Sunsets Across the Atlantic - MacGregor 65 - Departure and the Atlantic

Bon Voyage:

Sunsets boarded her crew June 22 at Casa Rio with an 11th hour substitution.  Jennifer Beck of Belize fame was derailed by her job, of all things.  Cap't Jim & Joyce preempted that possibility by canceling our lease of 20 years at the A1 boat yard, leaving a recorded message to prospects that we will be back in the spring-or summer at the latest-to sell them a MacGregor, and delegating Mark Talbott to manage our affairs in our absence.  Hunter 26 owner, Tom Harty, signed on for the sail to Bermuda.  His wife, Barbara, had planned to meet him there, but with Jen's berth available-and a surge of adventure she hopped aboard at 2:30 am before we cast off at 8.  Sunsets is sporting new cruising gear:  deluxe Bimini, radar, auto-pilot and weather-fax. Mark Talbott was shanghaied as far as Solomon's in a  valiant effort to teach us how to use the weather fax program (interpreting the images being another unknown).  This is learn-as-you-go, and our departure was stow-as-you-go:  our year's provisions were largely heaped on the floor of the forward quarter-berth & v-berth area-victims of our hectic pace.  We delivered a new boat Thurs, moved out of A1 Fri am (Jim dodged a 9 am root canal with a filling instead), winterized our home Fri pm, and moved aboard Sunsets at 3:00 am!  Saturday's sail to Solomons was capped by meeting brother Allen, Carol, Fritz & Lily for a farewell dinner at the Captain's Table and indulgent showers at Calvert Marina.  By Sunday's departure with all hand's helping everything was stowed for our full canvass blast onto the Bay from the Patuxent River in 15 knot winds from the North and the Captain's exuberant, "YE HA" cheer.  Calmer winds and a patient auto-pilot carried us all afternoon wing 'n wing with pole set as harnesses and safety jack line are rigged for night watches. Chef Tom microwaved Tacos:  I'm in heaven!  Veering off shore at Virginia Beach with fireworks display, a setting crescent moon as yellow as the twinkling lights of shore, busy shipping lanes that prompted the green crew to frequent Captain's consultations through the night's sailing under full main and genoa saw us on a direct course to our first port of call.  My sunrise watch was escorted by a pod of 15 dolphins hugging our hull and arching playfully alongside for 10 minutes, the only ones the whole trip.  By 9 am Monday we were reefing the main, in the gulf stream by noon under pleasantly rolling seas with the Captain testing our wind generator in its sea propulsion mode:  a sea driven prop attached by a line like a trolling free to twirl off the stern  that is led to an armature secured to the transom life lines that transmits all the electricity through a wire plugged into our battery via a mid-ship plug.  Jonathan Swift & His Electric Grandmother!  Hove to for swimming and showers off the stern. Its Chili tonight courtesy of Scullery Maid Barb & Chef Tom. Motored all night with a steadying mainsail, then put up staysail, genoa & main 'till mid-afternoon Tuesday gliding effortlessly over placid seas.  Half-way there from Norfolk!  Sailed under cruising spinnaker during dinner, but lowered sails ahead of gentle showers.  The early setting moon and cloudless night revealed the Milky Way as a white band arching overhead.  Matt & Peter, where are you?   The Mariners

Bermuda Bound:

Wednesday's placid seas gave way to flat seas and plodding along under motor with a Bermuda Long Tail circling above confirming our GPS reading of 130 miles at 9 am.  A sailfish gave our lure play for several minutes before self-releasing.  Dinner below at the Captain's table was sumptuously catered by team Harty.  We stood our final watches with Captain Jim piloting us past the reefs as we entered St. George's Harbor and dropped anchor at 5 am-our time-assisted by the able crew, the Hartys.  Thursday the 28th, after clearing customs, we'll inflate the dinghy and swagger into the White Horse tavern for a Dark 'N Stormy, Gosling's Black Seal Rum and Ginger Beer, and Sheppard's Pie for supper.  Well, we'll swagger AFTER we set anchor, made difficult by the arrival of a norther we wanted the last two days of mostly motoring.  Converting our wind generator to a windmill prop from the sea prop trolled behind on a 100' line meant unkinking said line that had twirled as taunt as a rubber band that launches a toy airplane.  Ditto for our secondary anchor line whose kinks Barb & Tom tackled.  But all the while we are gazing at the verdant hills tinged with pink blossoms, whitewashed limestone roofs, azure waters under a crisp, clear sky that define Bermuda's charm. Waiting at the customs dock for pick up was a group  heading for a Russian research vessel that for $35,000 a head will take guests diving to the Titanic, Bismarck, or Atlantis.
The Bermuda Four

Sunsets languishes in the Bermuda sunshine in St. George's Harbor.

