Ocean Crossing Wayfarer by Frank Dye

Author:Frank Dye
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bloomsbury Publishing

The cold weather and seasickness was taking its toll on Bill.

On Monday at 0300 Bill told me that he had averaged 3 knots during his watch, and that the 0200 forecast was south-west winds, Force 4–5, increasing to 6–7. Our wind was northerly 1–2. I saw a light during my watch, but put it down to imagination, as the Faeroes would be beyond the horizon. I sailed steadily at 4 knots – W48 must have sniffed the land!

At 1000 hours I saw land at last. The wind was 3–4, so I planed towards it with all despatch. The landfall is a supreme moment of any cruise. It is impossible to describe the thrill and satisfaction that it gives one. Gradually the whole island of Sydero became clear, Akaberg gave a radio bearing of 60° and a cross-bearing on Sule Skerry put us 35 miles (54.33km) offshore.

At 1115 the land disappeared into the clouds. I considered blowing up the inflatable dinghy in order to film Wanderer, as the sea was flat calm.

Land appeared again, this time the whole island of Sydero. I estimated that we should land in the Faeroes between 2200 and 2300 hours, so we would still be within our estimate of 4–5 days for the voyage.

The land ahead was high, rugged and most impressive, a range of mountains capped by clouds, which looked like a glacier pouring ice down the valleys. This is the most impressive landfall I have ever seen. It seemed a long time since Bill and I were discussing this moment three weeks ago and 1,000 miles (1,609.3km) south. I shall never forget this moment.

We just had steerage. Bill beat up five eggs in butter and heated them in the mess tin. After an age the eggs had still not thickened, so he handed over the mess to me in disgust and turned in. What a godsend our stove was! Hot food was essential. My six layers of clothing beneath my oilskins were cold and sodden, owing to perspiration and condensation; when the two layers of wetness met, one just shivered non-stop. There is no ventilation in one-piece oilskins. A big swell began to roll in from the north east, although we were wallowing in a flat calm. It must have been due to recent gales beyond the horizon.

When Bill came up from being off watch, he was very cold and decided to strip and towel down. We took a cine film of the whole sequence, thinking of Shell’s faces when they saw it – a seagoing Dance of the Seven Veils. A trawler crossed our bows, but we did not hail it as we knew our position – 12–15 miles (19.31–24.14km) from Sydero.

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