Are we nearly there yet?
DecaDance's Web Diary
Chris White and Jeanna Coleman
Sun 28 Nov 2010 12:01
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Position: 40:03.32N
009:27.68W
When I quickly scribbled
the blog yesterday the boys were all on deck sailing us into Islas de St
Martin. It was so peaceful under sail I half didn't want to sort the
problem with the prop out. The local harbour authority were a little
concerned that we were sailing into shallow waters and called us up on channel
16, but we explained our reasons and they asked us to call them if we required
any further assistance.
We anchored just by a
beautiful beach, but we were there to fix things, not enjoy the scenery so we
went straight to work. Matt put on a wetsuit - which turned out to be mine
- we're still wondering quite how he squeezed in, and jumped straight in the
water. The cold knocked him for six but he managed to dive down to the
prop and report back that there was a load of plastic wrapped around it.
He can't dive so Chris donned his SCUBA gear (once we'd sussed out how it all
fit together) and entered the water. That was as far as he got as he was
dibilitated so much by the cold he couldn't move. I can dive, but my lips
and fingernails turned purple with cold after two dives in 25 degrees of the Red
Sea so I figured I'd be no good. Young James saved the day,
diving down with just snorkelling gear and Chris's diving knife strapped to his
leg. It took three dives to remove the plastic and a final rotational
check of the prop and we were done.
The rest of the day was
pretty uneventful as the wind was directly behind us again so we had to put up
with the drone of the motor. The highlight of my night shift was
again provided by the wonder of dehydrated foodstuffs - this time Cup-a-Pasta
and the very narrow window between it being hydrated to the point of being
'edible' and it congealing into a mass of disgusting gloop. The stars were
very clear, and would have been clearer if I'd had my contacts in, but no one
can hear you scream out here, and no one can see your 'should have gone to
Specsavers' either which I had to hand if needed.
The winds moved round
slightly just before I woke Ryan with a cuppa for his watch. I
offered to stay on and help if he wanted to get some sails out and he suggested
dropping the main and getting the genoa out. Literally just as we were
dropping the main we were hit by a squall - strong gusting winds from a variety
of directions coupled with buckets of rain. The main wouldn't drop as 30
odd knots of wind hammered it from one side to the other and Ryan called me to
the helm with the instruction to steer into the wind. I held fast with my
left hand and put my whole body weight to force the helm to port, once I'd
got into wind it switched 180 degrees and I had to do the same to
starboard. I looked up into the sheeting rain and there was no sign of
Ryan. I was beginning to wonder if he'd gone overboard when
I thankfully spied him on the deck where he'd been pulling down the
mainsail.
Perhaps I should be more
thankful for the tedium of quiet shifts (and leave Ryan to it) it the
future!
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