Day 12: The value of good offshore sailing gear

Aug 19

Written By

July 8th, 2021, somewhere in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean.

Not all nights of sailing are created equal. Some nights, the moon shines so bright that you can see the sea miles away. The Milky Way stretches across the sky, and the phosphorescence illuminates our wake. Sometimes even, dolphins come chase among the big shoals of fish that happen to sail through, and the phosphoresce make the fishes and the dolphins appear to be some magical creatures swimming by our side.

Phosphorescence can also illuminate the toilet bowl when flushing at night which is cool, but it does kill the romance of it all a bit, doesn't it?

In any case, those nights, sailing feels like living in the World of Avatar and it truly is a magical experience. Other nights, the clouds completely block any moonlight, and temperature differences between the water and the air are so great that a thick fog blurs the view of the sea.

And this morning, you guessed it: I had a case of the latter.

For most of the passage so far, we had been sailing along the tropical latitudes of 36°- 37° and the temperatures had been warm. I would throw a pair of leggings on at 4 AM to go take my watch in the cockpit, and by 7 AM, I had to go change to wear shorts. By 8 AM, we were already drenched in our own sweat and trying everything we could to keep the cabin as cool as possible.

These days, on the other hand, we had been making our way North/North East in preparation for Westerly winds forecast. Those winds meant that if we tried to take the rhumb line to Horta, we would be met with some gnarly headwinds and… no thank you.

So the plan is for us to continue our way up to 41°50 North, waypoint at which we will turn South East, and as we passed 40° North, the temperatures are just getting colder and colder.

When I got to the cockpit at 4 AM, I could barely make out the navigation lights at the top of our mast. A thick fog had taken over the air and the air so humid that literally, everything in the cockpit was soaking wet.

So the first time since we left, I put on my pair of Dubarry Ultima, my favorite sailing boots ever, and the most expensive pair of shoes I’ve ever owned. Every time that I wear my boots, I remember how painful it was to spend 350€ to acquire them. This morning, I look at my boots and feel grateful for the small hole I created in my budget that day (but filled since).

*My Dubarry Ultima. The most money I ever spent on shoes and also some of my favorite piece of sailing gear*

Now that I am thinking about it, I should also have gotten my sailing overalls (bibs, in sailing linguo) to stay dry, but they were in the V-berth where Anett is sleeping and I don't have the heart to wake her up.

So here I am, in my hiking pants (that I never actually hiked in), getting my butt a little wet and thanking myself for all the gear I spent a lot of money on once upon a time, that I can now go grab whenever I want when the humidity makes the temperatures unbearably cold.

I look at my favorite pieces of gear I have available to keep me warm, and it goes:

Three pairs of functional hiking pants (wind and moisture blocking): $100 each
Smart Wool base layers: $100 for the top, $100 for the long pants
Warm vest with hood: $150
Middle layer jacket: $250
Foul weather jacket: $400
Foul weather pants: $400
Dubarry Ultima boots: $350
Mega Lobster gloves from Hestra: $100

(I am writing this on my phone and had to take a break to go to the calculator to find out how much exactly this all cost and OH MY GOD I SPENT OVER $2000)

Alright, I gotta let this sink a bit.

…

Ush.

Before we started sailing, I had never owned any outdoorsy clothing or equipment. I lived a blissful life of buying my clothes at H&M and Zara, and when I felt like I didn't have the budget for something, I would simply not buy it.

But for our first year or so of sailing in the Baltic (where we come from), I learned how painful it is to be cold, and the kind of consequences that it has on one's experience of sailing.

There were afternoons in August that I was miserable because it had rained, my shoes were wet and I was freezing. I would come back from sailing absolutely exhausted and in literal pain from the cold (my shoulders would be sore from tension, I lose sensitivity in my fingers and toes, they turn white then blue, and getting blood circulation back there creates a sensation of needles pricking my hands)

When the cold got me so tired, I could turn a bit cranky, and doing anything on board could become a pain. I wouldn't want to get out of under the sprayhood or felt so drowsy that I needed to go lay down in the cabin for hours.

So I learned by trial and error that nothing replaces quality gear when sailing in cold weather. Nothing can substitute my expensive wooly base layer, my mega lobster gloves, or the very expensive Dubarry boots that I am currently looking.

Today, I cherish the knowledge that I acquired and the expensive gear that I bought, that keeps me warm, comfortable, and alert through my watch in colder weather.

*My HPX Ocean bibs from Musto were outrageously expensive. But I never regretted the purchase.*

Tomorrow, we should reach our most Northern point before turning South/South-East, and I am excited to see if the temperatures go up again. Our buddy boat, Zanzibar, is as close to us as they have ever been throughout the passage, but the fog prevents us from seeing anything.

We still have three days to go, and I am starting to feel excited about our coming landfall!