Princ Christian Sund to ? - Day 7 - 30/8/25

I continue to sleep on and off but during the early hours of the morning I become much more aware of the noise of the wind. It must have increased further. I'm even more relieved we're not sailing and just hope the forecast is not wildly out and we're going to get significantly worse conditions which necessitate deployment of the drogue and so lie stern to the weather to minimise the risk of a knock down by a rogue wave.

We both continue to sleep on and off until about 0930 when I get up and make tea and toast for breakfast. We discuss the situation and agree that despite little if any improvement in the conditions, we'll get underway again and see how we fare. I decide it would be better to use the storm jib rather than the genoa because I'm anxious about the genoa's furling mechanism jamming once again in the strong winds. Being unable to furl that in these conditions would be pretty bloody awful.

So I go up to the foredeck and hoist the storm jib. I have to do that three times in order to find the best run for the sheets and avoid them chaffing on the standing rigging. We end up with both sheets on the leeward side on slightly different runs so that we have the option of using either subject to how hard we want to sheet the sail in. This time I do get a wave break over me and I get a good soaking. My oilskins are clearly too worn out to keep me dry and so too, disappointingly are my little used sea boats!

It takes us nearly an hour in all but eventually we are both satisfied with how the boat is behaving, her speed - around 6 knots and her course, almost due east, and we go below. The weather has brightened up a bit which cheers us up too.

I manage to cook a bacon and egg brunch at noon which goes down well.

The conditions remain broadly the same for the rest of the day, with relative brightness alternating with relative gloom and the batteries reach 70% capacity for the first time since leaving Greenland.

Bonny continues to average around 6.5 knots. Since heaving to for the first time on this passage the day before yesterday, we have sailed under a triple reefed mainsail and the storm jib and have left the genoa furled up completely. In these conditions it's a good combination. The deeply reefed mainsail doesn't blanket the storm jib as much as the genoa and so unlike the genoa we don't need to pole it out to the weather side when the wind is on the quarter. When it does back occasionally, the force of it resetting is nowhere near as violent as the genoa doing the same thing.

George cooks a most welcome chilli concarne for supper and then we heave-to for the night. We experiment once again with combinations of mainsail and storm jib before arriving at the same conclusion - the best set-up is just the triple reefed mainsail sheeted in tight with the ship's rudder hard over to the weather side and the wheel lashed accordingly. I feather the Hydrovane so that it helps hold the ship's head at the same angle to the wind - roughly 45°.

Once that's done we both go below and go to bed.

Our straight line run from our hove-to position at 2150 the previous night, to midnight was 98 miles. Our distance to Lands End is 731. Which means we are 93 miles closer than we were then, which, given we were hove-to for a total of 15 hours during the same period, is pretty good going.

Princ Christian Sund to ? - Day 6 - 29/8/25

When my alarm goes off at 0200, George is fast asleep on the starboard saloon berth and I see no point in waking him, so I get up to check our course etc. We're heading further north than desirable and will have to gybe again but I decide to wait until George is awake rather than wake him up with all the inevitable noise that will accompany the manoeuvre. I'm also just too lazy! Then I go back to bed having set my alarm to go off in another hour.

When I get up next, I realise I shouldn't delay putting the gybe in any longer and so get togged up to go outside. Whilst I'm doing that George wakes up. He stands by in case I need any help. In theory the operation can be managed from the cockpit. If all goes without a hitch, the 'worst' bit is having to stretch forward and retrieve the leeward genoa sheet from the rail where it has to be made up in order for there to be enough slack in it for the genoa to be sheeted out to the end of the windward pole. Why? Well it's because when measuring up for the new sheets in 2022, some daft hapeth neglected to account for the full distance the sheets needed to run from forestay via the ends of the poles back to the cockpit. No prizes for working out who that was, and you can be assured that he's extremely likely to make the same or similar mistake in the future!

As it turns out, on this occasion, not only is the uncomfortable stretch forward required, but the powers that be decide to invoke 'sods sailing law' which amongst many of its sub clauses includes one which says..."...for no discernable reason, nor due to any physical law yet discovered,  any sheet, no matter how carefully run, that in the normal course of events can readily be hauled from one side of the boat to the other without issue, will, at the most inconvenient moment, find an hitherto innocent and otherwise sensibly placed obstacle on which to foul itself..".

