Peter and Matthewtrying to work out whichhemisphere we are infrom the stars - twominutes later they gaveup and looked at theelectronic chart!"It was exhilaratingyet boring, relaxingyet tiring, seat-of-thepantsyet predictableand a whole lot more"<strong>Oyster</strong> 56 owner, Mark Blythe,on his first Atlantic crossing'First timers on the high seas -The check-in lady took one lookat the box with corrosivesticker stuck all over it andour problems started. Just in caseyou weren’t aware, and I certainlywas not, mercury eats aluminiumand, as the bulk of a Boeing 737is aluminium, we had to leave ourcalibrated thermometers behindin Luton!Skipper Matthew Watters withowner Mark BlytheWhat, I hear you asking, has this got to dowith sailing? Peter Cockcroft, a weatherforecaster from the BBC, was one of the crew forLuskentyre’s first Atlantic crossing. Peter had arranged with the Met Officeand Southampton University’s Department of Hydrography to carry outobservations and readings throughout our passage. This would, we hoped,give us something to do as we cruised across the Atlantic. Fortunately ourloss of the thermometers did not put paid to the readings as were able touse the instruments on board.We were due to leave Las Palmas about a week before the ARC, becauseLuskentyre, our new <strong>Oyster</strong> 56, was going to appear at the Nicholson CharterBoat Show in Antigua at the beginning of December. Matthew, my skipper,had had a cracking sail down from Gibraltar with guests and had spent a ratherbumpy week at anchor, waiting for us to arrive, just outside the marina in LasPalmas. A point worth remembering, Las Palmas is not the world’s mostbeautiful place at the best of times, and Las Palmas in November is like theM25 in rush hour when it comes to boats. If you are not an ARC boat you canforget coming alongside.32 www.oystermarine.com
Peter and I finally arrived after a tortuousjourney via Madrid and, with ourdeparture the following evening, we setabout the final preparations for thecrossing. The local supermarket wassuperb (and considerably richer for it) indelivering our copious stores on board.Much to our amazement everythingdisappeared out of sight with stacks moreroom. By early evening of the followingday we were alongside a Swan 78,Capercaillie, at the fuel dock. Refuelledand ready we were waiting for our finalcrew member, Beach, to arrive. The taxipulled up, Beach negotiated his way overCapercaillie, cast off the bow line,stepped aboard and we were on our way– he had been on the ground in theCanaries for under an hour!I had been desperately setting up our newZap email account on the computer andas we nudged out in the dark round thebreak water you could feel the previousdays storm swell begin to churn the boat.Head bowed over the computer is notthe best place to be with little wind,quartering sea and a long passage ahead.But it worked – our regular log diary, whichwas to appear on the BBC’s website –interestingly called Pete’s Passage,needed email and it would get throughafter all!As we slipped down the east coast ofGran Canaria we made our last GSM callsand began to prepare ourselves for what,apart from Matthew, was to be our firsttransatlantic. Probably with the mixture ofexcitement, apprehension, fatigue and abit of fear most of us soon foundourselves feeling far from 100% in theuncomfortable motion of the windlessocean swell.Crossing the Atlantic'Having been used to navigating aroundthe Channel and the Mediterranean it wasa bizarre prospect looking at the chart andrealising that, provided we did not bumpinto Tenerife, a sunken container, a whaleor boat, the only navigational hazardahead was, well, emptiness. Our Maxseasoftware had downloaded the latest gribweather file and told us to head a littlefurther west than the traditional trade windcourse. It predicted that the winds wouldhold better the further west we got. Wewere to be impressed by this bit ofsoftware in getting us across quickly,despite a first week of very fickle wind.Daily sailing life soon got into its routine,which can be summarised as follows:fishing line out at first light, breakfast,followed by scanning the horizon for boats(none seen as usual), a weatherobservation which was sent to the MetOffice by SatC twice a day, banter, sunbathing, praying for more wind, tinkeringwith the sails, trying to get comfortable,lunch, catch a fish (they nearly always biteat a meal time - and yes, we caughtsixteen Dorado in the crossing and ate likekings), more sun bathing, read, tinker withsales, watch The Godfather on DVD andthen begin the night watch.<strong>Oyster</strong> 56, Luskentyre Photo: Nico MartinezI was trying to describe to my wife whatcrossing the Atlantic is like. I first askedher to imagine what it would be like to drivea car across miles of moorland at 8 milesan hour, with the occasional herd of giantred deer charging at you in your headlights.www.oystermarine.com33