Day 21 - Things that go whooosh, bang, arggggh in the night
A year afloat: to the Caribbean and back
Sam and Alex Fortescue
Sat 11 Dec 2010 13:30
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14:10.77N
50:04.06W Squalls. Oh, yes, we thought we knew about squalls:
Wind gets up a bit, smattering of rain. Maybe pick up a knot or two of boat
speed.
It turns out that yesterday was 'Black Friday'
around 14 degrees north, 48 degrees west. Squall after angry squall lined up to
swoop in from astern, raking us with rain like lead pellets and blowing more
than 30 knots, often from a completely different direction to the background
wind.
They began just before dawn and continued
throughout the day, getting worse again towards the evening. At one point, as
daylight faded in the east, a 32 knot gust caught us from astern exactly as a
wave lifted the back of the boat and flung her forward. The result was 13.3
knots of foaming, forward movement, the tiller vibrating from the breaking wave
underneath us. We got catapulted along at shocking speed for about 200 yards,
before the gust dumped us and we set about reefing in main and gib. For non
sailors, this experience is like doing 180mph down a hill in a gale in an MG,
with everything rattling.
The exhiliration was extreme, but as night fell, it
turned to anxiety, so we reefed in hard. All the same, we were mugged by another
gust at about 9.30pm as the wind jumped 40 degrees and rose to 35 knots, backing
the main. All hands quickly mustered on deck and the gib was taken in, assuring
us of a quieter night. We saw a boat steam past us in the early hours, while two
others kept pace with us.
To the crew's horror, the skipper was hailed by a
Norwegian boat called Honningpup late last night. They need a new filter for the
diesel engine, without which they can't make enough power to run nights at
light. Consequently, they are steaming about the mid Atlantic in total darkness.
It turns out that we have a spare of the filter they need, so they are trying
(in vain?) to catch us up for a daring mid ocean transfer. We've worked out that
the best thing to do in these big seas is to troll a line out astern with the
filter attached, for them to hook onboard with the boat hook. We shall
see...
In the meantime, the crew is weary after a night of
pitching about like a little fibreglass boat in 5m waves. Remarkably like it, in
fact. We're all taking a chance to catch up on missed sleep and William is
desperately hunting for some dry clothes. He did some extensive washing in the
showers we went through yesterday, then hung his clothes on the guardwires to
dry. Had it not been for the heavy seas, this might have worked, but as it is,
everything is wetter than it was yesterday. He has resorted to wearing pyjama
trews on deck.
The sense of anticipation is almost palpable now,
as we're just four days out from St Lucia. We'll cross the 600-mile mark
shortly. Minds are turning to babies, wives, cold beers, warm showers and solid
land (not necessarily in that order!). It'll be extraordinary to finish this
ocean 'walkabout', as it has begun to feel like all there is. Every day is
different and the joys and challenges vary. The idea that we are actually
'going' somewhere is only beginning to make itself felt.
Still, with 600 miles still to go, perhaps it's too
soon to be talking of arrivals...
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