15 minute read
THE EARLY ADVENTURES OF BEYOND THE BLUE by David Zaharik
The dream started in 1975 when I declared, “when I retire, I’m going to sail around the world”, and in 2019 the dream began to become a reality. Against all odds and during years of layoffs, in 1979 I started a career as a pilot and, after almost 40 years with Air Canada, I did indeed retire. Within a year Boréal Yachts, in Tréguier on France’s North Brittany coast, completed construction of our semi-custom aluminium Boréal 47 and Beyond the Blue was launched in February 2019.
In early May 2019 my wife Scarlet and I moved aboard and began the learning curve, not only of a new and relatively complex sailing boat but of tides and tidal currents. We come from the west coast of British Columbia and thought we knew about tides and currents, but in Northern France the range can reach 10m and in places the currents can run up to 9∙5 knots! Attention to detail in planning is essential.
A beautiful sunset in the Port de Plaisance at Tréguier
After a few training sails we left in early June for a delightful visit to the Channel Islands, in the English Channel northeast of Tréguier. It was our first experience with ‘cills’. Because of the huge tidal range, many marinas build walls or cills at the entrance to trap the water as tide drops. It was quite something to wait for high tide to cross the cill, trusting that we had calculated the time correctly. We spent a week motoring around Jersey, Sark and Guernsey due to lack of wind, and returned to Tréguier for the first engine service and a few minor adjustments such as a new boat always needs. A week later, with an additional deckhand, we finally departed and motored to the mouth of the Rivière Jaudy to anchor overnight and catch the west-going tide first thing in the morning. We thought we would take advantage of our swing keel and beach the boat to check the prop zinc and the bottom. We carefully navigated into a very shallow area where the charts did not show anything of concern and dropped the anchor, only to be accosted minutes later by two French fishermen rapidly approaching in a dinghy, gesticulating and yelling over the wind for us to move. It seems we had dropped our anchor in the middle of an uncharted oyster farm. Oops! Raising the anchor quickly in the rapidly falling tide, we motored across the bay and dropped the anchor once more, this time between two uncharted oyster farms.
David, Scarlet and their daughter Rachel at the dock in Tréguier ... the champagne gets the lifejacket!
It became apparent that our depth-sounder was not calibrated correctly. We had three separate readouts and each one gave a different figure, so we took a lead line and confirmed our suspicions that, yes, the depth-sounder was indeed inaccurate, so we returned to Tréguier and had Boréal’s electronics technician recalibrate all three units. With accurate depth and an adjusted radar we set off on a gorgeous beam reach around the west coast of France, stopping at Roscoff, a delightful resort town with a great marina and fabulous restaurants. The following day we sailed out around the westernmost part of Brittany, passing Ushant and spending the night in Camaret-surMer. From there we did an analysis of the weather for the next week to ensure our crossing of the Bay of Biscay would be uneventful.
After enduring two months of unseasonable weather in France, our weather window looked perfect. Setting out early on a broad reach we were delighted as pods of dolphins escorted us south across the Bay. The sail was fabulous – a broad and beam reach in nice steady breezes and moderate seas made what can be a treacherous crossing into a non-event. Scarlet, whose mantra had been “I’m not sailing across the ocean with you”, enjoyed the passage, unaware of Biscay’s reputation. Landfall found us in Camariñas, northwest Spain, another delightful village with very friendly people who served one of the best desserts I have ever eaten!
Due to immigration restrictions in the Schengen area of Europe we were on a mission to enter the Mediterranean and get to the south of France, for which we had one-year visas, as soon as possible. Because of that ever-present reality, during our passage south along the coast of Portugal we only stopped in Porto and Lagos.
Beyond the Blue, beached with her keel retracted, at the mouth of North Brittany’s Rivière Jaudy
Three things stand out in our memories of the sail down the coast of Portugal. Every night dozens upon dozens of fishing boats come offshore to ply their trade. Of course, at night we couldn’t see their nets. Furthermore, they do not maintain a course and often turn off their AIS. This added a level of navigational stress that, at times, was almost tangible. Complicating navigation even more, these same fishermen would leave very large beer keg-sized floats attached to their nets and traps. Although easy to see in daylight, they are unmarked at night. This proved interesting when, in the middle of one night, we hit one directly on the bow while motor-sailing at 7∙5 knots. The noise was like an explosion as an aluminium keg hit our aluminium hull. Fortunately no damage was done, and once we were sure we were free of the lines we set off again. Perhaps the line cutters installed on the prop shaft did their work? Later, during Scarlet’s watch, we sailed into a lightning storm of unprecedented splendour ... and stress.
