Dolphins are our daily visitors as we make progress across the Atlantic

Claire McCluskey and her partner Nick are sailing back from the Caribbean to Ireland. This is part three of her Diary from the Sea.

The boat we are sailing from the Caribbean to Ireland, though not really all that old, is a classically beautiful boat. Launched in 2008, Rogue Trader was home-built in Northern Ireland, and has an elegantly formed hull that reaches upwards to a proud bowsprit in front. We painted her blue when we bought her, with a gold stripe. She has a ketch rig, with two masts, which is simple and sturdy.

Our electronics set-up on board is also simple. This suits us quite well, mainly because our budget dictated it must. But there is an oft-repeated philosophy on boats that the more complicated something is, the more potential there is for something to go wrong. So we have the basics – a VHF radio and an AIS (Automatic Identification System) transponder, which is necessary for communicating with other boats in the open sea.

The antiquated chart plotter that came with the boat cut out on us half-way across the Bay of Biscay, but we anticipated this, and now make do with open-source chart software running on a sturdy old laptop I salvaged from my mother’s attic.

We also have a satellite phone (found as a bargain on eBay) on which we can send and receive emails – including this column –and download weather forecasts. Once out at sea, we download a new forecast every few days, to keep an eye on the meteorological movements along our route.

Great start

We have had a great start to our Atlantic voyage from Antigua to the Azores, making rapid progress on a favourable north easterly. However, about a week and 800 nautical miles out to sea, the weather downloads began to report what was already becoming quite apparent: the wind was slackening.

We started to motor-sail, keeping the sails up to catch any available wind, with the help of forward momentum from the engine. We kept this up for a day or two, and it was fine – the weather was bright and sunny, the sea state was calm and comfortable. The four of us on board are still getting along very well in each other’s company, and the vibe is very happy and jovial.

But with the engine on, its loud drone filling every audible space on the boat, time seems to slow right down. The boat moves unnaturally under motor, not leaping ahead as she does under sail. Steering is more difficult, as a previous crew member once eloquently remarked, Rogue Trader under engine handles like a drunken cow on roller skates.

The slow trickle of time and the lack of discernible progress is what I find most challenging. We all have our issues at sea. Though I manage to avoid seasickness, and can put up quite happily with the cramped conditions and the rocking of the boat, I feel that being becalmed can actually be quite stressful.

I find myself constantly checking and rechecking our speed, our route, our sail trim, to try and eke out another half a knot of progress. When we are forced to run the engine for days on end, I barely sleep, getting up frequently in the night to check the fuel level.

At present, our fuel gauge is misreading, so this task involves crawling into a cupboard, through a tiny door into the compartment with the header tank, and actually unscrewing the lid to peer in to see the amount of diesel inside.

I find it almost unbearable – my fingernails itch and my skin crawls every time the sails flog loudly for want of wind.

Be patient

We continued in this way for about five days, eventually just taking the sails down altogether to stop them banging. Motoring is an okay solution to keep moving in the short-term, but it isn’t possible to carry enough fuel to last the whole trip. The only thing for it is to be patient, and wait for the wind.

When it felt like I had reached my edge, the noise of the engine so loud in my brain that it was all that consisted of my thoughts, the flat calm was finally broken by our first breeze in days.

We knew it was on its way of course, thanks to our weather reports, but the wait seemed like an eternity. It was such a relief! We were back on course again, gliding rapidly through the waves.

As if to celebrate our good news, a large pod of dolphins – the first we have seen on the trip – swam by the boat and played for almost half an hour, dashing back and forth benTheath the bowsprit.

We’re once again making good progress towards the Azores, and the dolphins have been dropping by daily. But, as often happens when you ask for something, you get it, and our weather files now show that the next few days could bring some exciting conditions, with a gale building up to soon flash by on 30 knot winds. So, when it’s not one thing, it’s another, and all that can be done is to prepare well and to sail safely. It’s all part of being at sea.

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