20 Days at Sea, Laval St Germain Sends Second Update

Tucked away in his Ranncho R10 row boat, Laval St Germain continues to make his way across the Atlantic in support of the Alberta Cancer Foundation. We eagerly await his updates to find out what adventures the sea brings; from wildlife to weather, Laval’s experience has been truly extraordinary. Read all about it in his second update!

So, tomorrow is 20 days at sea in my little sturdy boat.

Best of all, that likely means I am 20% of the way across (barring any long days of contrary winds or being heave-to awaiting weather) a long way to go for sure, but as I’ve always done in all of my journeys; top of that next hill on the road, that next boulder on the ridge, the next five steps in the snow, that next bend in the river, then the next, the next, the next, until you are at the goal. Big journeys require me to break it down into small bits to make it manageable.

The last 24 hours has been unbelievably fast! As in I’ve very nearly done 100 nautical miles in the that time (93 to be precise) but all thru a bloody powerful west wind pushing me at breakneck speeds. Neptune and Mother Nature are giving me a helping hand, after a few slaps early in the trip. Fast and rough, big waves and loud.

I’ve been watching my caloric intake carefully and only eating a substantial meal if I’ve earned it by a hard day at the oars, the past 24 I have not earned it. My light dinner is instant noodles, maybe with a peanut butter and jam wrap, a cup of tea and 8-10 chocolate covered almonds, more than enough on an easy day. Breakfasts never change; porridge and a cup of coffee, that’s it, and I like it. Snacks during the day and a coffee or tea mid morning. I cook on a mountaineering stove, rarely use the gimbal outside, I just hold the stove in my hand, much easier. On the stove topic, I calculated I would require a new fuel bottle every 5 days, well I was wrong, I am on day 20 and still on the first bottle! I will be shipping a lot of expensive fuel home!! Crazy how little I require out here, just a quick boil of 500 ml, pour some into the food pouch and some in my cup for coffee/tea, done. Many thanks to all of you who contributed food, Janet wrote your names on the pouches, a nice touch!

Watermaker had been causing issues, spent hours working on it, finally got thru to the guy in the UK via email who is an expert, he had some ideas that worked (kinda sorta) and other than tonight (it misbehaved again) I seem to have it figured out. It is constantly getting vapour locked, so a royal pain to get all the air out and get it going.

Everyday the sea changes, it’s like waking up in a different place, I figured it would be more visual monotony, but it’s not, daily changes, strike that: hourly changes. Weather has been a quite varied; overcast, warm and sunny (rare), fog, wind and rain (common), and never cold, just cool and damp. Today is clear, sunny and very windy, with white foam tops on all the waves like galloping white horses.

Wildlife was plentiful in the beginning; porpoises, dolphins, whales (in the distance, normally), the odd seal and loads of birdlife, even some landing in and on my boat and getting stranded, rescued two yesterday morning.
Porpoises are incredibly gregarious and playful, and gives me some company. I can hear them on some nights thru the hull of my cockpit (I sleep on a thin mat that sits on top of my immersion suit on the floor ) squeaking and chirping underwater all around my boat.

Whales have just been like  passing traffic other than two occurrences where they, one night, surrounded my boat in the dark at very close range and splashed, slapped their tails and rocked my boat all the while blowing explosive blasts of air out of their blowholes not more than 1-2 metres away, it was pretty thrilling. I was a bit concerned as I was on sea anchor and pictured the whale getting tangled in the lines. The second occurrence was two days ago. I was rowing along at 8:50 am when suddenly a whale surfaced with a roar of air 2 m away, looked at me for a few seconds, dove then turned under my boat, resurfaced and as it arched it’s back to dive, struck the port side of my bow with its tail fluke. Not a big impact, but certainly made me think of how easily the trip could end if a whale strikes my rudder. I captured it on video, just a calf, maybe the size of my boat, not sure on species, but think it was a grey.

