Single Handed Offshore in a Hylas 51

When I sailed 10,000 miles from the Caribbean to NZ in a Hylas 51, nobody asked why I chose the boat for the trip.  The Hylas 51 is a capable, powerful offshore yacht, designed by German Frers as a serious offshore cruiser, with all the right numbers, a balanced hull and great accommodation.  But many people wondered why I would go offshore singlehanded in such a large yacht.
Of course, I already owned "Hanne Danske",  trusted her and her gear, and knew she would look after me.  And, after sailing a wide range of boats over many years, I have found that larger yachts are much easier to live aboard.  The motion is slower and more predictable, she will keep going in adverse conditions, and stride out easy daily runs between 180 and 200 miles in trade wind conditions without spinnakers and without stress.  On the trip to and from NZ to Fiji,  speed is important to try to complete the trip in the 7 days or so of weather forecast range to minimise the chance of getting caught out in seriously bad weather.
And, surprisingly, I have found the Hylas 51 an easier yacht to singlehand.
Part of the reaon is that she has a ballast ratio over 40%, and all of it is lead, in a big bulb at the bottom of the keel.  So she stands up to her sail, heels moderately in gusts and tolerates too much sail through squalls, or forgives me for reefing late.
Another part is that she has a balanced hull form which stays balanced even in big quartering seas.  Hard pressed with too much sail up, she just heels more and goes faster.  Off the wind in big seas the autopilot holds her course steady with wheel movements rarely more than one spoke off centre.  Although I have a couple of times sat by the wheel ready to take over if the autopilot lost it in big following seas, i have never actually needed to.  The knowledge that she can look after herself in any weather means I can set the alarm and get twenty minutes sleep when I need it (I found that lots of twenty minute sleeps tucked in the lee of the dodger was enough, but did try to get a couple of hours sleep when hove to or becalmed).
Of course, sail handling is what traditionally limits the size of boat that can be single handed.  I depend on the very good  roller furling jib, powerful three speed electric winches, and in boom roller furling main.  I carry storm jib (on a demountable inner forestay backed up by demountable runners) and trysail(on a seperate track) and did use them both on the trip to Fiji - but honestly it was to try them out, and I would have been better to stay with my heavily furled main, which keeps good shape right down to survival conditions size.  The storm jib, however, is a useful sail and allows me to sail closer to the wind with a flat well shaped small sail than I could with reefed genoa.
Using the electric winch on the jib furler I can easily reef the jib while keeping the sheet under control - and can still do this, but more slowly, using the dedicated manual winch for the furling line. To reef the main I need to be at least hard on the wind and preferably pointing directly into the wind .  So the usual procedure is to sail hard on the wind under reefed jib, or motor directly to weather with the jib furled, and put the main reefing line on an electric winch and press the button while easing the halyard (with a couple of turns around a winch)to keep it under control.  If the reef is taken to just above a batten in the fully battened main, sail shape is excellent.
I can furl the main using its own dedicated manual winch, but it is much less manageable, and a lot sliwer - and, with the main flogging while you reef, it is important to get it in fast and get back on course.
I practice, I generally reef the main very early and more than I really need to, and then reef the genoa as needed through squalls.  Off the wind, when a lot of wind is forecast, I might sail under genoa alone with the main rolled completely away, and if there is a possibility of extreme weather I will have the trysail and storm jib hanked on ready to hoist.  With the main furled I set up both running backstays (they are there to set up the inner forestay for the storm jib and not needed otherwise) and that gives extra security to the rig).
A singlehander depends more on good reliable gear, and I made sure everything was serviced and working properly before I left.
So I was very relaxed about singlehanding in a Hylas 51, and would choose to do so again.  I found the experience of single handing offshore no more difficult than with crew.  Although there were a couple of times when I would like to have handed over to someone else and go below or a good sleep in a warm bunk, I also found it liberating not to have to worry about another person on board.  I could rest when I needed to (with my timer alarm set), eat what I wanted when I felt like it (my lovely wife hristina prepared frozen meals for the trip up to Fiji, which was great), and enjoy watching the sea.  I kept daily radio scheds on the SSB radio, and phoned home every day on the iridium phone, so I did  get a bit of a chat every day.  And the experience of landfall after a singlehanded passage was definately worth it!

