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44 Feet of Grace
by Christine Bynum-Degen
A Kady-Krogen Story
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The sound of thousands of gallons of water rushing through wooden slats isn’t something most boat owners enjoy hearing. But this day, Bill van Lenthe is relishing one of the few exceptions to this rule, as gears, levers and gravity lower his 44-foot Kady Krogen through the Ijmuiden Locks and into Holland. Van Lenthe and his crew of four were nearing the end of their 26-day journey across the Atlantic, and the excitement in the salt-filled air was palpable as they once again viewed van Lenthe’s place of birth, from where he had emigrated in 1965.
Their adventure, which started in North America, was inspired nearly six years earlier when van Lenthe, on a trip to Portugal, found himself standing at the westernmost tip of Europe, thinking: “Wouldn’t it be nice to glide into these western European shores, or perhaps a port in Holland, on my own boat.” It wasn’t until he and his wife were completing their 2006 voyage of the American Great Circle loop in their 530 Carver Voyager that his dream began to take shape, when he first set eyes on a Kady Krogen. “It was a reasonably low air draft, full-displacement trawler,” van Lenthe said. And though the Carver had served them well, it was not set up for an Atlantic voyage. So the van Lenthes traded in their Carver and in the winter of 2007 they took delivery of the 44 Kady Krogen and christened it Le ręve, which is French for “the dream.”
Preparations now began in earnest from their home in Ontario, Canada. Van Lenthe knew that although Le ręve was a sturdy boat, it was “a little small for doing that type of trip.” After installing some additional equipment he felt Le ręve would be ready for their transatlantic voyage.
The two months preceding the trip were the busiest and not without a few near-misses. First on the list of equipment to be installed was a “get home” engine. Van Lenthe decided on a 2600 rpm, Nanni diesel engine, but became concerned when the delivery was four months late. The engine finally arrived and it was installed in very short order. The Nanni was equipped with its own sail drive and folding prop, so it was truly separate from the main propulsion system and could be relied upon if anything went wrong with the main engine, drive shaft or propeller. He also installed a larger alternator on the main engine. The original alternator (a 150 amp) would be used strictly for charging the main engine starting battery. The new alternator (a 270 amp) would be responsible for keeping the house bank batteries charged.
Modifications also had to be made in order to hold the additional food they needed for such a long journey. So, van Lenthe installed a 64-quart freezer on the deck, around which he placed an aluminum box that was two and a half inches bigger on all sides than the freezer. He filled the space between the freezer and box with Styrofoam insulation, so that once the freezer was chilled to the correct temperature, the Styrofoam insulation made it possible to use minimal power and still keep everything cold.
A Spectra water-maker was installed in the engine room and extra storage boxes were installed on the bridge and in the cockpit, where they could double as seats. Keeping in mind they would be subject to European electricity once they reached Holland, he installed a battery charger that would run on European electricity. This battery charger is hooked up to the house battery bank and keeps these batteries charged whenever electricity is available.
Van Lenthe obtained insurance that covered them for an Atlantic crossing. He also purchased flags of every country they would visit as well as a quarantine flag. The quarantine flag would be raised before entering the waters of a foreign country, and once they cleared customs the flag of that country would be raised.
Finally, on June 6, 2008, work and provisioning was complete and van Lenthe and crew, Clyde Honeycutt, Mike Lankes, Bern Norfolk and Eugene Kohlmetz, set sail from Atlantic Highlands, New Jersey.
The first leg of their adventure was the longest: a 16-day cross-Atlantic dash to the Azores. The Azores is a group of nine islands under Portuguese rule; the port of Horta on the island of Faial is the most popular stop for boaters undertaking a transatlantic crossing. Horta is approximately 900 nm from mainland Europe, and it’s a good place to stop, refuel and provision before continuing.
From there they continued in a northeasterly direction, toward England. But before they left, in keeping with Horta tradition, they made sure to paint their boat insignia on the dock amid thousands of other insignias from seafaring travelers.