On this occasion the inconvenience in question is derived from my confidence that the manoeuvre will be a quick one and that I should be back in the relative comfort of the cabin within a few minutes.

No need for full togging up therefore, just my light jacket, shoes and life jacket for clipping on in the cockpit.Out I go. It's not particularly rough or windy  but rolly, damp and dark. I implement the manoeuvre I had just rehearsed in my head - change the angle of the wind vane so its pointing over the opposite quarter; take all but the last turn of the leeward preventer off its cleat; wait for the mainsail to start backing and then gently ease the preventer so that the boom swings across slowly to the other side; harden up on the preventer on the new leeward side; slacken off the genoa sheet and haul in on the furling line in stages so that the genoa is small enough to cross the boat without snagging on the temporary inner forestay; reach forward to retrieve the new windward genoa sheet from the rail; and haul it in to pull the genoa out onto the pole....and that's when sods sailor's law kicks in. 

The bloody thing won't move more than a few inches. The other sheet is slack so what's the problem? I look forward. There's the culprit. The sheet and the forward starboard mooring cleat have decided it's time to form an intimate relationship and the former has wrapped itself amorously around the latter. Blast. Now I need to go onto the foredeck. I have to clip on with three separate safety lines to get from the cockpit to the foredeck whilst remaining tethered to the boat at all times. It's wet of course. The wetness quickly penetrates through my light over-trousers to my knees and then my backside and my feet as I make the outward and then return outing to the foredeck, making sure I keep some tension in the sheet so as to avoid any further inappropriate behaviour.

I get back to the cockpit OK. George is standing in the companionway in case further help is necessary. I quickly get the sheet on the winch and pull the now quarter sized genoa out on the windward pole. Now I need to unfurl the genoa (I decide to about 2/3rds its full size). This is the part of the operation where I need to simultaneously ease the leeward sheet, ease the furling line but keep some tension on it to avoid the slack line tangling on anything, and winch in the windward sheet.  It's an operation we have both done on our own countless times before, but it's that much easier and less prone to getting bits of string all tangled up when there are two of you. George immediately spots the stage when I need three arms and takes over the job of easing the leeward sheet and making it up on the rail. The job gets done without more ado and we both retire below.

I'm very glad we have Starlink and that we are able to get connections relatively easily. Being able to get up to date weather and sea state information is proving to be a hugely useful tool for planning and implementing our sailing tactics amidst the surprisingly numerous weather systems that have impacted, or will impact us. It makes me feel quite uneasy when contemplating what we might have experienced without it.

Erin was of course the big name in the show's cast and it was thanks to access to (surprisingly) accurate and up to date weather information, that we were able to establish that the simple tactic of keeping the wind on our starboard quarter would keep us out of her clutches.

However, whilst Erin is the headline act, it turns out she has a surprising number of co-stars lining up to spice up the show.

Having earlier swept all asunder and taken the stage by storm, Erin's now (above) a mere shadow of her former self sulking and pouting to the west of Scotland at 0700 UTC on Friday 29th August.

The following is based on a weather grib file downloaded on Thursday afternoon.

At the bottom left (above) you can see Erin's younger sister beginning to strut her stuff on the Atlantic stage.

By 0400 UTC on Saturday she will have crossed us and be about 200 miles to the west of Ireland (above).

By Monday 2100 UTC yet another sister arrives on stage to the south west of southern Ireland and yet another is warming up south east of South Greenland (below)..

and by Tuesday midday will have travelled half way across the North Atlantic to team up with her older sister (below) ...

to provide us with rip roaring entertainment as we head for the western approaches!

The details of this choreography will have changed by the time this is posted but it gives you an idea of the level of activity on the North Atlantic stage we will have deal with before getting home.

Without the weather files we would have very little idea of what is coming. We do have the ship's barometer which shows the changes in air pressure that generate these systems, but that only gives us the broadest of pictures of what's going on out there. Working out from that and what one can observe by eye, where the strongest winds and biggest waves are likely to be, is a skill and an art that few of us modern day sailors posess. 

For hundreds of years however, the barometer and the naked eye were the only tools available to men and women sailing vessels large and small.  Before the barometer was invented, sailors had to make do with what they could directly observe. The Vikings sailed the treacherous seas of the far north Atlantic including the land of Ice Bergs and Mountains that we have just visited (we anchored at their first settlement in Greenland at Ikigaat) with only a magnetised needle and their eyes to rely on. They of course had no engine to get them out of trouble - just lots of oars! 

