From fair winds to foul.. and back again
A year afloat: to the Caribbean and back
Sam and Alex Fortescue
Tue 26 Jul 2011 14:19
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39:19.70N
042:25.04W
Yet another dark and stormy night lies astern.
Through the lens of broken sleep, PG Wodehouse on the iPod and pitching to and
fro on waves, it seems a queer disjointed time. Squalls came and went, often
bringing lashing rain with them. We're getting used to a pattern that sees a
slow, hesitant start to the day, brightening towards the afternoon, with good
southwesterly winds, and degenerating into brooding squalls as night falls.
Every day by drinks at 6pm, we're convinced we're through the worst of the
'English' weather. Then, by the end of the first night watch, it's back with a
vengeance.
Last night, for example, we were merrily buzzing
along at six to seven knots when Alex's turn came to go on watch. As she poked a
careful head out of the companionway, very like a weasel emerging from its nest,
there was an almighty shaking and shuddering as the wind leapt to 25 knots and
the rain came stinging down. She and Chris wrestled with the mainsheet to spill
wind and stood dripping in the gloom.
My watch, on the other hand, was a less brutal
affair. My wet weather gear still, well, wet from yesterday night, I resolved to
tog up in no more than bathers and a t-shirt, and damn the rain. Though pitch
black clouds lurked about in the dark, there was little rain and I was called
upon to leave the comfort of the top step only a few times. The sea seemed to
burn with the light of thousands of tiny glowing plankton. As we passed, we left
a narrow band of disturbed, gowing water stretching far astern like the tail of
a comet. It was very beautiful.
As these squalls come through, the wind does all
manner of strange things, veering round so we're forced to head south, then
whipping back as the cloud passes so we can resume our course. The weather files
we download give us a different picture every day, but the general synopsis is
of good southwesterly winds falling to a more gently westerly breeze in coming
days, as we get closer to the Azores high. This feature dominates the conditions
in this part of the Atlantic, and dictates strong, clockwise winds initially,
falling to near calm conditions closer to the centre of the high. We could
second-guessi and try to head for the weather, but on balance, the forecast is
so general that we reckon we're better simply pointing at the islands and going
for it. We've got about 400 miles of fuel onboard, so if the worst comes to the
worst, we could just donk it. We're down to just 520 miles to run.
As I type, though, a good wind has sprung up again
and we're making good progress on our course. The sun has appeared from nowhere
and the clouds have rolled jauntily away. In a further sign that things are
looking up, the squid-eating-fish lure scored a couple of nibbles. Line went
screaming out and I saw a beast leap clear of the water 50 yards astern, clearly
hooked. Sadly, it freed itself, but I could clearly make out the form of two
silvery fish speeding inquisitively alongside the lure - probably mahi, which
are known to travel in teams. With the instincts of the Atlantic fisherman, I
feel we're into rich waters here, and have accordingly put out a second
hook.
Chris is working on luncheon from the galley, which
smells most inviting.blog
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