The following is the maiden voyage of the Stella Maris first from my perspective and then written by Veronica from her perspective:
Dec. 21, 2013
I got the call from the agent that I had to fax over my signed paper work and everything was good to go. I had what I wanted, full insurance, and all for one third of the price of anyone else! If I didn't get it today, I would most likely have to wait until after Christmas and the New Year and wouldn't be able to go anywhere because I was due back at work on the 13th of January. I faxed what was needed and ran down to the boat to be on the way. We had a hour of sun light and the correct tide in about an hour to make it under the highway bridge that was 55ft, while my mast is about 56 ft. Guess I should actually measure that to be sure. I told Veronica that we were leaving and get the boat ready. I don't think she realized that we were leaving right now. My father had planned a vacation and was meeting us in Charleston the next day. We were a little behind schedule and still in Wilmington, about a 30 hour sail away.
We picked up our lines and made our way down the river, getting a feel for the boat. We made it through the first lift bridge for the rail road and then came the dreaded highway bridge. We were still about an hour before low tide and the current was running about 1 knot or so. The tide gauge on the bridge read over 60 feet so I made the decision that everything was okay to make it under. I was so nervous. I went as slow as I could. I bet the people driving over thought we were going to run right into the bridge. We got close and started our way under. The antennae on the top of the mast for the VHF pinged off every girder on the way under. I kept sinking lower and lower, as if that would make the mast shorter. I was ready to duck down in the cockpit in case the mast decided to crashing down on top of me. I made Veronica go up forward to look out and be out of the way of the mast if it did come down. It was such a relief when we made it under! We docked at the downtown Wilmington docks for the night and made some dinner. The local homeless decided to have a street concert that night and were banging on their drums and cans for who knows how long. We didn't get much sleep due to that and the excitement of the whole adventure.
The alarm went off at 4am to get an early start down the river with the right tide. It was pitch black and a little chilly to start out. I didn't have the chart plotter working yet and we were using paper charts and a hand held GPS to "Navi-guess" our way down the Cape Fear River in the dark. I quickly remembered all I had learned about navigating and it came back quickly. Veronica on the other hand, I don't think, had any idea what was going on and I was trying to get her up to speed and teach her as much as I could. We were headed offshore and I couldn't be up the whole time. She had to take the helm at some point. The auto-pilot would drift and not hold a course for me. We followed the channel down the river, flashing buoy by flashing buoy, and just after sun up a dense fog rolled in stopping us in our tracks. We stopped by a channel marker where we knew it was somewhat safe and got the fog horn out. I was hoping that we wouldn't be stuck there all day. It was some of the most dense fog I had ever been in. We sat at the channel marker for an hour or so until the fog burned off and continued on. The day was turning out to be a nice one...
We got out the cut around Oak Island and Bald Head Island. It was cool going past Southport and seeing all the places we explored on foot from the water. The light houses were cool to see too, but the focus was on the journey ahead of us. We still had an over night sail to get through. We decided to motor the whole way, as I was the first time on the boat and Veronica had little sailing experience.
We got far enough out to clear the shoals and set a course for Charleston. While out of the channel and on course it turned out to be a pleasant day with light winds and a gentle roll off the beam. We kept a log book every hour of our position and course and plotted our position on the chart. If all of the electronics decided died on us we would at least know our last position and could find our way from there or if something bad happened we could call for help.
We got about three hours offshore when the motor died on us. We lost sight of land and we moving along nicely and then, two sputters and nothing. Silence. Ut oh.... I run down below and switch the fuel filters over real quick, I have a dual Racor pre-filter with a change over valve. I ran back up and tried to start her back up. Nothing. Sounded like she wanted to for a second but wouldn't stay going. At this point I think that one of the fuel lines is clogged. I switch over the fuel tanks and try to bleed the filter housing by manually using the electric inline fuel pump that I have. Still getting nothing. I got back up top and tell Veronica what was going on. I decided to unroll the Genoa and start sailing. I told Veronica to hold course to Charleston, even though there was not much wind and we were barely moving. I went back down below to rectify the problem.