As recently as the 1960's, the likes of Bill Tillman (who only took up sailing when he could no longer climb the highest mountains) were sailing into the same waters in search of adventure, with the only addition to the magnetised needle, being a Sextant and a Barometer. Tillman's boats did have engines but they as often as not failed to function. One can only marvel at the skill, fortitude and bravery of Tillman and Co. You would think that for most people, surviving active service in the second world war, would have been enough excitement and that afterwards a quiet life in front of the fire with one's pipe, remembering fallen comrades would be a more attractive proposition!

Back to the present day North Atlantic. It's just gone 1500 on Friday afternoon and for yet another day we've had no sun. The batteries have been charging very slowly in the gloom and are still at only 40% capacity. We need an updated weather forecast and I need to run the watermaker to prevent the build up growth in the high pressure filter. Mind you I'm not sure if anything can grow in these temperatures. It's not quite as cold as it was but it's still pretty parky. All that means we need to run the engine to charge the batteries.

Thankfully it starts immediately without any hesitation. George's earlier heroics are still paying dividends!

We get online, get the latest weather forecast - not real change from previously - exchange messages with home and send the previous blog post.

Next I start cooking supper - pork again because that's the most unfrozen meat in the freezer which is now switched off due to lack of power which in turn is due to lack of sunlight! I'm about two thirds of the way through when I can no longer ignore the increasingly wild movement of the boat. The wind has increased suddenly and significantly and we are clearly over canvassed. 

It's about 2045 local time and time to heave-to! These are the strongest winds I have done this in and we have to experiment with a few different sail configurations before settling on the best.

I work the foredeck and George looks after the lines in the cockpit. It's pretty wild up here but I don't get any waves over me and I'm well clipped on. I have to unship and stow the port pole to start with because it's fouling the clue of the storm jib. 

Next I hoist the storm jib and we start off with the triple reefed mainsail and backed storm jib, but we can't get Bonny to lie as close to the wind as we think she should. Then we douse the jib and just lie-to under the main sheeted hard in. That improves things a little but we still seem to be making 3+ knots over the ground which is more than we expect/want. 

Then I look over the side and it doesn't look like we are going that fast through the water. We conclude we must be in a significant current. The wind is about 45°-60° off the bow which is about right. It's now 2150 ship's time (UTC-1) and we decide we have done everything that can be done and retire below. 

Supper now features soggy potatoes as a consequence.

After supper George bravely tackles the washing up and we both climb into our bunks for the night. There seems little point in maintaining a formal watch given we are drifting slowly in the middle of the North Atlantic and we have left the Icebergs behind.

I sleep on and off and feel a lot more at ease now there's no risk of Bonny broaching in the night (running too fast down a wave, digging her bow in and slewing broadside on the waves). It's much quieter below and I am only just conscious of the noise of the wind than I am when up top, where it seems pretty clear that a gale is blowing.

We overlook recording our midnight position but our heave-to point acts as a reasonable proxy and on that basis we have covered 104 miles in a straight line in the last 24 hours. There are now 824 miles to go to Lands End, which means we are 104 miles closer than 24 hours ago. Respectable in the circumstances

Princ Christian Sund to ? - Day 5 - 28/8/25

Oh dear, oh dear, what's to become of us? Not only did we run out of tonic a week or so back, but now we've broken the last remaining glass on the boat. So assuming conditions ever improve sufficiently, to make red wine or rum and coke an attractive proposition, we'll have to drink it out of plastic. We may also have run out of ice berg. We've had no sun except for 10 minutes a couple of days ago which means we're low on power and so it doesn't look like the freezer will go on today. That means our baby ice bergs, which, as Mick has pointed out, may be thousands of years old, may melt away to nothing if they have not done so already! A sad state of affairs indeed.

On a brighter note however, my soda bread is a great success. It's even contrived to look like the real thing. The inside as well as the outside is an authentic brown colour as if made with wholemeal flour which is pretty impressive given that it wasn't. It must have been that dollop of molasses that worked the deception.

George and I both doze during the morning. When his formal 2 hour early morning off-Watch period ends at 1030 I suggest he stays put. I've taken up residence on the Starboard saloon bunk which, now we were almost running, is a tenable option and despite its short length, courtesy of the cabin heater, I find more comfortable than the pilot berth, which George appears to be relatively comfortable in.

