YachtTeleport.com

After waiting out the weather in the lagoon at Barrow for several days, the winds finally swung in our favour on 30 Aug to head off on what we thought would be the final leg of our journey, the 570-odd miles to Nome, through the dreaded Bering Strait. While it was still dark at 5:30 we pulled up our anchor (hand over hand, as we do) and motored out of the lagoon beside Luc on Roxane, swung around the most northerly tip of Alaska and headed South. We silenced the engine, hoisted the sail and rocketed off at about 6.5 kn - we were on our way at last!

A few hours later we had what looked like a battleship bearing down upon us but turned out to be the impressive US Coast Guard Cutter Bertholf. They came right over to investigate and chatted with us on the radio for a while - so friendly! They congratulated us on our journey and said that they loved the look of our sail, and that there were several 'very impressed and envious sailors' on the ship. They also took a few photos for their records, and they kindly agreed to email them through to us, and I took & sent them some shots in return. It was lovely, both here and in Canada, we've always found the Coast Guard to be wonderfully friendly and helpful!

By mid afternoon the wind had picked up to 20 kn, then ramped up to 25kn, and then to a solid 30 kn by the evening. This was a bit disconcerting as the GRIB file showed that it would only be around 15-20 at this stage, and was predicted to continue increasing all night and all the next day. The seas built fast and we reefed down to increasingly smaller and smaller portions of our sail until we just had the very last top triangle panel up, which still bowed full of wind and rocketed us along at an average of about 6-7kn, increasing to a record of 12.something kn as each wave surged Teleport upwards from the stern, tilted us forwards and then made us literally surf down the face of each wave. Amazingly, our little version-1 original Hasler Gibb wind vane self steering gear did a first-rate job at keeping us right on track, pulling Teleport hard back into line whenever we started to broach (turn side on to the waves) as we surfed down them.

The winds stayed at around 28-30kn all night and all the next day, by which time the waves were quite impressive, and roaring past us, breaking, crumbling and imploding upon themselves leaving cavernous areas of frothy whitewater all around us. They were quite confused seas too, perhaps due to the current against us, or leftover previous well, but every now and again a large set would charge in from a completely different angle wreaking havoc. It was only a matter of time before we were caught in the wrong spot at the wrong time, and we had a few waves knock us around a bit causing a couple of unpleasant jibes (where the boat turns so far that the wind is coming from the other side of the sail, causing it to slam terrifyingly forcefully across to the other side), and we had some angry waves empty themselves as surf right into our cockpit, forcing us to put in the 'wash-boards' (the slats of wood that fit into grooves in the main doorway to seal it off) to prevent any more water coming inside. Some broke across the deck and did their best to try and rip off our dingy lashed on deck (under which we still have our 100L flexible TurtlePac tank of extra diesel), but thankfully nothing was washed away. We made terrific speed though, smashing our daily-distance record, sailing about 155nm from midnight to midnight. I even considered a drogue at one point. Poor Jess was unfortunately very seasick again (part anxiety part motion we think), her only relief coming when she was asleep, so I did my best to let her sleep and encourage her to try and keep at least a little fluids and soft food down), and I kept watch the whole of the first and second nights. It's amazing how strong and positive Jess is though, through the worst of it. A classic Jess line that gives you an insight into her positivity was when, having just vomited again out into the cockpit (which was awash with flushing seawater anyway) she tuned to me and said, "that mango felt really nice to throw-up". No kidding. What a keeper! =)

To our immense relief the winds finally started to abate very early on the third day, dropping to 20kn. The depressing blanket of grey clouds softened and fractured, revealing the Aurora - the Northern Lights - as shifting bright green veils of light in the pre-dawn. It was awesome, but the constant motion of the boat prevented me from getting any real photos, only ridiculously grainy super-high ISO shots. Agh well - still great to see them, Jess even got up to gaze at them, and witnessing that the weather was easing marked the start of her recovery also. It took another full day for her to totally recover as the seas took their time to calm, but eventually we could sail together again, enjoy the sights around us together etc, and let me get some wonderful sleep. Even when off-watch in that kind of weather, I find it hard to get any sleep.

Once we passed Point Hope and headed across the lengthy expanse towards the final narrow point, the real Bering Strait, the weather was much more pleasant, we even had the engine on at one point to keep up progress against the current (approx 1kn against us I guessed?). We started to see heaps more bird life, like Puffins, and in particular enormous flocks of tens of thousands of shearwaters all gathered tightly around darker patches of water where clearly some unseen predator below had herded immense volumes of small fish or possibly krill together against the surface. Spotting one particularly huge flock of birds, and envisaging one of David Attenborough's doco sequences of seals and sharks and even whales gorging themselves below, we changed course and headed over to take a closer look. I've never seen so many birds, and then, in the distance, I caught sight of a whale blow / breath erupt into the air. As I gazed through my 100-400mm telephoto lens at the flock of birds, suddenly the gaping mouth of a whale surged up out of the water right in the thick of it, and I even got photos! Not very close-up mind you, but still awesome to even see!

The winds died and we were motor-sailing along with about 50 miles to go before the point, when a GRIB file check suddenly showed a new weather system kicking in at any moment, with the winds again roaring through that strait at 35kn for days. Suddenly it became a bit of a race to try and get through the strait before that wind hit hard and had any chance to build the seas to their notorious heights we've both been dreading through the strait. As we neared, the winds picked up and we ended up just squeezing through, holding our breath as the winds passed 25kn, but the seas were quite reasonable. It's a pretty amazing place, we could see Alaska on the left, and on the right, through the foggy clouds, Russia!!!