 Photo 11:40AM 7/01/01 from Bermuda webcam 

Azores Reflections:

Friday (the 29th) in Bermuda was scooter rental day with Jim the tour guide leading our band of 4.  It was Barb's first cycle experience having promised her parents as a teen she would abstain from two wheeled motorized conveyances for safety's sake.  She has not only had a surge of adventure, but a spark of delayed teen rebellion as well!  Not only are the sights breathtaking, but the fragrances of all the blooms makes winding over hill and dale a pleasure-except for the saddle sores!  Frequent stops-at the Swizzle Inn for lunch & libations, Horseshoe Bay for a swim, the Royal Hamilton Bermuda Dinghy Club to congratulate the first place yacht in the Marion to Bermuda race, an Island Packet 35, "Spinache", and back to St George's before dark.  No road rash for us nor trying to remember, "When you're right, you're wrong," and "Left is right," after our Dark 'N Stormies. Our crew is heading out on Saturday for another round of scooter sightseeing before their Sunday noon departure while Jim tackles make-ready chores before "the big one." Confirmed Mark Svenson's arrival Monday noon, but he likely would enjoy some R & R before putting out to sea.  My chore is meal planning/shopping list preparation since it will be a three week stint 'till the next store.  I still think Benjamin Franklin was correct when he coined the adage, "Small wives should stay near shore," but my alternative staying home was to turn 55 in October and join the local Senior Center.  I think they'll still take me next year when I'm 56 so its off I go to have something to tell my grandchildren about my crossing in "ought one."  Actually, the forecast maps indicate we'll have to head north to find wind, otherwise we'll cook and slat around in the doldrums.  We used 2/3 of a fuel tank steaming into Bermuda, but we can't motor clear to the Azores. It'll have to be the sailing life for us.
Small Wife

Be A Gypsy:

"Be a gypsy, live a little, get around, get your feet up off the ground."  For the next three weeks that's exactly what we will do as we wend our way to the Azores.  Jim was successful yesterday using our laptop computer and portable radio in downloading a weatherfax sans our techie, Talbott.  The whole affair is quite improbable looking with antenna wire strung out a window, and other extraneous wires linking one machine to the other and lastly across the aisle to a power source, humming different frequencies as signals download and frequency strengths vary.  It looks like an old fashioned switchboard and warbles like a deranged fax, but an image did come through showing a huge high pressure system encompassing all of the "freckles" of the Atlantic as I sometimes call my destinations (that's how they look on a large scale map).  Duplicating this feat under sea conditions boggles the mind.  Sunday saw the departure of the stalwart Hartys (and the end of sunny weather) and possibly my last female companion for the duration.  With all that sea ahead we squandered Sunday on a day in Hamilton, Bermuda's capital at the other end of the island, this time reached by bus. Brunch at M.R. Onions and the latest sci-fi flick from Spielberg, "Artificial Intelligence," and walks through Hamilton's beautiful parks and a unique "clock" tower, displaying wind direction as the vane above was spun:  "W" today.  Summer and Friday-Sunday is the island's time to curl up and relax:  cruise ships only dock from Mon-Thurs, and the high season for visiting yachts is about done.  Streets are empty.  We took the last bus of the day back to St Georges. There was no such thing as "too full," but with reserved, polite people crowding is no problem.  No wonder our parish priest comes here each year by cruise ship on vacation.  It is a modern Eden, eschewed by the Spanish due to it's treacherous reefs, the salvation of the later British vessel, "Sea Venture" lodged between 2 rocks in St Georges Harbor in a hurricane having been driven ashore through the island's only safe approach.  From that ship's remains the vessel "Deliverance" was fashioned and completed "Sea Venture's" original mission, replenishing the Jamestown colonists 2 years late as that discouraged band was sailing downriver in despair.  Bermuda, once labeled the devil's island for its reefs, uninhabited before the shipwreck, inspiration for Shakespeare's "Tempest", has become a gem beckoning yachties and vacationers alike to return yet again.  May the Azores be as delightful, but hopefully, not quite so beckoning for my captain, who, by the way, isn't shaving for the duration.    Captain Mark Svenson arrives Monday.  We sail with the tide.
Joyce & The Chia Pet

