Reply-To: "Robert Bailey" From: "Robert Bailey" To: "Bailey, Bob & Judy \(amsat\)" Subject: POOH BEAR REPORT 2003-11, Back Across the North Sea Date: Mon, 5 Jan 2004 14:12:05 -0000 POOH BEAR REPORT 2003-11, Back Across the North Sea Starting: Amsterdam, The Netherlands - 11 October 2003 Ending: London, England - 14 October 2003 At the conclusion of the previous Pooh Bear Report, I described our adventures in and around the "flesh pots" of Amsterdam. I must admit though, even while touring the cultural interests as well as the "flesh pots", my mind did wander to the various options for our route back to the UK. Thoughts that repeatedly popped to mind were, "It is already mid-October. Why and how did we get so late?" and "Remember last October in Whitby for a month?" and "We must cross one of the busiest seaways in the world" and "The weather records show now is the season for a succession of southwesterly gales and, of course we want to go southwest" and "The longest route is 160 miles, the shortest about 60 miles - neither of which can be completed in daylight this late in the year". Underlying all of my concerns was the North Sea's fearsome reputation in all but the most benign conditions. Our original plan was to continue south from Amsterdam following the Dutch Mast-Up Route past Rotterdam, to at least Flushing, maybe on to Zeebruges or Oostende in Belgium. The farther southeast our departure port, the shorter the passage to either Ramsgate or Queenborough. But never short enough, so late in the year, to allow a daylight crossing. Each would involve crossing at least the easterly part of the English Channel's controlled Vessel Traffic System lanes, with unending streams of ships head to tail, when not side-by-side. Some departure ports would require crossing the traffic lanes of Rotterdam, reportedly the world busiest port. And any departure from the more southerly ports would not be straight forward as each has off lying sandbanks extending many miles offshore. Gradually another option emerged. Don't go south from Amsterdam. Instead, leave from Ijmuiden - a port 15 miles west of Amsterdam with only moderate large ship traffic and totally free of offshore sandbanks. From there we could cross the North Sea by sailing west-southwest without crossing any controlled VTS lanes. After crossing the north-south deep water channel, our course would then turn southwest, free of any designated traffic lanes until turning west into the Princes Channel leading up to the Thames and Medway. Admittedly, the path would be long, more than 160 miles, but a departure at daylight meant Queenborough before dark the next day. As a bonus, should conditions deteriorate, Harwich would be a great bolthole less than 24 hours away. The route chosen, we needed only to wait for fair winds. Daily, often more frequently, I scanned the forecasts for Thames Sea Area. One fine day, the German Weather Service's five-day forecast predicted good news and bad news. Beginning Sunday the 12th, the strong westerlies were to be replaced by strong easterlies - the good news. While force 5 to 6, 20 to 25 knots, was a bit stronger than we really would like, anything easterly was good news. The added phrase "locally force 7 to 8" was the bad news - warning that for a few hours winds might reach 30 to 35 knots, a full gale. Not only would the winds be more than we would like, but the resulting seas would build to at least 2.5 meters, or over 8 feet. In the open ocean, 8 foot seas are no problem, but in the shallow North Sea, they can be wicked. Locals said not to worry - the German Weather Service was always pessimistic. Besides, five-day forecasts are never very accurate. Other weather sources did corroborate the expected wind shift, but predicted more reasonable wind strengths of 15 to 20 knots. We continued to enjoy our time in Amsterdam, touring and watching the five day forecast become a four day forecast, then a three day forecast. The German forecast for the Thames area never wavered; easterly F5-6, locally F7-8. The other two weather services did raise their forecast, but only to 20 to 25, no higher. On Friday, a familiar yacht nosed into Six Haven, Ruth and Dave on Islay. They too were looking for a weather window in which to cross the North Sea to Harwich. They, too, planned a similar route to ours, though continuing on to Harwich where we would turn southwest. They too agreed that 5s and 6s were good, but 7s and 8s bad. I felt better - one always feels better when others agree with you. An unchanged twenty-four hour forecast was issued Saturday morning, but, ever hopeful, both