It was getting towards evening as we exited The Strait and pointed for Nome, and by nightfall 35 kn gale/storm engulfed us, and we were again in the washing machine, but amazingly, Jess was 100% fine the whole time! =)

The gaggle of little home-made houseboats appearing through the fog with suction pipes down to divers on the sea floor announced we must be closing in on the gold-rush town of Nome (some of you may have seen a show 'Bering Sea Gold' on Discovery, that's here!). We dropped our sail and motored triumphantly in through the huge parallel breakwaters exactly side by side with Luc, which was lovely. Only as the water calmed down like a pond as we entered the protected harbour did the realisation finally start to sinking. We had done it! It was over! We'd survived! YES!!! The harbour master told us two dock at the small boat floating dock, and as we approached we were greeted by a wonderfully family (Roland & Deb and their two beautiful daughters - who all sailed through the passage in 2009, stopped here, and never left!). Apparently they'd been watching the little green line progress on our tracker and came down to take our lines! No sooner had we tied up than they passed us a mobile phone to use while we're here, and their ATV/quad bike, and invited Luc and us around for dinner! While getting things all tied up and sorted various other people up and said if we needed anything 'a truck, food, anything' that they would give it to us! The incredibly friendly local customs officer came down and stamped us in even though it was after hours and on a public holiday so that we could go ashore for dinner, and off we went and enjoyed a fantastic meal while discussing the woes of trying to get a yacht out of the water here. It seems half of them get dropped, damaged or run into some kind of problem like the crane isn't around anymore the next season leaving boats stuck ashore etc etc. Yikes. Anyway... there in lies the adventure, right?

The following day we had a great hot shower, did a load of washing (in the local combined laundromat / pub!), checked our email backlog and then prompt went out celebrating for the night, along with Roger, Jerry and Scott from the massive Aussie yacht Philos that just sailed in! We also got news that it did seem like there'd be a crane stationed here for the season that'd easily be able to lift us all out! Perfect! We had a fantastic time and several well earnt beers and didn't get back onboard tired and happy until 2 AM.

Waking groggily later that morning, we met with the harbour master again to start to sort out the lift-out, only to have it explained to us (very kindly, I should point out) that as much as they wanted to be welcoming, they really felt it was a very bad idea to try and winter a yacht over here in Nome - it' just not set up for it, and so many things could (and do, it seems) go wrong to the point that most of the cranes, trailers etc don't touch yachts anymore. Not only that, but the crane wouldn't be ready until well after we'd have had to go back to Oz, and may not be here next year etc. Devastatingly, it seemed our only option was to sail on another 10 day non-stop sailing to Seward - around the whole of alaska near to Anchorage, as apparently Ducth Harbour (on the Aleutian Islands, about half as far) was full. You can imagine, this was crushing news. We didn't have the time! Jess has to be back in Oz for a wedding in 2 weeks, (and I very shortly after) and so I was possibly faced with looking at going solo or getting crew etc... so depressing after yesterdays highs. Then the harbour master suggested we look into perhaps wintering at a little salmon fishing port called Naknek (near a place called King Salmon), about 570 miles from here (5 days sail?), tucked up in the corner just before the Aleutian peninsula starts to poke out. I called up the harbour master there, and everything fell into place. They have huge cranes, are ready to pull us out as soon as we get there, have stuff on hand to chock our boat up with (so we don't need to spend a week trying to build a cradle etc), they have webbing slings and spreader bars for the crane etc etc. He was wonderfully accommodating. The river that the town's on seems ludicrously shallow on my charts (like 1-3 feet!) but he assured me they get barges and tugs up there on high tide, and they draw more water than we do.. so it should be fine.... Luc on Roxane has decided to come with us and do the same, and it seems like the 20-tonne yacht Philos might do the same, or go even further.

So that's the plan! The weather's swinging in our favour tomorrow morning early, so we're to be up at 5AM and sail away, onwards....

And so the adventure continues!!!! It's never over 'till it's over, it seems.

Oh and guess what??!! While Jess enjoyed a wonderful sleep in, I spent the morning out exercising one of Roland's two dog teams, which was the best fun I've had in weeks - ever since I was a kid I've been longing to have a dog team, or at the very least go for a dog sled ride, and today, my wish was granted! We went 'round to where his team of 9 gorgeous white greenlandic sled dogs stay, fed them, I shovelled spade-fills of dog poo that needs to be cleared every day, and then the same with the 9 dogs on his Iditarod dog sled team (Roland's hoping to enter the famous Iditarod race soon - the 1000mile race that finishes here in Nome - the finishing post is right here in town!). I then helped harness up the 9 boisterous dogs, pile them all into the back of the ute and drive out of town to a place where we then clipped them side-by-side into their pulling line - the 2 lead dogs up the front, wonderfully obeying directions commands, followed by the other dogs with the two biggest, strongest pullers at the back, and clipped the whole thing to the front of Roland's ATV/quad bike, the back of which was chained to the truck with a quick-release shackle. Roland hopped on the ATV, turned it on (I could hardly hear it over the excited dogs) and then told me to unsnap the ATV from the truck "and get on behind me ASAP" haha. What followed was several hours of absolute joy - the dog team pulling us along these winding puddle-filled tracks and trails. The dogs were doing all the work, the engine was on only to use the compression breaking to slow them down! So wet, cold and dog-smelly by the end, but so much fun!

While I write this update, Jess just filled up our water containers and topped us up with diesel, and as soon as I send this, we're meeting up with some other local friends who are taking us out around the local hills etc to see the sights, then home to have Moose burgers for dinner before then picking up the rolls of Dr. Shrink wrap stuff they've been storing for us to wrap teleport for the winter, then getting one last night sleep in this peaceful harbour before it's back out to sea...