The best laid plans oft go astray.  When we departed Santa Cruz to sail five miles south to top up our fuel tanks, Neptune provided 40 knots of wind off the island.  After an exhilarating departure from the docks raising our stern anchor manually, Chris decided not to risk docking in the small, narrow marina that was his first choice so we sailed around the island to Los Cristianos, anchored at dusk and took 250 gallons of diesel aboard Wednesday morning.  Winds are predicted to be light for an indeterminate future so we are prepared to motor more than we want.

When we recruited our neighbor Holt to join our Atlantic crossing voyage, Jackie asked his wife Joy if she was comfortable with his absence during that time.  Joy replied that he would miss Thanksgiving and their anniversary on December 2nd so she hoped he would be home to celebrate Christmas.   Jackie promised Joy to create a special event for their anniversary and Joy hid two anniversary cards in books that Holt delivered to the boat.  Little did we know that the day would be our second at sea in a pitching, rocky swell.  Nevertheless we managed to bake a cake with sixteen pecans to remember their sixteen years of marriage.  Chris dropped two fishing lines into the water all day but, thank goodness, Jackie did not have to deal with two cake layers cooling and fish fillets arriving all at the same time!  Our gentlemen crew graded the Hummingbird Cake as a success and polished off seven years of remembrance.  We sailed most of the day with the genoa pole extended until the wind died at midnight.

We prayed for wind and our prayers were answered: "yes, but with weather."  After an uncomfortable ride in sloppy seas, we awoke at 0130 to the sound of halyards clanging when the wind suddenly died.  Moments later a squall hit us with gusts over 35 knots with all sails up,  The wind jibbed the main and tore the shackle from the preventer as it lost the contest.  After we took the main down and reset the mizzen and genoa, we motor-sailed from 0200 to 1000, still in uncomfortable seas.  All the crew start reading Dashew's book on weather earnestly.

An eventful day as Chris catches two mahi-mahi which Jackie serves for dinner.  Due to sloppy seas, we motor sail half the day.  Nothing untoward seems to happen during the day.  Then night falls and we wait for the first event.  For the first time, Jackie has enough time after dinner to listen to Herb Hilgenberg direct cross-Atlantic traffic.  Near midnight we realize that the autopilot cannot handle the stiff wave action different from wind direction.  So we establish a chain gang from the engine room where Chris adjusts the auto-pilot to the pilot house where Jackie steers as he adjusts.

Wish that we could say that the sun shone and we sailed on in perfect harmony with the sea gods.  Unfortunately we had another equipment failure, still on the main boom. After lunch Chris decided to raise more sail and gain some time during daylight hours.  Wind at 20-15, gusting to 30; seas 15 feet with cross swells.  As we fell off to reef the main, the shackle attaching the sheet to the boom popped, throwing the boom off SHIBUMI, and almost Chris with it.  No injury to personnel or property but very sobering.  Ships laundry for the forward cabin improves crew morale.

After a trying day at sea followed by a long night meandering through rain squalls, we contact Herb to confirm when this large area of convection and tri-directional sea swells will transform into the quiet, easy ride that we expected for most of the crossing.  Maybe two days was the response so we soldier on.  Movement in the bow is relatively quiet and consistent while the seas hitting the stern consistently throw Chris out of his bunk.  After motor-sailing overnight to avoid night sail changes in violent weather, we hoist the main and genoa at 0930 and sail away.

The auto-pilot's steering connection has developed the ability to skip sprockets, an unnerving and potentially harmful habit.  We really rely on the auto-pilot as an extra crew member, and he normally serves us well, 24/7.  Chris unsuccessfully attempts to teach us how to predict the thundering noise of the strained chain.  On her late night watch, Jackie is so intent on preventing the skip that she accidentally jibes the boat, slowly very slowly.  A real night of excitement.  After the laundry is dry and our midday meal finished, Chris contemplates the fix.

The guidebooks say: sail south from the Canary Islands until the butter melts and then turn west to the Caribbean. Today is our day to turn and head directly to Antigua.  Chris manages to capture two fish which we clean and fry for dinner.  All in all, we continue to settle down into a daily rhythm of ship life at sea on a long crossing.  We share noon and evening meals together, the men treat Jackie to coffee as soon as she awakes, and we learn not to change sails when laundry hangs off the lifelines.  At least not unless you can wear salt-seasoned clothes.

The surprise of this trip is the bounce delivered by contentious sea swells.  If anyone had a tendency to be sea sick, this is not the crossing for them.  We divide and conquer the tedious ride through multiple rain squalls all day long by standing and sitting watch, reading, writing, sending and receiving emails, repairing lines, vacuuming, cleaning, cooking, and washing dishes.  All to King Neptune's tune of an easy ride for about ten minutes followed by a set of three dramatic and out-of-place rollers which knock the boat severely back and forth.  Not dangerous, but exhausting.

