So far on this trip I’ve tried sleeping in a variety of places around the boat, and for the last couple of nights have found the quietest place with the least movement is the crew cabin behind the chart table. However, it is a little small and cramped, and I’d much rather be in the master cabin aft but that’s always been too noisy due to the constant rumble and whine of what I assumed was the sound of the wind generator being transmitted down the mizzen mast.
Last night I suddenly realised that the noise wasn’t that at all, but is in fact the sound of the propellor shaft turning. This is rather strange as I’ve always put the gearbox in reverse while sailing to stop it, and this always works on other boats so I assumed it was doing the same on Odyssey. Not so, unfortunately, and it means that I’m not getting full advantage of my fancy Autoprop which has feathering blades to reduce drag while sailing. If it’s turning then the prop is generating a vortex which will be slowing me down considerably.
I tried all sorts of ways of stopping the shaft turning, including wrapping sail-ties around it and wedging it with bits of wood, but the force is just too great and they all break, rip or get ground away. In one attempt a sail-tie suddenly started whipping round with the prop shaft and caught itself round the engine cooling water inlet valve, which could have been catastrophic if the valve had been ripped out as sea water would have flooded in. I thought it best after that not to experiment any more without further thought.
So I’m throwing this question open to my panel of wise readers – do any of you know how to stop my propellor rotating? I’ve got a Perkins 4-236 engine with a Borg Warner 71 gearbox, and suspect that the latter has some kind of viscous coupling (like an automatic gearbox) which means I can’t lock it. All suggestions welcome, but best by email rather than on a postcard please…
Deciding to leave mechanics well alone for now and dabble in some rather more highbrow stuff I tried today to take my first sight with the sextant. Actually I’ve been practising for the last couple of days but wading through the books of tables and figures bored me so I kept giving up. However today I persevered and at 0930 took a sight of the sun, which took mere seconds. It then took an hour of calculating and scribbling down numbers and rubbing them out again and geting confused between LHA and GHA and declination and assumed position… aargh! It’s a nightmare! No wonder satellite navigation is so popular as you just switch it on and it tells you exactly where you are to within a few metres.
Anyway, to cut a long story short, I finally managed to plot what looked like a reasonable position on the chart and found to my delight that it was only 14 miles out. Hooray! Now that may sound like a big error to you, and indeed it is when you’re trying to navigate your way around the suburbs of Croydon, but out here in the middle of nowhere it’s pretty damn good for a first attempt, I reckon. After all, when (or if!) I get to Europe I’ll be happy just to know roughly which country I’ve arrived in so I can fly the right flag.
Cheered up no end by my success I intend to hone my skills by doing it twice a day and hope by the end of my trip to be able to plot my position to within a couple of miles using just the sun. Mind you, whether or not it’s worth it is a moot point as by then I’ll be back in England where in September we’re lucky to see the sun at all, let alone navigate by it.
Meanwhile I’m making slow but steady progress to the north with the gentle north-easterly still in place as predicted. I’m making around 5 knots which is fine, although during the night the wind died and I drifted for a while. At the moment I seem to be averaging around 100 miles per day which is not really a lot, particularly when there’s over 3000 miles to go. I haven’t bothered to work it out exactly as there’s no point – I’ll get there when I get there.
Oooh, and I saw my first sea turtle last night, and two ships, so I’m not alone out here after all!