Half Way:

Between Mark Svenson's 1 pm flight and our 5 pm departure he was on an accelerated tourist schedule:  cheeseburgers at the White Horse Tavern (indisputably paradise), a stroll down Convict Lane (no body else could be found to build the roads) to the beach where our dinghy was secured.  It's proximity to our anchorage on a day throwing up chop in the harbor made it too tempting.  Now if the captain had only believed that our overnight rain could be repeated in the daytime we would have closed the hatch over the forward quarterberth BEFORE setting out for lunch all would have remained dry as we ate.  As it was we achieved that authentic nautical funk overnight.  125 gallons of diesel and enough water to top our tank set us back $671-and we had had a lead on duty free fuel earlier over nightcaps at the Yacht Club, although our "source" seemed determined to only let members of his Virginia Yacht Rally members in on the details.  Who needs to use that fuel anyhow?  We're Gloucestermen, I mean, sailors.  The night of our departure was heralded by displays of lightening that resembled one of those Telsa machines at a science exhibit.  Jagged bolts were spiking out in all directions at once Medussa-like but fortunately at a distance.  Our radar paid for itself that night.  It shows rain as well as ships, and the course we steered was simply out of the path of the nastiness.  From that time until the midway point of 830 miles reached on July 8 it has been a Joyce passage with the Captain chaffing for more wind.  I'll take a level, sedate pace of 5 knots anytime.  We sailed for days under spinnaker and main with our faithful autopilot doing all the steering, the ocean all to ourselves, dining below at the table replete with wine goblets.  Alright, the wine goblets had to go.  Wave lurches toppled 2 goblets but we have adapted to partaking in stable mugs.  Gordon's red wine was lovely as have been several bon voyage gifts.

It is not lonely out here when you can remember all the sailors who came aboard Sunsets to see us off.  Victuals have been holding out fine, and the sunny weather allowed us to air our wet rugs and put the mildew to rout.  I haven't cooked for a bachelor in a while.  Be there leftovers and his mind is riveted as each new mealtime arises:  pasta, or soup, he keeps repeating wistfully.  I'll be able to use the microwave with the generator to reheat a bountiful lasagna and an equally generous 15 Bean Ham Soup  alternate nights probably from here to Santa Cruz, Flores the outermost of the Azores.  Our passage hasn't been entirely isolated.  On the 7th we passed 2 freighters heading West alerting us to the need for vigilance during our night watches.  Mine is now permanently 8-11 ever since I slept through lunch one day and crew had to fend for themselves in the galley.  The radar alarm roused Jim one watch-for a ship that passed us 16 miles away.  We have seen some bird life.  The small ones darting around Sunsets at night in bat-like passes.  They must be after the flying fish, some of which we find beached on the deck in the morning.  The 8th was a banner day for marine sightings starting with a pod of dolphins in the morning, 4 sunbathing whales and a sea turtle, all capped by a photo-op sunset after a full day of sailing with full canvass:  main, staysail and genoa.  After lollygagging our way the first half, our wind is picking up enough for an overnight reef in the main, and a broad grin on the captain's face.
-Cook, Ahab and the Mighty Sven

3/4 Way Across:

The high pressure area continues to give us blue skies, gentle breezes with an occasional burst of speed but mostly in the 6-7 kt range. Starry nights, sparkling phosphorescent wake, balmy temperatures, deck showers, formal dinners below with wine, no foul weather gear or harnesses. In short, amazing! We watched a couple movies and spend the days reading or relaxing. Autopilot and GPS do all the work, and the radar watches over us while we snooze. Fresh provisions are gradually running out, no lettuce, celery, fruit, bread, pretzels, potato chips, ketchup, pickles, but plenty cervesa {beer}. I haven't fished at all, hard to imagine anything here, and the plentiful seaweed quickly fouls fishhooks. We have really enjoyed the cd's prepared for us by Mark Talbott and "the muses" of Battlecat. We miss our friends, even while looking forward to new adventures. Right now, 7/11 8am, we are motorsailing 100degrees @ 6.5kts in very light air, totally calm seas with the barest swell from the north, 332miles from Flores, Azores. - Cap't Jim, Cleopatra, and Scalawag.

