Tapatya and Alanouwoly - Menorca to Sardinia; Passage Notes
We had been scrutinising the various forecast models on PredictWind for several weeks, trying to find the “weather window” for our crossing of, in the broader sense, the Gulf of Lion, from Menorca in the Spanish Balearic Islands to either Corsica or Sardinia in the east. Hazel, on Alanouwoly, had arranged for a crew member to join her as an extra pair of hands for the crossing, but sadly, the week that Éanna was with us just didn’t produce the forecast we were hoping for, so, all too soon, it was time for him to catch his rearranged flight and leave us again, having only managed a bit of sailing around Mallorca (along with a few excellent excursions ashore!)
Eventually, the forecast began looking hopeful; we could take a calm day to motor across to Menorca, anchor up there on the lee side of the island to shelter from a couple of days of blowy stuff and then possibly, just possibly, catch a 3 day window for the crossing.
Eventually, the forecast began looking hopeful; we could take a calm day to motor across to Menorca, anchor up there on the lee side of the island to shelter from a couple of days of blowy stuff and then possibly, just possibly, catch a 3 day window for the crossing.
Tapatya sailing off Mallorca
The crossing to Menorca went smoothly, although, when we arrived, there was an uncomfortable swell running into all of the anchorages along the south side of the island. All of the little coves were full of boats rolling to their beam ends as the waves pounded straight in there. We opted to anchor off the beach at Binigaus, where there was at least plenty of room to drop the hook in the good holding of the sandy bottom there. Luckily for me, one of Tapatya’s great advantages is that she rarely rolls at anchor, and so, I, at least, had a good night’s sleep!
We stayed there for 3 nights, checking the forecast every few hours, despite it only being updated twice a day. And the window looked positive. We could leave on Thursday, waiting until 09:00 to weigh anchor to give the wind around the eastern point of Menorca time to settle down. We would then have a forecast 3 days of light breezes to make our crossing. Day two looked to be a lovely sailing breeze, possibly even on a run, depending on which forecast model you were going by, and day four, should it be needed, still looked light until late in that day. We were good to go!
So, at 09:00 on Thursday 31st July, we heaved our well dug in anchors out of the Menorcan sand and headed southeast along the southern coast of Menorca, raising sail straight away and enjoying a delightful offshore breeze pushing us at 4 to 5, and sometimes even 6 knots towards our goal
We stayed there for 3 nights, checking the forecast every few hours, despite it only being updated twice a day. And the window looked positive. We could leave on Thursday, waiting until 09:00 to weigh anchor to give the wind around the eastern point of Menorca time to settle down. We would then have a forecast 3 days of light breezes to make our crossing. Day two looked to be a lovely sailing breeze, possibly even on a run, depending on which forecast model you were going by, and day four, should it be needed, still looked light until late in that day. We were good to go!
So, at 09:00 on Thursday 31st July, we heaved our well dug in anchors out of the Menorcan sand and headed southeast along the southern coast of Menorca, raising sail straight away and enjoying a delightful offshore breeze pushing us at 4 to 5, and sometimes even 6 knots towards our goal
Hazel looking relaxed
Reaching Punta na Fonda and crossing to Isla del Aire off the eastern end of Menorca, the wind became light and progress slowed, and shortly after clearing the island, it was so light that we felt it necessary to start up our respective 10 and 15 hp of diesel-fired propulsion. And so we encountered our first little problem on this trip. Despite having started perfectly in the morning when she was raising anchor, Alanouwoly’s engine now refused to even attempt to turn over, let alone provide any forwards thrust. In another issue that we were actually aware of, Hazel was having issues with her VHF communications. About a year ago, she had purchased a Standard Horizon handheld VHF radio so that she could communicate easily while on the helm - the built-in handset doesn’t reach that far. However, despite being only about a year old, this marvellous piece of modern, supposedly waterproof, technology now refuses to accept any charge or even react in any way, shape or form. To add to that, her fixed VHF clearly has an issue with the antennae cable connection (you can hear the cable slapping about in the mast; I dare say the upper connection has worked loose). The result of this is that she currently has a functioning VHF range of about 500 metres! (And yes, repairing this is now a priority!)
Luckily, we still had phone reception. Hazel called me and explained the non-starting engine situation. She continued sailing slowly, while I motored in closer, getting within her limited VHF range. We then conducted a thorough fault finding exercise on the engine wiring, tracing voltages, running some temporary wires to bypass possible issues, and of course, bridging the solenoid with a trusty screwdriver. The outcome was that I became convinced (and still am) that the starter motor had died. Alanouwoly’s Yanmar 2QM15 engine is equipped with a starting handle to hand crank start it, but we had never tried or practised this and, although Hazel tried valiantly, she was unable to hand start the engine. There was no way she would be able to use the engine until we could replace the starter motor, and she didn’t have a spare on board. However, as is her nature, Hazel was determined to continue, so continue we did; very slowly in the faintest of breezes.
