The weather changed. For the first part of this our longest
leg across the Atlantic the weather was lovely. We had following winds of 10 to
15 knots and the boat just scooted along fast or slow with the waves gently
lifting it up and putting it back down. Sophie and Adelheid and I spent our
days very congenially outside together reading, napping, chatting, and enjoying
each other’s company. We spent our nights taking turns doing ‘watch’ sitting in
the cockpit by ourselves learning the constellations, watching for shooting
stars, or admiring the trail of phosphorescence left by the boat, a sparkling
green show mesmerizing as any campfire.
Then the wind shifted. For the past four days we have been
sailing close hauled. The wind is still 10 to 15 knots during the day but the
boat motion is choppy and abrasive. We had to take down the bimini, which
created shade in the cockpit, and now it is generally too sunny to be outside
during the day, so instead of lounging there altogether we tend to stay inside,
spending most of the day lying alone on one bunk or another trying not to get
seasick. It is a lot less pleasant. We still gather outside at 6pm to watch the
sunset together but it is, every day, marred somewhat by the cumulonimbus
clouds that are simultaneously gathering in the other direction and the coming
squalls that they indicate.
At least four or five times a night serious squalls come by.
These might, or might not, be accompanied by bucketing rain. The wind tends to
blow a steady about 15 knots during the night, then, in the space of less than
a minute it jumps to 25 knots. 25 is a LOT more than 15. Our instructions when
on watch if this happens are to immediately bear away 20 degrees and then get
the captain. STAT. Usually he has noticed the change, woken, and is on his way.
This boat sails with full sails at 15 knots. Our rule of thumb is to reef at 18
knots so that we are reefed by 20. These squalls come in way too fast for that,
so, almost immediately the boat is way overpowered. She heels over, her rails
in the water, speeds up to her maximum hull speed, and then strains to go even
faster. She shakes and shudders in her attempts to do so. The wind howls a
painful screeching as it tears through the rigging. The prop, which usually
goes wrrrrrrr wrrrrrr as it spins, starts to go WHRRRRRRRRRR WHRRRRRRR instead
which adds a disconcerting intenseness to the situation. The captain bears the
boat away another 20 degrees. Then he lets out the main so that it spills some
wind. This means we slow down a wee bit but it is accompanied by a WHAPWHAPWHAP
of the now flapping sail. Next he lets out the genoa so it too is spilling wind
and making its own CLANK CLANK noise as the car the sheet goes through whips
back and forth. We sit for ten minutes or so listening to the boat straining,
the rain pounding, hoping the wind will go down. It usually doesn’t so the
captain goes outside and furls in the genoa. Then he comes in and worries that
the main is still too much sail. We watch the wind speed and the boat speed and
he considers furling the main. Furling the main is a relatively straightforward
job if done during the day but at night, with the wind already too high, the
boat rising and crashing through the waves, the salt spray flying in great
sheets, it is a) not fun and b) difficult and c) somewhat dangerous. We sit for
ten or twenty minutes as the squall continues to blow. The captain does not
want to go out and furl the main but he knows that if the wind rises any more
he will have to. If the wind continues to rise the longer he puts off this job
the worse it will get. So far he has not gone out and furled it at night. Each
squall has been a tense white knuckle situation but each one has eventually passed,
the wind all of a sudden dropping back down to 15 knots, the pounding rain just
stopping, the boat leveling out and the most disconcerting of the noises
quieting at least a bit.
The next evening, as the two girls and I sit and watch the
sunset, HS pops his head up for a minute and I bring up the idea of furling the
main during the last of the light, so that we don’t have to worry about it
during any potential squalls at night, but the downside to this would be that
we would lose speed for the remainder of the night, and so, despite the ominous
presence of cumulonimbus building yet again on the horizon, the captain states
optimistically that he doesn’t think there will be any squalls this night so
there is no need to furl… but yes, there
are…