I started at the tank and started pulling fuel lines and sucking fuel through to make sure it was not clogged. Luckily I had a small vaccuum bleeder pump that is used to bleed brakes on cars and it worked great to suck fuel through the lines without making a mess or tasting diesel. No clog in the tank, no clog to the valve manifold. Nothing up to the filter housing...
"Pat come here! Look!" Veronica starts yelling!
I run up and look at what she is pointing at, thinking that something is going wrong. There is a pod of dolphins swimming with the boat. An awesome sight! I guess you have to stop and enjoy the surroundings sometime. Even though Veronica had us going in circles and when I got up, headed in the complete wrong direction. There was no wind and we were essentially drifting so it wasn't a big deal.
I went back down below to the mess I had made to get to all of the fuel lines. I had fuel up to the filter. I disconnected the fuel line after the filter and drew a vacuum. Nothing. No fuel was getting through the pre-filter. Hmm... I tried switching it over to the other one. Nothing. I knew there were both new, how could they be clogged already! I started to take apart the filter connections. I got fuel up to the three way valve, but nothing through it. I ended up taking the three-way valve apart and found that the spindle, which was made of plastic, was broken and the handle was unable to run it anymore. I guess when I went to switch over it got stuck in the "off" position and stayed that way. I took a screwdriver and set it to the new filter, bled the air out and the engine started right back up.
We were on our way again. One challenge down and only a delay of about 2 hours. The next challenge was the night time. It got dark as the sun set and there was no moon until about 3 am. It was dark. Keeping course by the compass, staying warm, and staying awake was a challenge. We traded off watches. I slept in the cockpit so Veronica would feel comfortable and could wake me if anything went wrong. We always had a life vest on and as soon as the sun went down were tethered to the boat at all times. It was an uneventful night, just tough to stay awake after a long day.
We arrived to the Charleston ship channel and navigated our way in. It is a pretty place to sail into going by the forts and the waterfront town. We made it to the marina, docked the boat, and passed out for a few hours. It was a great experience for both of us and I was really proud of how well Veronica handled the boat. She did a great job, really stepped up, and I would take her sailing anytime! I was happy with how the boat handled and can't wait to get to see how she sails with more sail up!
We met up with my father and explored Charleston for a few days. We then put Stella Maris through some more sea trials with the extra crew to help out. But that's for the next update....
I got the call from the agent that I had to fax over my signed paper work and everything was good to go. I had what I wanted, full insurance, and all for one third of the price of anyone else! If I didn't get it today, I would most likely have to wait until after Christmas and the New Year and wouldn't be able to go anywhere because I was due back at work on the 13th of January. I faxed what was needed and ran down to the boat to be on the way. We had a hour of sun light and the correct tide in about an hour to make it under the highway bridge that was 55ft, while my mast is about 56 ft. Guess I should actually measure that to be sure. I told Veronica that we were leaving and get the boat ready. I don't think she realized that we were leaving right now. My father had planned a vacation and was meeting us in Charleston the next day. We were a little behind schedule and still in Wilmington, about a 30 hour sail away.
We picked up our lines and made our way down the river, getting a feel for the boat. We made it through the first lift bridge for the rail road and then came the dreaded highway bridge. We were still about an hour before low tide and the current was running about 1 knot or so. The tide gauge on the bridge read over 60 feet so I made the decision that everything was okay to make it under. I was so nervous. I went as slow as I could. I bet the people driving over thought we were going to run right into the bridge. We got close and started our way under. The antennae on the top of the mast for the VHF pinged off every girder on the way under. I kept sinking lower and lower, as if that would make the mast shorter. I was ready to duck down in the cockpit in case the mast decided to crashing down on top of me. I made Veronica go up forward to look out and be out of the way of the mast if it did come down. It was such a relief when we made it under! We docked at the downtown Wilmington docks for the night and made some dinner. The local homeless decided to have a street concert that night and were banging on their drums and cans for who knows how long. We didn't get much sleep due to that and the excitement of the whole adventure.
