Day 7
Even before my morning coffee, we were hard at work tightening lines, loosening sheets, and lifting poles in preparation for our first jibe*. With the genoa out on a pole, it is a little more complicated than your common or garden jibe. And if the jib sheet ends up on the wrong side of the genoa pole (I cannot confirm nor deny that happened), you have to do it twice.
The discerning reader may notice that I used “jib” and “jibe” in the same paragraph. Yes, I am now aware that a jib is the smaller of the two foresails and a jibe is turning the stern of the boat through the wind. The opposite move is a tack, when you turn the bow of the boat through the wind.
Now while the crew of Leona are clearly jibing well (to use the modern landlubber definition), jibing on the water can be a rather violent experience, as the boom will suddenly fling itself across the boat like a moody teenage daughter. Hence the skipper crying “Jibe, ho” to warn the crew of impending danger. The jibe moves the sail from one side of the boat to the other, resulting in a new heading, and in Leona’s case, our new heading should take us directly to Nuku Hiva.
With all our careful preparation, our jibe proceeded smoothly. Twice.
Jeff “Zoolander” Taylor modeling the life preserver and jack line attachment
I have to admit, I was left a bit gob-smacked yesterday at the sight of my family dangling over the deep and was therefore less than articulate regarding the safety measures employed on Leona. Rest assured both Georgie and David were harnessed and strapped in securely.
Or so Jeff told me.
But back to our daily protocols. Our first line of defense is the life preserver. Not the bright orange Mae Wests, but trim, modern waistcoats that are easy to wear and almost comfortable. Inside is a sensor that upon impact with water pierces a gas canister, inflates the vest, launches an antennae into the air, and sends a signal to the chart plotter and VHF on board Leona. Not sure what happens if you wear one in a rain squall.
David Vanna White-ing the MOB bracelets
The other wearable is the MOB bracelet, an old-fashioned name for a very modern device connected to an app on our phones. Each bracelet is assigned to a crew member, and when the crew member is out of range, an alarm sounds on all the other bracelets. We discovered the glitch before we hit Ventura, as alarms sounded as soon as someone went forward to the bow. A range adjustment seems necessary as, much as we are jibing as a crew, we do enjoy our private time.
Then we have all the things ready to be thrown overboard, as I mentioned yesterday: beacons, rings, buoys.
Finally we have the life boat. Currently it looks like something Q dreamed up: an innocuous, white hard-sided suitcase. Once it hits the water, it explodes into a bright-orange, covered capsule, with an electronic beacon connected to the coast guard and AIS, provisions and water. No martinis, however, shaken or stirred. We do have a grab-bag prepacked by Georgie with protein bars and more protein bars and yet more protein bars. Just in case.
A Brown Booby stopped by to say hello.
There are signs of life out here, albeit few and far between. This morning Jeff saw three tuna leaping out of the water, clearly fleeing some submarine predator. Lone sea-birds buzz by us. And David found a poor squid that somehow washed onto Leona’s deck in a wave, ending up in a line locker. Not something one encounters on the regular.
But now it’s back to plumbing, as Jeff and David fix the shower drain, and cleaning, as I get to work on the saloon, and helming, as Georgie keeps us steady.
*A ”jibe” can also be a “gybe” or even a “gibe.” Although the last refers to a taunting insult, something we never hear on Leona.
At least not yet.