Back at the helm - sailing the Yaghan to Antarctica, Patagonia and the South Pacific

by Martensson, Helene

  During our year in the Mediterranean we also found a hydraulic gangway to be useful since you tend to moor with the stern to the jetty. In fact, it is the only way to moor a large boat. It is only safely moored with the large anchor chain from the bow; a stern anchor does not work. This means that a large boat needs to be supplied with a stern gangway so you can get ashore easily. This is especially important in modern boats with negative transoms. We have a Besenzoni gangway, which is excellent.

  We also learned that one hundred metres of stainless anchor chain is a must. It means you can anchor at thirty metres, which is still within diving range in case the anchor gets caught on the bottom. It also makes backing towards the quayside easier. We had a fifty metre chain in the 46 model, and now and then the anchor was so far out that there was not enough chain to reach the quay. The advantage of a stainless chain is that it coils better than a galvanized chain that tends to get caught all the time.

  We installed seven radiators in excess of our two Webasto heaters. They are wonderful when you are in a harbour with access to shore power. They provide us with comfortable basic heating. Since the boat is in the water from March to December 1 every year, they provide a decent indoor climate on board during the cold season.

  We decided against a spinnaker, even though I have done a lot of racing. We used it on very few occasions in the 46 model. It is very hard for one person to operate the spinnaker in a large boat; I always had to ask for assistance, which meant that the person who was off watch did not get to sleep properly. This is a problem that would be even greater in a 62 model with a four hundred square metre spinnaker. Instead, we opted for a poled-out genoa and with the staysail on the same side as the mainsail. The total sail area is thus 270 square metres when you are sailing before the wind. When this is insufficient, we switch on the engine. We can, after all, travel almost 1,500 nautical miles under power during each leg. It is important that the person on watch can do as much as possible him- or herself and let the other sleep. You will encounter stormy weather some time along the way, and you need to be refreshed.

  We carefully considered whether we needed single-sideband, or shortwave, radio (SSB) or not. In terms of safety at sea, SSB is old technology and no longer relevant. However, long distance communication between sailing boats is frequently conducted via SSB, which has a range of several hundred nautical miles compared to thirty for VHF.

  This problem can now be solved by Iridium or Inmarsat satellite telephones. Since we have both, we could have skipped the SSB, but then we would not have had access to Swedish radio broadcasts. This was decisive. It is important to many Swedish circumnavigators to be able to tune into the Swedish news on the other side of the world. One famous circumnavigator, Lars Hässler, who was away for ten years, has said that the Swedish radio broadcasts were “my Swedish lifeline”.

  One of the great risks of being a crew of two is that the person on watch falls over board while the other is asleep, so we installed a warning system. The watch wears a “necklace” that sets off an alarm below deck if he or she falls over board. The position of the distressed person shows up on a display.

  Three heads were standard on the HR62. At first, we thought it was completely unnecessary, but we did not want to remove one in case we wanted to sell the boat later. We thought that three heads are perhaps necessary on such a large boat if there are many visitors or passengers. It was lucky, though, because after a while we started to think that three toilets was the ultimate luxury. For a start, Heléne and I have one each. This is more than we have at home, and we feel that it is something we would always like to have. The third is where we keep our wet outfits and foul weather gear. It means the boat is always nice and dry even in foul weather. So, our three heads are an everyday joy when we are sailing in Yaghan.

  All Important Functions Doubled

  Opinions differ as to whether you should rely too much on technology, it can easily fail. But we have back-ups of all important functions. If the main computer crashes, we can navigate reasonably well with the help of our two laptops. We have five GPSs. Pumps and autopilots are doubled. We have two freshwater tanks connected to two completely separate pumps and we have two inflatable dinghies. We have two complete sets of spare heaters over and above the two we normally use. When the generator is running we can also switch on our electric radiators. We can sail without electricity, in which case we read the charts on one of our laptops using a USB-GPS that is powered from the computer's battery. We can furl and trim the sails without hydraulics. Technology is a wonderful thing when it is working, but we can enter a harbour without it. This is important from a safety point of view.

