Passage from Bermuda to Antigua….big waves and 18-25 knot winds the entire time for 7 full days. Such a sailing adventure! The most common phrase onboard… “I love you. I don’t love this.” referring to the uncomfortable passage.

-We got through it…..ONE day at a time….only losing use of our GPS which displayed AIS (receiving) and one lazy jack line became loose which created a small hole in our sail cover. We ended up with salty water in our tanks due to a missing ‘O’ ring on the water plug (allowing splashing waves to seep into the fresh water). No worries, we had 5 gallons of water in a collapsable jug onboard for this very scenario.

–December 25th was a squally squally Christmas, on the 19th latitude. I blasted the Christmas tunes and we created our own lyrics ensuring to include some version of the word ‘squall’ in every new and improved rendition.

-Friday brought on squalls all night and strong winds in the morning ranging from 26-29 for the better part of the day. Moving around the boat still remained a challenge as each move required precise timing of the boat lunging, you shifting your weight whilst maintaining three forms of contact. As Mike put it, every step through the boat was a new climbing move.

And as uncomfortable of a passage BDA to ANU was….. the entire time there was a little Kirsten in me yelling “Right On! Rock On!!!” I’m so proud of what we’ve accomplished and how I handled those lonesome dark scary night watches, how well Mike was as a captain, how well we worked together, and how bomber Gaia prevailed throughout the bounding waves. I’ve pushed myself outside of my comfort zone, I’ve traveled, hiked, biked, and worked my weary wits through endless nights but this passage takes the cake. When you’re outside the safety of the 300 nm zone of the  Coast Guard, there’s no room for quitting. Our endurance and strength both physical and mental was tested and we passed with flying colors.

We left at sunset from Moorhead City, NC on Monday November 30th. I was on watch when we approached the Gulf Stream but through the dark couldn’t see it coming. Once we were in it, WOW, you felt it! The whole ocean turned into a washing machine with pyramid like waves sloshing about the boat. Mike was in the V-birth trying to get some zzzz’s and quickly poked his head up to see what the commotion was. From this point forward sleeping in the V-birth was like trying to sleep on a rollercoaster.

Once you’re out at sea away from shipping channels, all you need is a trustworthy autopilot (kinda like an R2D2 sidekick), GPS, good foulies, and a hot bowl of ramen noodles every so often. All day long all you see is ocean, you wake up you sail and you fall asleep to it. The first 36 hours were bouncy and tested our sea legs. I was surprised the absence of land never phased me. It didn’t really occur that I hadn’t seen land in a few days until I started a countdown to our expected landfall in Bermuda.

I no longer thought in days… it was watches. We aimed for 4 hours on, 4 hours off but since we were “only” out at sea for about 4 days… it was far more fluid and flexible. I wasn’t sure when to brush my teeth. And I don’t think I really changed my clothes.
I didn’t shower. But life was overall good.

We had a bit of a scare on Thursday when we radioed via SSB into our weather router Chris Parker. He mentioned we should be weary of squalls all day and to keep our sails conservative. We were on watch but managed to outrun the squall front. We hit a few squalls, of course, at night and saw winds wail up to 36 knots andseas up to 17 feet. Chris described most of our passage as ” well…. it’ll be….. (pause)….sporty”. Of all the subscribed vessels we listened into, we were by far the least risk averse vessel. We could also tell Chris thought us to be a bit cavalier by his responses from time to time like when he started one mornings weather read-out with: “So last night must have been bumpy.”

Before I continue, I need to extoll Chris Parker & his services for a moment. Chris Parker is a weather reading machine! He reads and interprets weather data from multiple sources for the Caribbean and Eastern US seaboard and for a fee you can call into/transmit via SSB on an established Chris Parker station at particular times depending on where you’re located. So at 7:30 AM each day he reads the weather for the Bahamas/ Caribbean Sea/ West Indies and receives requests on SSB radio for particular clients heading to their next port. Once he finishes the overall forecast he allows for subscribed vessels to hail him. At that point it’s a bit of a free for all. For example, we would hail in transmitting as “ Gaia” and if he heard you, he’d respond. “I heard a Gaia. Go ahead Gaia.” And we would respond with a general “Good Morning Chris, here’s our position…” provide the current lat. and long. and destination.He’d pull up the info on your vessel and crew and passage and let you know of the weather expected and advise you how to sail, and direction. Once we felt secure on the days agenda we’d respond with “Copy that. That’s a good read. Over” And Chris would await the next vessel to hail him.