The most difficult part of the crossing was the inclement weather. “We only had about six decent days of weather during the whole trip. The rest was fairly blowy, rainy and foggy; up to 30-to35- knot winds at times and waves up to 18 feet,” van Lenthe recalled.
But the continual storm didn’t seem to faze Le ręve. It glided gracefully, pushed on and stayed on the course that was plotted in the navigational equipment. The crew and van Lenthe were so impressed with the boat’s ability to easily handle everything that was thrown at it, that they compared it to a dancer.
The Krogen was not the only dancer among the waves, though. The crew often found themselves in the company of various types of sea life: pods of porpoises that would play off the bow as well as mola mola (giant ocean sunfish). Just before they made landfall in Horta, a pod of whales was spotted off the bow as if to welcome them to the Azores. These appearances, as well as the ever-changing ocean, did much to keep the voyagers entertained during the often relentlessly stormy days.
They soon found that it would not be all visual delights, though. About halfway through their crossing and after days of not seeing any other boats, they noticed a sailboat off the starboard side. It looked strange so they altered course to investigate. Upon arriving on scene, they saw the sailboat’s mast was broken, the sails were furled up and the rigging was hanging overboard. The cockpit doors were open and the raft was still on the bow untouched. Maneuvering Le ręve closer wasn’t an option because of the weather and the rigging hanging overboard. The fear that there might still be people on the sailboat who were injured or in need of assistance was so distressing that one of the crew wanted to swim over to the sailboat and check. But this was simply too dangerous. They repeatedly attempted to hail the listing boat by radio and voice, but with no response. Eventually they pulled away and contacted the United States Coast Guard, who informed them that they had already rescued the people and to continue on their way. Le ręve’s crew was relieved, but remained in a more subdued frame of mind for the rest of the day.
The sailboat incident reminded them of what they were doing and how vulnerable they were to the whims of an unforgiving ocean. Although most crossings are completed in private sailboats, van Lenthe commented, “There are other relatively small trawlers that have made the crossing; however, this is done in a flotilla of six or eight boats.” Le ręve and its crew had no other boats to rely on if something should happened, there was no one else to help. This was no game, and van Lenthe was glad he had taken extra precautions when preparing for the trip.
Soon, though, the mood lightened as they again realized the incredible journey they were on, enjoying the astonishingly blue waters of the North Atlantic, the marine life around them and also Clyde Honeycutt’s incredible meals. Honeycutt had offered to take on the responsibility of provisioning and cooking for the trip, and the crew was delighted with the outcome. “We ate like kings,” van Lenthe said.
The crew took turns rotating through the watch and captaining the vessel. At times the quarters got a little cramped. Van Lenthe decided that four other people just weren’t necessary, and if he had to do anything differently, he would take a crew of three instead of four.
But card games and cribbage, listening to music, talking and enjoying Le ręve’s gentle sway kept them busy; they were amazed at how quickly the days flew by.
Soon they were gazing at the shores of England and made landfall in Plymouth. After exploring Plymouth for about three days they left on the last leg of their journey. Two and a half days later the Ijmuiden Locks, and Holland, were before them.
For all it had been a trip they would never forget, but for some it was the adventure of a lifetime. This point was driven home, when two months and 11 days after they arrived in Ijmuiden, Eugene Kohlmetz died from a severe brain hemorrhage.
The funeral was difficult. Kohlmetz was remembered as one of the most valuable members of the crew; the diplomat and the encourager. Van Lenthe didn’t realize how much Kohlmetz enjoyed their trip until he saw all the pictures that Kohlmetz had taken and learned from his family that he couldn’t stop talking about their adventure.
The Kady Krogen had done its job well, transporting its passengers from one continent to another, with grace and ease, allowing dreams to come true and memories to be made that would last forever.
Le ręve now waits patiently in the water, in a frost-free shed, in Leeuwarden, Holland for the next grand adventure.
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This article first appeared in the April 1, 2009 issue of Sea Magazine. All or parts of the information contained in this article might be outdated. |
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