Michelle, the police want to talk with you.

This was the absolutely last thing I was expecting early on the first morning, June 1, after arriving in Horta, Azores. I was sitting on board enjoying my coffee and reading the New York Times when I noticed the marina manager walking across the two boats that we were rafted up to along the wharf. As he was stepping onto our boat, I headed to the cockpit to intercept him before he knocked on the boat so as not to wake the others on board.  In his broken English, he told me that the police were on the wharf and needed to talk with Michelle. My mind was racing, police? The marina manager could see my confusion so continued that she had lost a lot of money and others things.  

A bit of back story is needed. We arrived in Horta in the afternoon the day before, May 31, 2023 after 14 days of sailing from Bermuda. We had been pushing hard for days to arrive on May 31 so that we could celebrate Michelle's birthday at Peter Cafe Sport, the famous watering hole in Horta where all of the sailors from around the world meet and swap stories of their sailing adventures. Note, we have two aboard Sea Dog, with similar names,  Michele Vivas and Michelle Derible, also know as one elle and two elle or tall Michele and short Michelle.

The story continues, starring Michelle with two elles. Along with pushing hard for a May 31 landfall, we had all been talking and dreaming about our first gin and tonic (for which Peter Cafe Sport is known for). Now, all aboard Sea Dog are known to enjoy a wee tipple now and again.  As responsible sailors, on an offshore passage we all agreed that Sea Dog would be a dry boat. We do so that in case of  an emergency or other mishap we would all have our wits about us and be able to handle any situation that the mighty gods of the sea and winds might throw at us (of which they did).

The birthday celebrations started on the back of Norm the Storm, a large catamaran from Canada, also part of the Arc Europe 2023 flotilla.  I meanwhile, as Skipper, was holed up in the marina office checking in, followed by immigration and customs, so I missed a good hour plus of the early celebrations. I joined the crew as we moved onto Peter Cafe Sport. The first gin and tonic was heavenly, the second was just as good. The party moved onto a restaurant in town, Canto de Doca, that was hosting the early Arc arrivals for a dinner. As Michelle and Keith entered the restaurant, everyone there broke into song, a rousing version of Happy Birthday. It was special! The specialty of the house was a selection of thinly slice meats and fish that you cook yourself at the table on a super heated slab of volcanic stone. Included with this unique dining experience, were flowing bottles of  red Azorean wine. Michele and I were tired, so we called it an early night and headed off to Sea Dog for a restful night of sleep, the first in 14 days,  in which the boat was not bouncing or rolling and one did not need to wake every four hours for a watch.

Michelle and Keith had booked a hotel room for the first couple of nights in Horta, as a birthday treat, so they could relax in comfort after the long passage. I should have known something was awry when I woke early the next morning, expecting the boat to be empty and found Michelle sound asleep in the Pullman berth and Keith wedged into the V berth among various sails and assorted gear.

After my conversation with the marina manager, I went below to wake Michelle. I nudged her gently and as she woke, as casually as I could, said "Michelle, the police want to talk with you". It took a moment or two for those words to sink in. It seems that she and Keith along with a group of others from the rally had closed down the restaurant trading shots with Normand (Norm the Storm) from Quebec among others. It was late, they were tipsy and could not or were not up to finding their hotel room so found their way back to Sea Dog for the night. Now I am pretty sure that Michelle and Keith were sporting a decent hangover from the late night celebrations, but it is funny how fast it can sober one up when you are told the police want to talk with you. Michelle quickly threw on some clothes and headed up to speak with the police.

It turns out, Michelle and Keith were carrying a couple of bags, with the intent to go to their hotel after dinner. When it was time to pay, Michelle opened one of the bags to retrieve her wallet to pay,  was somehow distracted, perhaps by another round of shots, I can only speculate. Michelle is having a hard time remembering the exact sequence of events, shots can have that effect on you, been there, done that! All that can be surmised is that one of the bags was inadvertently left behind that contained her wallet, id and various other items for a night at the hotel.  A good Samaritan found her bag and delivered it to the local police, that kindly waited until the next morning to work with the marina manager in locating Michelle upon Sea Dog. 

Alls well that ends well. The bag contained all of their money, cards and other gear. They found their hotel the next night and stayed for several nights as Michele and I worked to air/dry out Sea Dog after her gallant voyage across the North Atlantic delivering us and our crew safely to the shores of the Azores.

Headed for the Azores: The Start

Now that I have had a few days to relax in Horta,  its time to catch up with all that happened on the way to the Azores. There was not really a boring moment.

