Friday, November 29
So far, so intense! By 1300, I was wearing my safety harness in readiness for pulling the second reef and assessing what the back edge of the rain squall would bring. The wind abated right as I unclipped the tether from its usual cockpit location in preparation for going forward, and it stopped raining, and James finished cooking lunch (creamy fusili pasta packet with a fat dollop of his leftover red sauce). So we put off reefing.
Between the unsettled weather and the two boats quite near to us, I chose the option of eating in the cockpit. By the time we finished, I was hot and could feel my legs gaining a little more of a sunburn. It was a relief to hand the watch over to James and get below.
One of the two boats is the sail training vessel (STV) Vela. She’s a big schooner run by the organization Seamaster, with which we have a little familiarity. There are 31 crew aboard and all but 9 are students. Neat to run into (ha) them out here. Seriously though, they’d roll right over us. I’m glad no one is running into anyone else.
The other boat is a catamaran doing 12 knots. Whatever. Not my cup of tea.
James made the call to reef after watching LoveBot struggle through a squall. I had to go out on the boom side and pull the sail free of the reef line because it was binding. My scary moment came after I leaned far out overboard to put eyes on the problem. When I was safely back inboard, I saw that the tether had come loose from my harness. I was just dangling there and didn’t even know it. It has an easy pull release in case you’re being dragged by the boat and it’s pulling you underwater, but I’ve never accidentally pulled it before that. Creepy.
Meanwhile, James kept cranking on the reef line and it suddenly gave way. I deeply hope we didn’t just tear the sail. Going back to a required reef at all times would be incredibly frustrating.
When we bought Cetacea, her mainsail was original and so stretched out that it couldn’t be set on anything but a run. Absolutely no beating was possible with the full main and, weirdly, the reefing system wasn’t set up. We tied in a perma-reef within days of leaving Robinhood Cove and sailed like that for two years before buying a new main.
We’ve put almost 12,000 nautical miles on this main and already have it in mind to get a new one but! But! I don’t know where the money will come from and I’d hate to really have to prioritize that purchase over other basics like doing a haulout. As soon as we leave swimmable waters, this boat is going to turn into a floating reef. I don’t think there’s a molecule of biocide left on the hull.
Saturday, November 30
So far, a half hour after midnight, my watch is smoother than James’. He had a squall send him flying at 7 knots with nearly horizontal rain. I’m in a clear space and I’m seeing a whole lot of stars aft. One dark patch is a big cloud but there’s a good chance it won’t go right over us.
Now that it’s 1030, I can tell previous-me that yes, there was more rain coming and that it wasn’t too big a deal. The bigger bummer was the rogue wave that came from a completely different direction from the rest and poured over me and Beluga through the saloon porthole. Ugh.
I got a little in my coffee and drank it anyway. We’re really low on instant crystals and may have to open the emergency ground coffee that was part of a gift basket given to James by a resident at Portland House. So yeah, it’s at the very least 6 years old.
Some mopping up with nas towels and things were fine…except that Beluga freaked out and retreated to the forepeak, waking James almost an hour before his off-watch was over. I bet James will be napping today!
It was an 11 flying fish morning and again it’s just sad to have all these beautiful creatures die on the deck. I’m at a loss for any way to warn them off.
Then, in just another mild calamity, the hatch cover for one of the galley storage spaces (the one we keep oatmeal, noodles, pasts, lentils, pearl barley, etc in) got tipped off the stove when it swung on its gimbals on a wave. It slid behind the stove, a space that’s so hard to reach that we only clean it every couple-few years.
After enjoying the last hard boiled eggs in savory oatmeal and letting the stovetop cool down, I had to (got to!) press the stove to an angle where there was room behind it for my arm, lean across it from tiptoes, and gain a finger hold on the slick melamine surface. I eventually managed, without being tossed off my feet by a wave, and got to clean the generous amount of greasy kitty hair from its edges. I’m glad it didn’t land flat.
Cleaning that space is on the to-do list for Martinique. We have to actually pull the stove out (which is tricky) but James has been concerned that we haven’t inspected the propane hose in a long time. He was on a dock once when a woman blew up her galley because of a slow leak behind the stove. That’s the kind of thing that sticks with a body.
We shook the second reef not long after 0900 and have avoided excitement for about an hour now. Looking good, feeling good.
Noon position: N 14° 53.135’ W 055° 16.178’
Distance noon to noon: 102.2 NM
Average speed: 4.26 kn
Trip distance covered: 1840.0 NM
Distance to destination: 334.1 NM