George gets up around 1130 and makes a welcome cup of tea and then I decide to investigate the soda bread which as reported earlier is a success. I also make breakfast. The boat is rolling so much that it's back to granola, fruit (I pick out the last few grapes that are mold free - it's remarkable how long they have lasted) yogurt and milk. 

George retires back to the pilot berth after breakfast still feeling queasy as a consequence of the constant rolling. 

I pump the bilges which I have been doing once a day since we left. It takes about a hundred strokes of the pump every day. I suspect most of the water is coming in via the anchor locker with some also getting in via the stern gland and the cockpit lockers. 

Then I continue my investigation of the disappeared UK charts on OpenCPN. Other regions are also no longer accessible, they too have, so the Application tells me, expired. But strangely the Carribbean charts are still available despite expiring on the same date last year! I'll investigate further once back on-line via Starlink. 

I hope it doesn't take long to connect Starlink today because we are low on power. There was a slight glimmer of brightness earlier and the charge rate went up to ten amps, but that didn't last long and we're now down to charging at just under two amps with the batteries at 47%. Thank goodness Mick persuaded me to invest in Lithium batteries and related kit and fitted it and also that we installed the two extra solar panels in Grenada last year.

It took about 20 minutes to connect Starlink despite the rolling. With one exception, when I had to restart it after an hour of trying, the maximum time it has taken on this trip is about 30 mins. That's a lot better than the sometimes 2 hours it took when Mick and I crossed to the Carribbean in 2023/24. The rolling on those occasions was even worse than on this passage (although George may take some convincing of that) and it was before Starlink updated their software to allow the dish to sit on an horizontal plane. At that time Mick came up with an ingenuous gimbal mechanism made with bits of string and bungee cord in which we were able to suspend the dish. I think the severe rolling then was due to very confused seas and the fact that we were running under twin headsails with no mainsail. The lack of a mainsail meant there was no sideways pressure thereby allowing the boat to roll more. On this passage we've kept the mainsail up and swapped the genoa over from one side to the other and gybed as necessary, subject to the wind direction relative to our desired course.

Meanwhile the grey, damp, rocking and rolling continues and it sounds like the wind is increasing again!

George cooks another tasty supper of pork steaks, potatoes and coleslaw. The pork steaks we bought in both St John's and in Greenland have been excellent - far better than those I usually come across in the Supermarkets at home.

I wash up and the read some more of the excellent novel that George has lent me. One he bought in St John's - historical fiction set in Newfoundland's early colonial days which explores the relationship between the English settlers and the native aboriginal Beothuk people, who are eventually wiped out. It's "River Thieves" by  Michael Crummey. Given my own recently developed obsession with Newfoundland's history, it's a very timely read. 

I knew nothing about the Beothuk before reading River Thieves and it's rather depressing to come across yet another native people that the English wiped off the map (and I think it was primarily an English as opposed to a British imperialism that underpinned the exploitation of the burgeoning colony).

I have however read some historical accounts and contemporary records documenting the development of the  Newfoundland fishery and subsequent colony and Crummey's richly descriptive word tapestry serves to illuminate those dry records with a penetrating insight into what the lives of the people fishing, hunting, trapping and trading must have been like in Newfoundland in those very wild times. It's as if he was there and witnessed the events himself - quite extraordinary!

And now back to the North Atlantic..

I go to bed at 1000 as usual and this time manage to get some sleep. 

Our midnight to midnight run in a straight line is 143 nautical miles. Our distance to Lands End is 928. Yesterday at the same time it was 1061 which means we're 133 closer. That is another good result!

Princ Christian Sund to ? - Day 4 - 27/8/25

That's what it looks like out of the back door most of the time and will probably continue to do so for much of the rest of the passage home.

When I get up at 0200 and change over with George things feel just the same as they did when I went to bed 4 hours earlier, but in fact we have just entered the transition period between the two weather systems and we are now on the eastern edge of the ridge of higher pressure following Erin. The wind is already further west than it was and over the next few hours it should moderate and back even further until it is blowing from the south west and then south. During that phase we'll have to change our sail plan and sheet the Genoa to leeward and sail closer to the wind in order to maintain a course south of east. Later still the next depression will pass over us to the north and we'll have strong north westerlies once again and have to change back.