The alarm went off at 4am to get an early start down the river with the right tide. It was pitch black and a little chilly to start out. I didn't have the chart plotter working yet and we were using paper charts and a hand held GPS to "Navi-guess" our way down the Cape Fear River in the dark. I quickly remembered all I had learned about navigating and it came back quickly. Veronica on the other hand, I don't think, had any idea what was going on and I was trying to get her up to speed and teach her as much as I could. We were headed offshore and I couldn't be up the whole time. She had to take the helm at some point. The auto-pilot would drift and not hold a course for me. We followed the channel down the river, flashing buoy by flashing buoy, and just after sun up a dense fog rolled in stopping us in our tracks. We stopped by a channel marker where we knew it was somewhat safe and got the fog horn out. I was hoping that we wouldn't be stuck there all day. It was some of the most dense fog I had ever been in. We sat at the channel marker for an hour or so until the fog burned off and continued on. The day was turning out to be a nice one...
We got out the cut around Oak Island and Bald Head Island. It was cool going past Southport and seeing all the places we explored on foot from the water. The light houses were cool to see too, but the focus was on the journey ahead of us. We still had an over night sail to get through. We decided to motor the whole way, as I was the first time on the boat and Veronica had little sailing experience.
We got far enough out to clear the shoals and set a course for Charleston. While out of the channel and on course it turned out to be a pleasant day with light winds and a gentle roll off the beam. We kept a log book every hour of our position and course and plotted our position on the chart. If all of the electronics decided died on us we would at least know our last position and could find our way from there or if something bad happened we could call for help.
We got about three hours offshore when the motor died on us. We lost sight of land and we moving along nicely and then, two sputters and nothing. Silence. Ut oh.... I run down below and switch the fuel filters over real quick, I have a dual Racor pre-filter with a change over valve. I ran back up and tried to start her back up. Nothing. Sounded like she wanted to for a second but wouldn't stay going. At this point I think that one of the fuel lines is clogged. I switch over the fuel tanks and try to bleed the filter housing by manually using the electric inline fuel pump that I have. Still getting nothing. I got back up top and tell Veronica what was going on. I decided to unroll the Genoa and start sailing. I told Veronica to hold course to Charleston, even though there was not much wind and we were barely moving. I went back down below to rectify the problem.
I started at the tank and started pulling fuel lines and sucking fuel through to make sure it was not clogged. Luckily I had a small vaccuum bleeder pump that is used to bleed brakes on cars and it worked great to suck fuel through the lines without making a mess or tasting diesel. No clog in the tank, no clog to the valve manifold. Nothing up to the filter housing...
"Pat come here! Look!" Veronica starts yelling!
I run up and look at what she is pointing at, thinking that something is going wrong. There is a pod of dolphins swimming with the boat. An awesome sight! I guess you have to stop and enjoy the surroundings sometime. Even though Veronica had us going in circles and when I got up, headed in the complete wrong direction. There was no wind and we were essentially drifting so it wasn't a big deal.
I went back down below to the mess I had made to get to all of the fuel lines. I had fuel up to the filter. I disconnected the fuel line after the filter and drew a vacuum. Nothing. No fuel was getting through the pre-filter. Hmm... I tried switching it over to the other one. Nothing. I knew there were both new, how could they be clogged already! I started to take apart the filter connections. I got fuel up to the three way valve, but nothing through it. I ended up taking the three-way valve apart and found that the spindle, which was made of plastic, was broken and the handle was unable to run it anymore. I guess when I went to switch over it got stuck in the "off" position and stayed that way. I took a screwdriver and set it to the new filter, bled the air out and the engine started right back up.