musket cove and the blue lagoon

After clearing customs (half a day of filling in repetive forms, all with fees and charges), I set off to walk in to Lautoka to apply for a cruising permit.  It is a hot dusty walk, and then I have to wait in line behind locals applying for various permits.  when at last my turn comes, I am asked for copies of various forms, which I have from customs, and am assured the permit will be there next day.  Another long walk back to the boat and I am aboard at sunset for a quick meal and an early night.
Next morning the same long walk, rewarded by a disinterested 'Maybe this afternoon", so I spend a few hours walking around "Sugar City", and buy a pretty ordinary lunch of bits of fried chicken bones with skin and a little chicken meat on rice, before returning, hot and dusty, to the permit office. "maybe tomorrow", she says.  I ask her to phone and check if the Suva office (who prepare the permit for the Lautoka office to issue - they add the name of the yacht, the colour of the yacht,  and the owners name to a form letter- and it turns out she forgot to write that the yacht colour is white in the applikcation form she sent.  "definately tomorrow" she says.  I ask whether she could simply phone the suva office, tell them the yacht is white, and ask them to fax the permit for her to issue, but that is not possible.
Next morning I give up and sail down to Denerau marina to get the genoa repaired.  It is hot and heavy work unfurling and dropping the genoa, folding it up on deck, hoisting it into the dinghy with a halyard, hefting it ashore (it weighs about 80kg, and is bulky and difficult to drag around), towing it down the road to sailmaker on a trolley. The sailmaker promises ready next day, but there are no free marinas so i head out and anchor off the hilton overnight.  Next day, there is a mooring free and the sail is ready, so I ask at the marina office how to get to
Lautoka to chase up my cruising permit.  The very helpful office girl phones Suva direct, gives them a bollocking and promises the permit will be faxed to me in her office in minutes - and she is right!  What a relief - no trip to Lautoka, so I can go to the airport to meet Chris, who is arriving today.

Chris arrives carrying the replacement boat hook, and we head  back to the boat, tidy up, and then dinner at the hard rock cafe, and a terrific live jazz / blues band.  Then we let go the mooring, and head out to Malolo Island and Musket Cove - a light breeze and sunny sky making it easy to spot the reefs as we enter.  A couple of days relaxing in the sun and snorkeling on the reef, and then Emma and Andrew arrive to sail with us to the Yasawa islands.  And they arrive in style in a seaplane which lands and taxis right up to us

all at sea

After a few days waiting for an intense low to pass by, it looks like a possibility to head off on Friday.  Thursday would give better wind at the start, but means sailing cloise behind the low with the likelihood of big swells; and saturday is too late to be far enough north to clear the worst of the next front coming through.  So on Friday morning I come inn to the fuel dock, top up diesel and water, clear customs, wave goodbye to Chris, and head off. 

he wind is light in the river, so we are motoring at the start, but there is enough wind to sail once we are out in the Bay of Islands.  It stays light through the afternoon and early evening, with some sailing and some motorsailing, but a good southerly comes up around 2100 and gives good sailing tghrough the night and next morning.  I get strict 20 minute rests with the alarm clock making sure I look  around every 20 minutes while Hanne Danske sails on under autopilot.  This close to the coast I cant afford to sleep longer - 20 minutes is about how long it takes for a ship to come over the horizon and get you - and I saw three ships this night.
Saturday afternoon the wind rises from around 20 knots tyo about 25, so fast sailing, but then starts to
ease up, dropping to 15 by 1800, and to 5-10 by morning - and the swell also drops to near calm - I get my appetite back (I have not eaten much so far), and with the boat sailing slowly in calm water with the AIS and radar alarms on, this would be a great time to get some sleerp - if only I could get to sleep!  Still, I did rest with my eyes shut for quiite a while.
Sunday is calm again with light winds from astern and clear sunny sky - motor sailed for a hile, sailed when I could, and got some more rest.  Sunday night the forecast from Russel radio is for strong head winds for monday - much stronger a day or so behind- as a front goes through, so got the storm jib and trisail ready just in case, and did my best to get some rest as the wind swung to the north - at first just 10 knots, but sdlowly rising to 25 by monday noon. 

