On Wednesday, November 9, 2022, Kyrie checked out of Panama and
departed Shelter Bay. We easily motored up to Linton Bay and spent
the night with our buddy boat at anchor – enjoying a pizza at their
fantastic little restaurant for the last time.
Early the next
morning, we pulled anchor and ran down to the Swimming Pool anchorage
in the Holandes Keys in the Guna Yala (San Blas) Islands. We spent a
lovely night and day there, walking on the islands and cleaning the
bottom of the boat prior to our passage to Jamaica. We checked all
the engine fluids, folded our dinghy and lashed it to the cabin top,
cleared the decks of anything that can move, and secured everything
in the cabin for a long passage. It was to be around 675 miles, and
roughly 5 to 6 days of travel to get to Jamaica non-stop, easily
double the longest time we had ever been to sea. The butterflies in
the stomach were strong, but we pulled anchor at 4pm on November
11th, bound for Jamaica.
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Kyrie at anchor in paradise - San Blas Islands
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Bumblebee - our dinghy on the beach in San Blas
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Our weather window
looked good. 12 knots average wind, with 80% on the beam, max gusts
of 19 knots and max seas of around 1.3 meters. 0% of the time was to
be running upwind into wind greater than 15 knots, which our boat
really does not like. Boy had we wished that was the truth.
The evening
departure was lovely, sailing under spinnaker until around 10pm
before the wind died, and we started the motor. We motored slowly
through the night to save fuel, and about 6am encountered the first
of many squalls, and just about the fiercest one of the trip as well.
It lasted about half an hour, with winds near 40 knots, and
torrential rain. After it let up, we had a lovely day motoring
through the sunny calm southern Caribbean towards Colombia.
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Our buddy boat - No Regrets that night
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About 10 at night,
the seas began to kick up, with gentle winds of around 9 knots on our
nose, but large confused seas that didn’t match the wind at all.
They were coming from 3 directions, short and steep, around 5-6 feet.
We gritted our teeth, trying to make as much easting as we could
before making the turn towards our destination of Jamaica, and hobby
horsed and pounded the boat mercilessly at 2-3 knots of forward speed
for the next 12 hours.
At first light, the
seas just were not improving, and out of desperation, 70 miles prior
to our intended turn, both Kyrie and our buddy boat decided to make
the turn towards Jamaica, which would at least put the worst of the
seas on our starboard quarter and make the ride a bit better. We
hoped as we got further from the lee of the land the irregularity of
the seas would normalize and we could make better, more comfortable
headway.
By about noon that
day, the seas did indeed even out, and the trade winds kicked in,
about 18-20 knots over our starboard bow. We were pointing as high
as we could and sailing along at 7-8 knots, but still aiming directly
at the west side of Cuba. The seas were lumpy and bouncy, but
passable. We had no good option but to go on, as we were about 125
miles from the nearest land at that point.
So we soldiered on,
hoping for the wind to change to its predicted direction (due east)
in the near future. It blew from the northeast all night, and with
night came four squalls, with winds easily near 40. Thankfully with
our radar on we were able to shorten sail before the winds hit, and
were trucking along at a steady 7 knots, unfortunately towards Cuba.
By the next morning,
the sea state had really deteriorated, but the wind direction had
finally improved, allowing us to at least point towards the island of
Jamaica. We were close hauled in 25-30 knots of wind, with every
other wave over the bow all day long. The seas were 8-10 feet,
short, steep, and breaking. Just for fun a 12-14 foot wave would tag
along every 20 minutes or so and crash over the coach roof of the
boat. It was extremely uncomfortable and hot down below, and we had
no idea how much worse it was going to get.
Around 10am one of
the kids pointed out that we had a little water running down the
cabin sole. I tasted it and it was salty. Not good.. So I began to
look around. Where was the water coming from? I immediately traced
it to one of our can pantries, and then to the lockers under the
master bed. So, out came everything from those lockers and out came
the wet-dry vac to get the water out before it did serious damage to
anything.
But where was the
water coming from? Kyrie had been taking a serious beating for over
two days straight now, and I noticed that we were getting a slight
leak from the front windows – that must be it, right? I proceeded
to dry everything up as good as possible, while everything from the
lockers was spread all throughout the boat – making her nearly
unlivable.
Thinking I had it
figured out, we continued on.
I didn’t have it
figured out. . .