We were on our way again. One challenge down and only a delay of about 2 hours. The next challenge was the night time. It got dark as the sun set and there was no moon until about 3 am. It was dark. Keeping course by the compass, staying warm, and staying awake was a challenge. We traded off watches. I slept in the cockpit so Veronica would feel comfortable and could wake me if anything went wrong. We always had a life vest on and as soon as the sun went down were tethered to the boat at all times. It was an uneventful night, just tough to stay awake after a long day.
We arrived to the Charleston ship channel and navigated our way in. It is a pretty place to sail into going by the forts and the waterfront town. We made it to the marina, docked the boat, and passed out for a few hours. It was a great experience for both of us and I was really proud of how well Veronica handled the boat. She did a great job, really stepped up, and I would take her sailing anytime! I was happy with how the boat handled and can't wait to get to see how she sails with more sail up!
We met up with my father and explored Charleston for a few days. We then put Stella Maris through some more sea trials with the extra crew to help out. But that's for the next update....
Veronica's POV:
“We’re leaving” Patrick yelled to me as he ran on board.
“When?” I replied
“Right now- grab the bowline and jump on”
We were supposed to have time for a week or two of sailing lessons before our first big trip. A series of bumps in the road led us to this point, Patrick’s father would be in Charleston to meet us tomorrow and we were still in Wilmington, NC- 30 hours away on a boat. I am as beginner as a beginner sailor gets, having only been on a sailboat a handful of times. I knew what the bowline was but what if I didn’t jump on at the right time? I would not dub myself as agile and definitely did not want to end up in the murky Cape Fear River. But there was no time to think about it- Patrick was already in reverse.
I successfully jumped on board, and then off again at the Wilmington City Docks after we cleared a 55** foot bridge with a 56** foot mast. Going under the bridge was a hold your breath and cross your fingers situation that we had been concerned about for a while. The timing had to be just right to make it under. We reached the bridge about an hour before low tide, and the antenna on top of the mast pinged on every beam on the way under. The first victory for the Stella Maris.
The alarm went off at 4:00AM the next morning to cast off from downtown Wilmington and make our way down the Cape Fear River. I was still putting my third layer on when Patrick was throwing lines on board and starting to move. I didn’t want to miss anything and was eager to learn how all of this sailing stuff worked so I hurried to get ready. Quickly I would learn that, like yesterday, this was Patrick’s way. He was not going to wait for anyone to be ready before heading out.
We were equipped with charts, a compass, and a handheld GPS that told our coordinates. The electronic chart plotter was not working and we were left to old-fashioned chart plotting to lead us down the river. Thankfully, Patrick’s skills are on point. I actually really enjoyed learning to read the buoy descriptions on the charts and then searching for the one that flashed the correct amount of times. Just as the sun started to come up, we got stuck at a red buoy because a thick fog rolled in, it surrounded us in a way that you couldn’t tell up from down. Looking at the buoy and it’s reflection in the stillness of the fog, it appeared that either one could be the real buoy. It felt sort of magical, like Alice in Wonderland or a fairy tale of a flying ship. Patrick was too busy with technicalities, like blowing the fog horn to make sure other boats would notice we were there, to notice this “ship in the clouds” feeling but I would make sure to explain it to him later.
The fog lifted and we continued to the mouth of the river, by Southport, NC. It took about 4 ½ hours to reach from Wilmington. It was wonderful to cruise by Southport- a town that Patrick and I had explored on foot months before when there was still a lot of work to do on Stella Maris to make her sea worthy. And now we were finally seeing it from the water. We also had a nice view of Oak Island Lighthouse and Bald Head Island’s Old Baldy Lighthouse before braving the open ocean. When we got to the ocean, the still river waters turned to 4 to 6 foot waves. Once we were out of the channel and got on course, these waves were hitting us at a 90-degree angle. Which would continue for the whole overnight trip. Thankfully, I only had a seasick scare for a little bit when I was below deck making food. Fresh air on deck and being at the helm quickly healed any queasiness.
