Prior to leaving we were studying the weather models and were all worried by what we saw at the time. Every model showed two thick bands of squalls. We had a several conversation about what route we would take and how best to avoid these two bands and potentially days and days of quite challenging and unpredictable conditions.
We have just spent two days and nights sailing right smack through the centre of these bands of squalls. I’m still not sure how,
when or why the decision was made to bite the bullet and just head into this line, but we did. It made for some challenging, fun and intense sailing. If you were a person who bit their nails they would have been totally chewed off in the last two days.
Here’s how it all went down. Early in the day, before we hit the first squall line we were making an easy 8-9knots with 4 sails up and the boat was balanced nicely. We had the Genoa, a stay sail, the main and mizzen sail all up. It’s a lot of sail area and you can feel the horsepower. We were on a beam reach so the boat was heeled over about 20 degrees and there was an 8-10 foot swell hitting us on the beam. So it’s pretty roly poley on board in these conditions and this is where lots of accidents happen if you are not holding on. You can not let go for a minute or you will be slammed unceremoniously into whatever is to the north of you. This was a different motion from the first few days where the conditions were much more sedate. We all lost our appetites and grew quiet. There was a low grey cloud covering the whole sky and then the squals lining up, gloves on ready to push us around and see what we were made of.
Late in the day as it was getting dark we had the big code 0 up and the wind climbed to 27 knots, we almost broached when we were hit by a gust and a wave on the beam at the same time. We needed to get the sail in and down so I went up on deck with Stefano to wrestle it down. Again way easier said than done, trying to furl and wrestle a massive sail down onto the deck of a boat that is bucking like an unbroke bronco. Then there are the lines that are flailing and the noise of a sail being flogged in the wind. If you sail I know you know what this is like. It was also getting dark so it was pretty full on but we managed and the feeling of accomplishment was huge.
The night before as we were approaching this band of squalls we had a lot of rain and we didn’t manage to get all of the hatches closed in time. My bunk got soaking wet with little chance of drying in the near future. We had a few waves over the side so we are now all salt soaked. The watches in these conditions take more concentration as the wind will shift 40 degrees in a second without warning.
Night falls and we are in squall central. I am determined not to be intimidated by these aggressive pushy little clouds, with their flat bottoms and mickey mouse ear tops. They like to batter us about they are so unpredictable. As much as you can see a squall coming or see that you are heading into one and you can prepare yourself and the boat by reefing sails or reducing the number of sails you have up, securing everything that can fly around, they blaze in like an angry bear coming through a storm and wreak havoc in their path. It’s the not knowing what they will bring that keeps me on edge .
Last night was a shit show and I was thrilled and scared in equal measure . I came on deck at 3amfor my watch when this vicious little squall hit us on the tail from the east. As much as I am trying not to be intimidated, the fact is, for now, squalls do scare me a bit. They are even more scary at 3.30am when it’s so dark you can’t even see your hand in front of your face and you are sailing the boat by yourself. You can’t see the sails and you can’t see the size and shape of what has just swallowed you up. You don’t know when you will get spit out the back it could be 5 minutes it could be over 20 minutes long.
I resist the urge to call downstairs to get one of the others to come up and help. The boat gets spun around and I have no idea what direction we are facing, sails are flailing and I am afraid of an accidental jibe. There are no references when it’s pitch black and it’s easy to get into chasing the compass to get back on course and before you know it you have over corrected and you are en route to Hawaii rather than Hiva Oa. We do have preventers on both booms but an unplanned jibe in these conditions is just downright dangerous and can pull down the whole rig. The squall passes and gives me a bit of time to regroup before the next one. It’s only 4.12am so I have a few hours more of this. I am flooded with adrenaline to the point of vibrating. A small inner voice is saying, you got this, you got this. Through nights like this I am learning to not be knocked off centre by nasty storms in the darkness. It feels no small feat to stand up to the Pacific Ocean and what she decides to dish up.
At 6am Joerg comes on deck for his watch. When my watch is over and I am an adrenaline, seratonin cocktail shaken not stirred.
Today is a whole new day. The sky has largely cleared and there is a steady 16 knot wind from the south east. We have pulled the big para sailer up and we are flying along at 10 knots in sporty conditions. Here in the para sailor on a more sedate day.
It’s sunny and warm and we are sailing on the rhumb line. There is a nice swell and white caps all around. The sun is dancing off the tops of the waves and it looks like there are a million jewels glinting on the water. These are the sorts of days that sailors dream of.
That’s all I got for now. Back to sailing.