Ship traffic has raised my heart rate a few times, with a Canadian Warship (as labeled on my AIS display) getting the closest. It was in the wee hours of the morning, dark and foggy when my AIS alarm woke me. I have it programmed to sound if within 12 minutes a ship will enter a 2 nm danger zone around my boat. I woke, spotted him, reviewed the AIS data and it predicted a miss of 0.444 nm, the traffic was doing 24.4 kts, fast, all other ships do 12-16 kts,  I immediately got on the radio and got no response after repeated calls. I always sleep with my headlamp around my neck and I have white pyrotechnic flares that I mounted around the inside of the cockpit door frame for traffic emergencies, I can simply rip them off the wall, step outside and fire them as a last resort. Well that night, I was on deck, radio mic in one hand and flare in the other just staring into the darkness with only the sounds of the approaching warship’s engine and its ominous fog horn with its low plaintive moans, it was a bit exciting. I jumped back in the cockpit to check his interception point and just then he turned about 10 deg to starboard and missed me by a mile, literally.

I have since the finally reached a ship on the radio, and he confirmed he could see me on radar and on his AIS, a Russian: “Ya, don’t worry, no problem, I see you on AIS, have nice day.” That was good to know, but I do see ships daily on the AIS but nothing closer than 3 nm.

Had a strong gale, Force 8 on the Beaufort Scale the other day, pretty rough, but True Blue is a solid boat and she handled it well. I had been doing a ton of study and research on storm tactics over the past few months, even sailing knots, bends and hitches, really happy I did, all have been critical. I can guarantee I am the only person any of you know who has read the Drag Device Database (nothing to do with cross-dressing).

 

Being a pilot, I have rehearsed my abandon ship procedure daily and even made an Abandon Ship checklist that is stuck on the wall right beside the door releases.

ABANDON SHIP

1. MAYDAY………….……..Transmit DSC & Voice
2. Long underwear……….Don
3. Neoprene socks………..Don
4. Immersion suit…………..Don
Etc, etc, etc.

I sleep on my immersion suit (sits under my sleeping mat, lumpy, but safe) and pretty much spoon my life raft. I am always harnessed to the jack lines when outside the cockpit and do not leave the cockpit without my dive knife strapped to my leg (in case I get tangled in ropes if I fall overboard). There is no room for any errors out here, I have to be very deliberate and triple check everything. I am very disciplined at this procedural stuff and try to really control the risks as much as able.

I have an incredibly solid guy dong my weather and route planning, James (Jim) Redeker. Jim is the Manager, Dispatch at our airline and is a weather guru who knows me, my habits and above all he knows weather and now waves, he has made himself an expert. Jim made the call on my summit weather window on Everest, and he got it right. If he would have been wrong, I would not have summited, or worse. I also have my good friend, Darin McBeath, a fellow outdoor athlete and a passionate sailor, assisting Jim, all in all, a great Mission Control team.

Even as I type this I am in a pretty nasty sea, big waves and getting tossed around in my cockpit.

My cockpit is mildewy, my clothes are always damp, as is my sleeping bag, even my hats have mildew growing on them. I have coffee grounds spilled, soup stains, tea stains, sweat, salt water, crumbs, noodles all over, but all part of living on a tiny boat on the Atlantic. Oh, as for personal hygiene, I brush my teeth every night, that’s it; no baths, no showers, no sponge baths, but will try for some bathing hopefully in the next 10 days…maybe.

Yes my ass is sore, but that is a given, no use whining about it. Arms, shoulders, backs and hands all good. Beard is great, about a Tom Mulcair at this point, but looking pretty promising.

I am lonely, I have finished all of my audiobooks, real books, and about 80% of my podcasts. I miss my beautiful wife, she was such a great help in Halifax with the final preparations and food, and of course it is also really really tough missing a summer with the kids and our Richard is always here with me in my thoughts, pure torture.

I do know that all of our friends are looking out for our family, and that makes me grateful.

Hope all of you are doing well, hope you are all having a great summer.

Laval

P.S. Kirk and Sheila, can’t wait to see pictures and hear stories about your Croatian adventures.

P.P.S. Daniel, yes, I am ‘rowing like matador’, as you instructed, but had no idea there was a population of maritime toreadors, seems like a just lot of bull.

Sent from my Rannoch R10 solo ocean row boat from the North Atlantic.

Pretty exciting stuff, and only 20% into the journey. We can’t wait to find out what the next few months will bring!

You can follow Laval’s progress here and read his live updates on his Twitter feed at @lavalstgermain.

Want to find out how your INK purchase can help Laval’s initiative? Swing by the sales centre in East Village to get all the info!

Erin @ Battistella

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Calgarian rowing for cancer has a rough night on the water