The excitement that overcame me was not just from my adventure adrenaline, but it was for Patrick. It was so incredible to see him in his element on his boat. Exactly a year before, we had driven down to take a look at the 41-foot sailboat and Patrick decided to buy her. That day was just as brilliant and nerve-wracking as her first moments at sea. No one could have known what was going to happen but Patrick had the dream and he started chasing it full speed. Hard work does not accurately enough describe the amount of time and effort that he spent on his “vacations” to get the Stella Maris sailing.
Watching Patrick fix things even other colleagues couldn't fathom led me to the belief that he could fix anything. Thankfully, that was not proven wrong on this trip.
We had already been motoring in the open ocean for 4 hours when the engine cut off and had long since lost sight of land. Looking back, I am surprised I was not more worried. But Patrick went below and started tearing toolboxes apart to get to work. I held the wheel and tried to keep course- although we were only going 0.2 knots. Very shortly after the engine cut out, 6 dolphins surrounded us! The water was crystal clear, I could watch them dive all the way down beneath the hull and come up on the other side. It was breathtaking! I called down to Patrick and told him he had to stop working on the engine and come see the dolphins. After checking them out, he turned to me and said, “So, where are you steering? Are you going in circles?” I looked at the compass- whoops! I may have been 180 degrees off course but we were barely moving anyway and I was mesmerized by my dolphin friends.
After two hours and a changed filter, we were back on course. It would be getting dark soon and we were going to start taking watches. I took a nap and arose just before sunset. It was gorgeous. But it meant nighttime was here. This is what I had been most worried about. Let me remind you, I had basically zero boating experience up to this point. And now, I was going to drive offshore in the dark while Patrick took turns sleeping.
The waves that were still directly hitting the side of the boat were no longer visible after dark. It was hard to tell whether to brace myself for a six-footer or just a roller. I’m surprised I didn’t have blisters from gripping the wheel so tight. Being inexperienced, I thought we were going to capsize whenever one hit us. I was also in constant fear of Moby Dick (North Carolina had issued a warning of migrating whales the morning we left) and containers that fell off ships (thanks to Robert Redford’s “All is Lost”). I tried to keep watch to make sure we didn’t hit any, but Patrick told me later that they would have been impossible to see anyway.
We ended up doing two-hour watches, which I felt was perfect. There was enough sleeping time to feel a little rejuvenated and the watch time was short enough to pay close attention without drifting off. We napped in the cockpit. I did because of fear of getting sick without fresh air. Patrick did because of my fear of not being able to quickly grab him if something was wrong. It was cold out and not extremely comfortable constantly rolling from side to side in the cockpit, but I have to say I had no problems falling asleep when it was my turn.
The autopilot doesn't work on the boat, so on watch it is important to pay attention to staying on course. Something Patrick made look so easy. I found it more difficult, and it wasn’t until a later trip with a working chart-plotter did I realize the difference a degree could make. Every hour we would plot our position on the chart and make an entry into the logbook: coordinates, time, speed, direction, etc. I found it to be like driving a car and taking notes- if I took my hands off the wheel to write, we’d loose course. At least there are no guardrails to hit out at sea.
By the time we were getting close to the Charleston channel almost 30 hours from when we started the journey, I was worn out, hungry, and in need of a shower. Track coaches tell runners not to slow down as they approach the finish line. Well I definitely crashed as soon as we entered the channel. I wanted nothing more with driving plus there were numerous large cargo ships I was too nervous to maneuver around- Patrick even had to steer out of the channel to avoid a couple. All I could think about was whether I was going to shower or nap first once we got to the marina.
I felt so daring and bold being on this adventure. Even so there was definitely a lot of fear inside me as well. A couple times throughout the night I remember thinking that if I made it to Charleston alive I was never going out on an overnight sail again. However after showering, napping, and meeting Patrick’s father for some food and celebratory drinks, I reconsidered. Cruising offshore overnight was one of the most thrilling, exciting things I have ever done. It is one of the rare combinations of excitement and nervousness that make me feel more alive than anything else. I cannot wait to do it again.
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