Today marks the second time change for the ship's clocks.  Mike and Holt split the extra hour of watch during the two hour night shift.  We awake an extra hour later which adds some much needed mileage to our daily total and trip average.  Today also marks the "hump", the half way point of the trip.  Mike and Chris entertain a pod of dolphin and one baby whale in early afternoon.  It is a slow, gray day, but better boring than soldiering through rain squalls.  Herb warns of bad weather ahead so we shorten sail and turn on the engine for the night run.

The men decide to give Jackie a day off.  After some negotiation, Jackie agrees to stand Holt's morning watch from 0900 to noon so that he can prepare the primary meal which we eat at midday.  In the meantime, Mike burns the ends of lines to reinforce them.  In a classic move, Chris attempts to use the galley stove for line repair, much to the annoyance of the cook, this time Holt.  In late afternoon, the men replace the sheets for genoa due to chafing.  During our daily checkin, Herb advises us to sail southwest to avoid more bad weather ahead.

The late watch crew is rewarded with an exciting meteor shower.  Although we are prepared for Herb's unstable air, when the sun rises we are blessed with good "bad weather"   All the crew enjoy the  breezy day with the sails set for maximum performance.  In the middle of listening for Herb's call, we hear both fishing lines whir.  While Chris is occupied catching a small dolphin and a medium tuna, Jackie talks to Herb who graciously ignores the fact that Chris's voice has changed. 

As we approach the final fourth of the crossing, both Mike and Holt email their spouses to secure plane seats home on Wednesday, the 22nd, just in time for Christmas.  We enjoy our first real sunny day until late afternoon when an impromptu storm near dinner time causes us to haul the sails down.  Finally Chris is able to catch an afternoon nap to offset the time he monitors the rest of the crew at night.  When we register for Herb's daily weather update, we learn that Coco Marcher, 40 miles behind us was dismasted during the night squalls and need additional fuel to reach land.

After a night of never-ending rain squalls, the sun chases away the clouds, the sea swells return and we raise the main at 0930.  Today is the second clear, sunny day with 25 knot winds in the right direction!  Jackie uses the adequate "drying day" to wash sheets from the forward cabin.  Mike and Holt develop their web pages, and Chris pulls out the cruising guide for the Lesser Antilles.  It dawns on us that we need to start preparing for our arrival in 100 hours.  The sunsets continue to be outrageous.

Today should be titled:  The Cake That Wouldn't Bake. It was a beautiful day, Chris caught a huge dolphin and we sailed the mizzen staysail.  But on the other hand, many "untoward" events occurred:  The stove ran out of gas while Jackie was baking a chocolate cake, a large wave sloshed against the port hull and into the pilot house, the generator and waster-maker just "stopped", and Chris discovered a water outflow leak in the refrigeration system. The Twilight Zone at sea.  Receiving emails continue to be problematic.

The Twilight Zone continues as we absorb another hit from the swells  During a normal maneuver to raise the sail, Jackie turned the boat into the wind.  In the middle of the turn, SHIBUMI bounced off a rogue wave and the container of Raspberry Ice Crystal Light went flying off the pilot house counter, dropped off the saloon steps and broke against the main mast.  Red dye everywhere!  Mike jumps below to help Chris scrub the carpet with deck brushes as Jackie rinses the stains with fresh water.  Later Jackie used recipe suggestions from Holt to bake Chris's mahi-mahi.  Yum!

Overnight Holt and Mike ease us into our last time change, GMT - 4 hours.  Quiet watches followed by a morning of squalls.   Pick a direction, any direction.  Not a good drying day for the two loads of laundry.  While Jackie is preparing paella for lunch, both reels whir off the stern.  Holt and Mike leap for the rods and successfully land two more mahi-mahi.  What a fish story for the future!  How many ways are there to cook mahi-mahi?  Jackie needs to know!  We motor-sail most of the day, no wind.

Our final full day at sea includes morning rain showers followed by afternoon sun.  Rain squalls pass to our right and left but not overhead.  Another difficult drying day for the crew laundry to return north.  For the first time in the crossing, Chris grills veal chops and we celebrate our last lunch at sea with Joy's Moonshine Cordials.  The engine is quiet mid-afternoon as we slow SHIBUMI down to arrive after dawn tomorrow.  Before dark Jackie insists on hoisting the courtesy flag for Antigua and the quarantine flag as she worries that she will not be awake when we cross the 12 mile mark.

At 0500 the crew stirs aboard SHIBUMI as Chris slows the boat down to await the dawn and our entry to English Harbor.  Everyone is sensitive to changes in boat speed as we approach land.  at 0700 we duck through the narrow entrance into Freeman Bay, select a suitable spot to the east and drop anchor!  Hurray!  While the crew launches the dinghy for Chris's departure ashore after 0800 to clear customs, Jackie prepares salmon toasts with capers and caviar to accompany two bottles of chilled champagne!  And don't forget one cold beer for Mike!

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