Overnight, the winds picked up... not severely, but just enough to enliven the sail.
I was awake all day yesterday. There was too much shipping traffic when departing the Chesapeake to ever let my guard down and take a nap. I am still relatively close to the Chesapeake. So, I will stand watch all night. Good thing too. There are plenty of ships within sight.
I had planned for this. I knew the first 30-40 hours would be sleepless due to shipping traffic. I took lots of naps before departing, and would be able to get more once I am far enough away from the primary shipping lanes. So, I was still well rested. The excitement of sailing also took away any thoughts of needing rest.
The horizon is just 8 miles away. When a ship is traveling at 24 knots, they are less than 20 minutes from us. One ship came withing 1.75 miles of Distant Horizon. Of course, they saw us on radar and also their AIS Chart Plotter. They called on the radio and asked what my intentions were. It's a silly sounding question, but they were really wondering if I was planning on tacking... In doing so, we would suddenly cut in front of them. I assured them I was going to maintain my present course and speed... as the wind allowed.
I was not steering the boat. The windvane was doing all the hard work. It is powered by the wind. So, it does not use up the batteries, and it never gets tired. Once I set it on course, it will maintain that angle to the wind. All I have to do is ensure the wind direction hasn't changed. If the wind direction does change, the boat's course will change accordingly and I will adjust the windvane to get back on the desired course.
The wind was 12.5 to 16 knots... just what the forecast had said! The boat was sailing well. Although I was doing just a little under 5 knots because I was trying to get more east. I could sail faster if I headed northeast, but that would bring me closer to worst weather. So, I was happy with the progress being made.
The sun had just set. I patiently waited with my camera to capture the event, but clouds to the west obscured any potential for a spectacular event. There was a full moon shining through a thin layer of high-level clouds. The clouds were thin enough to allow some of the brighter stars to shine through. So, it never got really dark at night. It was peaceful with the moonlight glimmering off the waves, and the sound of the water gurgling as it flowed gently along the hull.
At 4am, there was a series of bright flashes on the horizon to the east... lightning. I was sailing directly towards it. Based on the wind direction, I could tack and go due south. That would bring me closer to the shipping lanes. Besides, there were more flashes in that direction too. Looking overhead, the moon and a few stars were still shining through a thin layer of high altitude clouds. I was in a nice place!
I maintained my present course. I calculated the True Wind Direction. This would tell me which way those thunderstorms were traveling. I had no idea how far away they were since they were over the horizon. I estimated the storms to the south would eventually dissipate, or pass in front of Distant Horizon. So, they were not a concern.
For over an hour I watched the lightning ahead of me. It was not moving. In an hour's time, that meant I was heading straight for it.
So, I slowed the boat down a little. Typically, these storms fade away as dawn approaches.
After a while, I saw a ship on the horizon: Sealand Illinois. I hailed them on the radio and asked about the thunderstorm. He said there was none. He was in clear skies. After a short talk, he knew what storm I was talking about. He was surprised I could even see it. It was over the horizon for him. At his height above sea level, that put the storm over 25 miles away. In two hours I would reach his position, it would take another five to reach the area where the thunderstorms were. They were not a factor at all.
Throughout the morning, the sailing was very good... a little slow... but we were sailing east!
 | |
| Light winds, calm ocean |
By noon the rollers were noticeably bigger. As each one approached Distant Horizon, she would roll ever so slightly, but enough to knock the light wind out of her sails. Then the sails would fill again from the gentle breeze that remained... Distant Horizon would accelerate... and another roller would come by... again, knocking the wind out of her sails.
This continued for a couple more hours. I went down below... at first, checking weather... hoping for some more wind and then, taking a nap.
It was 2pm when I was suddenly woken up from my nap by the loud noise of the boom banging. The boom was centered. So, there was no risk of damage, but I went up to the cockpit to see what happened. My definition of a large or big wave is: One you have to look up to. These were HUGE waves. I went and stood on the cabin top and was still looking up to the waves. I could not see a horizon until the boat reached the top of one of these monsters. I was clearly in the Gulf Stream now!
Without wind, the boat could not power through these. So, I created a little more wind. I started the engine and began to motorsail once again. There was not enough wind for the wind vane to steer effectively. So, I manned the helm for a while.
I hadn't eaten since sometime in the very early morning. I was getting a funny headache; above and behind my eyes. I had been hydrating. I decided to let the windvane do the best it could while I went below to make lunch.
