After a few hours of motoring at the start, I hoisted the sails, and Amy managed to make 4 knots even with very little wind. The wind died down even more, so we were moving very slowly. But I didn’t mind, because the area with the shitty weather toward the end of the trip was supposed to be closer to the Scottish coast rather than further east. So I figured: if I arrive later, I might actually be better off. Of course, that turned out not to be true, but at the time it sounded reasonable to me. On the second day, there was so little wind that you could see right through the water—and thus also the dolphins swimming under the boat and playing with Amy. We were still making 1.5–2 knots, after all.
Later, the wind picked up to force 3 and a very thick fog rolled in. It lasted almost the rest of the day. My weather check using the shortwave radio was a bit slow at times. Was that because of the fog? Who knows…. After what felt like an eternity, I finally got my weather data, and the forecast for Monday wasn’t exactly any better.
On Sunday, the first front came in, and I actually spent the whole day reefing and unreefing the sails. It was not a big thing though. The waves stayed small. There was virtually no ship traffic in the area, and I hadn’t reached the oil and gas fields yet. So we were able to focus entirely on sailing, sleeping and eating. But then a ship did appear—and, unsurprisingly, it was heading straight for us. After watching it for a while, I decided to speak to the watch officer. Over the radio, it sounded as if they had seen us long ago and had already taken appropriate measures. After our conversation, however, the bow veered very noticeably to port, heading for a point behind our stern. Very comforting.
On Sunday night, the wind picked up to a force 6. After a few hours, the waves had become very rough, and it was no longer possible to maintain the course. According to the weather report, conditions were supposed to remain that way until the next morning and then subside. In reality, it lasted 24 hours, 6 of which I spent hove to because the sea swell and the vibrations in the boat were simply unbearable, and I felt like I was doing Amy a lot of damage.
During that time, we kept drifting further and further north, and I had planned to possibly make a single tack back southwest toward Peterhead as soon as the wind and waves subsided. However, the next weather report indicated that the wind would soon shift to the south, which would put us in an extremely unfavorable position. So we had to sail back southeast again. There was no better course to take. After another five hours, we were back on our original course, and lo and behold, the wind died down and shifted to the south.
By then, everything in the bow was completely soaked. It had started when, with every wave, a bucketful of water poured through the deck via the new (!!) vent—which I had just installed in Greifswald. When I went to check it out, I got drenched from the side through the window, which had been pushed in a bit by the seas and had started to leak. And as if this wasn’t enough misery, water was now also coming in through the forward hatch.
During the night, the wind had died down, and we were able to sail on a direct course toward our destination. The swell had also subsided, and I was able to go to sleep for the first time in 24 hours. I was very tired, so even within those 20 minutes, I immediately fell into a deep sleep, and the next morning I felt like a new person.
Then the rain came, and I realized there was a fourth leak on deck. Not good. But eventually the rain passed, and it turned into a wonderful day with little wind, hardly any waves, and very slow sailing—but in the right direction. My spirits lifted considerably, and I spent some time fishing (unfortunately to no avail).
Around 8pm, we entered the 12-mile zone, and I called the Coast Guard (also to no avail, but I had fulfilled my obligation). Around 11pm, we were 1.5 miles off the port of Peterhead, and I radioed the harbor authority to request permission to enter. Aside from the fact that I had to circle for over 30 minutes to wait for two large platform supply vessels to enter and exit, the harbor master told me there was no space available in the marina and that I should continue on. I insisted on going in and having a look myself which turned out to be a good decision since I immediately found a spot. I phoned Border Force UK and they had already been worrying about me because I was a day overdue. They checked me in and I lowered the yellow Q flag.