Thu Jul 22 2021
I swear if we didn’t keep a logbook we wouldn’t be able to tell you what happened yesterday. If we didn’t have a great big digital clock with the day and date on it, we wouldn’t know what day it is. It doesn’t really matter out here, but if we’re trying to make business arrangements ashore it’s kind of important to know what time it might be in on the East or West coast of the US, or perhaps even Ho Chi Min City in Vietnam where the Seawind factory is. In late 2018 I called Shane Grover, one of the honchos at Seawind with a technical question. We were hauled out and I wanted so know something, so why not go right to the mountain? Shane answered, but it turned out to be around 0100 at his house. I started to apologize and promise to call back, then I noted that, well, Shane was already awake so I might as well ask my question. Shane has the patience of a saint and he provided an answer and then I bid him goodnight. Never give me your phone number.
Now I’ve got a fancy new smartphone that tells me what time it is anywhere, if only I think to check.
We are about 416 miles from the great big red buoy that marks the channel entrance at the Strait of Juan de Fuca. Somehow the weather has been very kind to us so far. We’ve got a little bit of sporty stuff coming in the next day or so, but it’s the Southern edge of a low pressure system and we’ll be brushing against the lighter winds hoping for continued good sailing towards our destination. Once past that area the winds will lighten and then we’ll be looking at the potential for motorsailing a day or so before things might fill back in. We are concerned about an overly strong breeze from the Northwest as we approach the entrance to the Strait and will have to be on our toes there. We got plenty of experience with wind over tide effects in some of the atoll passes in the Tuamotus of French Polynesia. Blow the timing and catch 5 knots of tide against 15 knots of wind and the standing waves will make a believer out of you.
On the Apache Helicopter there’s this big giant nut that keeps the main rotor attached to everything else. It’s affectionately referred to as the “Jesus nut”, because if it falls off you might get to meet Jesus. I suppose some might refer to it as the “Satan nut”, but you can see Lucifer on Netflix, so not such a big deal.
Anyway, we’re doing our best to hold JollyDogs down to 6 knots speed over ground. She’s rarin’ to go in the 14 knots breeze we’ve got now and we just finished setting reef #1 a half hour ago. We’ve been managing gusts that push our speed towards unacceptable numbers by bringing the apparent wind aft of the beam, but eventually we’re so far off course that if the wind doesn’t let up another reef is in order. Might be about that time, and it seems the wind is a bit more interesting than forecast. The seas are still pretty flat so this wind is a new thing. We’ll make speed while we can but once it gets lumpy we’ll slow down just to avoid the abuse. The other trick is to partially furl the jib, and as long as we don’t hose up the aerodynamic / hydrodynamic balance of the boat too much Chevy the autopilot will manage things pretty well.
Only 416 miles. At 5 knots average speed that’s 120 miles a day, so about 3 1/2 days. Today we’ve done better, averaging 5.7 knots. Averaging 6 knots is 144 miles / day, so 2.9 days. Every time we look at the chart plotter we run the math. We think of how we’ll deal with the tidal flow and the potential for adverse winds at the Strait. We think about cheeseburgers and frosty cold craft brewskis at Port Angeles with Karin, Joe and Michael, and we think about getting a good night’s sleep together. Hey - everyone needs a hobby!
One of the real bummers of passage making is that Isabel and I don’t get to crawl into bed together. It’s great when we finally get somewhere and can get back to a normal rest cycle, snuggling and chatting a bit before nodding off. Only a few more days. . .
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