boats left Amsterdam for Ijmuiden. What might seem the logical option of waiting a few days didn't seem such a good idea as the long-range forecasts predicted easterlies strengthening instead of decreasing. Furthermore, delay too long and the westerlies would return - and at any strength, westerlies were bad news. Saturday night, the Islay crew dined aboard Pooh and engaged in endless discussions of weather. It was agreed; any forecast above force 6, we would not go. The next morning we reviewed the forecast - Ahhh; easterly 5-6. No mention of 7 to 8. We ignored the fact that it was from a different center. Unquestioningly, we slipped Pooh Bear's lines and in less than an hour were in the North Sea. Islay followed shortly. As forecasted, a light easterly helped us through the breakwaters, though some two hours later than planned. As forecasted, the east-southeast breeze steadily filled and, though we set a full main and genoa, Perkins did most of the pushing while Otto held a steady 257 magnetic. A bit boring, but two hours out, things livened up a bit. A little before noon, from the south, we watched a big, black hulled boat charging in our direction. Prominent white letters on the side meant, we assumed correctly, Coast Guard. As I checked our position at the nav station, Judy called out, "Company coming". And indeed, four men in a large RIB, all armed, were approaching our port quarter. Identifying themselves, in excellent English, as Dutch Coast Guard, they instructed us to hold our speed and course, and asked to come aboard. We agreed. Quickly, two men were aboard Pooh and the RIB moved to a position about twenty feet off our port quarter. Very efficiently and courteously, they showed their credentials and introduced themselves. Over the next thirty minutes, they examined passports and ships papers. They asked questions such as departure and destination ports, estimated time of arrival, etc. While one talked with me in the cockpit, the other went below with Judy, looked in lockers, asked questions, and generally examined Pooh. Apparently satisfied, back in the cockpit we exchanged some small chitchat where they explained they boarded all types of vessels from yachts to fishing vessels to cargo ships looking for anything did not look right. In spite of Holland's tolerance for drugs, one of the things they did look for were illegal drugs. When signaled, their RIB came alongside and they reboarded. With twin 150 horsepower outboards roaring, they were off towards the mother ship. Our first at sea boarding ever! Only then did I have time to finish checking our position. At the time we were boarded, Pooh was 11.8 miles from the coast. I have wondered, had our position been 1800 feet further west, some 12.1 miles from the coast, would they have boarded us? By mid-afternoon, the cold clear skies were being partially covered by high thin clouds making it seem even colder. The winds were still east at a solid 15 knots and building, so while still daylight, we pulled a double reef in the mainsail. A half a mile to port, oil platform P14A slipped by, the only North Sea rig near our planned route. We kept Perkins running, but only in a helper capacity to insure a speed above 6 knots. By early evening, the wind was still easterly, but up to 20 to 25 knots. We rolled in some of the genoa, but kept the engine ticking over as I was most anxious to cross the Deep Water shipping channel as early as possible. Shortly after dark, when almost clear of the shipping lane to northern Germany, Judy did have to make a substantial coarse change to avoid a close encounter of the undesired kind. Having the engine on was helpful, though not really necessary. A little after 2200, at the start of our normal three-hour night watch rotation, we cleared the Deep Water channel and altered course more to the southwest. With the wind forward a bit on the port quarter, the apparent wind speed increased a couple of notches. Perkins and Otto took a well-deserved rest and Monty took over the helm. Not anticipating any more shipping until nearer the Thames Estuary, I though I could relax, hang on, and enjoy the ride. Bad thinking. The seas were large and frequently breaking making Pooh's motion a bit on the wild side. The sounds of the seas rushing by Pooh were loud enough, but the howl of the wind was even louder. It had risen to a steady 30 to 35 knots, a force 8 - so the Germans were right, we had a gale. With the greater wind speed, Pooh was not steering well, often going off course despite Monty's best efforts. Our speed through the water was regularly 7.5 knots, at times over 8 