Seeing big black cl;ouds ahead I hoisted the storm jib and waited for the front to come through, and saw another sail(Antipodean) behind, which caught up as the front approached. 

We had a chat on the VHF radio, and were both pleasantly surprised that there was nothing in the front - just showers, rain squalls, and another line of dark clouds followed by another and another until Tuesday at 1600 when we came through clouds and lots of rain to a clear sky and 15 knot SW wind.  With a good wind from the right direction, we are at last on our way to Fiji at a decent speed!
When I phoned Chris that night at 1700 I told her the captain was having a party that night at 1900 to celebrate reaching half way, and it was good to look forward to that celebration in good weather.  That night I celebrated with a Fry's pepermint bar, and an ice cold coke.  The frig had not been working properly in the rough weather as it got an air lock in the water cooling pipe when the intake came out of the water in waves, but I had fixed that as soon as the weather moderated and this was a fair reward.

 The breeze lasted through wednesday when it was forecast to go light, but thursday morning we got totally unforecast NNE headwinds, slowly rising until, by Thursday 1200 I hove to again in 40 knots, wwhich fortunaqtely lasted only until 1800, when a nice 15 knot sw came up.   This slowly eased around to the south, and by Friday morning a genuine tradewinds South Easterly! This increased slowly, with fast sailing until Saturday night, when I did the arithmetic and calculated we needed to slow down to 4.5 knots to reach the pass in daylight - I didn't want to go in in darkness, or to stand off near the reef in darkness if I arrived early.  So we wasted a good breeze, and sailed on heavily reefed in perfect sailing weather - and with our yellow Q flag and Fiji courtesy flags up.
I was concerned that I was very tired, and was heading towards a reef on autopilot - so I altered course away from the reef towards open water,  slowed down even more, puit on the AIS and Radar alarms, turned lights on the sails, and got an hour's sleep.  When I woke I was refreshed and alert, so came back on course, and enjoyed watching the dawn and smelling land nearby (burning sugar cane).

It was a great feeling coming in through the pass to sheltered water, and sailing in to Lautoka to anchor North of Queen's wharf.  After tidying up the boat, and fixing one of the dinghy davit wires that had broken (luckily I always tie the dinghy to the davits with a rope as well as the lifting wires, so the dinghy was Ok), I put my head down and slept from 1600 to 0800 next day!

HEADING NORTH

Ready at last!

After a lot of extra work meeting New Zealand safety regulations, and a fair bit of money spent on safety gear that is not entirely relevant for singlehanders (who will be there to throw me the dan buoy, or to search for its automatic light?  I believe cruisers should clip on all the time they are on deck offshore, and that goes double for singlehanders) we have passed the thorough safety inspection - thanks to Kevin Johnson for two trips to the boat and at least four hours of his time inspecting steering gear, chainplates, rig, flares, fire extinguishers, and everything else, and to Doyle sails for making a trysail and making, anodising and fitting a track for it in ten days.  Ready to go, and the wind is northerly 25 to 30 - straight from our first stop at Opua.  Thursday the wind goes around to the southwest, and Chris and I struggle to get "Hanne Danske" off the marina and onto the fuel dock in 30 knot side winds and showers.
a wave to Chris and I motor off the fuel dock before setting sail for Kawau 30 miles North- it was nice to have my Uncle Brian and Mary at the end of Devonport wharf with Chris to wave as I sailed past.
A good fast sail to Kawau, and up early in the morning to sail north to Whangaruru harbour another 70 miles further north.   In perfect reaching weather it was a great sail, and I had the unusual experience of being buzzed by customs in a light plane who asked me to spell boat name, home port, destination etc all in phonetic alphabet.  At dusk I could see cape Brett and considered carrying on to the bay of islands - but nearby Whangaruru was too tempting and we slipped in between the reefs to a quiet anchorage off the beach.