After stops in both Porto and Lagos, both with beautiful marinas and lovely towns, our hired crew member departed and another boarded. From Lagos we were off again to Cádiz and then Gibraltar. The new crew member, a RYA Yachtmaster Instructor, was fabulous – absolutely fabulous. He taught Scarlet so much in ten days that her confidence soared, and made suggestions to me that were sensible and very instructive. We learned so much in such a short time. However, we didn’t make it to the south of France. While in Gibraltar we calculated that we only had seven days to get there, and as our hired instructor had to leave the two of us would have to do the passage of close to 1000 miles on our own. We probably could have made it, but it would have meant non-stop sailing and if a delay occurred we would have been in a very tenuous situation trying to explain why we had not complied with the Schengen rules. Rather than adding that stress, we decided to leave Beyond the Blue in Alcaidesa Marina right next to Gibraltar for our mandatory 90-day exit. So we went home.
David, Scarlet and RYA Yachtmaster Instructor par excellence Ian Thompson
During our sojourn back home we had to make a decision. Should we go into the Med in November and head to France for the winter, or should we let go of that dream and cross the Atlantic? We decided, after much deliberation, to cross the Atlantic. With the Bay of Biscay having been crossed it was an easy ‘sell’ to Scarlet, who had repeatedly stated “I’m not crossing the ocean with you”, to sail down to the Canary Islands. Knowing that we would be relatively close to land the whole way she agreed and so, with her smiling, we set off in early November for Lanzarote. Because Scarlet and I did not have ocean-crossing experience we had to hire two bluewater-experienced sailors to comply with insurance regulations. Little did we know that the insurance company would have accepted our sail from France to the Canaries as sufficient experience, but they failed to tell us that until we had reached Lanzarote in the Canary Islands.
David and Scarlet with the Rock of Gibraltar astern
The six days of sailing were lovely, but marred by what appeared to be a failed alternator. Oddly, the alternator was producing power but the power was not being fed into the battery bank. While we were in Alcaidesa, Volvo representatives had completed a recall warranty item on our engine, replacing the marine diesel interface, and although we checked the systems prior to departure, during our sail south we could not charge the batteries properly. We had both solar and hydro-generators, but it was cloudy and the light winds kept us from attaining the speeds necessary for the hydrogenerator to produce power. Needless to say we were a little concerned that we would lose all power, but managed to reach Lanzarote late on the sixth day.
It was difficult to get the Volvo representative in Lanzarote to admit that his colleagues in Alcaidesa might have erred and to take responsibility and troubleshoot our problem. Finally we had a conference call with Boréal and the French Volvo engineer who designed the system and, fortunately, they were able to explain to him what the issue was. He entered the engine room and, within minutes, the problem was resolved. Humorously, and a little frustratingly, when we asked him what he had done he replied “nothing”.
Scarlet enjoying the large mid-Atlantic seas
Now we were ready for the Atlantic and miraculously (although admittedly, planned and crafted on my part) she whose mantra was “I’m not crossing the ocean with you” now thought that this adventure was too cool to pass up. On 29th November 2019 we cleared the Canary Islands heading southwest out of Lanzarote, somewhat disappointed that the electrical problem had eaten up all our planned cruising time in the Canaries. Nonetheless, with great anticipation the four of us set sail.
Writing up the log en route to Antigua in Beyond the Blue’s gorgeous doghouse nav station
With the forecast winds I thought a double-reefed main and full genoa would be a great idea for our first night and indeed, outside of reefing the genoa, we never changed sails again all the way across. Moderate winds carried us down towards the Cape Verde islands where we turned right a bit too soon and started tracking toward Antigua ... sort of. I actually believe that the turn slowed us down and we had to motorsail more than if we’d continued south, but that is conjecture in hindsight. The crossing, mostly a broad reach with the genoa poled out, was at times in pretty rough conditions which caused the boat to yaw around her keel as we crested each swell and then surfed down its back. Having a retractable keel, I decided to experiment and lifted it – the yawing stopped and the ride improved dramatically. And she who previously claimed she wouldn’t sail across the ocean with me enjoyed the passage immensely. There were times when I heard her giggling (I kid you not) as she pointed up at 5–6m swells off our stern, and saying “Ooooo look at the size of that one” as we surfed down mostly at 9–13 knots but hitting peaks of 15 knots. Beyond the Blue performed incredibly well – a Cadillac ride.
David resetting the controller of the Watt & Sea hydro-generator
The only boat issue we struggled with was not technically part of the boat but a piece of third party equipment, the Watt & Sea hydro-generator. We eventually discovered that we needed to continually reset the controller to get it to work, and this required us to unplug and re-plug the unit approximately every 20 minutes ... which we did, grumbling, all the way across the Atlantic. Although that may not sound too difficult, the plug was on the stern so it required the person on watch to hang over the stern, unscrew the plug, unplug it, reinsert and screw it back on – a procedure that was somewhat daunting at times on the large seas. To their credit, on being contacted Watt & Sea asked me to send them the control unit for testing and, lo and behold, they found it was indeed faulty and sent me a brand new one. I have yet to test it on board, but I’ll make sure it is functioning properly prior to our next departure.