Newsflash! just contacted 23 yachts, 2 in sight, the first single handing from Cape Cod, low on fuel and water, struggling with disabled self-steering gear, the 2nd left Bermuda 6/26, doing ok but also limited fuel and water, the 3rd, a Shannon 47 ketch, left Bermuda 6/27, saving fuel when possible, doing 2 knots under genoa. We left 7/2 have motored 36 hours and have enough to motor all the way to Flores if necessary, loads of water, hot showers, cold beer, and 5 days faster already. It's almost embarrassing!

Flores:

After our 54 hours motoring wind arose on the 13th allowing us to sail into port starting out with main and spinnaker then wing and wing with the top 5 feet of genoa furled to better adapt to our pole.  The Mighty Sven earned his rations today.  Deterioration of the block needed to lower the spinnaker made handling it a bear, wrestling with the pole on the foredeck, and bringing the main safely to the opposite side are tasks for an able-bodied seaman.  Flores is geologically part of the North American continent, a volcanic rock pushed to the surface by the collision with Europe, the source of the remaining Azores to the southeast.  After clear skies we fell under the spell of the cloud shrouded summit with amazing winds and weather swirling around it's bluffs.  The anchorage at Lages is mostly a breakwater jutting from shore with thirty yachts swaying as the gusts shift them.  With 50' depth and threatening skies it fell to the faithful Sven to heave out ALL the contents of our anchor locker and sort out two commingled coils of chain.  Dinner by candlelight at 8:00, the last of my Mayo meals tucked away in the freezer, was a grand celebration-and sturdy fortification for shifting gears to harbor life.  The morning of the 14th has the crew replacing the spinnaker block, checking for chafe, and pumping up the dinghy.  Time to brush up on our Portugese:  Tres cervejas (beers), por favor.
-The Mariners From Off the Sea

Flores Farewell:

If my Latin was stronger I would have known what to expect to find on Flores:  flowers.

With 300 days of rain per year and fine mists in the highlands always Hydrangeas (water-lovers) prosper along with pink roses with blooms in tight clusters and red and yellow calla lilies lining the roads and dividing the fields in the shelter of stone walls.  Grazing cows and sheep are rotated from among the fields.  Saturday afternoon we went from Porta das Lajes to Santa Cruz by taxi and had a family style dinner of pork, french fries, rice, salad and crusty bread at a local bistro where no English was spoken.  We just pointed to the fare at the adjacent table.  The new breakwater at Lages forms a much more spacious harbor than Santa Cruz now favored only by locals.  Previous chronicle readers know how unfavorable it can be to put into a port of call on a weekend.  But we were tipped off by another mariner, Maureen, an Aussie, to look for a Land Rover at Lages along the sea wall.  Spotting him from our dinghy, we did an about face, filled out the forms, paid not a cent and were on our way to cocktails with Maureen aboard  Dick Talley's "Rainbow Rider" of Solomons Island inside of 15 minutes.  The only comment by officialdom:  Mark in casual clothes made an amusing contrast to the tie-strangled gent in his passport photo!  The harbor was alive with a host of boys and girls messing around in Optimists and the tales of our fellow mariners.  The Captain of "Goose" rescued his friend's vessel and towed it 758 miles after a Cousteau vessel took its single-handed captain aboard stricken with appendicitis.  He was air-lifted to a hospital but keep declining transfers because it meant scuttling his vessel.  Sunday we caught up with the crew of "Satori" with whom we had conversed at sea. "Now" also made it in, but "Shellback" is still turtling along.  We got a peek inside Our Lady of the Rosary, the westernmost church in Europe, had brunch at a cafe above the harbor, met the crew of a catamaran, "Katia" that had a collision with a whale that stopped them in their tracks.  Poor whale, first one hull got him, then the next before he got clear of them, fortunately, a mild tempered fellow.  Lages is as quiet on Sunday as Turkey Point with the locals enjoying their rocky beach.  Fritz and Albert M.  will be interested to know that the Zundapp motorcycle still lives, replacing the donkey as a tow vehicle for a cart.  The town is gearing up for a 4 day festival, erecting tents and slaughtering a pig for a pork roast. (We found farmers singeing off piggy's hair on our valiant attempt to climb to the crater lake:  too misty and too far.)  Stay for the fiesta?  No doubt, other captains weary of the sea would.  But for Sunsets, its on to Horta, main port of the "Acores" on the isle of Faial about 150 miles away cranked to starboard with briny over her bow and sluicing down her rail.
-Adam, Eve and Sven of the Seven Seas