Next morning, with forecast Westerly 20 - 25 I headed out for the short sail to Cape Bett in sheltered water, using little danger rock as a good target to adjust the radar heading as we sailed past it.  At the cape, lots of messy steep waves and shifty winds in the shadow of  the cliffs, so I headed outside the island and found the wind blowing strongly out of the bay - dead on the nose and 20-25.  A fairly wet  bash to weather before dropping sails in the shelter of Urupukapuka island.   As I sailed in there were several yachts heading out to sea - was I missing a weathyer window to head up to Fiji?  I decided to head straight in to Opua where there would be internet to pick up the latest weather forecast.  As we anchored in the serene waters off the marina in perfect sunshine and light breeze, it loooked like the weather couldnt be better.  But the forecast showed a deepening low heading over - a fast yacht might get  north of it if they left that morning, as it seems some did - but I couldn't clear customs and head off before Sunday - and sailing handed I would not be sailing as fast as usual, so this is not the time to go.  A relief in a way - it gives me time to sort out radio scheds, setup radar alarms etc.  But it is also a shame - the weather is getting colder,  winter storms are coming on, and it is an anxious wait hoping for the weather to come right and hoping for a good trip.  How will I cope with singlehanding a possibly rough trip to Fiji?
And it is not helpful, checking out the Russel Radio scheds as yachts report in, to hear some tired yachties fed up with strong head winds, torn sails and gear, and gale warnings for the sea area to the North and West.
Hopefully I will have better luck with the weather - It was so much simpler sailing the trades in the tropics!
After deciding I was here for a few days, I tidied up the boat, and found a stowaway - a little lizard hiding under a sail track looking cold and miserable.  I took him ashore and let him go in a warm sunny spot in a rock garden.  I don,t think he would have liked the trip - especially not on deck!

So I'm catching up on some rest, doing odd jobs, and getting ready. And what a lovely place to be doing that, as I look around the still anchorage.

In the water at last!

With the painting finished, all the hardware  has to be replaced - with plenty of sticky Sika 291 sealant behind every fitting, in every screw and bolt hole, and all over everything it touches.  It takes at least as long cleaning up the sealant as it does to fit the hardware.  Chris does a great job holding bolts on the outside while I fit and do up the nuts on the inside, and cleaning the sealant off with turps, tissues and a neat rubber spatula sold by glaziers for cleaning sealant off glass.
It is fantastic to see the boat coming together again, and looking great.  Even better, all the clutter down below of carefully stored hardware is slowly disappearing.  Every day there is a milestone to celebrate - the stage when the ports are in and the hatches are on when she can be locked up; the fitting of the binnacle, compass and wheel;    and finally, with the engine panel rewired and refitted, the cockpit speakers and dc power points fitted, and the fittings for the bimini and dodger frames in place, the very last of the hardware is on and she is weatherproof, and ready to move outside to step the mast.  It is a symbolic moment when the anchor, which was dropped with all its chain to allow the chain locker to be painted and for the chain depth markings to be repainted, is hoisted back aboard.

The riggers arrive early and ready the mast for the crane to lift it in place.  I go round with them - "shouldn't this split pin be opened more?  Shouldn't there be tape over that? Shouldn't we seize that shackle? " and generally being a nuisance - but I want to be able to rely on that rig.
The mast is a very heavy section, but it still bends under its own weight as the crane lifts it and we struggle to control the heel of the mast .

