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LOG ENTRY DATE: December 8, 2003 Wheeeeeeeeee! Apparently my whining about the lack of wind has paid off: we re-established contact with the trades early on Thursday, December 5th, and have been ripping along ever since. The wind has stayed very consistently out of the east to northeast quarter, gradually building in speed from 12-15 knots, to 15-27 knots for the last day and one-half. We're also closing in on Antigua—only 60 miles to go—and should arrive there in the mid-afternoon. It's a bittersweet thing to know I'm only hours away from my final destination on this trip—not to mention what is probably my second-to-last log! While Katie and I will no doubt be down to the Caribbean this winter to use Chase—and I may well help to bring bring her home in May—it does seem like I'm close to the end of the line on My Big Trip. . . For the most part, we've been keeping twin headsails up: the #1 genoa poled out to windward, and the big aysmmetrical flying to leward. What a sail that spinnaker is—it's kept us moving along at a very brisk pace, even when the wind has eased up. But, yesterday when the wind built to over 20 knots, it seemed like it was starting to overpower the boat, and that it risked being blown out by winds that were gusting up to 28 or so. Currently we're zooming along at 6.5 to 8 knots, with our #2 genoa poled out to starboard, and a single-reefed main up and "prevented" to the deck. We've been sailing dead down wind since the wind came up, and it's been glorious— especailly after the long wait for the wind! But, it's also come with a downside: the seas have built and we roll quite a bit as we come down the front of the waves, and—more importanlty—there's been a toll taken on the gear. The #1 geona has been suffering the most. Yesterday morning, we noticed yet another tear in our weary sail. . . it's grown very old during the trip, and it is developing rips along the leech (the outside edge) of the sail. So, we hauled it down (while keeping the big aysmmetrical up) and Ed, true to form, stitched it up for us in almost no time. However, by the time we decided to hoist it back up, the winds had built to 22—28 knots, and the seas accordingly. Though the foredeck crew (Tom and Ed) got everything set up right, we all failed to notice that the furling drum had come unwound— meanting that when we hauled the sail up, we had no way to roller-furl it back in. Down it came, but this time, it all went wrong: the violently flogging sail ripped again—this time in the body of the sail itself—and a shackle up at the top of the sail shook loose, leaving the furling swivel (the part that the top of the sail attaches to) partway up the forestay. In order to put any sort of roller-furling headsail back up, unfortunately, that swivel is a necessity. And, given that the wind was now too great for the spinnaker, we needed one of those sails. The problem with retrieving the swivel, though, is that it was part way up a sloping forestay—one has to go aloft to get it, but it's not like going straight up the mast. Instead, one has to tie oneself onto the bottom of the headstay at the very front of the boat, wrap one's arms and legs around the headstay, and then get hauled up the sloping (and rotating!) aluminum extrusion that covers the headstay. So, up I went, about halfway to the top, to get it. The job, though, was complicated greatly by the 8-12 foot seas we were in. Instead of going straight up to the waiting swivel, I actually corkscrewed my way up—turning 360's around the headstay while the boat surfed and rolled. Just letting go of the headstay to grab the swivel so I could take it down with me, forced me to take a giant leap of faith in the fact that I woudn't lose contact with it, and end up like a pendulum swinging around in front of the mast! But, my boatmates did a superb job in both hoisting me up and dropping me down (Nat and Tom on the winch—take a bow guys!), and in keeping the boat movement to a minimum (that's Ed on the helm, folks—let's give him a hand!). The ordeal cost us some time as we drifted about, but in the end, we hoisted the sails we have up now, repaired the genoa (Ed again) and stuffed all the excess sails down the forehatch to be dealt with later! We've also suffered from the effects of chafe, and flailing ropes have even managed to peel off the plate the navigation lights are attached to on the pulpit—and it's welded on! Makes us appreciate the power that the wind and sea has, and what happens when we try to transfer even a little of it to our puny boat. Depite the trials, though, it's been good to move again, and we have been compensated by another piece of news: the northeast U.S. is suffering from what is basically a hurricane, bringing up to 2 feet of snow to Portland. It's been hard to curry sympathy about our conditions, as a result, from anyone there that we exchange email with. We've had our own brush with bad weather, with the development of Tropical Storm Odette, which started in the mid-Caribbean basin, but ended up heading northeast, leaving our area without any direct effect, other than large northerly swells that are due to arrive in our area on Monday. Fortunately, Falmouth Harbor in Antigua is on the south side of the island, so we should be well protected.. Amazingly, our "pet" tunas have been keeping up with us for the last 5 days. We see them every morning when they arrive to swim alongside the boat. We've finally figured out that they are hanging back behind the shadow our sail casts on the water. When a fish enters that shadow for some shade, they dart in and try to pick it off. It's impressive to see them work: they are 4' of nothing but swimming muscle, but also very beautiful with their bright yellow dorsal fins. It will be interesting to see what they do as we get closer to land! Nonetheless, I think the crew is very, very excited to get on land. The trip has taken 22 days, instead of the expected 18 or so, and we've used up a lot of our stores. Some we've managed well: we started with 105 gallons of fresh water (and lots of bottled water), and still have 20 gallons left in the tanks. We also will come into port with 25 gallons of fuel left, and 1 roll of toilet paper—whew! Obviously, all of our fresh food (bread, veggies, cheese, meat) has disappeared, as has our supply of wine (one bottle per night, on ocassion) and beer (we started with one case), and critical things like cookies and crackers. But, we've got plenty of coffee left, so the crew still has something to look forward to when they up in the morning. They've been a great crew—working hard, never complaining, and always viewing events with a sense of humor—I couldn't have asked for a better group to help get me and my boat across the mighty Atlantic! |
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