The crew enjoyed
dancing on ice,
but I was not keen
to join themADVENTURE
46 http://www.yachtingmonthly.com APRIL 2016Bob, 81, lives in Scotland with his wife.
He has won the Royal Cruising Club’s
Tilman Medal twice. He has been a
Royal Marines offi cer, a youth leader
in London’s East End and chaplain to
two schools, from which he took pupils
sailing, climbing and skiing. His voyages
include a westabout circumnavigation in
1993-95, via Cape Horn and Antarctica.you can anchor with sea eagles circling
above you, reindeer ashore, mountains to
starboard and icebergs in the fjord to port.
The next leg, in lovely sunshine but no
wind, took us away from the wilderness
and into the town of Qaqortoq. The
Seamen’s Mission has now closed but
after a long walk we did fi nd showers,
clothes-washing facilities and WiFi,
though a Danish warship did move us from
our berth because they wanted it. South
from here we became tourists, visiting
the well-preserved 14th Century Norse
church at Hvalsey and soaking in the hot
thermal springs at Unartoq. Back aboard,
we rode out stormy winds in the circular
fjord of Tasiussaq, off Tasermiut, with a
magnifi cent panorama of mountains all
around, and a spectacular display of the
northern lights covering the whole night
sky. Our fi nal stop in Greenland, after a
very stormy night, was in Nanortalik for
fi nal stores and bunkering.
The northern Atlantic wasn’t going to let
us off the hook and was its usual diffi cult
self. The notorious Cape Farewell joined in
the act and, as we turned south to get into
the Atlantic, the wind went from 5 to 25
knots in seconds and an already nasty sea
became violently bouncy. We reefed down,
set the inner staysail and clawed our way
south to clear the Cape.
The weather charts we were now getting
by email from ‘my man in Scotland’
showed that a depression to the south of
Iceland had thrown out a huge spider’s
web of isobars stretching right across
the Atlantic from Greenland to Britain
and beyond. Our plan was to work south
around these, hoping to pick up westerlies
to the south. The winds continued to build,
however, and we were forced to heave to
for 26 hours. In the process, the base plate
of the kicking strap shot off the mast foot;
it wasn’t until things had markedly calmed
down that we could effect a repair.
We were given a brief interlude in thetumult as we were almost becalmed, but
the big winds and seas soon returned, the
isobars tighter than ever. A wave hit me in
the chest and threw me across the cockpit.
The fresh water system stopped working
and only recovered when we bypassed
the fi lter system. Huge, long Atlantic
rollers were sweeping under us, one of
which hit the boat like a slab of concrete,
bursting open a repair I had done two years
previously. Water spurted in a jet across
the saloon and soaked Martin’s bunk –
he was unamused. When things calmed
down we tackled a repair in mid-Atlantic,
pushing fi breglass fi ller into the cracks and
holes as best we could. Thankfully it held
for the rest of the trip. Then the loo seat
began to crack and threatened to lose its
vacuum – a potential disaster – and the
wind instrument gave up altogether.
Finally, for the last three days we picked
up a consistent westerly, speeding us
towards Ireland and into the Firth of Lorn.
At long last, we put into Oban for fuel, but
were met with unwelcome news: ‘Sorry,
no diesel’. Instead we motored in heavy
rain past Castle Stalker into Dallens Bay.
We tied up at the pontoon, after 1,645
miles and 14½ days at sea, shattered but
thankful. The passage marked the crew’s
fi rst and my 15th Atlantic crossing, as well
as my 80th year. It wouldn’t have felt right
if it had been easy. WBob Shepton
PHOTO: MARTIN DOBLE
PHOTO: MARTIN DOBLEWe fi nally got a following wind three days out
from Scotland after 11 days of headwindsAn old crack opened up mid-Atlantic. Stuffi ng
it with fi breglass paste was the only option