Atlantic crossing from Bermuda 14
Thisbe
Fri 15 Jun 2007 20:27
Last night was hell ! Shortly after
turning in for a pre- watch rest the wind shifted dramatically. We had been
admiring the huge piles of cloud slowly catching us up and had rigged a bit of
awning to keep any rain out of the cockpit. Despite our experience we didn't
give a thought to the consequences of the cloud overtaking us. All hell
broke loose in about ten minutes, Michel, Joel and Richard had a
major tussle dropping the poles etc. and rerigging. Not realising what was
afoot I stayed in my bunk thinking that three hands were plenty to sort it all
out. The poor old Pink Panther ran himself ragged getting the boat back
under control. Thirty knots gusting to 40 at times had whipped up a huge sea and
we were careering along on a bearing of 150 degrees when we should have been on
95.
Getting up at 1am for my watch was a
relief as clinging on to the bunk on the high side of the foc'sle was not much
fun, no sleep either. The wind was still blowing hard and we were side on
to huge waves trying to keep from being swept too far to the south. Did
the watch feeling sleepy, wet, cold, and thoroughly miserable. Wishing for
a nice dry warm bed with a hot water bottle. Everything not fixed down was
being thrown around down below including bodies, Richards 140 kilos being
dumped out of the chair while he was fast asleep. We were now running
under stays'l and reefed main and vaguely on course, 300 miles to
go. We had been
congratulating ourselves on our good fortune in having a near perfect crossing
and allowed a little complacency to creep in I suppose. This ocean is a
wild and unpredictable place, I shudder to imagine what it must be like in
winter.
Friday 15th. Big seas on the beam and
bouncing along, very uncomfortable but covering a lot of ground. Most of lunch
ended up in our lap which was just as well as it consisted of...... partly
cooked lumps of potato, hard as iron, in a kind of onion, garlic and bean
sauce, accompanied by tinned sardines and salmon on a bed of non
stick rubber table mat, compliments of our Provencal chefs Richard and
Joel.
Joel, nickname Popeye at home
apparently, has turned out to be as hard as nails, as rugged as they
come so its easy to see why. He made short work of everything on the table
after we three and discreetly turned our noses up at it. Spud, fish, (with
the bones removed manually) bread on the turn so smelling quite sour,
disappeared in short order. He seems to survive without sleep in any
conditions, spends time trying to figure out the chart with the boat standing on
her ear and doing hunt and peck emails with a smile on his face. He makes me
feel like a limp wristed schoolgirl.
Hoisted the Genoa again at about 4 pm
which has done lots to ease the motion. Its definitely not as easy crossing in
this direction, to start with it gets progressively colder instead of more
balmy, changes in the weather appear without warning and seems to be more
determined to wipe off everything before it.
All going well and in control. no
damage to boat or crew to speak of, Sunday arrival in the Azores still looking
good. Still no fish. Pretty good I'd say.
Manny