As dusk was dusking that first day, the wind dropped even below that faintest of breezes and the decision was made to tow Alanouwoly. I prepared a floating line fixed to Tapatya’s aft cleat via the starboard aft fairlead, motored alongside and tossed the other end to Hazel who was standing midships. She quickly gathered the line in and made it fast to her forward cleat and I motored Tapatya gently forward to take up the slack. And so began the first night of our crossing. Initially, some residual waves were running and Tapatya’s mighty 10hp Volvo Penta engine could move the two boats at some 2.5 knots (at the 2100 rpm that I like to run her at - this is the point of maximum torque; according to the power curve, she’s generating about 7.5 hp at these revs).
Luckily, we still had phone reception. Hazel called me and explained the non-starting engine situation. She continued sailing slowly, while I motored in closer, getting within her limited VHF range. We then conducted a thorough fault finding exercise on the engine wiring, tracing voltages, running some temporary wires to bypass possible issues, and of course, bridging the solenoid with a trusty screwdriver. The outcome was that I became convinced (and still am) that the starter motor had died. Alanouwoly’s Yanmar 2QM15 engine is equipped with a starting handle to hand crank start it, but we had never tried or practised this and, although Hazel tried valiantly, she was unable to hand start the engine. There was no way she would be able to use the engine until we could replace the starter motor, and she didn’t have a spare on board. However, as is her nature, Hazel was determined to continue, so continue we did; very slowly in the faintest of breezes.
As dusk was dusking that first day, the wind dropped even below that faintest of breezes and the decision was made to tow Alanouwoly. I prepared a floating line fixed to Tapatya’s aft cleat via the starboard aft fairlead, motored alongside and tossed the other end to Hazel who was standing midships. She quickly gathered the line in and made it fast to her forward cleat and I motored Tapatya gently forward to take up the slack. And so began the first night of our crossing. Initially, some residual waves were running and Tapatya’s mighty 10hp Volvo Penta engine could move the two boats at some 2.5 knots (at the 2100 rpm that I like to run her at - this is the point of maximum torque; according to the power curve, she’s generating about 7.5 hp at these revs).
Alanouwoly under tow
However, as the night wore on and the seas flattened, we picked up speed to a heady 3.7 (or so) knots. Over the 8 hours that we towed, we progressed forwards by 24 miles, ie, an average of 3 knots.
We learnt another thing during this night of towing. Whilst Tapatya, as the towing vessel, could be steered by my Pelagic tiller pilot (imaginatively named TP by me), enabling me to get below for some 20 minute horizontal shut-eye times, Hazel’s much more imaginatively-named Raymarine autopilot “Greg” couldn’t be relied upon to steer Alanouwoly as she was being towed. Consequently, Hazel stood and hand-steered the entire night. Only just as first light was showing, did we work out that Alanouwoly’s wheel could be fixed with bungee chords, which would have allowed Hazel to also sleep a bit.
However, the night passed smoothly - only on one occasion did we have to manoeuvre to avoid a ship, but that was no big issue. Our slow progress, however, had inspired us to look at our destination options. When we’d set off, we already had a main destination of Porto Pollo on Corsica, with a back up destination of an anchorage just on the east side of the Passage dei Fornelli on Sardinia. We now identified another, nearer, option of Porto Conte on Sardinia and changed our course for this destination.
Morning came and a breeze was picking up. I was slightly concerned that if I had to tow Alanouwoly again at night, I might not have enough diesel on board to cover the increased consumption of towing. We arranged an at-sea fuel transfer. I turned up into the wind and put Tapatya into neutral. The tow line went slack and Hazel freed it from her forward cleat and quickly tied the bitter end around the handles of two fuel canisters. She lowered these gently into the sea and I pulled them with the tow rope over to Tapatya, where I lifted them on deck and proceeded to pour their contents into Tapatya’s fuel tank. Tank replenished, we raised sail, turned back on course and continued on our way.
We learnt another thing during this night of towing. Whilst Tapatya, as the towing vessel, could be steered by my Pelagic tiller pilot (imaginatively named TP by me), enabling me to get below for some 20 minute horizontal shut-eye times, Hazel’s much more imaginatively-named Raymarine autopilot “Greg” couldn’t be relied upon to steer Alanouwoly as she was being towed. Consequently, Hazel stood and hand-steered the entire night. Only just as first light was showing, did we work out that Alanouwoly’s wheel could be fixed with bungee chords, which would have allowed Hazel to also sleep a bit.