With the mast in, and all the rigging in place, one final lift and the boom is replaced.  An hour after the crane arrived we have our rig back!  The riggers spend the rest of the day tuning the rig while I run the wiring from the mast through the boat - the mast lights are easy, as there is a connection panel near the base of the mast where the wires exit the mast, and for once I have kept note of the wiring colours for the new mast wiring to each light.  The VHF aerial is a bit harder, it goes back to the radio and AIS at the chart table - through the backs of various lockers, all of which have to be dismantled and replaced.  And the masthead wind instruments go all the way to the cockpit instruments, which involves removing and replacing ceiling panels.
That night, I turned on all the lights and instruments, and to my surprise everything was working perfectly.  The new LED Hella masthead tricolour shone nearly as brightly as the deck level nav lights (it meets international standards) but uses much less power, and the red green and white lights cut out correctly at the same angles as the deck lights.  The new ST60 plus instruments are much clearer and brighter than the old ST50s,  and the autopilot, chartplotter and radar all worked as they should.
Next day she was lifted onto the travelift and moved to the launching bay - but I still needed to scrape back, fair, and paint the underside of the keel, which had not been properly painted for many years because, of course, the keel is always resting on blocks while the boat is ashore.   I was lucky the boatyard agreed to hold me in the lift for two days to allow a proper job scraping, grinding and sanding, several coats of epoxy, a primer, and two coats of antifouling paint - and even with two days I was working late into the night to get so many coats on and dry in time.

Finally, after 6 months ashore, Hanne Danske is ready to return to the water.  The signwriter arrives and sticks the vinyl lettering on the transom with her name and port of registry.   With the launch scheduled for 9am  I check and recheck every through hull fitting, hose clamp, and seal through the boat.  Chris  and I are both on board when Conrad starts up the travelift dead on 9am and we are off - so no photos of the launch.
We are lowered into the water and held in the slings while we check for leaks (none!), start the engine (instantly) and check that cooling water is coming out the exhaust (none - curses!).  After feverishly checking the valve, opening the water strainer, taking off the hose and still no water coming in even though we can see through the open ball valve the penny finally dropped - the travelift strop was blocking the water intake.  With everything replaced, the strop was lowered and the water promptly ran through the exhaust.
With a couple of shore lines we swung her into the river and alongside another boat, facing downstream ready to head off next day.  A quick cup of coffee to celebrate the launch, and then we got one of the yard workers to help us carry the sails onto the boat - the main is fully battened and we had stored it rolled up with battens in, so it takes at least three people to carry it without damage, and the genoa is a heavy and awkward lift for two men down a ladder and over the deck rails.
Fitting the genoa is heavy work but pretty straightforward - we get the luff in place on the foredeck, tie on the sheets, hoist it and furl it without too much trouble.
But the main is a lot harder.  It is a struggle with both of us shoving and pushing and heaving to get the foot of the sail into the track of the boom furler mandrel, then to strongly lash the tack and clew in place, and finally to hoist it, with a gentle but occasionally gusty wind dead astern.  And then, the sail wont furl properly.  It is never easy to furl with this system off the wind, and after a few tries it is clear I have not set the boom angle correctly.  We drop it back down on the deck and decide to clean up the dinghy (stored outside under a tarpaulin) while we wait for the wind to drop.  As soon as we do that, the wind drops, and I sneak back, hoist the main, and furl it into the boom before the wind realises.
With the dinghy cleaned out, carried to the waters edge ready to launch, we have only to fit the bimini, and tidy the boat up  before  finishing for the day.  We are both worn out, and go to bed very early.
Next morning we are up early and have our morning cuppa on deck in the shelter of the bimini.  The tide is out, and what looks like a wide river at high tide is a very narrow little creek.  There is a gentle rain, the far bank of the river is well wooded and green, and we watch the ducks come and go.  At half tide the rain has stopped and there is enough water at the dinghy pontoon to launch the dinghy, so we can lift it up on the davits.  Two hours before high tide we drop our lines and quietly motor off downstream.  It takes an hour and a half at three and a half knots to go downriver - at that speed, if I make a mistake and go aground on the mud, there is a good chance the rising tide will lift us off.  And it takes a lot of concentration to stay in the deep water. Even though there are some posts and buoys marking the channel, they are often misleading, and you need to guess the likely path of the channel (deeper water is usually on the outside of the curves).  Sometimes, when the depth drops alarmingly so we have inches under our keel, it is hard to know whether to turn to port or starboard to get back into deeper water.  It is a pretty and peaceful, but nervewracking, trip downstream - and a relief to make it into deep water in Mahurangi harbour, where we anchored for lunch and to check everything before we headed out to sea - the wind was forecast at  SW  25 - 30knots  - hard on the nose for our trip to Auckland.
As it turned out, we had a great sail with sheets eased to Tiri channel, and the wind steadily eased after that below 25 knots, then below 20, and down to 10 at dusk by North Head.  After taking on diesel at Bayswater Marina fuel dock,  we motored easily onto our marina at slack water  and no wind, which was a relief as I was worried about scraping my shiny new paint!
So, now there are a few jobs left, which will take a couple of weeks,  the offshore safety test to pass,  and then we sail to Opua in the North of New Zealand to wait for good weather to head off.