George reported another vessel about 50 miles off on the AIS and it's still a long way off at 25 miles when I check and unlikely to  cause us any issues.

My Watch continues with no particular changes until the last hour when I notice the wind backing further - confirmation that we are being overtaken by the ridge of high pressure and that Erin, even at her now leisurely pace, has become tired of us and is leaving us behind. We are now heading further east than ideal (our heading is now north of Lands End)  but I wait for the change of Watch in an hour before making the necessary changes to the sail plan.

We make the changes at the change of Watch; set the Hydrovane to a beam reach and completely unfurl and sheet the genoa to leeward. That puts us back on a course just south of east.

I also pick up another vessel on the AIS at 84 miles and the former vessel is still there at 54 miles. They are bearing 355° and 230° so quite a long way apart. Both are underway at about 10 knots. I suspect they are the huge fishing factory ships that one comes across from time to time in mid-ocean.

1000 ish and the wind continues to back forcing us northwards and so I make a further adjustment to the Hydrovane to put us on a close reach and trim the sheets accordingly. This keeps us tracking just south of east at least for now.

1100 it's much quieter now and I take the opportunity to do the washing up from last night's supper, I even have the briefest of washes myself with a little warm water saved from the washing up kettle. Then I  cook bacon and eggs for breakfast.  Healthy granola and fruit are all very well and yes we still have 10 boxes of the stuff to get through, but sometimes a good fry up is just what's needed. Besides, this morning might be the last one for a while when wielding a frying pan in the galley isn't classified as an extreme sport!

We foolishly missed the Aapilattoq  supermarket closing at midday and so have run out of fresh bread, but we do  have two semi frozen loaves of a sort of Rye Bread and so start on that with our breakfast. Breakfast goes down well and is followed by proper coffee which is a treat too. Thankfully my bladder seems to be back to normal and is able to cope with the caffeine without giving me extra agro.

The wind backs further south during the day and then starts veering back to the west as the next low pressure system catches us up. We're keeping an eye on it but this time it doesn't look like we'll be able to avoid some pretty strong winds that are due to reach us on Saturday. We may have to heave-to when that happens and let the depression pass over us. Because its centre is just to the north of us and its tracking eastwards, the winds on its leading and trailing edges at our latitude are blowing from roughly the same direction - westwards. As the centre passes us we'll get brief periods of southerly and then northerly winds before they revert to the west. So don't be surprised if you see us slow right down on Saturday for 12 or even 24 hours before resuming once again.

By late afternoon today the wind has backed to the west requiring us to sail further away from it. That means we have to adjust the angle of the windvane - an easy job and set the genoa on the pole out to starboard. The pole is still rigged from before so it's a pretty straightforward  job to reduce the genoa's size (to prevent it from snagging on the inner forestay now rigged in the event of needing to set the storm jib - see the photos from the St John's post) and to then haul it across to the end of the pole.

That done I stumble across a recipe for soda bread on my phone whilst searching for the manual for OpenCpn. That's the chart plotter programme I run on the Raspberry Pi computer. I can't get my charts of the UK to load and need to investigate why. Later I conclude that it's because my subscription has expired and will need to be renewed. I can do that next time we have Starlink online.

Anyway back to the soda bread recipe. I decide to have a go at making some despite not having quite the right ingredients - the main one missing being wholemeal flower. I did have loads of it but it had got very old and so was thrown away. We did however buy some plain white flower in St John's and so I use that instead and add some porridge oats - that reminds me we haven't tried making any porridge yet. I use maple syrup and molasses in place of honey because while we do have honey it's all crystallised. We've no lemons - that was careless, but we do have a smigen of lemon juice left in a bottle abd sonI use that. It's pretty old so I fortify it with lime juice from the Carribbean which is where the molasses came from too. I mix it all up with milk and baking soda (also pretty old and from the Carribbean) as directed and put it in the oven for the required 40 minutes and this was the result...

It looks alright but we decide to leave it for breakfast so you'll have to read the next post to find out whether it tasted OK.

I boil some potatoes and carrots to go with the leftovers from George's mincemeat dinner of yesterday and we laze around until i go off Watch at 2200 and try, unsuccessfully, to sleep. The boat is just moving around too much and the pilot berth being high up exaggerates the motion.

By midnight we have travelled another 132 miles in a straight line and there are 1061 miles to go to Lands End which means we are also 132 miles closer to it than we were 24 hours ago. That's a result!

