14º 07.564s 140º 49.838w
Sat Oct 05 2019
Turns
out it was my 21st anniversary. As my old boss, Don McGettigan (rest his soul)
used to say, your mind is the second thing to go, but he couldn’t remember the
first. Well, actually 21 ½ as we got married both in London and in Arizona.
Don’t ask, it’s a long story, but someday I’ll write a trashy romance novel
about how we met and the hurdles we had to leap to finally be together.
Probably self-publish an e-book on Amazon which nobody will read. Will get
another life goal off the list and create the opportunity to “embellish” the
story a bit just for giggles.
Yesterday
was a tough day until early afternoon when we got whacked with several squalls.
Last night wasn’t a lot different, and Shawnee’s idea of a good cup of coffee
kept me wide awake and on watch until nearly 0200 this morning, when I finally
awakened Isabel for her turn. She had her fair share of crazy wind and rain
events as well, but this morning when I awoke from my snoozle it was brilliant
sunshine everywhere and we had a lovely sail. Well, until early afternoon when
I retired for a nap and missed the hardest rain Isabel claimed she had ever
seen. Squalls continued to threaten until nearly sunset, but mostly all we did
was dodge the major rain and wind events, avoiding the need to reef the main.
Come sunset and the wind waves were so choppy and confused we elected to reef
simply to slow down a little and hopefully create a better environment for
sleeping. Altogether a rough afternoon pounding into the seas as close hauled
as JollyDogs will do in the conditions.
We’re
good for about 50 degrees apparent in light winds, and once they’re up to
around 10 knots we can tighten up to 45. Closing on 15 knots true wind we can
get down to around 40 degrees, and if reefed and the wind is really up there we
can point even higher, perhaps 35 degrees if the seas aren’t to confused.
JollyDogs will go, but like any other boat it’s not fun and the banging and
pounding and creaking make sleeping difficult, and today the abuse made for a
grumpy crew. Shawnee came to the rescue, digging out a little Mother’s Finest
and cranking up the stereo. Pretty soon we were all grooving to “Piece of the
Rock” with smiles all around.
I
recall my first blue water passage as crew on a Swan 62’, sailing from Antigua
to Newport, Rhode Island. My quarters were forward, and the creaking and
banging and slamming and moaning had me wondering if the boat might
self-destruct any moment. That’s just the way sailing close hauled in rough
seas is; while some boats will point higher than others and the motion might be
a little less hurky jerky, it’s a rough, noisy ride and there’s ample
opportunity to get bruised up and knocked off balance. JollyDogs is actually a
better deal, as although there’s a lot of noise and motion, there’s no reason
for the crew to get wet or cold. All our monohulls sailing has involved foul
weather gear and hours in a soggy cockpit getting salt spray in the face and
inside our foulies. We do own foulies, but they haven’t come out for a passage
on this boat in years. There’s a lot to be said for a catamaran, especially a
Seawind 1160 that’s designed to keep the crew dry and safe in a very secure
cockpit environment.
The
weather has been a bit challenging on this passage and we’re still not laying
the course to Fatu Hiva, but with any luck the wind will finally clock around
from the Northeast to the East and we’ll be able to point a bit more towards
our destination. If we find ourselves in light wind and seas we’ll fire up the
iron jenny and motor direct, or hard to the East if the forecast suggests that
would be the best alternative. In the meantime, it’s important to keep crew
morale up, keep everyone working together as a team, and find ways to rid
ourselves of frustration. Great food (thank you Isabel), cheerful sing along
music (thank you Shawnee) and fixing things that break underway without drama
(Mark’s forte) help keep us smiling. Add a hot shower for each crew member
every evening works wonders; it’s worth creating a little surplus energy to
make fresh water and hot water for bathing.
It’s
a little weird being out here so far from land, and so far from help. We’ve got
to remain focused on our goal of making landfall in the Marquesas while moving
carefully and thoughtfully around the boat, harnessing up when the exposure to
risk demands it. When stuff breaks we’ve got to do the McGyver thing and either
fix or hatch a work-around plan to keep moving towards land. In the last couple
of days a programmable Balmar regulator for the port engine alternator decided
to start blowing it’s power fuse, and after checking connections and such it
became obvious that carrying a spare one of those buggers (about $350) was a
really swell idea. Now the new one is programmed and installed and we’ll see if
that remove and replace strategy does the trick. Assuming the swap sorts things
out, we’ll be purchasing another spare in a couple of weeks back in the states.
We’ve
been crashing along for about 2 ½ days so far, and we’ve got another 2 ½ to go
before we arrive at Fatu Hiva. Sounds like one of the most beautiful places in
the world, so there’s no backing off.
Steady
as she goes and keep the tub thumping to a low roar so the good crew can sleep.
Fatigue leads to confusion, poor decisions, and crew conflict. No compromising
safety just to arrive a few hours sooner. Only 250 miles to go!
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