paint job

Weeks later and Hanne Danske is looking transformed.

Glossy Awlcraft 2000 Insignia white with Flag Blue boot top and gold cove gives her a sharp new look, and we have just finished rolling and tipping the first coat of dark blue Warpaint antifouling.
But the cabin sides and cockpit are still in undercoat waiting for a glossy top coat - and until that is done we can't replace all the deck hardware, refit the ceilings we removed to access the fastenings, or replace the rig.  And there is still a long list of other jobs to be done - yesterday I replaced the broken handle on a seacock, but then found the valve wouldn't fully close even with a new handle - so that needs to be replaced, the new cockpit shower I fitted is still not plumbed in because the connectors are non standard and I haven't yet found anyone with the right parts, I need to replumb the gally foot pumps for seawater and fresh water (you use far less water if you have to manually pump every drop - we turn off the pressure water offshore), the engine and generator need a service, and so on.  This last week would have been  perfect weather for the sail up to Fiji, lets hope there is some good weather when we are ready to go!

preparing for offshore

At last I'm making progress, with the hull sanded ready for awlcraft 2000 and antifouling, the teak decks reseamed and replugged, and a long list of other work completed and in progress. Behind me is "Hanne Danske", the 1991 German Frers designed Hylas 51 I bought in the Caribbean and sailed here to New Zealand.  She was a tidy looking well equipped offshore yacht before I started this refit 6 months ago, but the gel coat was tired and chalky and the teak decks had worn down over many offshore miles.  We also have to pass the very strict NewZealand requirements before NZ registered yachts are cleared for offshore, so the rudder and prop shaft have been out and refitted with new seals and bearings, the keel bolts torque tested, new rigging is being made, the mast rewired, and flares and liferaft need updating.
This time I'm planning to sail the trip singlehanded, to Fiji, a little over a thousand miles North of New Zealand, so I've also upgraded radar and autopilot, and am trying to make sure everything is reliable and safe.  We already have a good Icom SSB, Raymarine AIS, C80, and full instruments, and an Iridium phone with data port to a laptop for offshore calls and grib files weather download, and the boat was set up from new with electric winches, in boom furling, remote anchor winch etc which make her easy to handle singlehanded for a large yacht.
The best time for the trip to Fiji is late May,  after the cyclone season and before winter storms, so I need to launch late April to give me time for some shakedown sailing to be sure everything is OK before I leave.