Princ Christian Sund to ? - Day 3 - 26/8/25

I need a pee just after 0100 and in any case haven't been able to sleep for some time. Bonny is careering along even more wildly than before so I decide it's time to put the third reef in the mainsail. It takes ages to tog up as usual. I do the deck work and George looks after the lines in the cockpit and eventually we get the job done. Then we put a few more rolls in the genoa and retire below and I take over the Watch. The boat's movement is now more comfortable.

A couple of hours into my Watch and the wind has increased further - probably now at 30 knots, glad we put the reef in when we did. The ride is now almost as wild as before.

0600 and we swap over again. The changes we make are minimal mind you. The person off Watch strips his outer togs off, climbs into the pilot berth, hoping as he does so that the boat doesn't take a violent roll and catapult him across the saloon before he's had a chance to secure himself in. The man on watch dons his togs, pokes his head outside the hatch,  but inside the storm canopy, marvels at the huge rollers lining up astern and then quickly returns, checks the chart plotter and the AIS and makes himself an on-Watch nest of his bedding on the aft saloon seat and snoozes in between hourly checks of the situation, all the time wondering why its so bloody cold! I'm now wearing 4 layers on my legs and often 6 on top and then I cover myself with bedding!

I just tried to take a photo of the pilot berth and on-Watch nest but the phone informed me that 'violent movements" may spoil the photograph!!

The gale and I assume, the waves have torn the lee cockpit dodger off its bottom cable tie fixings and it's flapping about dementedly but I can't face trying to secure it. 

We still have the wind on the starboard quarter and as we slide diagonally down each wave often at 8+ knots, the boat has a tendency to head up into the wind. Most of the time the Hydrovane pulls her back on track pretty quickly but every now and again the genoa that is polled out to starboard, backs and resets with a loud crack!

0950 - the sun's out!

1000 - no it's not!

And it didn't come back either!

George gets up at around 1130 and makes breakfast - granola, fruit and yogurt. It's remarkable how long fresh fruit lasts for in this climate. We still have some grapes left that we bought in St John's that are in edible condition. Mind you at around an estimated, 5°C I suppose it's not that surprising. It's a bit like living in a fridge! If I'm not typing on the phone I'm wearing gloves down below for god's sake! It wasn't this cold in Greenland!

And so it goes on. At the time of writing this sentence (1800), George is recording our position and estimates from the weather file that we'll have another 12 hours of this before we get respite for perhaps another 9 hours, as a ridge of high pressure passes over us to be followed by another depression. On the bright side at least we're making good speed - still 6-7 knots, if not in exactly the 'right' direction.

George cooks a most welcome supper of mince and boiled potatoes. That's thanks in part to the portable freezer box which is just about working, in that it gets cold but the thermostatic control has gone haywire. It thinks its always 30°C and so the compressor is working constantly when switched on. So we have it on during the day when we are getting some charge from the solar panels and turn it off at night. 

Another thing that's gone haywire is my blasted bladder. I'm having to pee every half an hour or so! I hope it's the effect of the cold rather than a major deterioration in its already fragile condition for which I am already taking meds.

I go off Watch as usual at 1000 but the boat is bouncing around so much it's difficult to get any sleep.

At midnight we have made 160 miles in a straight line which I am pretty sure is a record. Our distance from Lands End is 1193 which means we are 95 miles closer than we were 24 hours ago!

Princ Christian Sund to ? - Day 2 - 25/8/25

Thrill Seeker 😁

It's 0200 local Greenland time and I've just started my Watch.  The wind is blowing from the West North West at F6-7, stronger than the predicted 20 knots I'm sure. Bonny is storming along at 7+ knots on a SE by S course with two reefs in the mainsail and 2-3 rolls in the genoa set to leeward. The wind is abaft the beam and come daylight/Watch handover, we'll probably pole it out to starboard in order to run off a little more and head a bit further eastwards whilst hopefully avoiding getting ensnared in Erin's clutches.

The rest of my Watch delivers more of the same and we expect it to continue for another couple of days. We defer the sail and course change until later having concluded that on balance getting further south at this stage, is better than going further east.