knots, making the motion and steering even worse. On the good side, we had over a knot of favorable current, so Pooh was really hauling and, as the wind was with the current, the seas were not as bad as they could have been. To add to the confusion, well outside any shipping lanes, a ship bore down on us, so brightly lit we could not discern the navigation lights. We surmised it was a ferry enroute to Harwich. Our track on the computer screen showed a big wobble as we detoured to the west, then resumed our southwesterly course. But with a dilemma - Monty simply could not cope as even the double reefed main and jib was too much sail. Lowering the main, possibly replacing it with the storm trysail, would have been the proper action. But we had a problem doing that. Earlier in the year we had removed the Dutchman sail stowing system and installed lazy jacks. Lazy jacks are lines from the mast to the boom to control the main sail when it is being raised or lowered. But in early use we found that lowering the main when not almost directly into the wind would almost surely break a batten. And a broken batten would surely rip a sail. With the seas we were experiencing, I felt it would be impossible to bring Pooh into the wind, so we carried on with the double-reefed main and hoped for the best. Judy and I did manage to roll down even more jib, leaving out only about six feet of sail exposed. I played with sail trim, improving balance as well as the motion of the boat, which had become quite violent. Eventually, I went off watch leaving Judy in the cockpit, hanging on and regularly lending assistance to Monty. As many of my readers may know, the North Sea is quite shallow, nowhere along our course being more than 100 to 150 feet deep. Additionally, it is laced with long, narrow sand banks running generally north and south. Some, though 25 to 50 miles from land, are covered by only 5 or 10 feet of water. Our course was to take us west by ducking between two of these shoals - the Outer Gabbard and Galloper shoals. I awoke from a good sleep to Judy's voice calling me. The ship's clock showed 0200. As I climbed into the cockpit, I could see the North Galloper buoy winking reassuringly astern, and a half a mile on each side of us were two northbound ships. Judy, with a little help from Monty, had threaded the eye of the needle perfectly. And even better, the winds had eased to 25 to 30 knots, though the seas were still high, steep and frequently breaking. Judy wasted little time turning the watch to me and climbing into the bunk. I was left alone in the cockpit with nothing to do but watch the little wiggly red line marching across the computer screen, make an occasional tweek on Monty and marvel at the seascape. The high clouds had cleared and a brilliant moon let me see the size of the seas - awesome. Although only 2 to 2.5 meters high, a few maybe 3 meters, they were terribly close together and frequently breaking. While Pooh was still lurching along, it was a much smoother lurching and Monty was having no problem holding course. It truly became quite an enjoyable watch. On the downside, while our speed through the water was still an exhilarating 5.5 to 6+ knots, the 2 knot tidal stream was, as predicted, now foul and the GPS showed a dreary 3.5 to 4.0 knots over the bottom. I have mentioned watching our position inch across the computerized chart, but we do not follow it blindly. Especially when a buoy marking one of the many shoals should be in sight, we confirm it visually. We were even more diligent in this passage as, on several occasions since leaving Holland, our GPS lost all signal for several minutes. Each time, it eventually recovered, but was a bit worrying. Of course, we do have paper charts and we do carry a spare handheld GPS, but neither would be as convenient. For the remainder of my watch and all of Judy's watch, the wind continued from the east at 18 to 25 knots. Pooh drove steadily through the seas at 5.5 to 6 knots, but still dragged down by that foul current, was only making around 3.5 knots of speed over the bottom (abbreviated SOB?). Shortly before the end of my watch, about 0530, I experienced the bane of all cruisers - an encounter with a fishing boat. With their flood lit decks, the navigation lights are often obliterated. And even if found they mean nothing as fishing boats are notorious for unexpected actions. This one was no exception. I changed course 45 degrees to pass astern. No sooner was I was past him, he made a 270 degree turn and seemed bent on running up Pooh's transom (as if Pooh had a transom). I turned on all of our