Sunday 13th June – Day 7 At Sea (Lini’s Journal)
Brindabella's Web Diary
Simon Williams
Wed 23 Jun 2010 16:45
could be so blissfully reviving! At 4.15am I jumped into clothes,
wrote up the ship’s log and sprung onto deck to greet the already
brightening day. Below I hoped Si was sleeping as soundly as he
appeared.
An ocean is supposed to be the ideal location to study weather
systems but how rarely the skies seem to follow the text books. How on
earth is a girl to try and decipher the jumble of grey smudges and
blobs above me? Only the high cirrus I could identify; the first signs
of the next depression.
Today we changed the ship’s clocks’ a reminder that we creep slowly
but surely east. We are now three hours behind British Summer Time. It
was summer mid-Atlantic today with a sting in the sun’s heat and the
gentlest waft of wind from dead astern: Lini and Simon decided to play
with Brindabella’s sails. Porsche the ParaSailor had not been flown
since the squall during the ARC. Six months further on the same
anxiety fell over me as Si prepared the lines and we commenced a
somewhat stressful time untangling snuffer and sail after the last
sail drop. Si is never exactly at his best when things don’t run
smoothly!! Everything sorted, I winched up the halyard and Si raised
the snuffer allowing Porsche to erupt into a massive bright, stripy
balloon. Now in the cockpit I juggled the four lines remembering
little of best we flew her all those months ago. The inflated foil did
a sterling job of supporting the sail in the minimal winds which
luckily now veered allowing us to stay on course. What a treat not to
use the engine now despite the light airs. I left Si tweaking lines
and calming down and went below to wash essential clothes ready for
the next bad weather.
It didn’t take me long to plunge into the deepest sleep after
lunch. We whispered along through the calm, the only sounds the feint
rustle of lightweight sail above and the soporific lapping of now
gentle waves on the hull. Hypnotised it was some time later I emerged
into the real world.
It is difficult with our diverted route further south to say
exactly where half way would be. It was (Aussie) ship’s captain’s
decision in the heat of the late afternoon (somewhat prematurely
thought first ‘mate’) that ‘tinnies’ and ‘chippies’ should mark the
position. Although usually a dry ship at sea, first ‘mate’ did not
argue; it would not be correct would it to argue with the captain?
But, I foresee a correction of judgement in a day or so when the low
passes and another celebration is ordered (perhaps with another bottle
of Veuve like the ARC half way celebrations rather than ‘tinnies’??).
For now however the golden nectar slipped down a treat and this
‘Sheila’ was quite happy!
Our new ship’s time is not going to fit round Herb’s SSB net,
supper and our normal hour of night watches. Supper was a disjointed
affair with sprints to the SSB when we thought weather tips for our
area were given and try as I might it was 8pm and not 7pm when I
finally got to bed.
Although I dislike flying Porsche at night she was doing an
admirable job and faced with a decision between her and the engine
there was no contest. Needless to say as soon as Si’s head hit the
pillow she became recalcitrant, collapsing in the variable, dying
whiff of breezes, threatening to tangle herself round the rigging and
her lines round the rudder. She repeatedly teased me into thinking all
was well as my torch followed her curves and lines. I need only lower
my head and she expelled the air that held her, diminishing from a
bulbous balloon to a wet rag and trailing lines. Too risky to continue
I dragged Si from his dreams and thankfully on the floodlit foredeck
the drop went smoothly. Phew! At least we were able to bank some
quality sleep and use the watermaker as we motored through the remains
of the night.