It's about 1100 local Greenland time (1200 UTC) and now that we have both had a morning nap to catch up on sleep we make the sail and course change. It's an easy one thankfully. I had rigged the starboard pole before we left the Sund in anticipation of the change, so all we had to do was furl in some genoa to make it more manageable and then haul it out on the pole and then let out roughly the same amount once again. We didn't have to leave the cockpit for that, although George did leave it briefly to plug the dorade vents with sponges in an effort to reduce the icy streams of air funneling into the cabin. 

We continue to make good progress south-east at 6+ knots. The seas have built somewhat and we are rocking and rolling quite a bit. I manage to get Starlink to connect (it can be quite reluctant to do so whilst the boat is rolling) and we download updated weather files and review our earlier weather route in light of the latest predictions. The broad picture is pretty similar and Erin's current behaviour and the latest predictions of her future behaviour don't appear to have changed a great deal. She is due to stall and dissipate between Iceland and the British Isles in a few days time and our weather will be increasingly determined by a new low pressure system developing south west of Greenland and tracking eastwards.

We also check messages on the OCC Greenland/Iceland group to see what the other boats are planning to do about their departures.  At the time of writing this on Monday evening, those messages are eight hours old, but at the time they were written, one boat was considering a crossing to Iceland another was going to go up the east coast of Greenland and the third was still in wait and see mode. We feel a little out on a limb with our 'go for it' approach, but we've done our homework on the weather and can keep tabs on the situation as it develops thanks to Starlink and are confident our approach is a sensible one.

During the afternoon we examine the drone footage I took during its two rather erratic flights in Princ Christian Sund. Much of it is pretty scrappy but I did get a few minutes of good video of Bonny near the glacier and am pretty pleased with that - and of course I have defied Vincent's predictions and am returning with the drone!

After taking the initiative to review our weather route after that, George is feeling a bit queezy this evening and so I cook dinner.

Pasta Carbonara (sort of). It's actually very tasty and is the first thing either of us has eaten since a very late breakfast of granola, fruit and yogurt (except tea/coffee and biscuits.

He very kindly says I can knock off early after dinner so I gratefully climb into bed at 2030, update the draft blog and will now hopefully fall asleep.

Well I did on and off, but Bonny was pretty lively and so I kept getting shaken awake!

Our midnight to midnight run was 150 somewhat uncomfortable miles which I think is amongst the fastest 24 hour runs Bonny has done under my ownership. The distance to Lands End is 1288 nautical miles. The distance the previous midnight was 1374 nautical miles and so we're 86 miles closer than we were then. Not particularly impressive but we are having to run a long way south of our direct line because of storm Erin. In a few days time we will hopefully be able to take a more direct route.

Princ Christian Sund to ? - Day 1 - 24/8/25

The alarm wakes me at 7 in the remarkably sheltered and isolated anchorage of Puiattoq roughly half way down the Sund on the north side tucked into a cleft in the cliffs adjacent to the adjacent glacier. 

We are due to leave at 0900 for the weather station at the eastern end of the Sund, where we will make our final go/no go decision for our departure to the UK. 

The view from the anchorage 

Ex Hurricane Erin who has predicted maximum winds of 40 knots still has plenty of life left in her and is currently 500 miles to the east south east of our position, tracking eastwards across the North Atlantic towards the UK. An encounter with her is one we are very keen to avoid but the options of delaying our departure by 24 hours or a few days are not particularly attractive either. 

Waiting a day risks getting trapped on the wrong (western) side of a developing trough of low pressure to our south where would face calms and then strong contrary winds, which in the inevitably messy sea would be both very uncomfortable and very slow going. Waiting a few days means greater uncertainty. The weather forecasts predict new lows developing to the east of Greenland with the likelihood of strong contrary winds and so we could find ourselves storm bound for more than a week if we take that option.

Anyway, the final decision awaits. Now, on the assumption we do go today, is my last chance to get the drone up and to take some video and photos from it. The drone is actually my son's, Stephen's. As both he and his brother Vincent will confirm, my drone flying skills have not yet reached rudimentary and so it was an act of great optimism by Stephen to lend it too me. Vincent, I know does not expect to see it again. I took it ashore to practice for the first time when we anchored at the ancient Viking settlement of Herjolfsnes a few days ago. I had previously charged all three drone batteries up, but had not charged the controller. Actually I had concluded that it was powered by my phone owing to the absence of a recognisable USB  port. I was wrong of course and the upshot was I could not fly it then. 

