S/V SN-E Cetacea Log Day 9 – 74.6 NM
Dena’s 2-3 pm watch
The wind died out like it does around here in the afternoon and this time it pulled the really funny trick of turning west…meaning we need to go way downwind.
There are 2 conflicting swells tossing the sails back and forth and Lovebot doesn’t have the forces it relies on: wind on the vane and water against the paddle.
At least the current isn’t against us!
Dena’s midnight-3 am watch
I kinda can’t believe how hard the afternoon was. Heat, barely a breeze. Hand steering in a frustrating swell coming from 30° farther south than the wind waves that teased us with the idea that there must be wind somewhere or where were these made?
The wind came up just before dark, as we are beginning to expect. It strengthened quickly, then we got rain, then it turned twice in 10 minutes so we gybed twice and we were back to the track we started on.
With the onset of the wind, the alertness level went up but the stress level went down. Sailing while Lovebot drives is just better than motoring and hand steering!
Now we have an aggravating amount of swell plus heavy wind waves, from different directions like before. The wind is keeping us flying along, but we get a massive roll going that’s uncomfortable if not actively dangerous.
It’s the kind of thing that can send a can of peaches across the cabin. If something like that beans one of us in the head … bad times. We’re tidied up for it, but it’s always a concern.
Imagine taking a house, tipping it 10-20°, and then shaking it up and down. Ridiculous, right? Even other traveling people don’t get this particular effect. An RV has acceleration and deceleration plus bumps. You don’t see them going down the road heeling over 20° though.
Dena’s 6-9 am watch
The conditions are rough enough that Beluga Greyfinger is cuddlesome. He was right on top of James for my midnight watch and then joined me in the bunk for James’ 3 am. He tried hiding under the comforter like he used to hide from the diesel but he gets too hot under there. I pulled him out (gently) and made a triangle of safety with my legs. He settled right in.
I (James) wove our home through a pitch black maze of micro-storms and ship traffic on all points of a reach…this is how we live now.
Beluga’s on James again. As I’ve said before, there’s no strict line between the comforted and the one doing the comforting.
James handed me the helm, a real shit sandwich, right behind a storm that resulted in a wind shift. We gybed and the new angle on the waves is better. Three cheers!