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Gulf Stream Delivery (Dufour 45)
April 2000 - Sailing Magazine
A veteran bluewater sailor revels in the challenge of helping to deliver a brand, spanking new boat from Florida to New England
By Bill Wiliamson
One of the most satisfying things about sailing is the feeling afterward of a job well done. This is true after a weekend cruise, blue water passage or even a day sail. It's especially true in the delivery business.
Although a veteran sailor, I have only recently become involved in this business of moving somebody else's boat from point A to point B for fun and profit, a process that can be both challenging and rewarding. In addition to the usual demands of passage making there is the time element, the fact that you can't just saunter along at any old pace, but need to make tracks. Then there is the issue of fitting out, especially on a boat that is not accustomed to offshore work. On almost every delivery you find yourself facing a totally new boat with its own quirks and idiosyncrasies. This means keeping an eye on her sailing characteristics, learning to problem solve with what you have on hand and figuring out how to get the best possible turn of speed out of her. Make that a delivery through the Gulf Stream and along the busy Eastern Seaboard, and you will find yourself with plenty to do, making sure both you and the boat make it to where you want to go, not only in one piece, but with some modicum of comfort as well.
I had a chance to put both my ability and knowledge to the test during the delivery of a new Dufour 45 Classic from Fort Lauderdale, Florida, to Cape Anne Marina in Gloucester, Massachusetts. The boat had earlier been trucked down from Annapolis to appear as one of the many glittering craft featured at the 1999 Miami Boat Show in March, and this would be her first offshore trial. Indeed, so new was the Dufour 45 that potential customers were still looking at her, even as we prepared to set off from the dock.
Going down to the marina, I found Capt. Jeff Ludlum surrounded by empty boxes, radio parts, fishing equipment and other miscellany, his ear glued to a cell phone. Jeff registered dismay as I introduced myself as his new crew. At the moment, he was cussing a supplier about pieces missing from his order. He needed to get them installed on the boat before we left Friday. It sounded pretty hopeless to me, standing there on a Wednesday afternoon in early May, at the dock of Fun-in-the-Sun Yachts in Fort Lauderdale.
Jeff is owner of Dufour Yachts of New England and had just arrived to take this boat back to a slip at the Cape Ann Marina. We shook hands before Jeff got off the phone. Then I helped him transfer his incomplete new gear to the streamlined yacht. We left it scattered on deck and set off on an initial supermarket run. As Jeff lay in a variety of interesting wines, I began to lose my concerns that I was in for a spartan trip. Lack of comfort had been my first thought when I stepped aboard the stripped- down yacht: no bimini to protect us from the fierce Florida sun, and no spray dodger for the cold North Atlantic waves, which I feared we would be taking over the bow in a week's time.
As it turned out, however, both fears were unjustified. Sunscreen, hat and frequent salt- water baths kept us from broiling in the Gulf Stream. The Dufour 45's sleek hull shape made her a dry boat, and she ended up ship- ping very little green water in the heavy seas we eventually encountered.
The next day the rest of the crew arrived: David Hayward, owner of New England Marine Documentation Service and William Miller, a retired computer programmer now living in Palos Verdes, California. Jeff had hoped to spend four days getting the boat ready for its first blue- water cruise, but the crew all had time constraints, so he agreed to leave early and do what he could under way. Working into the night, we installed lazy jacks, a third reefing line and a second jib halyard. Then we polished the deck and cleaned the cockpit teak. Gear and groceries were stowed below. By Friday morning the boat was in sparkling shape and ready to take one last prospective buyer on a sea trial with Fun-in-the- Sun partner Larry Shaffer before casting off the lines for real and get under way.
Ignoring the superstition about Friday departures, we set out around noon, made a fuel stop at the 15th Street Fisheries and caught the 3:30 p.m. opening of the 17th Street Causeway bridge into Port Everglades. As we did, Jeff called our attention to a passing catamaran, which he identified her as the only Dufour 435 Nautitech in the United States. Other Nautitech cats go from 39 to 98 feet, and will likely be occupying a prominent place in the North American multihull market before long. An 82- foot Nautitech Nemo was the largest boat shown by any builder in Annapolis in '99.