Next I took it ashore at Aapilattoq only to find out I didn't know how to turn it on! Further discussions with Stephen revealed the correct sequence of button presses needed, but by then we were on our way up the Sund.

So this morning before we leave is my last chance to fly it from a relatively stationary platform. First I lit the cabin heater and have a wash with tepid water. It was hot last night but I was too tired to be bothered. Then a cup of instant coffee before I go into the cockpit with the drone.

Success - well I get it to take off from the solar panel at the stern of the boat and manage to get it to fly around (although it doesn't seem to want to go very far) and I hope I got some video and photographs! I even manage to fly it back to the boat. By this time however its battery is very low - the warning lights are flashing, a very annoying female voice is repeating the instruction to return to base for the same reason and I'm terrified that it's going to drop into the sea at any second. Even more miraculously I succeed in grabbing it by one of its landing legs. It clearly doesn't like the experience because it makes a loud high pitched scream as it tries to regain flight. I'm looking at it wondering how long it will be before it chops off a finger or two when George pokes his head out and tells me to turn it upside down which I do and thankfully it stops shrieking!

Next we get the dinghy up on deck, deflate it, lash it down on deck and stow its various component parts  below. This is always a very lengthy and tedious performance. Eventually the job is done and we get the anchor up and head out of the anchorage.

As we leave we glance over at the glacier which flows into the inlet through a violent gash in the landscape that it's younger self no doubt carved thousands of years ago. "Shall we go take a closer look?" 

I say to George. So we slowly motor over towards it. As we approach the lumps of ice scattered in the water around become denser and I have to be careful not to hit anything big. Bonny's pretty tough but she's not built for ice breaking! I stop the boat at about 500 metres off the mouth of the glacier. The water is now thick with lumps of ice that have carved off and I don't want to be too close in case a really big bit does. This after all is an ice berg making machine and we don't want to get caught up in its workings.

We marvel at the awesome sight in front of us and listen to the popping and cracking noises coming from it. It's difficult to believe that in a few years time it may no longer reach the water and become neutered like so many of its Greenlandic cousins.

I decide to try the drone again and hopefully get some good views of the glacier and Bonny. My driving skills are still awful and this time I cannot get the drone to return to the boat. It seems happy to go in every other direction but not towards Bonny! I'm reluctant to use the return to home function just in case it lands itself in the sea! Eventually at George's suggestion he drives the boat towards the drone. As we get close to it I'm able to get it to descend and I pluck it out of the air like before and this time immediately turn it upside down to stop it.

Feeling very chuffed with ourselves and like proper explorers, George heads Bonny down the Sund and I go below to make Bacon and Egg butties and coffee for breakfast. It's about 1000 and we're running behind schedule.

It's a gorgeous sunny day but still pretty cold so we leave the cabin heater on to provide a bit of luxury during our potentially last day in the land of ice and mountains. We soak up the incredible scenery around us as Bonny slips down the Sund and we munch our bacon and egg butties and sip coffee in the cockpit.

We pass more glaciers on our way to the exit and the Atlantic Ocean. Bang on schedule we are off the weather station at 1500 and have our 'should we, shall we, what if pow wow' and catch up messages from the other OCC boats we have met over the last few days with their thoughts and plans. Eventually for the reasons stated earlier, we decide to go and follow the strategy I described above.

We motor out of the Sund, set the mainsail still with three reefs since we last used it and head east for a few miles to clear a number of off-shore obstructions and then turn slowly south. 

There are 1386 nautical miles to Lands End!

Based on the forecast we expect to have to motor southwards for a few hours before we pick up a decent breeze from the north or north west.

By 1930 the breeze arrives (albeit quite light) from the north west and we shake out one reef and continue just east of south under sail making about 4 knots.

I cook dinner of sausages with fried onion and red cabbage (the last of it) and boiled potatoes and green cabbage. We wash it down with the last dregs of the penultimate bottle of red wine. The rest of it was drunk the previous evening with dinner at our glacial anchorage in The Sund.

By 2100 the wind has freshened considerably to around 20 knots and we are romping along at 6-7 knots in a rather uncomfortable manner due to the confused sea state. The wind increases further over the next few hours to what feels like in the high 20ks - F6/7.

By midnight we have covered 50 miles mostly in a southerly direction. There are 1371 mnautival miles to Lands End. We are 15 miles nearer than we were at 1500! 🤣