Aleria's Adventures

Just as we thought it would be safer out there with AIS, picking up ships long before they were a threat on the high seas, a new type of go-fast boat has come on the scene. Dubbed narco-submarines, they are being used for drug smuggling from Colombia, Guatemala and Panama to Mexico. One was recently intercepted off the coast of Galicia, Spain - not sure where they came from. The trouble with these boats is that they are not visible on AIS or radar, hard to spot with the naked eye, and even resistant to detection by infrared. That's a problem for people transiting the same waters in sailboats. Granted there aren't that many of them out there, but...

Visibility decreasing as we enter the Bay of Biscay  Not long ago, when people set sail to cross oceans, they set off with some charts, a sextant, sight reduction tables, pencils, dividers, parallel rules, a compass, a log to measure knots and a clock. If they knew the speed at which they were sailing, and how long they had sailed, they could determine where they were. They would back that up by taking sights on the stars and the sun and calculating their lat and long.

Weighing anchor by moonlight We crept out of Crookhaven under the light of the full moon. We set sail at dawn in 10-12 knots of wind out of the W, ideal conditions for setting out into the Celtic Sea. The sunrise was lovely and bright, and just as promised, the wind had started to fill in. On a heading of 186 degrees M, we were doing 8 knots - 505 MTG and 75 hours at this speed, not that we expected it to last. Dolphins feeding came by to see us off.

Happy Independence Day America!  Huge swell combined with cross waves to create a confused sea. Pounding around Achill and into Black Sod Bay, County Mayo, Ireland Well at least it wasn't a red sky at morning. The concert before we left had ended with a fireworks display reminiscent of American Independence Day.  We’d had our fix of oooohs and aahhs and ohwwwsss! All we could do now was celebrate our independence by setting off and hoping for the best. In the morning, despite a threatening looking sunrise, heavy swell and confused seas, we left Clew Bay and sailed around Achill Island to Black Sod Bay.  It was like being in a washing machine, tumbling every which way off the crests of waves that squared off against a huge 20 foot ocean swell.  Despite 25 knots of wind out of the WNW, we were so closely hauled that we had to power with the engine on full to make way through the pounding surf around the imposing headland.  The cliffs off Achill are the highest in