Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
was to disconnect both radio antennae, and as an extra precaution, I would always turn off
the boat's batteries. A lightning strike would fry the radios.
The large amounts of fresh rainwater would wash Déjà vu's decks clear of all salt water,
and consequently the decks would remain pleasantly dry after the rain had dried up. Salt,
being a crystal, would attract moisture, and things that had saltwater on them never seemed
to dry properly. There is absolutely nothing worse to a sailor than salt water on his bunk.
Nothing! Having salt free decks would allow one the pleasure of stretching out in the cock-
pit or the decks, night or day, without collecting salt on any clothing or towels or cushions.
It was all nice and dry. It was also such a luxury to have the freedom to open all the ports
and hatches and have fresh air cleansing and drying out the insides of the boat. There was
little danger of any waves dropping in down below unannounced. Well, almost.
For days we drifted along like a little leaf on a calm lake. We would be entertained by a
pod of whales or porpoises, and one night we both distinctly heard an engine but could
not see anything. A little disquieting! Twice a day we did the navigational routine. I would
hand Gavin the pad of note paper and a pencil and my digital quartz crystal watch which
I checked constantly on the SSB radio time check. I would have my trusted 1932 Weems
and Plaith sextant with a safety line attached around my neck. This was one toy that Pos-
eidon wasn't having. Depending on the weather, I usually made my way up on the coach
roof where the dinghy was lashed, just below the mainsail. On top of the dinghy I would sit
and start sweeping a large arc across the horizon. Back and forth I would swing the sextant,
lowering the sun's reflected image until it just kissed the fine horizon line. I would then
yell to Gavin at the exact moment, “OK!” He would answer, “Right!” We would repeat this
process three times, and I would get a mean average of these sights. Gavin usually always
had a cartoon drawing for me to smile at when I went to the chart table to work out the
sight.
I am actually very happy that the GPS system wasn't around when I was navigating. It was
one of the hardest things I have ever learnt but one that afforded me so much pleasure and
satisfaction. Of course, satellite navigation is instantly accurate, but gone are the romantic
challenging days of celestial wizardry and satisfying, complex mathematics.
Twice a day I would take sun sights. The morning sight gave me a position line but not a
definite fix. The noonday sight gave me the fix and a fairly accurate position, to within a
mile or three, which out there was all we really needed. Coastal navigation could be much
more accurate and needed to be more accurate, but a whole new set of rules applied on the
coast.
Our navigation was telling us that there was a strong, counter-equatorial current influencing
our passage. We tried to counteract this effect but to little avail. We were being swept along