Adios Horta:

Tuesday, the 17th was Hertz day. Coming back the route was so clear on the map, but heading off involved side trips to residential areas dead ending at ravines, a legacy of Faial's volcanic origin.  Breathtaking scenery along the coast made a stark contrast to the devastated area from an  eruption 40 years ago that covered 300 houses burying them in ash up to their rooflines.  The area surrounding a destroyed lighthouse is a virtual moonscape where nothing grows yet.  In the interior of the island a former lake was drained by the eruption so you can gaze into the empty caldeira (crater) nearly a mile across and 1000' deep.  Along the seaside a natural spa has been developed into a swimming pool nestled in volcanic rock and using geothermal heat!  Like Flores, Hydrangeas grow everywhere.  Construction and rehabilitation is proceeding apace during the dry season. We struck up an acquaintance with Lorrie Wood, crew of "Kookaburra", who has become our Portuguese guru for the best nightspots in Horta and coastal ports on the mainland Algarve coast.  She is cited in the credits for the guidebook, "Atlantic Spain and Portugal," by Oz Robinson that we just bought.  Wending down Horta's sidewalks featuring white stone inlays contrasting the dark cobbles which depict island themes from windmills to lighthouses, the 4 of us celebrated a farewell dinner at a restaurant that brings you raw thinly sliced meats, shrimp and fish which each diner cooks in front of him on his personal heated rock slab.  Great fun and no blaming the chef if its overcooked!  The town was alive at 10:30 with the bar clientele all along the seawall in front of Peter Sport Cafe which broadcasts "What Do You Do With a Drunken Sailor" at closing.  Then the action shifts to another locale, then the disco 'till 4 am, or so I'm told.  Miss Pumpkin was home by midnight, but we did have Azorian liquors made from passion fruit and pineapple on the terrace of a fort, overlooking the harbor lights, now a hotel. Yum! It's off the 70 miles to Terceria (3rd island by discovery & size) on the 19th to the port of Angra do Heroismo (Bay of Heros) on the southern coast threading our way slowly by motor between Sao Jorge and Pico. Last we'll see Sao Miguel where the plantation and liquor factories are, that is, as soon as we solve the continental electricity transformer puzzle so we can use shore power while Mark, preserver of fair weather, adds "Sunsets" to Horta's sea wall to appease Neptune. That done by noon and we're off again.        -The Electrician, Miss Pumpkin and Sven the Artiste

P.S. The morning of the 20th began with ambitions to do the town and island by storm.  By 2:00 the historic town's churches, forts, museums and hills got the better of us.  We narrowly escaped another car rental as the office failed to reopen on time after lunch.  We'll get a siesta instead then dinghy ashore for local cuisine and a 9:30 harpsichord, flute and vocalist concert in the Misericordia Church. The town dates to the 1500s.  Buildings have thick walls and red tiled roofs with church spires dominating the skyline. We are anchored just outside the seawall overlooking the city, an impressive 16th century Spanish fort still in use by the military, firing cannons to compete with the hourly church bells and a 1 month old marina.  The commercial port will be moved to another port which will create a sea wall large enough for the 65.

Ola, Sao Miguel:

Domingo, July 22, Bom Dia (Good morning) We sailed the 92 miles from our anchorage to a slip at Ponta Delgada in 12 hours under main and spinnaker setting the genoa when the breeze picked up. We are on the most populous and modern Azorian island.  Even so, we met again with Anderson, a Swedish travel agent, whom we first saw at the dry crater on Faial.

 Mark enjoyed talking about the south of Sweden where his grandfather lived. This morning we'll deflate the dinghy and make ready for our next 800 mile sea passage to Lisboa (Lishbowa as the natives say it) sightseeing ashore 2 days here first. Each of the islands has sulfur springs, geysers, etc.  This one has a restaurant that cooks stews using geothermal heat. The Island makes electricity from geothermal heat also. The yearly climate ranges from 50s to 70s:  shorts weather now and no mosquitoes. The mountains have scenic lakes in the volcano craters, and the vistas from the top are breathtaking. Of course, hydrangeas to 12' tall line many roadways and hillside fences. We had difficulty finding a decent restaurant in the smaller towns, they have mostly local "cantina" type places, but finally looked in the guide book as a last resort and found quite a nice one, tucked away behind a wall, invisible for all practical purposes. WE plan more touring tomorrow morning, with perhaps a dip in the very nice public pool next to the marina in the pm, then off to Portugal on Tuesday, hoping for a 6 day trip. Our slip mate single-handed his 45' sloop here from Holland, the last 700 miles under emergency tiller as his steering gear failed, so no autopilot, and no crew.       -the be-back gang. (we'll be back)

