls show up over the next week. By the end of the crossing, we all felt fairly proficient at spotting them on the radar and anticipating which ones would hit us and which ones would miss us.
Sail Plans and Course Changes
If you look at our track and wonder why we zig-zag all over the ocean and didn’t just sail in a direct path from Las Palmas to St. Lucia, it’s because we were either trying to stay in the wind or avoid areas with no wind.
During our third week at sea, the wonderful tradewinds we had been enjoying for over two weeks started to fade. There was a large storm far North of our location, but it was pulling all of our beautiful wind away from us, creating a high-pressure area with no wind. We had sailed South to try to avoid it, but it was finally pushing down onto our path. We started to have days of less than 10 knots of wind. The good news is that our parasailor did great in these conditions. Even in 8 knots of wind, we were able to maintain a boat speed of 4.5 knots… only slightly slower than we can motor!
We had lots of practice as a crew taking the parasailor down and putting her back up (which we have to do each time we gybe back and forth to stay on course), but the four of us got it down to a pretty smooth process, and it got easier each time. We also had to be careful about squalls – but we were watching diligently for them and ready to act fast in case we needed to pull the large parasailor down before a squall hit. We let it go a little too long one night, and it was very challenging to pull down once the wind increased. You live, and you learn!
Captain John wrote a nice outline below on our tracking updates about the different sail configurations we used on the ocean crossing. We have a variety of sails, and they each can be set up for different conditions:
Wing-on-wing: This is where we leave the mainsail on the leeward side (where it normally belongs) and pull the headsail over to the windward side. This sail configuration only works when the wind is close behind the boat. With this set-up we typically sail about 168° off the wind. The advantage of this configuration is that it allows us to sail close to dead downwind, which is also the usual direction of the swell. Since we’re running with the trade winds, being able to sail efficiently downwind is critical. We can also sail wing-on-wing safely when the wind speed is high because we can easily reduce the size of the sails, so the boat isn’t overpowered. The downside to this configuration is that it needs a fair amount of wind to keep the sails on each side of the boat – it doesn’t work well in light air. It also doesn’t work well when the seas are rolling the boat, which usually happens when the swell is on the quarter or beam (side).
Parasail (Spinnaker): This is a very large sail made of a lightweight material. This sail is ideal for light to medium wind speeds and allows us to sail at about 172° off the wind. We can keep this sail up until the wind speed is about 16 knots, then it’s too big for the greater wind speeds and very difficult to bring down. However, this is our fastest, and the Captain’s favorite, sail we have. The biggest disadvantage to the parasail is its size, making it more difficult to deploy and retrieve. It is also very delicate, so great care must be used when handling the sail.
Code 0: Very similar to our standard headsail, only significantly larger and made out of a lighter weight sailcloth. The Code 0 is the sail we use when the wind is about 80° to 120° behind the boat. Similar to the parasail, the Code 0 can only be used in light to medium winds and is a very fast sail. However, unlike the parasail, it’s permanently deployed on the front of the boat and can be furled in and out with ease. Its disadvantage is the narrow wind angle where it’s effective, and you have to be mindful of the windspeed, so it doesn’t overpower the boat.
As you follow our track across the Atlantic, we used all of the sail plans above at different points. Generally, we flew the parasail or Code 0 during the day, depending on the wind angle. At night we would usually switch to wing-on-wing or our standard sail configuration. Our approach is to typically be more conservative at night, so if the weather turns nasty, we don’t have to wake up the rest of the crew and do a sail change in the dark – it’s not as fast, but its much safer.
Swimming in the Middle of the Atlantic Ocean
Can you imagine being in a swimming pool with 5,400 meters – that’s over 16,000 feet – of water underneath you? During week three at sea, we got to experience just that when we took advantage of the lack of wind, stopped in the middle of the ocean, and went swimming! The seas were calm and flat, so it was a perfect time to make a stop. I pulled out Mediterranean Barry, our inflatable unicorn, and in we went!
We were getting closer to the Caribbean, so the water temperature was warm and wonderful at 29.5°C/85°F. We also made sure that everything was safe. Not only were the conditions perfect, with flat seas and no wind, but we had a long, floating line that extended over 10 meters behind the boat. John and I took turns making sure either he or I was on Coronado at any given time as well.
It was always one of my biggest dreams to swim in the middle of the ocean. I feel so at peace when we are sailing out of the sight of land. The only thing I could ever imagine that could be better would be to actually be out there, surrounded by only sea and sky, and then be IN the water with nothing but thousands of feet of expanse below you. I realize this is not everyone’s idea of heaven, but it was definitely mine.
That day, I dove down as far as I could go on one breath, and the water was warm and so clear. The rays of sunlight filtered deep into the depths, creating a kaleidoscope of blues and greens. We could feel the vastness of the ocean all around us. It was every bit as phenomenal as I always imagined it could be. If you are ever sailing in the ocean in the right conditions to safely take a swim, I highly recommend it!
Land Ho!
On the morning of December 10, 2022, after sailing over 3,050 NM and 20 days at sea… we spotted land. It was an emotional and exhilarating moment to see the island of St. Lucia on the horizon.
Life at sea is a full mixture of just about every emotion you can have. Being on a boat and crossing an ocean is an interesting combination of stress and boredom. By the third week, some people are feeling very restless and can’t wait to get to land, and some people just have the desire to keep sailing forever. It really varies for each individual. But one thing is for certain, the entire experience of being on the open ocean is filled with a lot of emotion.
Sail changes can be stressful, and bad weather and big swells throwing you around for days on end can be challenging for even the most experienced crews. The boat can also get hot and uncomfortable on passage, especially at night when you are trying to sleep. You can’t leave hatches open for air because you risk a saltwater wash all over your bed – as we learned!
But being on long passages can also be deeply peaceful and beautifully contemplative. There is a calm that settles in when you are away from the rush of day-to-day life. There is no social media. No cell phones. Just breathtaking sunsets, stunning sunrises, and sometimes emotion overwhelming you as you look out at all the blue and realize you are just one little human looking out to an endless sea. You are also frequently alone with only your own thoughts on long passages, which isn’t something most of us do on a regular basis. It can be very humbling to sit on night watch and look up with nothing around you but a sky filled with more stars than you have ever seen before. I think all of us would agree that there were many moments of being at sea that left us feeling the truth of being a little speck, on a small planet, in a very, very big universe.
As John and I look back on the experience as a whole, the biggest emotion is that we are thrilled to have achieved such a huge accomplishment of crossing an ocean on our own boat. We also made wonderful new friends on the ARC, and we keep running into many of them as we sail around the islands here in the Caribbean, which is so fun! Sailing across an ocean is truly an experience like no other, and this first time for us is one that we will always feel proud of. Cheers to many more ocean crossings ahead of us!
Sailing Coronado 
Such a wonderful adventure you are on. Totally love your swim. Diving into 10,000+ feet of warm water is definitely a memory I will have always.
LikeLike