8:00 AM local time, Friday, Sept. 28 (2200 Sept. 27 UTC) 09 27 S 147 09
E. Temp. 82, Humidity 78%, Cloud Cover 40%. Royal Papua Yacht Club,
Port Moresby, Papua, New Guinea.
Warmest greetings from the crew of Maverick, still pinned down in Port
Moresby waiting for the wind to lighten up which may happen in the next
day or two.
Many people have written to express a reaction to my piece about the
terrorist attack. As evidence, perhaps, of the Captain's limitations as
a polemicist, I submit the fact that, yea or nay, no two seemed to agree
on what I actually meant, and this includes your correspondent. The
Captain will attempt to refrain from commenting on the matter further,
feeling he can add little of value. We will make exceptions in cases
where our experience or perspective, because of our peculiar vantage
point, may be of interest.
But not a few of you have expressed a concern about our long-range
plans in view of recent developments. Assuming we don't get on a plane,
there are three ways, more or less, to get home from here. One is to
turn around. This is harder than it sounds due to prevailing winds and
cyclone seasons. If therefore we keep going west, we must decide in
Darwin whether to A) go directly across the Indian Ocean and around the
Cape of Good Hope, thence to Brazil and up the coast of South America.
We have no charts for this route but they could be obtained; it would
mean missing the Mediterranean. Or B) we can continue according to plan
and go up through Indonesia, Singapore, Malaysia, Thailand, etc., and
eventually up the Red Sea, reaching the Med in late spring. We must in
any case make a decision in Darwin by the end of October for seasonal
(cyclone) reasons.
Neither the reader nor the Captain knows what will happen between now
and then. But should relatively little change, and I realize this is
quite a vague phrase but I have scenarios in mind, we will continue as
planned. If something unpleasant happens between the time we leave
Darwin and the time we get to, say, the Maldives, we may still be able
to bail or just wait somewhere if the situation is serious enough. But
to be more realistic, when we leave Darwin, we're committed to the Red
Sea route, come what may.
Our decision has been based on the following. 1) We aboard Maverick
have faith that the vast majority of Muslims (we'll be going to some
Muslim countries, for those whose geography needs a bit of a refresher),
even in the relatively rare cases where they are extremists and loathe
America, are unlikely to act violently no matter what that guy is trying
to make you think. News teams in northern Pakistan are taping pro-Osama
bin Laden demonstrations as we speak, and have presumably lived to
deliver the video. We're not doing anything so dangerous, by comparison.
And think of it this way: Exotic-looking people (including Mr. Shrode's
own daughter, Selina) and those with middle eastern sounding names have
been taunted and attacked in our own country in the wake of this event.
Because of this, Arab nations are no doubt warning their citizens about
traveling in America, which even in peaceful times is a relatively
violent country. 2) Acts of terrorism against Americans have been as a
rule well planned and symbolic, not random attacks. Yachties are pretty
far down the list of symbolic targets. 3) We will get updates on any
hotspots over HAM radio. 4) Our arrivals and departures will, and this
is a new policy, be privileged information. The press will be barred. 5)
Our latitude and longitude may be encrypted. 6) We fully expect major
ports and particularly the Suez Canal to be secure. A lot of valuable
cargo routinely flows through these places on ships from all over the
world, and many people don't like this flow to be interrupted. 7) The
whole damn US Navy is going to be out here. 8) Nobody knows we're
coming. (Don't you go blabbing about it!). All in all, acts of piracy
remain, in the Captain's view, a more significant risk
As does the very sea itself, don't forget. The Captain is
currently engaged in a Byzantine analysis of various hypothetical
situations that might arise as we transit the Torres Strait and environs
in a stiff breeze. This is one of the most dangerous parts of our voyage
from a sailor's point of view and I'm trying to do as much of my
thinking ahead of time as I can. Even the most avid student of sailing
and navigation would find these ruminations obsessive and tedious, so I
will spare the reader the details, but here's a general idea.
What we are doing is going through a very wide part, if you like, of the
Great Barrier Reef of Australia. Once we get to Bligh Entrance to the
Great Northeast Passage, 200 miles from here, we will have an upwind leg
of about 85 miles, and how far forward, or south in this case, the wind
is, will determine whether we can sail free or will be forced to
motorsail or tack. Then we have a short dogleg and another forty miles,
some of which is upwind, before we get to the Prince of Wales Channel.
This channel can have current of up to eight knots and there will most
likely be some heavy ships going through when we do. It is essential
that we not go through on an adverse current, which would produce
standing waves in the face of the SE wind, and at the very least stop us
in our tracks with waves breaking over the bow. There are two
opportunities each day during which we can begin our sail through the
channel safely, but we'd also like to be there in the daytime, so really
we have one five-hour window per day. Our passage through the Torres
Strait must be planned to maximize the chances of hitting this window,
preferably at the beginning of it.
So the navigational problem is to do a time-speed-distance calculation
on each leg to find an estimated time enroute and then plan your start
so that you don't have a problem when you get there. In the first three
to five legs (depending on how finely you divide the route) we will also
have to deal with current, not as strong as in the channel but not
navigationally negligible, and will have to calculate those effects as
well. The entire game revolves around the exact direction of the wind. A
Southeasterly is technically from 135 degrees true, but the
weathercasters can't be accurate to more than plus or minus, say, 35
degrees. If we find that the wind is a bit more east than 135 we'll be
happier (reaching) than if it is a bit more south than that (on our
nose). But the idea is to sketch out all of the possibilities assuming
different wind directions and therefore points of sail and therefore
speed, add in the current vectors, and get a resultant velocity made
good for each leg under each assumption. The results, which have been
put on a table, give a range of 18.5-57 hours between the entrance and
the channel. As we approach Bramble Cay at the Bligh Entrance, the
starting point, we'll see which way the wind blows, look at our table,
and try to time our start accordingly. Even after all this, though, it's
a bit of a crapshoot, as Robert Burns said, or words to that effect.
Ship's Intrepid Adventures Specialist Terry Shrode undoubtedly feels
that these ruminations take all the fun out of it, but if so he is too
polite to say.
Next report from this loocation:
Here We Go
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