Friday, November 25, 2022

Our Most Challenging (Read Terrifying) Passage

 

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. 

Kyrie at anchor in paradise - San Blas Islands

 

Bumblebee - our dinghy on the beach in San Blas

 


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. 

Our buddy boat - No Regrets that night

 


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.


Sunset our last night at sea.  Conditions had finally abated, it was lovely.

 

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.

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.

11 comments:

  1. Sounds like a brutal and scary trip. Glad you all made it safe!

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  2. Thank you for sharing with us even the hard times . . . your seamanship skills were put to the test! I'm sure after a much deserved rest, you're feeling much better - and YES! We're happy the crew and S/V Kyrie made it safely to port.

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  3. Carrie Williams - of former DharmaGirlNovember 25, 2022 at 10:28 AM

    Fantastic write of your travel to Jamaica. No doubt you were going to pull this off. And I believe any future trials will be handled just as well. Congrats with putting this one under your belt. Best to you all. Cheers!

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  4. You triumphed over the tremendous powers of wind and waves and kept your cool to troubleshoot the leak. So glad you are safely in Jamaica. Nancy

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  5. Wow you guys what a trip. So glad you are all safe. This is Todd from Rainbird I, (Twoblokesafloat) Wishing you a well deserved rest and recoup. Kyrie has a good crew I am sure you guys will get her ship shape soon. We are thinking of you.

    Best,

    Todd

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  6. Wow. Your angels had plenty of work to do. Sounds like a 6 day roller coaster ride. God is good!

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  7. I’m glad you all made it safe and sound! Well written by the way. Keep it up!
    -New Horizons

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  8. Wow! Brutal winds & seas. You made it. Enjoy Jamaica. Im enjoying reading along the journey.

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  9. Wow, what a journey... well done to all of you. Peter & Tom - Sailing Bohemia

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  10. Nice post thank you Amy

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  11. What an intense journey! Your account of the challenges, from unexpected weather to fixing leaks mid-passage, paints a vivid picture of the resilience required for long-haul sailing. The decision-making under duress shows the true spirit of seamanship. Glad you arrived safely, and here's to smoother seas ahead!

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