I’ve been somewhat conservative in picking my weather windows for Laughing Gull. While I know the Apogee 50 is a supremely capable boat, it takes time on board, across a variety of conditions, to truly learn how well a boat handles everything from light winds to heavy winds. And to develop confidence when things get rough. It makes sense to start at the light end of the spectrum, if possible (especially if you are shorthanded or singlehanded most of the time), and work up from there. But eventually you’ve got to get out in a blow and see what happens.
I returned to Hilton Head in late April, intending to jump north around Hatteras to Hampton, Va, so Laughing Gull could abide in the Chesapeake Bay for a few weeks (and I could do a bunch of maintenance) before I continue north to Buzzards Bay in early June. I had a little over a week to find a decent weather window, but two storms systems, followed by howling winds quickly ate through most of my days. Eventually, the southwest Atlantic settled down a bit, and a decent three-day window appeared, promising some fast reaching, followed by moderating winds around Hatteras and up to the Bay. My friend Ed joined me for the 450-mile trip, and we set out on a Wednesday morning at the start of the ebb in Broad Creek.
Weather forecasts are not promises. They can tell you what weather systems are around, and that tells you what you can generally expect. But these days you can use routing models and GRIB files to pinpoint wind strength and conditions in any given spot at any given time. It’s tempting to place faith in that degree of specificity, but if you do you are likely to find yourself disappointed. Our forecast called for northwesterly winds around 21 knots, gusting to 28, for the first 12 hours, with winds easing after that. Pretty appealing. There was no real surprise, though, when the actual conditions proved to be northwest winds, 25-30, gusting 35. In short, Laughing Gull was sailing in conditions I had yet to experience with her, which was a perfect way to learn more about her capabilities.
My only real concern, to be honest, was that the autopilot might struggle with heavy-air reaching and running, and a building sea. If it wasn’t up to the job, Ed and I would have to do a lot of hand steering, which was fine, but slightly more taxing. As we left Calibogue Sound, and transited into Tybee Roads off Savannah, we set the main with a double reef, and rolled out the staysail. If the wind was as forecast, and we felt underpowered, we could roll out the genoa instead of the staysail. If it was stronger than forecast, I’d get a chance to see how that sail combo worked in that wind range. Have to love a cutter rig.
As we sailed off, the wind and seas kept building, and Laughing Gull just leaned into it and went faster, surfing past 11 knots on some of the steeper waves. The autopilot held up fine, though it wasn’t smart enough to catch a lot of surfs so there was a definite performance penalty when we handed off to it. Still, I was pretty pleased to see how sweetly we flew along, with very little sense of stress or imminent chaos. In short, I learned that Laughing Gull is laughing when the wind and waves get up. That’s how you gain confidence in a boat.
The winds kept blowing well into Thursday, beyond their forecast departure. So we made great time and were closing on Hatteras when they finally eased off Thursday evening. We both had Saturday deadlines (try as I might, sometimes you just can’t avoid them), so with reluctance the engine came on when our speed dropped. As sad as that was, the light conditions delivered some spectacular sunsets and sunrises as we found the edge of the Gulf Stream, which carried us north past Hatteras and launched us toward the Bay. A full moon, and visiting dolphins, only added to the sublime ambience.
We pulled into Salt Pond Marina in Hampton early Saturday morning, put Laughing Gull away, and drove back to Washington in a rental car. In many ways, this was the best passage yet, partly because I learned so much. This boat likes the wind, and can really go in conditions that would have severely pushed my much lighter and more tender Beneteau 36.7. A double-reefed main and staysail was a great combination across a pretty wide range of wind. Plus, the motion was easy so the living was good.
The dolphins had a good time, too:
What Else?
Since I have long sailed the Chesapeake Bay, and worked for a Bay Riverkeeper, I am well aware of the environmental threats to this unique and amazing ecosystem. There is too much building in its watershed, and too much fertilizer runoff into its tributaries. This report from Smithsonian magazine is an apt warning.
Today I set off from Hampton, bound for Galesville, just south of Annapolis. The forecast calls for beautiful late Spring weather, so I’ll get to see the Bay in all its glory. May it last.
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