After another terrible
night run, I came into the cabin, and the previously dry lockers had
a few inches of water in them, water was flowing down into the port
hull, and somehow the cap for one of our water tanks had dislodged
and water was flowing down into our freshwater tank.
The mess was way
worse than before. Our port bilge was nearly full to the top of the
floorboards, our water tank was now contaminated and undrinkable, and
on investigation, we were taking on about 1-2 gallons every time we hit
a wave (every 20 seconds or so). At this point we were nearly
halfway to Jamaica, and around 300 miles from land.
Of course, at this
point, you need to take stock in your surroundings. With the
incredible beating the boat was taking – had we cracked the hull
somewhere? The exact location the water was coming in was hard to
locate, but after an hour or so looking I finally found the culprit.
One of our large bow lockers had a pair of open holes on the port
side. With the strong wind and heavy seas over the bow, the locker
was partially filling up and the excess was flowing down into the
cabin. What a relief – the boat was actually fine, and this was
something I was pretty sure I could fix out here.
So, out came the
magic goop bag. I slowed the boat down to 3 knots to ease the ride, and with
Levi’s help, emptied out the bow locker (not an easy feat when the
deck has an inch of water running over it every 2 minutes or so). I
then was able to get some sealant in the holes, and stopped up the
leak for the remainder of the trip.
With the leak
sealed, we then began the process of trying to put the boat back
together at least a bit. Another not-easy task when you can’t
stand as the boat is pitching so violently. We managed to somewhat get
one locker cleaned up and put back together, but the boat still
looked like a bomb had gone off.
With no other good
option, we soldiered on. Thankfully the next day brought somewhat easier
conditions – still strong winds, but the large seas abated a littlee. We only took a wave over the bow every 1-2 minutes or so
by that point.
The next day is a
bit of a blur. Conditions were still very rough, but we chose to
motorsail one night just to have the soothing sound of the motor
running, and so we could point a bit higher at our ultimate
destination--Port Antonio, Jamaica. I think we were so fatigued and
emotionally spent at that point we were solely in survival mode. We
had barely eaten anything for 3 days, barely slept... but had to
continue on.
The following day
dawned with steep seas right on our nose. We turned on the motor and
began motorsailing, trying to point at Port Antonio, but again, could
only make 2-3 knots due to the sea state. It was blowing around 20
knots, with seas around 8 feet, short, steep, and breaking. Around
2pm, and about 90 miles due south of Kingston, Jamaica, I had had
enough. Out of desperation, I turned the bow to point at Kingston,
thinking it might be a bit better, but the ride was much the same. I
then turned the bow to the western tip of Jamaica and we could
instantly hear the angels singing. The seas suddenly were on our
starboard quarter, with winds on the beam at 20 knots.
At that instant, it
became clear. 24 hours of beating into the waves to Port Antonio,
and possibly breaking the boat even worse or an easy beam reach to
Montego Bay. Choice made.
We had an amazing
last night, surfing at 9 knots through the waves, and arriving at
dark on the West coast of Jamaica. Total time in transit was 6 days
and two hours.
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Sunset our last night at sea. Conditions had finally abated, it was lovely.
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We dropped the
anchor, shut the motor off, and slept the sleep of the dead.
So what went wrong?
Our best estimation is the weather models we were relying on were off
by one day, with the strong system we were trying to avoid showing up
24 hours early. By turning when we were about 50 miles offshore of
Cartagena, Colombia, it sealed our fate in having a close hauled sail
the next 4 days to Jamaica. Had we been able to make it the planned
70 miles further east, the winds would have been much more on our
beam, and the trip would have been much easier and more comfortable.
The forecast wind strength was also way under-reported, with actual
winds normally being 10+ knots stronger than forecast.
As to damage to the boat? It wasn't as severe as I had feared - we got lucky. We broke the tabbing loose in two places from the bulkheads - a relatively easy fix with some fiberglass work we had done in Montego Bay; got some new leaks in the corner of the front windows due to the constant pressure of the seawater - also sealed that back up at anchor in Montego Bay; and lost one of the pivot pins to our outdrive. Thankfully the drive stayed attached to the boat - it could easily have been ripped off the back of the boat. I had a new pin made at a machine shop in Montego Bay and it was good as new.
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Tabbing broken loose in one of the two areas. |
Bottom line: we
arrived safely in Jamaica, beat, battered, and worn out, but by no
means done with cruising. Give us some time to recuperate and we’ll
be ready to continue our travels.