final preparations for sailing, some much needed fine turing
on Mrs Perkins (our loved generator who has been going through
menopause for some time) and the chance to have time to share with
our many friends that we so rarely get to see.
The late October gales whipped and tore Xplore at the side of the commercial
wharf, for 2 weeks we didn't see winds less than 25 knots,for 4 days it
didn't get below 35 knots, and peaked at 66 knots and remained over 55 knots
for 6 hours (the Falklands has an annual average wind speed of 17 knots)
But even though we were grit blasted with rust from the commercial
wharf we were in the safest place that Stanley can offer sailors
and their boats, a sad state to the once renowned maritime history
of the place which once recorded the port as being the busiest in
the world in the late 1800's where in one year they had 777 ships
visit,now days you are lucky to tie your dinghy up with out it
being destroyed.
Stanley harbour is just littered with decaying, crumpled remains,
of tall ships and the docks, from east to west there is that deathly
feeling there to remind you that if you stay too long you will
become the same way.
Our client for this years South Georgia adventure arrived late on
Saturday,jet lagged but excited, we traveled the dusty road to
Stanley at dusk. Otto and Mischa had both visited the Falklands
before, as avid bird watchers the Falklands excels itself as one
of the great bird locations of the world, but for Murray and
Rebecca this was their first time, eyes wide open and lots of
questions.
The forecast for departure was mixed, we either took our chances of
luck and departed that night with a tired bunch, and a mixed bag of
weather looming above our heads, as skipper I was uneasy with this,
even if we had a crack team of sailors, I chose to stay over night
and get fresh weather information in the morning, and let the team sleep.
Dawn breaks early this far south, at 4 am I sat at the computer and
the weather wasn't looking any better, if not more confusing as the
satellite image and the GRIB files were strange ( GRIB means girded
reference in binary code, digital weather data that gives prognostic
forecast)
There was a small but intensifying low pressure cell to the NNW
of the Falklands and it looked stubborn, if we left now it was
a 50 / 50 chance of a favorable wind direction.
By midday that had changed to 30 / 70 chance of favorable, and by
1800 it was 0 chance, what had looked touch and go turned out to
be an easterly gale, diffidently not what anyone needs to go to
South Georgia.
Though we were held in port for 24 hours, the time was still well used,
safety briefings, getting to know the boat and some time to walk and see
Stanley before the 700 nautical mile crossing to South Georgia.
Grey Monday morning came, and by 10 am the sun was starting to
break through the clouds, as the winds eased from the SE and
shifted into the south, the sign I had been waiting for.
A lumpy sea greeted us at the heads, and everyone knew that it was
going to be a washing machine out side, The sailing was fast, but
the stomachs weren't so strong, the rough conditions put half the
team into their bunks pretty fast, the best place to be.
In the first 24 hours we traveled 201 nautical miles, now as I write it
will be 304 miles in 36 hours, the pace is fast and the wait for the
extra day has paid off with cold icy winds of the SW pushing us fast
to the animal paradise of the southern ocean.
Stephen
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