  We were right in installing back-ups of all important functions, but we did not take it far enough before setting out. We later installed an extra radar, a Fleet Broadband, and freezer compressors, but more about this later. We cannot emphasize enough how important it is to back up all important functions.

  Finally, I would like to make a general observation. When you buy a new boat – even from a well-reputed builder – it takes three years before you have pinpointed your own shortcomings, corrected planning mistakes and got the hang of the boat. It turned out to be true for the 46 and the 62 models alike. The 62 model was much more complicated and the equipment far more advanced. You need to sail your new boat for three years and spend a lot of time in it before you are ready to sail it round the world, this is something we have learned from experience. To buy a boat and then set off around the world straight away is a sure way of getting into trouble.

  ≈

  To the Canary Islands

  (Heléne)

  When the Lilacs Bloom We Will Be Far Away

  The last few days before setting off did not turn out quite the way we had expected.

  We had been preparing ourselves for a long time. I had planned the last few days to be spent in quiet contemplation and anticipation. I also meant to empty the fridge, pay a visit to the bookshop and have lunch with my son Patrik to give him my final motherly advice. It all fell apart at the NK department store café as I bent down to take out a piece of paper from my handbag. I meant to give my e-mail address to my Handelsbanken Liv colleague, Cecilia. My mobile phone was vibrating, and I answered straight away. It was Ulla, Arne's secretary, who sounded unusually tense as she told me that Arne wanted to talk to me immediately.

  “We have been burgled! There's a lot of damage. The police and the people from the security firm are there now. You must go home immediately!”

  I gave Cecilia a quick hug and ran to the garage at the bank where my car was parked and drove home as fast as I could. Most of all, I was concerned about my PC and new passport being stolen. I had picked up the passport the day before and had to wait for hours at the police station. Then I thought about my jewellery and how much damage anyone can do to someone's home within the space of a few minutes.

  The shock and the surreal feeling of being greeted by some ten policemen and security guards in your own home where every drawer and door has been opened are beyond description. My daughter Hanne's room was full of shattered glass. Fortunately, she was in Brussels. For a brief moment it did not feel like our own home.

  This was something that simply could not happen to us!

  We were grateful for the security system that we had installed several years back. Even though many of our neighbours had been burgled, we had been spared, thanks to the alarm. This time, the alarm was set off at a quarter past ten on Tuesday morning, May 30, only two days before our departure and only half an hour after I had left home to go into town. Had we been under surveillance? Had someone seen me through the large ground floor windows? Did they watch as I locked the door, picked up the car from the garage and drove off? I had not noticed anything out of the ordinary or seen anything strange. The idea of having the garden full of burglars as I was walking around our home was unpleasant. Would they have entered the house if I had stayed at home and not gone into town? Maybe it was just as well that
I was not there when they broke in. These thoughts fluttered across my mind many times over the next few days.

  The police and the people from the security firm had arrived thirteen minutes after the alarm was set off, but the burglars had managed to enter every single room in the house. They had been down in the basement, including the wine cellar and the laundry room: they had been all over the ground floor and in all the upstairs rooms. They had even been in the attic. All my jewellery was gone; both the things Arne had given me and the ones I had inherited, even trinkets I had bought during our travels. Everything had been stolen, even the cases. We still cannot understand how they managed to make the damage they did in such a short time. There must have been several of them, and maybe they had access to a plan of the house. We have now reinforced the security.

  One good thing in the midst of all this sorrow was that my new passport had not been stolen, without it we would have had to delay our departure by several days. My laptop was gone, which was a problem. We keep a back-up of our navigation software on our PCs, which were our lifeline for keeping in contact with our children, friends and Internet bank. Everything that I felt was essential to my life on board was gone. It meant that Arne, up until the day before our departure, had to sit down with Johnny – a competent, dedicated and kind computer technician at the bank – and install all the software on a new, similar portable computer. On the day of our departure I was delighted to find that everything was working just as well as it had done on my old laptop.

