Passage Making
Look at me, having only done a few of these, I'm not sure that title sticks. Still, I'll indulge myself and write a bit about it. With our sat phone service I can post words to our blog, but photos just don't work. Besides, I am still trying to get my head around a photo that can share this experience.
It's 2 AM, and my shift has just started. Kel just finished her 3 hour shift. Lionel, our crew is below a sleep and comes back on at 5 AM. It sounds like a strong surf. 5-6 foot waves combat the boat, hitting us on port side just forward of midship. 25 knots of steady wind for the past 48 hours. We have been living life on a 15 degree angle since we left Bermuda 5 days ago. These waves are different than the curling waves that reach the beach. They are more like little mountains of water and the wind will blow a little off the top. If they are curling over out here, you are in survival mood.
King Neptune likes to throw in some drama, so every fifth wave might be a little bigger or from a slightly different angle. Big ones will wash over the deck and drench the plastic dodger (shelter) we sit behind. Small ones smack the hull like a drum. The boat shutters and flexes with each wave it meets. Occasionally, the boat will surf into the trough of a big wave, heeling over hard until it rises over the crest roaring by on the leeward side. It's a strange sensation. At night you have to feel the patterns because you cannot see a thing unless the moon is out. Kel had some moonlight, but it set below the horizon as my shift began. All I can do now is feel and listen to the patterns. Sunrise will be welcome. The boat is important. It is a space ship in a relentless water world.
Our sails have been set unchanged except for small adjustments to the wind. Usually, these changes happen when there is squall that brings some wind shifts and rain. For the moment, I see stars and planets 360 degrees.
Life for days on an angle is challenging. You have to walk with your hands. Handholds let you move around to your favorite spots to lean against some part of the boat and relax. You never just get up a go somewhere. You will be in trouble as soon as you trust your surroundings. Picture this. I move from handhold to handhold, pulling myself up against gravity to the galley. King Neptune sends a big one and I suddenly hold on tightly to save my hard earned progress across 10 feet of boat. Once braced against the galley sink, I find my muesli and dig the almond milk out. Muesli is in my bowl (no simple task) and I set the bowl against a little wood ledge to brace it from taking the big slide to starboard. You know there's a pattern and it is coming. Ready to pour the milk. Neptune sends a "smacker" wave that hits the hull with a loud thud. My muesli bowl escapes and slides toward the sink. Almond milk hits the counter instead the inside of my bowl. Muesli covers everything in the sink. Somewhere, 14,000 feet below us Neptune must be laughing. All you can do is join him, hold on, and start over. It's tempting to curse, but the next "roller" is already on its way.
A new way to address efficiency is needed. You'll be offshore for days sailing from "Place A" to "Place B." The straight line gets you to that Internet cafe a day earlier, but the wind, waves, and weather must be considered. Just forget about the straight line, shortest mileage, and a time schedule. A planned approach will mean more comfort, safety, and some extra sailing. You will not be a happy offshore sailor without a good dose of patience. Neptune just sent me one of those deck washing waves and now my butt is wet. Somewhere, 19,665 feet below Neptune is still laughing. He really does rule our water world.
Sorry, my excellent co-writer, editor, and lover girl is tucked into her lee cloth bunk. The lee cloth keeps you place, and Neptune has to wait patiently until you get out before he smacks you again. Forgive any spelling, edits, and grammarly issues.
It's 2 AM, and my shift has just started. Kel just finished her 3 hour shift. Lionel, our crew is below a sleep and comes back on at 5 AM. It sounds like a strong surf. 5-6 foot waves combat the boat, hitting us on port side just forward of midship. 25 knots of steady wind for the past 48 hours. We have been living life on a 15 degree angle since we left Bermuda 5 days ago. These waves are different than the curling waves that reach the beach. They are more like little mountains of water and the wind will blow a little off the top. If they are curling over out here, you are in survival mood.
King Neptune likes to throw in some drama, so every fifth wave might be a little bigger or from a slightly different angle. Big ones will wash over the deck and drench the plastic dodger (shelter) we sit behind. Small ones smack the hull like a drum. The boat shutters and flexes with each wave it meets. Occasionally, the boat will surf into the trough of a big wave, heeling over hard until it rises over the crest roaring by on the leeward side. It's a strange sensation. At night you have to feel the patterns because you cannot see a thing unless the moon is out. Kel had some moonlight, but it set below the horizon as my shift began. All I can do now is feel and listen to the patterns. Sunrise will be welcome. The boat is important. It is a space ship in a relentless water world.
Our sails have been set unchanged except for small adjustments to the wind. Usually, these changes happen when there is squall that brings some wind shifts and rain. For the moment, I see stars and planets 360 degrees.
Life for days on an angle is challenging. You have to walk with your hands. Handholds let you move around to your favorite spots to lean against some part of the boat and relax. You never just get up a go somewhere. You will be in trouble as soon as you trust your surroundings. Picture this. I move from handhold to handhold, pulling myself up against gravity to the galley. King Neptune sends a big one and I suddenly hold on tightly to save my hard earned progress across 10 feet of boat. Once braced against the galley sink, I find my muesli and dig the almond milk out. Muesli is in my bowl (no simple task) and I set the bowl against a little wood ledge to brace it from taking the big slide to starboard. You know there's a pattern and it is coming. Ready to pour the milk. Neptune sends a "smacker" wave that hits the hull with a loud thud. My muesli bowl escapes and slides toward the sink. Almond milk hits the counter instead the inside of my bowl. Muesli covers everything in the sink. Somewhere, 14,000 feet below us Neptune must be laughing. All you can do is join him, hold on, and start over. It's tempting to curse, but the next "roller" is already on its way.
A new way to address efficiency is needed. You'll be offshore for days sailing from "Place A" to "Place B." The straight line gets you to that Internet cafe a day earlier, but the wind, waves, and weather must be considered. Just forget about the straight line, shortest mileage, and a time schedule. A planned approach will mean more comfort, safety, and some extra sailing. You will not be a happy offshore sailor without a good dose of patience. Neptune just sent me one of those deck washing waves and now my butt is wet. Somewhere, 19,665 feet below Neptune is still laughing. He really does rule our water world.
Sorry, my excellent co-writer, editor, and lover girl is tucked into her lee cloth bunk. The lee cloth keeps you place, and Neptune has to wait patiently until you get out before he smacks you again. Forgive any spelling, edits, and grammarly issues.
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