Aug. 1996.  We finally arrived in Falmouth, England.  Carl is climbing the stairs of Pendennis Castle near Falmouth.  

Aug 1996.  ​After three weeks of island hopping in the Azores, we gathered enough resolve to again tune Herb in to check on the Atlantic’s mood.  We still felt the sting of our Bermuda departure, but we took the plunge when a gap appeared between weather systems.  This time it worked.  Except for two sail problems that we were able to solve, we had a fast, uneventful twelve-day sail to England--Wednesday, August 7 to Monday August 19th.  But that’s not how it’s supposed to be, so each day, we wondered if it would be the day it all changed.  Constant anticipation of bad things to come prevented us from really enjoying the trip until we were in the English Channel.  Then we both believed we had little to lose in agreeing out loud that it had been one of our best passages.

 

Hero Carl rescues the Genoa halyard by using a net bag to snag the broken snap shackle.  Saved the day!!

July 1996.  A few things we noticed as we made our way across the Atlantic:

​There were days when we saw nothing in the water between Bermuda and Azores.  No wildlife, no ships.  It was the loneliest expanse of water we’ve experienced.
 
In contrast, the water around the Azores teamed with life.  Many birds, several varieties of dolphin swimming in large pods, whales, seemingly limitless fish, freighters, fishing, and research vessels.
 
Phosphorescence was very bright most of the way across.  Its fluorescent green color lit the black water at night as if someone had flipped a switch.  One night I looked over the side when I thought I saw something.  I heard the familiar blow and then saw a streak.  I stood up, and we were surrounded by streaks.  They reminded me of the vapor trail left during a shuttle launch.  For minutes 10 to 15 dolphins entertained me as they drew lines and tight donut-like circles in the water.  One display made me say ‘wow’ out loud.  It was as if they met under the boat and, on cue, streaked away, putting Bijou in the center of a starburst.  It was the best light show I’d ever seen.

June 1996.  Furious preparations began, followed by a grueling month with Bijou hiked up on land in a boat yard.  In the end, we hoped Bijou was ready.  Personally, I believe she hoped we were ready.
 
After a couple of weeks floating on the Chesapeake testing things and doing final adjustments, we passed through the Chesapeake Bridge/Tunnel on June 14 and headed East.  The six-day trip to Bermuda was the best it could be.  We dodged several thunderstorms and bounced over the gulf stream, but the weather, for that area, was settled, with favorable light winds.  We considered it a great trip and felt lucky to experience such a successful first leg of our journey.  At the other end, pastel pink and turquoise Bermuda welcomed us.  Too bad we couldn’t enjoy it.  The vast expanse of water between us and our destination across the pond kept diverting our attention. 

Being an island, everything was more expensive than we were used to.  We wanted a few things done, like laundry, fueling up, filling our water tanks, and keeping the food supplies stocked. Most importantly we wanted to be ready to leave at a moment's notice.
 
We watched weather patterns and listened to Herb, a Canadian that connects dozens of boats in the Caribbean and transiting the Atlantic with current weather information.  Six days after arriving in Bermuda, we thought we had a good window.  Knowing we hadn’t done Bermuda justice, we hauled anchor on June 26th and sailed away under bright blue skies and gentle favorable winds.

The Atlantic challenged us for the next 22 days. 

After only twelve hours after we hauled anchor, a low-pressure area we thought was weakening regained its strength and joined another low that came barreling off the east coast of the U.S.  The wind shifted and increased, acting like a sparing partner.  We fought for every mile for nine days as gale after gale tore off the east coast and tracked north of us.
 
Knowing the Atlantic can get pretty ornery, and that this was just a little ruffle, we fought down those niggling thoughts of our foolishness and focused only on the next watch and the idea so appropriate for both good times and bad, ‘this too shall pass.'
 
Eventually, the shriek of the wind playing on the rigging; the pounding that made me think of eggshells when I pictured Bijou’s hull as all that protected us from the fury; the rain; the leaks; and the lack of sleep that drove me to look up ‘ordeal’ in the dictionary were replaced by the romantic sounds of sailing.  The gentle whoosh of water racing by the hull, the gurgle of the rudder and Monitor as they kept us on course, the squeak of lines tightening, and the gentle slat of the sails as the breeze filled and spilled from them brought on passage amnesia.  The violent, sickening motion was replaced by the gentle rock that lulled us to sleep unless we had something engaging to do while on watch.
 
After twenty-two days at sea, we pulled into the Azores, all showered and shaved.  Bijou was spic and span, except for cleaning up after the leaks.  We basked in the friendliness and European flavor of the islands that make up the Azores.  It was so appealing that we considered staying there for the winter.  Wonder if that idea had anything to do with the passage we’d just completed and the notorious passage to England we still had in front of us?​

July 1996.  Horta on Faial is a popular cruising haven in the Azores off the coast of Portugal.  The cement pier and walls near the harbor are famous because of the skippers and crews who have painted their ship's mark there. Doing that helps to ensure safe passage. Wonderful place. Bijou's mark is there, and we wonder if it still is??