deck lights and was considering setting off a flare. When only about a 100 yards astern, he abruptly turned hard starboard and disappeared over the horizon. I truly think he had never seen us. The Thames Estuary is a maze of shoals, each marked by several buoys. Each buoy, and at night its distinctive flashing light, provided an opportunity for a position check. Very comforting. As the sky became lighter, the buoy lights became less visible and the seas more visible. Though the wind was less, the seas seemed worse; possibly due to the water depth shoaling as we neared the Princes Channel, possibly due to wind against the tide. One wave really got our attention. It struck Pooh broadside with such a terrible crash, so hard and so solid, I though momentarily we had struck something. I watched unbelieving as the crest rose high up and crashed down on the cabin top. As the sound of the water cascading off onto the side decks and overboard subsided, I could hear an alarmed yell from below, "Bob, what happened?" Reassured, she went back to sleep and I was left to admire the chaotic scene. Monday morning, shortly before 0900, we were on the home stretch, headed down the Princes Channel. I awakened Judy to help pole out a fully unreefed genoa. Four hours later, we doused all sail, awakened Otto and Perkins, and motored the final miles up the Medway to the All Tide Landing at Queenborough. Having left Ijmuiden two hours later than planned and arriving four hours earlier than planned, Pooh was feeling quite smug and I believe I heard him quietly mutter something about, " Not too bad for a fat bear". EPILOGUE Judy and I enjoyed our customary dinner at the Flying Dutchman Pub Monday night and relished a solid night's sleep. Tuesday morning, 14 October, taking advantage of a very rare occurrence, that being both a favorable wind and a favorable tide, we motored up the Thames, entered the St. Katharine lock's in mid-afternoon, and were home in our old slip by 1600. >From our log, Judy and I gleaned the following statistics. During the 119 days between June 18th and October 14th, the log showed we covered 1965.7 miles. We know the log was under reading by 10% to 15% during most of the trip and it stopped completely for a period, so I would estimate the total mileage at about 2260 miles for an average of 19 miles/day. During the 119 days, the Perkins ran an astounding total of 459.5 hours (including battery charging) and consumed 375.2 gallons of fuel at an average of 0.82 gallons/hour. Clearly we motored a great deal, not a surprise, and we spent far more than we had anticipated on fuel at $1091. The numbers work out to be $2.38 for each hour we ran the engine. Surprisingly, Norway had some of the least expensive fuel at $1.98/gallon. Germany was the most expensive fuel at $4.30/gallon, Sweden was next at over $4.00/gallon, with Denmark less at $3.30/gallon, and the UK near the bottom at about $2.20/gallon. In general, Pooh had very few problems during the trip. And those we did have were solved or repaired easily. Nevertheless, we did generate an immense list of things to do before we leave next year. High on my list is to improve or replace the lazy jacks so we can reef or lower the mainsail under any conditions. Lastly, it was a wonderful summer. Norway is a beautiful country. In every country we visited we found very friendly people. Nowhere did we encounter any language barrier. Our only regret is that we were late starting and, as a result, did not get nearly as far north as we would have liked. Before you ask, we have no idea of where Pooh Bear might take us in 2004. CREDITS & MISC To answer some recent questions, the Pooh Bear Reports are a joint effort between Judy and myself. I do most of the writing using Microsoft Word. Having a poor memory, I frequently refer to the deck log, to chart records, photos we have taken, brochures gathered while sightseeing, and I rely very heavily on Judy's memory and the excellent daily journal she keeps. Judy proofreads, corrects the drafts and suggests changes. These reports are written so, in later years, we can relive our adventures aboard Pooh Bear. Over the years the mailing list has grown quite large. I suspect some recipients wonder why they are still receiving them. If this includes you, please, please let me know so I can correct my mailing list. To others, if you are having trouble receiving the reports, let me know and I will see if I can correct the problem. Enjoy & Thanks. End of PB Rpt 2003-11, Back Across the North Sea.doc Bob & Judy Bailey (aboard s/y Pooh Bear in St. Katharine Haven, London, England)