Sailing Fidelis Home

(Originally published in 2012)

As unnerving and as unpleasant as it may have ultimately been, I still envy Annie this trip. I admire her sense of adventure that allowed her to head off unaccompanied by anything more than her courage and her perspicacity and her ability to grab things by the ears, shake them up, and get them done. What a story she made! Read on.

I have previously posted the story of Fidelis and how, in the spring of 1997, we bought the 37-foot CSY sailboat in what some people might describe as an impulse purchase while we were vacationing in the BVI (see “The story of Fidelis”). We took care of all the paperwork and officially took possession of the boat before our vacation ended in late March, but we did so without having completely decided what our intentions were for taking actual physical possession. We really saw no practical way that we could afford to leave the boat in Tortola. The cost of keeping it in a marina there, the significant likelihood of a tropical storm encounter, the need for expensive hurricane insurance, all precluded following that course of action. We soon decided that our only choice was to bring the boat back to the U.S. and have it trucked up to our home in Michigan where we could then undertake a refit. If we were going to do this we needed to get her back to the U.S. before the start of hurricane season. That gave us roughly from early April until about early June to get all of our ducks in a row and get the vessel back to the continent. No problem, no rush at all…

Once we got home from our trip, reality began to settle in and the magnitude of the upcoming relocation was beginning to hit home. We needed to get her across the ocean to the U.S. mainland but neither one of us had any offshore sailing experience behind us. The trip was going to require an experienced delivery captain and crew. I started looking through the sailing magazines, checking out possible candidates and making phone calls. This was before the Internet where today you can find anything and everything you seek and make contact within minutes or hours with a quick e-mail. I called an experienced captain up in New England who, with a few quick screening questions, was able to decide that the trip was too big an undertaking for him. Disappointed I kept plugging away. Eventually I found another east coast delivery captain who was willing to make the trip. He wanted to know about the boat, its condition, where we were going, etc. and felt he could do it. In retrospect I can’t imagine how he was able to even seriously consider the trip from afar with the little bit of knowledge that we were able to provide. He required that we have an inflatable dinghy aboard for the trip, which he felt could double as a life raft. That itself should have been a clue if I knew then what I know now. He would undertake the fitting out for the trip once he got to Tortola and was able to evaluate the situation. Plans were made, money was discussed, and we had ourselves a captain. He would furnish his own crew. At the behest of the presumed delivery captain we contacted our yacht broker in Tortola who arranged the purchase of an inflatable dinghy for us, so that issue was settled.

Time passed and things were winding down toward D-day. Annie and I kicked around the whole thing. One of us needed to be there, boots on the ground so to speak, to oversee the operation and manage the intimidating logistics – supplies, repairs, parts, all of the stuff that needs to be done on a nearly 20-year-old long-unused vessel preparing for a thousand mile passage. I was working at the time and I had already taken my extended vacation when we bought the boat in March. I’m a practicing veterinarian and my busy season was about to get under way. Somebody had to finance the entire venture and that was my place. The thousand mile journey would take a couple of weeks, plus at least another couple weeks would be required just to get the boat sea ready. By default more or less, the task fell to Annie. She was essential to running the clinic, but not as essential as I was. Plus, having the experience of the liveaboard sail training course (see “Nobody yells…”), she had a little more formal sailboat training that I lacked. She saw the logic of the plan and agreed that she would fly down to Tortola and meet the delivery captain there. Crazy as it seems now, it was all set.

On Friday May 16, 1997, after loading up as much sailing paraphernalia as we felt she could handle, she hopped in the car and headed for Baltimore, Maryland. We had loaded up all of the items we could think of into a number of green navy style sea bags (large soft duffel bags) – everything from binoculars to chart books to rigging knife, hand bearing compass, life jackets, and much more. I think she managed three bags full, including her personal items. Flights from BWI airport to the Virgin Islands were significantly cheaper than from Detroit. Next day she caught a flight from BWI to Beef Island, Tortola via San Juan, Puerto Rico and eventually found our boat on the hard at Nanny Cay Marina, where after a hectic couple of travel days, she settled in for Saturday night.