  I handled the contacts with the police and insurance company. I tried to make a list of our stolen possessions, but I found it difficult to remember what my jewellery looked like. I contacted Jovenia Juveler on Biblioteksgatan in Stockholm where Arne had bought many of the items. It was the first time after the burglary that I felt happy. They clearly showed how concerned they were. They helped me produce a detailed list for the insurance company. We did not keep photographs of our belongings in a locked safe, but we will now.

  The day we sailed, Thursday June 1, was a beautiful clear, sunny day with a chill in the air. It had been planned a long time back. It felt great because one is always happier when the sun is shining, no matter what one is doing. During our crossing to Visby on Gotland a near gale force wind would be blowing from the north according to our, by now extremely reliable, onboard weather service – Arne. So we would get there fast. Visby was the very first stop on our circumnavigation. We always used to stay there for a few days on our way past, both when we were sailing south and on the way back. It is a habit we have kept up for nearly ten years, and we are animals of habit.

  It was a stressful and disorganised morning. Letters and documents had to be sent over to the police and the insurance company, and I kept discovering more things that had disappeared. There was a lingering smell of cigarette smoke mixed with stale sweat in the office, our bedroom and Hanne's room. It would not go away even though I had aired and vacuum-cleaned the entire house only the day before. It made me angry and sad.

  Leaving home felt like running away, suddenly and on impulse. We did not go as I had imagined, quietly and serenely; it was as if we were in a rush. When I was removing our bags and clothes from the car at Bullandö, it turned out that our departure had been somewhat sudden. Only the jacket from the oat-coloured trouser suit I was going to show off in many a harbour had been packed. The trousers must have slipped off the hanger and were probably lying on the floor somewhere between the bedroom and the drive.

  We installed ourselves in our beloved boat that was to be our home, our safe haven and our joy for the next three years. Now that the great day had arrived it was impossible to imagine that we were going to be away for such a long time. Is it possible to leave everything and sail away for three years? It was a question that kept turning up in my mind again and again.

  We were used to setting off on a cruise, a few weeks’ holiday, with joy and anticipation. It was the same this time, for a while; but soon TV8, the financial daily Dagens Industri, their TV channel DiTV and Segling magazine turned up, and it was no longer the same, quite the reverse, everything was different. At four in the afternoon the Handelsbanken Liv search and rescue boat – which is normally based on Möja in the Stockholm archipelago, and which Handelsbanken Liv donated in 1998 – with Captain Westerberg and colleagues from the bank came to say goodbye. The great significance of our departure and our voyage was palpable. The farewell ceremonies intensified the feeling. We spent a few pleasant moments on the quay together, and it was wonderful to see so many of our friends and colleagues one last time before being on our way.

  Michael Zell, managing director of Handelsbanken Liv and SPP, handed over two bags filled with salmon, prawns, cold meats, strawberries, cheese, grapes and champagne. These delicacies would make up our first meal on board the Yaghan. It was a great start and very different from our normal setting off dinner, which normally consists of roast beef and potato salad.

  The Handelsbanken Liv lawyer, Sören Drevhammar, a great opera and jazz aficionado, gave me a present. I guessed what it was, but I preferred to open it later in peace and quiet. The owner of Bullandö Marina, Lars Broms, and his wife gave us a couple of bottles of champagne and wished us good luck. Sverker and Monica Martin-Löf also came past to give us a hug and wish us good luck. They gave us a bottle of fine whisky.