On the customs dock at Jolly Harbour, Antigua at 0800 on 18th December
On the 18th December, 18½ days after departure, there was a spectacular sunrise as we passed English Harbour, Antigua, heading towards Jolly Harbour. The sense of accomplishment at our first-ever ocean crossing was euphoric, while at the same time humbling. The voyage had been marked by an unseasonable number of squalls rolling by almost every day and night – not one or two, but almost one an hour for most of the crossing. We had only three squall-free days, near the end of the passage when we finally got into the trade winds, but nonetheless it was massively enjoyable.
At anchor off Gustavia, St Barts
Our crew left and two days later our daughter arrived. We desperately wanted to go sailing, but once again we were experiencing a very peculiar weather pattern with the wind howling out of the north at 30–40 knots with peak gusts at 50. We were safe in the marina and nearby anchorage, but it wasn’t until our daughter’s visit was almost over that we could actually do some day sails. Soon after she departed we were joined by a friend and, once we had more favourable winds, we began our journey north and west.
Although we had already sailed some 4000 miles in our new boat, we really hadn’t ‘sailed’ her – we just put the sails up and for most of the time we rode a sleigh, not needing to touch anything except to reef the genoa. Now, we were sailing. North, to an almost uninhabited part of Barbuda, then west-northwest to St Barts, Sint Maarten, Saint Martin, St Thomas in the US Virgin Islands and then Fajardo, Puerto Rico, where our friend left us and, for the first time since we left France, it was just Scarlet and me.
David hoisting the courtesy flag in Sint Maarten
We set off on what, due to flukey winds, turned out to be a five-day motor-sail to Matthew Town in the Bahamas. We stood two-hour watches at night and had a fabulous comfortable cruise. And what a blast the Bahamas were! After a few days in remote Matthew Town on Great Inagua we dropped anchor off Clarence Town on Long Island and toured. I had so looked forward to swimming in the crystal-clear waters of the Bahamas and I did a bit ... until I saw them. Sharks. Not just nurse sharks, but bull sharks and hammerheads. After that I swam in the pool.
Our overnight passage from Matthew Town to Clarence Town had an interesting twist to it. In the late afternoon after we left Matthew Town a freighter from Haiti showed up on our AIS dead on our stern. As the freighter slowly crept up on us I began to get concerned. I turned 20° to starboard, he turned 20° to starboard. I turned back on course, he turned back on our course. After a bit I decided to turn 40° port. So did he. Now somewhat alarmed, I pulled out our sat phone and was prepared to call the emergency number to the US Coast Guard. I did find it odd, however, that if they had ill intent they had not turned off their AIS. They came within a half mile absolutely dead astern before veering off east. Whew! I thought it extremely unprofessional and could only assume that they thought it humorous.
From Clarence Town we had a delightful sail up to George Town on Great Exuma, where we stayed for a week and were joined by friends. Unfortunately the wind again picked up to 25 knots, delaying any adventuring, but as soon as we had better winds we were off, navigating the sparkling clear waters north, dropping anchor a few times along the way at remote, protected locations, until we arrived at Pig Beach on Staniel Cay. Our friends had flights booked out of Rock Sound airport on Eleuthera, so we motor-sailed through the cuts back into open water for a passage to Cape Eleuthera, again seemingly almost jinxed with the unseasonable winds right on our nose.
Sunset between Puerto Rico and Matthew Town, Bahamas
Cape Eleuthera Resort and Marina is a fabulous, remote location where we stayed for a week once again waiting for the winds to change. While we waited we picked up my brother in Rock Sound and hung out until we got our weather window. Finally we departed for a glorious beam reach up to Hatchet Bay. This was the first time he had sailed and we gave him a wonderful fast close reach in 15m of crystal-clear water along the coast. He had flown down expecting to get two weeks of sailing but, unfortunately for him, the winds delayed our departure for a few days. Then, on reaching Hatchet Bay, the entire adventure collapsed.
It was while we were anchored in Hatchet Bay that we heard about borders closing due to the developing pandemic – it was mid March and President Trump had just shut down flights from mainland Europe. Overnight we had to radically change our plans and, against everyone’s advice and to our gross disappointment, we left Hatchet Bay directly for Fort Lauderdale, expecting the US border to shut. We arrived 48 hours later on 16th March, but just in time – the Canadian/US border closed three days later.
Once in Fort Lauderdale we made the massive decision to ship Beyond the Blue home to Vancouver via Seven Seas Yacht Transport and, after two intense and hectic days of packing and boat preparation, departed, landing in Canada the day before the border closed. Our boat arrived safely in Vancouver two months later. It seems our circumnavigation is going to have to wait, but with April 2020, and Beyond the Blue being lifted in Beyond the Blue now home, Fort Lauderdale for shipping home we continue to dream ... now the dream could take us down the Pacific coast to the Baja and, who knows, the South Pacific? But at a slower pace perhaps...
Beyond the Blue at her home port of Vancouver, BC after her first 7000 miles at sea
Josh Garrels – Love & War & the Sea in Between
Jean-François Delvoye (left), the designer and joint-owner of Boréal Yachts, shakes with David on the deal for a Boréal 47