Friday morning, day of our expected land fall… I literally counted down in 30 minute increments how long it would take to arrive as far out as 5 hours…. Every 15 minutes I’d recalculate our expected landfall by checking our distance covered and speed ….. This lasted for 3 hours before I went a little stir crazy and just laid down to wait out the last 2 hours. Bermuda is fairly flat so you don’t see land easily upon initial approach. We knew extensive reefs stretched out as far as 10 miles East from Bermuda. Thankfully Bermuda marks this with a lighthouse. When I spotted the faintest line of a lighthouse in the distance I said it in such disbelief I didn’t even believe it when Mike said it outloud as well. We passed the lighthouse at a conservative distance on our starboard. What’s even more peculiar is how excited I was when I saw a large “stick” protruding out of the water denoting the Northern part of the shoals….

Soon our depth sounder was able to finally read the depths again and with the shallower depths of 100 and 50 and 30 feet came the Bermudian coast and respective clear blue waters. We made it this far with nothing breaking…. And then we had trouble with a line caught on the backstay, we needed the mooring poll to grab the flailing entangled line. Instead of going around the dodger to grab the poll, which resided midship, I decided to safely go below and come up by the mid-companionway…. I heaved the hatch of the companionway open just as the boat gave a great lurch causing the hatch to fling open, crushing three of my fingers in the hatch. I cursed, and cursed some more before gingerly collecting the boat poll and dropping it at Mikes feet in the cockpit. He looked down unsure of the situation… I told him to give me ten minutes and that I’d pinched my fingers badly. After icing my fingers I decided it probably wasn’t broken just hurt a lot but kept referring to my “broken fingers” for the sympathy card. 😉 (joking.)

We motored through the narrow inlet into the well-protected harbor of St. George and slowly made our way to the customs dock. Myself at the helm (one handed) and Mike on the lines, we were hoping someone could help us wrangle Gaia onto the customs dock…. Sure enough, who else but Melissa-friggin- Kalicin from Boston just happened to be standing right there to catch our stern line. What a great way to be greeted!!! We walked to customs and sure enough, our “walk” was a drunken stumble without the drink. Great Scott! For the first time in 96 hours, everything beneath our feet was stable! My feet fumbled against my ankles or stubbed the ground. It was all more entertaining than nauseating. On the other hand, trying to concentrate and write your name and passport info into little immigration forms was just nauseating. After we were legal…. We stumbled straight to the White Horse Pub and chowed down on a real meal. Thus perfectly ending my first blue water sailing experience.

I learned long ago not to overthink life. It’s not worth the headache and in the end you’ll be sitting on the dock for an eternity thinking through all the ‘what if’s’. Don’t get me wrong, safety and preparation are absolutely paramount. I believe in safety plans, drills, studying forecasts, and being realistic about sailing capabilities but it comes to a point where you’re either willing or not willing to accept the fact that ‘no, you’re NOT in complete control, mother nature is’. Once you pull up the anchor and point the boat out to sea; it’s you, the boat, and ocean.

Mike has sailed from St. Thomas to Bermuda (solo) and from Bermuda to Cape Cod. He’s also delivered boats across the gulf stream and experienced gale winds (although the Captain on board called it a baby gale). Mike is a strong sailor and handy engineer. I, I’ve done a lot of my sailing around the protected coast near Boston, MA. I can handle sailing Gaia solo but I am susceptible to light seasickness. I can see how Mike was okay with going out to sea for 4-6 days….. but me…. What was I thinking?

Well firstly, I’m pragmatic. I don’t think I’m afraid as in terrified, but I am concerned and understanding of the WCSs (Worst Case Scenarios). Mike and I share a respect for nature. We’ve both experienced our share of howling winds that knock you down while hiking Mt. Washington, we’ve both been clipped into the side of a rockface hundreds of feet up from ground. Hiking, sailing, and climbing in particular can be sobering and it’s not a sport to jump into with little more than an afterthought. Strategy, knowledge of your gear, contingency plans, and an awareness of changing landscape are ‘must haves’. This is how I approached the 630 nautical mile sail to Bermuda. Of course I was worried, but I know I’m tough, I trust my captain, and I know I trust my boat. And one last thing, I’m the adventurous type. Leading up to the day prior to departure I’d have sudden ‘realizations’ that I’d be sailing into the ocean blue for 4-6 days and it’s like a firework in my heart. I’d start grinning, my eyes would widen, and I’d shake my head in disbelief that I would actually be able to complete something so……. Rad.

Here’s to all the fireworks that have gone off in the hearts of my fellow hikers, climbers, and sailors.

And here’s to a safe passage.