The first couple of days were spent getting things organized and cleaned up. Our dinghy had evidently been sitting in the water along the dock since we bought it. With a few weeks’ growth on it, Annie spent the better part of her first day getting it cleaned up and into serviceable shape. Naturally, Monday turned out to be a BVI holiday so everything was closed. Annie, however, made good use of the time further cleaning things up and stowing things away and was able to arrange for Fidelisto be launched next day.

On Sunday I received a phone call from the delivery captain who had rethought things and had decided to renege on his agreement to make the trip. With the scheduled delivery only days away, he had decided that he couldn’t do it. He was not comfortable with the length of the trip, the unknown condition and seaworthiness of the vessel, and the risks involved. I explained to him that Annie was already there, but it made no difference. He was out. Great! Back to square one. On Monday when Annie called me I broke the news to her and we decided that perhaps the best place to find a competent delivery captain and crew might be right there in Tortola, the yacht charter capital of the world. She would start asking around. By Thursday she had lined up Captain Rick, a credentialed delivery captain who evaluated the vessel and immediately started talking about preparations. We had our man. Captain Rick was going to bring his first mate, Jimmy, and a female friend who was to be the cook for the trip.

Meanwhile, Annie had the boat launched and continued her preparations, cleaning things up, washing dishes and utensils and bedding, having the engine evaluated and repairs made, refrigeration checked out, propane tanks, stove and oven, and more. The list was endless. She had to bend on sails, check the lights, order up a rental life raft for the trip, return the dinghy for sale on consignment, get new halyards, and still had yet to take on provisions. We had to order up a cockpit autopilot and have that installed before departure. She did manage a free moment once or twice, which allowed her a little time at the pool. Then, for whatever reason, the scheduled cook backed out before their departure and Annie was relegated to the role of galley maid. By Friday May 30^th, she had things just about shipshape and ready to go for their Saturday departure. She called me that night to say it was a go, and they left Tortola at 1:30 Saturday afternoon on Annie’s very first seagoing sailing trip. That first day, with steady 15 to 20 knot winds they made good time – 190 miles in the first 24 hours. Annie served up baked chicken, stove top stuffing, and beans for dinner and got to bed at 9:30 PM. The guys were quite impressed with her galley skills.

On the second day, with the wind falling off a little, they still managed 140 miles. Annie served up a breakfast of bagels and fresh fruit, ham sandwiches for lunch, and lasagna with salad and bread for dinner. The guys were liking her galley work and she was of the opinion that, since the role of fulltime cook had apparently been dropped in her lap, it was only fair that she have her nights off. The plan when they left was that, since the scheduled cook had backed out of the trip, all three of them were going to rotate galley duties and they were going to divide the watches into three shifts round the clock. With the electric cockpit Autohelm we had installed, with any significant wind blowing the boat had to be manually steered most of the time, which required a helmsman to mind the compass and correct the steering. After the first couple of days, Annie found that the guys liked her food so well that they really didn’t want to have to eat the kind of meager fare that they were able to make themselves. I can vouch for the fact that she can with very little effort make food as good as you will get at home under just about any normal conditions aboard a boat. If the stove works, she can amaze you with what she can do. Now, by default and with very little discussion, it became captain and first mate sailing watch and watch, while Annie served as cook and slept most nights.

Now, although everything was going reasonably smoothly, all was not pure harmony aboard Fidelis. There had been some friction between Annie and the captain. Prior to departure Captain Rick enunciated his requirement that even though Annie was the owner, HE was to be the acknowledged captain and his word was to be law aboard the boat while underway. She was informed in no uncertain terms that on previous deliveries he had put demanding owners ashore en route when his authority was challenged. I’m sure this was probably empty theatrics but, in any event, he had made his point. So when Annie was doing the pre-departure provisioning, his request for just four quarts of oil and two quarts of transmission fluid for a thousand mile trip with a nearly 20-year-old engine, struck her as somewhat shortsighted. At this point Captain Rick first exercised his authority and Annie reluctantly relinquished. Nevertheless, his decision laid the groundwork for Annie having some doubts about his judgment and his common sense. Later on, when they were three or four days at sea and Annie happened to notice that there was some loosening of the bolts on the Autohelm where it attached to the ship’s wheel and she pointed out they should correct this potential problem, she was told that this was not part of her responsibility. When she didn’t just drop it, the subject of putting disagreeable owners ashore surfaced once again. It did not help matters when on their eighth day out the Autohelm part actually fell off the steering wheel necessitating removal of the wheel and repair and reassembly while First Mate Jimmy steered with the emergency tiller. A couple of hours were spent wrestling with the whole mess and getting it all back together in the rolling cockpit.