Crossing to Portugal:

Day 3 mileage 147. Day 4: I woke up and Mark was asleep in the cockpit, boat doing 2.3 kts, so motorsailed just an hour when wind increased, soon doing 9.5, but cranked over unpleasantly, so furled genoa to reduce heel (and speed, to 7.5) Waves picking up, light pounding by 8:30, likely to get worse. Goodbye favorable winds, but we are moving well, 15 degrees low on our course. Day 4 run 134 miles. Day 5: Dancing whitecaps on a blue sea, with puffy white clouds made a pleasant backdrop for Joyce's cabbage soup concoction for lunch. By 4pm the scene had changed to mostly grey waves, the larger ones slamming against the hull with enough impact to remind me we are on the ocean again. Matt, Peter and Diane probably remember it pretty well. We are clawing to windward to buy a little room so we can ease off tonight to get some sleep. Joyce is sitting on the floor fixing dinner. We have been badly spoiled by all the nice, easy downwind sailing and going upwind takes some adjustment.7pm time to reef the main. We're moving well, 8-9 kts, later we did 10-11. Rough night, difficult sleeping, Mark and I got about 1-2 hours sleep. Calmer and grey in the morning, so we unwound the genny and a few hours later sailed past Cabo Roca into the river Tagus and Lisbon. Total crossing time 36days of which 22 were underway. There being no room at the marina, we docked in the "no man's land" community of derelicts outside the marina secure area, and are resting up this evening. We may actually stay put for a week. Cheers and Happy sailing to you all.
- Jim, Joyce and Mark, the calm ocean voyagers.

Crossing Continued:

This letter chronicles the sailing details of the crossing, without Joyce's witticisms. My apologies to the non-sailors. Underway, after checking out formalities, at 10am, tues 24th. Wing and wing along the south coast of San Miguel was smooth, lazy sailing, no ocean swell (blocked by the island), stretched out on deck cushions, watching the scenery slide by, definitely ideal. Once out from under San Miguel, the wind died and the swell rolled the boat, sails slatting. More motoring. Difficulty sleeping from the sloppy motion, plus being spoiled by a week at marinas. One ship passed, fairly close @3/4 mile on the radar, but no course change necessary. Day 2: Woke up crabby from lack of sleep, more motoring, finally set sails before lunch, wing and wing, 3 kts. Wind gradually picked up during the day, making 6kts by dinner. With the boat level but rolling some, Joyce fixed a dinner of steak w/onions, potatoes, red cabbage with raisins. Plenty of cheap Portuguese wine ($1.75/bottle), fresh cheese, salad with little orange pound cake muffins for dessert. No weight loss on this trip! The wind was steady all night, 6kts wing and wing, pretty much on course. Day 3: First days run of 142 miles should be easily exceeded as the morning breeze freshened and speed increased to 7-8, broad reaching with the genny partially rolled in (to flatten the sail) and the pole still up. There are small whitecaps but the boat motion is pleasant if a bit rolly due to quartering seas. 10am, generator and inverter charging the batteries, Mark sleeping ( he had the 2am-6am watch) Joyce reading in the cockpit, me typing. So it goes. Noon, 2nd days run 160 miles. Fantastic jumping Dolphin display, at least 100 leaping and cavorting 75yds alongside. Mark and I had just spoken about the lack of Dolphins and flying fish. Now it's just the fish! Motoring again at midnight to 8am. Day 4: Set spinnaker, brief excitement as speed hit 9 kts, but gradually died to zip by lunch. Motoring, then motorsailing with genoa@ 3:30, faster by 5:30, sailing 7.5kts at 8pm, 11pm motoring in flat calm. Midnight overheat alarm sounds. Being below reading I missed the alternator warning light which came on when the alt. belt shredded, causing the engine to overheat. A couple hours later the belt is changed and motoring again, when wind picks up from ahead, so roll out staysail and genoa for lovely night sail to 5am. -Jim