Standing and then sitting in the galley trying to make lunch was not an easy task in these seas. The boat would pitch up to go over a wave; pitch down as it crested the top and began its short journey down the wave. The boat would roll from side to side. When it rolled to starboard (right), I would have to hold on; making sure the food I was preparing was secure and about to slide off the counter. When the boat rolled to port (left), I would brace my back against the companionway stairs. The food could only slide as far as the cabinet on the other side of the counter. To add to the confusion, a small hammock filled with fresh fruits and vegetables was swinging wildly as the boat bitched and rolled.
It didn't take long for me to learn what seasickness was. I had never been seasick in my life. I was about to discover that there was a flaw in my plan. I was completely unprepared for this. I had no Dramamine, no wrist bracelets, no saltine crackers. I always carried these when Linda was onboard.
The latest weather report I received said I would be in 4-7 knot winds for a few more hours before they changed to 15-20 knots about 8pm tonight.
The windvane was holding a reasonable course. So, I laid down. I knew I would have to change sails before dark to be ready for the increased wind. But now... I needed to be horizontal. After a while, I tried to steer the boat. Supposedly, seasickness can be alleviated by keeping busy... that didn't help me. I think, because I could never see more than a quick glimpse of the horizon while seated at the helm.
About 5 hours had passed. In that time, I cycled through intervals of running up to the cockpit to empty the contents of my stomach; taking a quick look around; and crawling back into the berth below. It was 6pm. Still light winds. There was no more waiting. I knew I had to set a reef in the mainsail. Although, I would rather just stay in the berth.
I grabbed my gear and threw it into the cockpit. I could not tolerate being in the cabin. I put my foul weather suit on to stay dry from the spray. My life preserver went over that. I also wore my neoprene winter kayak mittens, which folded back to allow my fingers freedom to access lines. I wore my winter hat to keep my head warm and dry. Instead of my boat shoes, I wore my hiking books. They are waterproof; have a non-marring sole; and provide great traction on the teak decks. I attached a safety tether to the rings on my life preserver. I clipped the other end of the tether to a jack line... a flat piece of strapping that I ran the length of the boat so I am always strapped in and tied to the boat when I leave the cockpit.
To change a mainsail (raise, lower, or set a reef) you typically turn into the wind. At sea, this is not practical. There was not enough wind to hove-to. So, I kept the boat on it's current course. I swung the boom way out over the port side (left) so the sail pointed into the wind. I rigged a preventer to keep the boom from swinging about.
With the boom no longer centered, the mainsail did not act as a dampener to the rolling motion. I had to get this done fast! Every time the boat rolled, I was holding on for all I was worth... which really wasn't much at this moment in time, with the seasickness and all.
I cautiously walked along the starboard (right) side deck; keeping my center of gravity very low. To set a reef, I have to stand on the cabin top at the mast. As the boat pitched, I placed one foot up onto the cabin top. My eyes were focused on the mast where my hands were going. As the boat pitched down, I went to step up to the cabin top, but I couldn't. My first foot had stepped on the safety tether and stopped my movement. I noticed this just as the boat was pitching up again. With all my weight on one foot, unable to reach my hand-hold, frozen in space because I was standing on the tether... I fell forward. My shoulder landed squarely on the grab rail; a wooden hand-hold that runs the length of the cabin top.
I know I screamed in pain as I tucked myself along the shrouds on the sidedeck. I was safe here. The boat rolled to starboard. Water came rushing down the deck. I pulled the tether away from my feet. I got up quickly. When the boat rolled to port, I used that momentum to help me move to the mast. In no time, the reef was set.
When I got back to the cockpit, my arm was numb. I thought I just had a stinger. So, I waited for the pain to subside.
As I waited... I calculated my time to Bermuda. I could divert there and have the arm checked out... 5 days with the weather I have been having... and only if I motor sailed the whole time when the winds eased. It's doubtful that I had that much fuel.
By 8pm there was no sign of fresh winds and no indication of the pain subsiding. I decided to turn around. It would be two days back to Hampton.
The winds finally picked up around midnight. Thankfully, I had set the reef. It was easy to unfurl the jib with one hand. The staysail is a heavy weather sail. So, it just stayed up the whole time. Now I was sailing with all sails... back to where I came from to have my shoulder looked at.
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