Day 14
At 4:00am, things took a turn for the weird. After falling into my cocoon at midnight, not bothering to stow the 12-pack of Cali Squeeze that somehow ended up on the bunk, I woke convinced that a shower of flying fish had invaded the boat and found myself nestled up with several multi-colored cans of beer. Faintly reminiscent of college days.
My cocoon in the morning light: no fish, but lots of Cali Squeeze
David assured me it was only the flapping of a halyard not an FF’s fins, and convinced me to move to the forward cabin, with the bunk strategically placed under the hatch. The glorious breeze blew straight down over me, and as it was no longer raining, it seemed like a good idea. Until whatever remaining water on the deck above (sea spray? rain drops?) found their way in through the hatch. Not enough to make me go for a big move, but more like the gentle tapping of a toddler’s toes in your face when they’ve climbed into bed with you. You squint and try to turn away, but mostly you just put up with it.
the radar was a little too active for comfort
Yesterday was Day 13 and the afternoon certainly lived up to any triskaidekaphobics fears. Following yesterday’s happy log posting, things took a bit of a turn. Even Melanie’s excellent screens could not withstand the downpours that began after lunch, and Georgie and I spent a couple of hours huddled in the one dry spot in the cockpit. The two fans in the engine room continued to elude the Mario Brothers’ ministrations, so the floor hatch in the galley remained open while the roof hatches had to stay closed. The resulting sauna would not have met any Scandinavian’s expectations.
I had some idea that the ITCZ might provide a continuing respite from the relentless movement, allowing for more deep cleaning, more Kon-Mari-ing, more Rummikubbing (well, Georgie and I did manage that bit), but the stifling heat stifled any sort of motivation. More of a DMZ, the opposing trade winds were in an ugly stand-off and there was nothing pleasant between them. Even Leona was affected by the doldrums, sluggish and resentful at having the engine turned on.
frozen grapes are a great way to beat the heat
Yet at last the winds shifted, David set the sails and cut the engine, and Leona leapt ahead, straining against the bit like a certain black ex-racehorse turning for home.
I think the resulting heeling over is the reason the Cali Squeeze wanted a cuddle.
So here we are, less than 800 miles from Nuku Hiva, averaging 6.5 knots, with a 10-knot southeasterly and light seas. We are on a close reach, and at this moment in time, peace reigns.
Some sailing tidbits:
Captain Georgie’s points of sail (direction the wind hits the sail)
1) A close haul –between the bow and the beam but closer to the bow
2) A close reach – between the bow and the beam but closer to the beam
3) A beam reach – across the middle
4) A broad reach – between the beam and the stern
5) Schitt’s Creek – on the bow or on the stern (or on the nose or on the tail - because sailing always more than one label for the same thing)
In case any concerned reader might labor under the illusion that this is a painful experience, rest assured it is all that and so much more. I savor every mind-expanding, body-challenging, nicety-shedding moment.
This afternoon, following Jeff and David’s fresh and crunchy Napa Cabbage Niçoise, I stretched out on the cockpit bench and experienced the moment I had been dreaming about since last year.
In December, when friends organized a Desert Island Disc Dinner for the family, among my tracks was the Pie Jesu from Faure’s Requiem. The reasons were many, but chief related to this voyage we are on, and my dream of what it could be. Today I listened to the entire piece and it came clear to me: Gabriel Faure wrote this particular piece of music for this particular moment in time. The gentle rise and fall of the chorus echoed the rise and fall of the waves beneath us; the music flowed as the water flowed as the breeze flowed. One might ask, how does a piece of music written to accompany a mass for the deceased relate to an idyllic afternoon in the (almost) South Pacific? I might respond, isn’t water the ultimate symbol of life and rebirth?
But then I might also respond, it just does.
May your day be filled with mind-expanding, body-challenging, nicety-shedding moments.