Start day, Wed May 17, was setting up to be a beautiful day, sunny, good winds taking us out of St Georges Harbor, through the Town Cut and east to the Azores.  We had 15knts from the south, so a nice beam reach through the Town Cut.  We had a plan,  Michele and Michelle were head sail trimmers, Keith would trim the main and provide his racing acumen to help me, at the helm, navigate Sea Dog around the inner harbor amongst 29 other boats, all jockeying for position to be first across the start line, Mind you, this is typical in all sailboat racing starts,  lots of boats sailing in close quarters wanting to be the first boat across the start line. The difference here was that most of the sailors and boats are not racers, they are cruisers and sailing in close quarters with lots of other boats in a small contained space with wind was not necessarily their forte. Again the plan, thirty minutes before the start, we would weighed anchor and head to the west end of the harbor to start our pre-race setup. As we left anchor, we noticed something very wacky in the steering, we could turn fully starboard (to the right), but only partially to port (to the left). We should have known then that we had a stow away aboard, a certain Mr Murphy had decided to join the crew aboard Sea Dog without invitation and very much unwelcome. I gave the helm to Keith and descended below decks to investigate the problem. Quickly throwing the mattresses off the aft berth and clearing the panels, I gained access to the steering quadrant. It only took a couple of minutes to ascertain the problem. The bolt that holds the auto pilot piston arm to the steering quadrant was jamming against the upper support when turning to port. Strange I thought, we sailed almost 1000 miles from Annapolis, down the Chesapeake, anchoring multiple times, in and out of harbors without a hitch since the steering system had been worked on at Bert Jabins Yacht Yard in Annapolis, now thirty minutes before the race start it breaks. Damn you Murphy! It took a good twenty minutes to get the bolt off and detach the auto pilot from the steering quadrant, a job that should typically take a minute or two, but the boat was being actively steered amongst a fleet of other boats (remember we were jockeying into position for the start) so I was working in a tight space on a, literally, moving target. Sure we could have moved out of position, slowed things down, but we had racers on board, we were now racers and we were determined to get across the start line as close to first as possible.  Once I detached the auto pilot arm, the steering quadrant was able to move fully in both directions, problem solved! I headed above, back to the cockpit to check the time and our position for the start.  We had a minute to the start line, Keith was on course to round up around the committee start boat that marked the south end of the start line. I took over as the main sheet trimer since Keith was in his race mode groove and moving Sea Dog around like she was a light weight pedigreed Whippet, fast and agile, ready to run. As the start gun sounded, we sped pass the race committee boat leaving them on our starboard with feet to spare, surprising all those onboard. They were not expecting anyone behind them, the look on their faces was priceless.  Across the start line we sailed, with two boats crossing in the middle of the line just ahead of us. Since the wind was from the south, and we were sailing east on a starboard beam reach, our plan was to hug the right side of the Town Cut so that no other boats could steal our wind. Just as we were reaching the entrance of the cut, with four of the longer, faster boats in front of us, a large boat was entering the cut from the east, the timing could not have been worse! We kept on our course, we had no options, while the boats on the left and middle had to converge to allow room for the east bound boat passage. To compound the problem, the cut is higher on the east end, thus the wind from the south was being blocked. We could see the sails on the boats ahead of us were starting to flog a bit as the wind slowed and shifted. Since this was not a "true" race where motors are forbidden and if used an automatic disqualification, all boats were advised to have their motors running and ready if needed. I think all of the lead boats used their motors for a few minutes to ease the bottle neck formed by the reduction in wind at the east end of the cut and the sudden appearance of the large westbound boat, I know we did. We cleared the cut in fifth place, ahead of many of the faster boats and were very pleased with our performance. We had a plan, we stuck to the plan, even with the surprise appearance of Mr Murphy and we executed well on the plan. Three cheers to the crew of Sea Dog for a picture perfect start to a 2000+ mile jaunt across the Atlantic ocean to Horta, Azores!!

      A beautiful sight, all of the boats BEHIND us (sorry, race mode mentality)

 

      Norm the Storm, keeping pace with us out of the Town Cut.

                                   Endeavor III, a Dufour 56, coming up fast on us. Long, faster boat.

I am unable to upload some of the race start videos to Blogger since they are too big so I have provided links below to watch the action unfold.

Michelle D, port trimmer extraordinaire

Stay tuned for the next installment, The Crossing, or perhaps a better title, What else could go wrong.