However, the night passed smoothly - only on one occasion did we have to manoeuvre to avoid a ship, but that was no big issue. Our slow progress, however, had inspired us to look at our destination options. When we’d set off, we already had a main destination of Porto Pollo on Corsica, with a back up destination of an anchorage just on the east side of the Passage dei Fornelli on Sardinia. We now identified another, nearer, option of Porto Conte on Sardinia and changed our course for this destination.
Morning came and a breeze was picking up. I was slightly concerned that if I had to tow Alanouwoly again at night, I might not have enough diesel on board to cover the increased consumption of towing. We arranged an at-sea fuel transfer. I turned up into the wind and put Tapatya into neutral. The tow line went slack and Hazel freed it from her forward cleat and quickly tied the bitter end around the handles of two fuel canisters. She lowered these gently into the sea and I pulled them with the tow rope over to Tapatya, where I lifted them on deck and proceeded to pour their contents into Tapatya’s fuel tank. Tank replenished, we raised sail, turned back on course and continued on our way.
Fuel transfer at sea
Day two, and indeed night two, were wonderful. We had an ideal sailing breeze all day and all of the night (to borrow a phrase from the Kinks); our respective autopilots steered us steadily forwards and we were both able to take a nap or two. Come nightfall, we sailed within comfortable distance of each other, enabling VHF communication, and we alternated 20 minute watches while the other one of us had 20 minutes of lying down in the hope of sleeping, which, remarkably, sometimes even occurred. Our excellent progress that day made us change our destination plans back to Corsica and Porto Pollo.
The sunrise of day three brought a sky that was all too red for my liking. I hoped it was just giving us a pretty show to start the day, but the old saying of sailor’s warnings was hard to dismiss. The breeze picked up and, within the hour, we were sailing, on our course for Corsica, on a beam reach in 20 knots of wind and building seas. They built and built and the gusts were getting stronger. The 8mm stainless pin that holds TP to Tapatya broke (I have a lanyard that prevents TP falling into the sea for such events) and I had to take the tiller. The thought of hand steering in these conditions all day and through the next night to Corsica didn’t exactly fill me with glee!
The sunrise of day three brought a sky that was all too red for my liking. I hoped it was just giving us a pretty show to start the day, but the old saying of sailor’s warnings was hard to dismiss. The breeze picked up and, within the hour, we were sailing, on our course for Corsica, on a beam reach in 20 knots of wind and building seas. They built and built and the gusts were getting stronger. The 8mm stainless pin that holds TP to Tapatya broke (I have a lanyard that prevents TP falling into the sea for such events) and I had to take the tiller. The thought of hand steering in these conditions all day and through the next night to Corsica didn’t exactly fill me with glee!
It's getting lively
Hazel called me on the VHF. She was also starting to doubt our destination plans and suggested changing to the northern Sardinia anchorage, which would put us on a much more downwind course. I didn’t like the idea of transiting the Passage dei Fornelli in these conditions and suggested Porto Conte once more, pretty much dead downwind from our current location. We agreed and Hazel suggested turning into the wind and seas while I attempted to replace the broken pin on Tapatya’s tiller pilot.
This we did, resulting in a bumpy, but not rolly, twenty minutes while I delved into my tool and spare parts lockers, removed the broken pin pieces and fitted a new outer pin to TP. Once complete, we turned downwind into the relative ease that reduced apparent wind brings and had a rolly ride in a summer Mistral, reefed down to only one sail of four panels, and with a functioning TP on the helm.
The wind blew all day and we rolled all day, the most Tapatya has ever rolled, At one point some books flew off the book shelf and a large tomato didn’t survive it’s escape from my freshies net, but, as we approached Capo Caccia to make our turn into Porto Conte, conditions eased and we rounded the point in relatively friendly waters. Once around the cape, the world changed and we had a gentle beam wind sail on mill pond flat waters up to the anchorage at the top of the bay. Hazel sailed to anchor and we dropped our hooks at dusk in the calm of Porto Conte, Sardinia. It was time for an anchor beer and a good sleep!
This we did, resulting in a bumpy, but not rolly, twenty minutes while I delved into my tool and spare parts lockers, removed the broken pin pieces and fitted a new outer pin to TP. Once complete, we turned downwind into the relative ease that reduced apparent wind brings and had a rolly ride in a summer Mistral, reefed down to only one sail of four panels, and with a functioning TP on the helm.
The wind blew all day and we rolled all day, the most Tapatya has ever rolled, At one point some books flew off the book shelf and a large tomato didn’t survive it’s escape from my freshies net, but, as we approached Capo Caccia to make our turn into Porto Conte, conditions eased and we rounded the point in relatively friendly waters. Once around the cape, the world changed and we had a gentle beam wind sail on mill pond flat waters up to the anchorage at the top of the bay. Hazel sailed to anchor and we dropped our hooks at dusk in the calm of Porto Conte, Sardinia. It was time for an anchor beer and a good sleep!
Sailing into Porto Conte