  The harbour master, Nina Harling, who always used to greet us on the jetty after our weekend trips, handed over a present and a small letter, in which we later found a passage inspired by Dag Hammarskjöld: “We shape our lives within the framework of our own destiny.” She also wrote that, “It takes great courage to make a life, stretch your limits and fulfil your dreams. I will miss you, Heléne and Arne, but now I am pleased to see you leaving the harbour!” Yes, we are about to set out on our circumnavigation of the world, and we will not bring Yaghan back to Bullandö until July 28, 2009. We hope that Nina will be waiting for us then!

  Surrounded by our friends on the quay and with Yaghan safely moored at her usual place in the marina it was almost impossible to appreciate that we were setting out on a voyage that would take us to unfamiliar waters for as much as three years. It was an exciting feeling, but uneasy too, and Arne and I started to feel impatient and restless. We looked at each other, and I realised that we both felt the same. It was time to end the farewell ceremony and be on our way.

  Arne shouted, “Let go the lines!” and at 1700 h we let go and motored off, all according to plan. Our friends on board Handelsbanken Liv were busy with their cameras. Sören would be sending the pictures to my parents in Ronneby so they could follow us on our voyage. We set sail as we rounded Sollenkroka headland, and shortly afterwards we were on our own. Handelsbanken Liv went in the direction of Stavsnäs and we headed for Visby.

  The wind was weak to begin with, and we decided to have an early dinner in the sun. We put all our delicacies on the table, right in the middle of Kanholmfjärden, and then we drank a toast to us, Yaghan and our voyage from plastic glasses filled with champagne. We turned our backs on Sandhamn and headed for Revenge shoal and Stålbådan buoy.

  This buoy evokes a bad, old memory. In the autumn of 1997 we had travelled down to the boatyard at Ellös in a snow storm in order to sail back our first Hallberg-Rassy, Lill-Yaghan (she was 46 feet, Yaghan is 62 feet). Towards the end of a windy and chilly crossing from Vägga harbour at Karlshamn, which is where my parents’ holiday home is situated, we were approaching Stålbådan buoy. It was my watch, Arne was sleeping. It was five or six o’clock in the morning, visibility was poor, it was dark with following wind and the mainsail was slack. I was looking for the buoy in the dark. Arne had warned me that our course was taking us a little too close to it, so I needed to remember to give it a wide berth. This was easier said than done, since all I could see was a dark, grey and dense fog. The digital chart showed that we were approaching the buoy and the echo was gone from the radar, which is normal when you are no more than half a nautical mile from the target. The v
isibility was so poor that I was still unable to see Stålbådan even though I was watching intently.

  While I was concentrating on the buoy I had failed to notice that a ferry had appeared astern. I suddenly heard and saw the Cinderella coming up behind me; she was very close indeed. I veered sharply away from her, but I was in a rush and forgot where the wind was coming from, and the boat jibed violently! An uncontrolled jibe in such a large boat can be dangerous and may inflict serious injury. I had been taught never to cause a jibe. Now a mainsheet block snapped with a loud bang. Arne came rushing up from the aft cabin. He was annoyed and angry at the mate on duty, to put it mildly. I was not happy either; I was upset and angry with myself. I had handled it badly and in a dangerous way. I had certainly failed to keep a 360 degree look-out, as you should. Our new boat had been damaged, and it was all my fault. I had not been in complete control, and it was a bad feeling. This happened many years ago, but I still remember it well.

  As a result I do not like Stålbådan buoy. Every time we pass it I am reminded of that foggy, horrible morning. I also tend to worry about jibing when we are out sailing in a tailwind. However, a few years ago we decided to always rig a preventer whenever there is a risk of jibing, or when the wind is weak and the sea rough. A preventer is a rope that runs from a bow fitting, then parallel to the boat and is fastened at the other end to a rope on the boom. It locks the boom, which prevents jibing. It is important that you remember to untie the preventer when you sheet in the mainsail. Sailing in Yaghan does not require a lot of muscle power thanks to the hydraulic winches, but you always need to be in control by paying a lot of attention, looking and listening. The hydraulic systems are powerful, and if you are not careful you may cause serious injury.