Logging our departure from the outer sea buoy at 4:30 p.m., we engaged the autopilot only to have nothing happen. In the next instant, I believe we all had the same thought: Must we steer manually for the next 1,000 miles to Cape Cod?
Fortunately, Jeff discovered that the safety pin in the autopilot's linkage had come loose, and after reconnecting it, the mechanical helmsman worked without a hitch the entire trip. Dinner our first evening out was pre- roasted chicken and salad with a bottle of Chardonnay, under a quarter moon with balmy clear skies. We had southeast winds at 15 to 17 knots and about a 2-knot lift from the Gulf Stream. After midnight, the wind turned light and we motor sailed for the next 15 hours. We ended our first 24 hours with 204 miles made good, only five of which were without engine.
After crewing on several long-distance deliveries, I've learned that the business is very much a mix of sail and power. The aim is to get to your destination as fast as possible. That means you crank up the iron genny any time the wind is too light or too much on the nose to keep you moving at 5 knots.
After dinner Saturday we landed a blackfin tuna, about three pounds, which provided a delicious sushi lunch the next day. Going below to wash dishes, however, we found the galley tap open, and discovered we'd lost our entire 140-gallon freshwater supply. It appeared our cook had left the tap open while the circuit breaker for water pressure was on and the valves to both tanks were open. We had enough bottled water (and wine) for the trip, so we resolved to sacrifice showers and press on. Poor Dave got blamed for the drought for several days, until we discovered that in fact it was engine heat that caused enough increased pressure on the hot-water line to open the tap. Before this discovery, though, Dave was ribbed mercilessly. It got even worse when we had a strike on a lure he'd put in the water and then reeled it in only to discover he had forgotten to take the protective tip off the hook. "Fortunately, you're a good cook, Dave," we told him.
By Sunday, we were all settling into the routine: three-hour watches at night, motor- sailing in light winds, swimming or bo'sun's chair "surfing" in the 80-degree Gulf Stream waters, gorgeous sunsets (but no green flash), fish striking around sundown most every evening and gourmet meals accompanied by good wines.
Our first dorado catch supplied enough filets for the rest of the voyage, and we stowed them in the galley fridge. We hooked a few more dorado, but turned them loose-the largest being a big bull that Jeff fought for an hour before bringing him alongside.
We had a bit of excitement Monday night when a U.S. aircraft carrier suddenly came on the VHF while we were trying to solve a running-light problem. She was steaming at 22 knots and discussing course changes with another boat in order to pass to port. Just about then we spotted red and green lights on a constant bearing to starboard, so we turned on our steaming, anchor and deck lights, and William started blinking a flashlight toward the approaching vessel. That brought a call on Channel 16 from the USS Nashville asking if we needed assistance. We identified ourselves and explained our problem. They said not to worry, that they would alter course to pass astern. They also advised us that the ship crossing our bows was the USS Pensacola and that it was bound for Moorehead City, North Carolina, after spending six months on station in the Persian Gulf. We welcomed them home and wished them a pleasant shore leave.
Later we found ourselves in a semicircle with lights of at least four other ships around us while we were taking the bulb from the stem light (no spare aboard) and lashing a flashlight to the rail; not quite the official 135 degrees a stem light would show, but it was close. Chatter among other boats continued. We concluded there were at least three navy warships in the vicinity, but they didn't identify themselves by name. During all this, the Coast Guard came on with a message about a 12-year-old in distress. But we were too busy keeping in the clear of these other ships to get details. So much for serenity at sea.
Before departure, Jeff had ordered trip forecasts from Ken McKinley of Locus Weather and Jennifer Clark's Gulf Stream and considered the $75 apiece a good investment. Jennifer's waypoints kept us in the axis of the Stream and gave us a 2- to 4-knot lift until well north of the latitude of Cape Charles, Virginia. Ken's winds didn't always materialize at the strength indicated, but his forecasts of rougher conditions and seas building to 4 to 6 feet on Monday and Tuesday proved right on.