By their third day out Annie wrote in the log “Everything is full of salt and really filthy.” And by the seventh day out, they had exhausted their supply of transmission fluid and were forced to start using engine motor oil in the transmission. It was easy to tell when the transmission needed filling, since it would not shift into forward when it was low. Captain Rick suspected the transmission fluid was probably leaking through the heat exchanger. Annie just bit her tongue. Then on the fifth day the rains came and it rained more or less constantly for three days. Now the leaks began to show up. Annie wrote, “The port side chain plate is leaking. It’s draining down behind the forward berth port side. My shirts are wet and I have had to pick up the mattress onto its side. If it doesn’t stop raining, nothing will dry. Oh, the life of a sailor! Off to make tea!Engine off. Winds have picked up, doing 9 knots. Both chainplates are now leaking and it’s still raining its ass off. Everything is wet. Ham sandwiches for lunch. 140 miles at 3:00 PM. I have so many bruises on me I lost count. Have no forward on the engine again… We have no more transmission fluid. Once again I should have listened to myself and gotten a couple more. I can’t believe it’s still raining and the winds are confused.” By the eighth day it was starting to wear on her: “Everything is wet and dirty and stinky. God I love boating. Both chain plates have continuously leaked through the night. We had several fronts go through and all the beds are wet. I had to throw the pears and a whole chicken overboard. It is very rocky this morning. Made scrambled eggs, toast, and coffee. What a feast that was!” And so on.

On the ninth day the refrigerator stopped functioning and later on smoke started rolling out of the electrical panel and the alternator died. Now they were limited to running only the bilge pumps, so there was no longer fresh running water or refrigeration. Fortunately the end was getting close enough for them to not lose hope. And then on the tenth day they lost their wind: “We have no wind, no engine, and I think we’re bobbing backwards. I saw the same plastic bottle go by at least 3 times. Captain Rick is not a happy sailor at this point and told me I am getting on his nerves – fancy that! I made bacon, eggs, and bagels since we have no refrigeration. I have to use up what I can before it spoils.” The “plastic bottle” turned out to be a Portuguese Man-o-War. They were passing through a large school of them.

To give fair credit to Captain Rick, on the eleventh day he decided to take action in order to keep the engine up and running. The previous day they had determined that no water was being pumped from the seawater intake (which Annie had had replaced before they left Tortola), so Captain Rick decided to reroute the cooling hoses from the refrigerator and redirected water from the seawater pump into the heat exchanger. In addition they did some repairs on the leaking stuffing box.

On the eleventh day they had crossed out of the Gulf Stream and had lost all wind. They were motoring along gently at four knots taking it easy on Shirley (Jimmy had named the engine Shirley and the autopilot LaVerne) while LaVerne did the steering. The transmission required half a quart of motor oil once every eight hours by this point and they were all holding their breath that no more major problems would crop up. Although the plan was to sail Fidelisup the Chesapeake to Baltimore, next day they found themselves lying off Virginia Beach with an overheated engine. A belt had broken and they couldn’t get things apart to make the repair. Annie and Captain Rick had had enough of each other and the incessant problems. The decision was made to throw in the towel and they called Boat/US for a tow. A couple of hours passed with them drifting toward the crowded beach before their towboat finally showed up and they were towed in to Little Creek. It was an inauspicious arrival, but Fidelishad made it. Annie had her first offshore trip under her belt with far more than an average amount of consternation and technical issues. Captain Rick had prevailed and, in spite of some attitude issues, had proven himself up to the task. The trip was over.