Ecologbook: To Vlieland we go!

Musical afternoon 12 miles offshore (well, not quite)

Leaving a bit before noon because I had misjudged the tide a bit and should have left 2h before that… Still never mind, at least the sailing was all right: I managed to leave the Elbe close-hauled while the tide was pushing me. Once properly at sea, I found a nice lane between the TSS (big shipping lane) and the inshore traffic, where I was more or less alone and away from any danger.

When it was all settled there and the boat was stirring alright on her own, I prepared some food, ate and then settle for a bit of music, for once I took out the Nerdy Gurdy. Since then, I've heard from a shipmate on Tukker (more on that in another chapter), that this instrument should only be played 12 miles offshore, following the same protocol as sceptic tank disposal… Still, I enjoy playing even if I can't play gurdy (yet) and the time went bye quickly. The boat was making good speed and the autopilot was suffering a bit, but not overly.

I was not the only one enjoying the weather and the tide.

For an hour or two, I sailed in company with this sailboat.

A small cargo boat… The size of those things…

Downwind, no one on the horizon, the perfect conditions to break out the Gurdy and make noise!

Sunset and the crew-of-one watch system

As the afternoon turned slowly into the evening, the wind picked up and became more gusty, so I took one reef at first and furled up a bit of the genua. This helped the autopilot quite some. I was going downwind, a bit past the broad reach point, and with the sea starting to build up it started to be a bit rocky onboard.

When night fall and things got a bit windier, I took a second reef in the mainsail and gradually furled the genua until finally furling it entirely. It was not helping much speed-wise, and it was violently shaking when the mainsail was “stealing” the genua's wind. So there I was as night fell completely, under mainsail only going 5 KTS, with waves coming from the stern made all the more impressive by the moonless night.

Yet after an hour or two, I got used to the ship's motion and was quite happily alone with traffic visible far on my starboard and the land on the port side. So I set about to get some rest. After a few attempts at napping I started to properly relaxed and to sleep for short spans of 15-20 min, and a bit later when there was really nothing around at all I extended those naps to 30 min. In between I would check that all was OK on deck, that the autopilot was still happy and not overwhelmed by the waves, that there really was still nothing around at all and then back to sleep. Overall, it was quite nice and relaxing. I spent some of my naps in the cockpit, some of them in the cabin (still dressed obviously, with the VHF on, ready to go out if need be).

The sight on the horizon lighting up behind me as the sun crept up behind the horizon and then started to show itself was incredible.

Properly time to say goodbye to the sun.

6am, the sun starts to light up the horizon behind me! The night is almost over!

Surf, surf, surf

With the sun and the beautiful weather (and the still strong wind and waves), I took some time to make myself a good breakfast before putting on more sails and starting to stir manually so I would be able to surf on the waves. Instead of going fully downwind like I had for most of the night, I started to angle the boat a bit so the genua would always draw nicely (broad reach). Elvira loves a nice wave, and she was more than happy to glide up and down. As a matter of fact, we catch up and then left far in the rearview mirror two modern sailing cruisers. They caught up with me in the end when I went to Vlieland the safe way and went around the shallow water, while they went across and reached the harbour more or less at the same time as I did. I was a bit livid to have been caught up like that, but never mind, I was still really happy to have made that much distance on my own.

The arrival in the harbour was quite funny though. I was standing on the cockpit bench trying to see how the marina was organised while my big Swedish flag was floating in the breeze behind me. Many of the people in the marina were pointing me to spots I could moor to. But I had my eyes set on one that was really easy to get in, right ahead of me, I could slowly drift towards it and not think about it too much. Perfect!

Funnily enough, the neighbours on one side were a couple of Dutch who'd also sailed a long time: they'd sailed a bit more than 48h from Scotland!