Our worst weather came in the dark just before dawn on Tuesday. At 2 a.m. I relieved Jeff, and he reported a close call an hour earlier, when he had to change course to avoid a merchant vessel that did not respond to his hail on VHF. After an uneventful three hours, I called Dave at 5 a.m. for his watch. The sky was very black ahead, so I told him to put on your foul weather gear. Five minutes later, as he came up the companionway, a brilliant bolt of lightning hit the water dead ahead, followed by several more with thunder claps booming closer and closer. Better call the captain, I said. Jeff had all hands drop the main and ordered us to steer off 90 degrees to starboard. Winds hit 40 knots, and were obviously stronger nearer the cloud banks. After an hour and a half and two more thunder- storms to port, we tacked to 320 degrees and went through a hole, passing between some more squalls without even getting the boat wet.
As we were finishing dinner in the cockpit Tuesday evening, we all jumped at the sound of two tremendous explosions like a double sonic boom to port. Was it two planes, or a satellite returning through the atmosphere? We'llnever know.
Coming up for my 5 a.m. watch on Wednesday, it was chilly, and the water temperature was in the 60s. The day turned crisp and sunny, with light winds clocking to east then east-southeast. William was beginning to suffer from stock market deprivation, so he and Jeff made a temporary rig for the Shakespeare antenna to see if he could get a market report on the single sideband radio, which was aboard but not yet installed. No luck. That's probably a good thing since the market was down, as we learned when we get within cell phone range. On our arrival, William's spirits rose again when he learned his investments were slightly ahead for the week.
In Thursday's predawn hours, Jeff called me during his watch so he could stretch out over the stem with a boathook to retrieve a large piece of fishing net caught on the sail drive. Fortunately, we were not motoring. The 45's stem platform again proved its utility, showing it is more than just a great perch for swimmers. It was also a great spot for rinsing dirty dishes during our freshwaterless voyage. My teeth chattered as I hung on to Jeff's harness line. The weather was very cold-almost too cold for a tropics sailor like me.
The wind continued to clock, going to the northeast at 21 to 23 knots. We put in a reef and crashed along at 8 knots with the port rail not quite under. By 1 a.m. we were beginning to pound and winds continued to build. so we threw in a second reef After a lunch of beans, dogs and pan fries, William showed us the voyage was not immune to seasickness.
The headwinds subsided early morning Friday, and we decided to make a stop for fuel and water at Block Island, Rhode Island. We figured the 60-horsepower Volvo was consuming 1.1 gallons of diesel per hour, but we had done a lot of motor sailing. We began the trip with 88 gallons--64 in the tanks plus four containers-and although we probably had enough to get us to our destination, caution prevailed. We pulled into Paynes Fuel Dock in New Harbor at about 10 a.m. and spent a couple of hours there to unload garbage, breakfast at The Oar restaurant and take a quick trip to Old Harbor to get film. Then we were off into Rhode Island Sound, setting a course for Cutty Hunk channel. The winds clocked again to the southeast at 8 to 10 knots, and it was a sparkling crisp day with the water temperature at 55 degrees.
On Friday Dave prepared our final dinner as we hung in the current overlooking the Massachusetts Maritime Academy off Onsett for 15 minutes while waiting for the railroad bridge to open. Then we savored the last of the dolphin- pan fried-with veggies, salad, and an excellent white Cabernet Sauvignon.
At the canal's end, we considered stopping at Sandwich in order to arrive at Gloucester in daylight, but Jeff learned by cell phone that his black retriever, Jesse James, was in the hospital. So with a west wind we reached across Massachusetts Bay at night and in spite of a heavy cross current and outgoing tide, we scooted through the narrow bridge into the Annisquam River, where at 2:30 a.m. Saturday we tied up at Lanes Landing Fuel Dock at the Cape Ann Marina, seven and a half days and 1,150 nautical miles from Fort Lauderdale.
Looking back on our passage, I felt both tired and satisfied. The Dufour 45 Classic has acquitted itself admirably, under a variety of conditions, and shown itself to be a first-rate cruiser. I'd met some fine shipmates and together we'd had a good time.
This delivery business can be addicting and every landfall is a pleasure. No sooner do I set foot on land than I find myself thinking about another berth.
This article was written and photos taken by Bill Williamson and published in the April 2000 edition of Sailing Magazine for the delivery of a Dufour 45 Classic from Ft. Lauderdale Fl. to Gloucester MA.
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