The first three days of our crossing were alternating beautiful and difficult. The wind was often abeam as the stalled norther of Wednesday brought in a nice southerly flow. But otherwise the wind was east or southeast which meant beating. As I rocked in my bunk below I was more reminded of my offshore races rather than the beginning of a new life of cruising. We were making progress of about 100 n. miles per day which was acceptable. There were 13 hours of darkness to divide 3 ways. Eventually we settled on watches of 6-9, 9-12, 12-3, 3-5, and 5-7 rotating the days.
The wind dropped steadily from very early Sat. morning until becoming nil about noon 12-16-07. There was a lot of moisture in the air and scattered thunder showers moving about. It was not as if we did not know there was a norther coming. We had picked up a weather forecast on Thursday from a work boat that a 25 knot norther was coming Sat. with 15 foot seas. That was not too bad. I did not have enough diesel to motor to Logger Head Key. We were in the exact middle of the Gulf. I was frustrated by the lack of wind. I actually welcomed seeing those white horses trip across the flat water from the northwest. This was about 4:30 pm. The moisture was blown thousands of feet into the air. As it caught the dying rays of sunset the vapor reflected an eerie 'out world' yellow light. "Look, Jan, it's God doing an imitation of Stephen Turner." We were all to suffer for that blasphemy!
We quickly put away the sails and headed off on a bearing of 107 directly to Logger Head Key with 50% of the genoa rolled out and no main. White Pepper and her crew handled the wind shift well. The wind speed was about 35 knots and the auto pilot was holding the stern into the waves without difficulty. I went below for a nap and to get ready for my shift at 9 pm. When on watch the wind died down a bit, and I wondered if this front had enough punch to push us all the way to Florida. Then the real front hit with ferocity that was physical. Phillip, who worked all of his life as a merchant seaman and engineer, thought that some of the initial gusts were 70 knots. Certainly the winds were a steady 55 to 60 knots. The boat was nearly out of control and as the waves built getting more so. We rolled the genoa into about 5% and headed off dead downwind at 150 degrees. The maneuver is called running with speed.
I was steering and my sensations were focused on wrestling the wheel. Jan's sensations were aural. What she heard was screeching and screaming worse than any horror movie. She had never heard sounds like that before. I, however, do not recall any noise what so ever.
For the next 10 hours we concentrated solely on keeping the stern of the boat square to the waves. Phillip and I both handled the wheel. Often it took both of us straining to wrestle the wheel back from those monsters. We had to give each other brief mental breaks as we were hallucinating by 3 am. Jan stood by helping in the cockpit with flashlights and water. Her job was the hardest. She had to look back and watch the waves. They would flash into the small circle of the stern light, rear up, froth, hiss, and usually slip under the stern. About half a dozen, however, made it into the cockpit filling it up with warm water. It did drain quickly thru the scuppers. Jan was amazingly calm and never once uttered a negative or anxious word. By 5 am the wind began to moderate, say about 40 knots. At dawn about 7 am the waves became visible. The scene was unsettling. Everywhere there were rolling cylinders of grey-blue water about 30 feet high. They did not roll uniformly but at slight angle. When two waves would cross there was a spectacular plume and cascade of water. The drill now was simple albeit delicate. A wave would come from astern, lift the boat up 30 feet, and put it down at the bow. All of this was quite gentle unless another wave came across to push the stern around. Then the escalator ride turned into a roller coaster. Or two troughs might combine leaving a big drop. I recall one moment when White Pepper had 40 feet of air under the bow.
By 7 I had become quite frazzled and was sent below for an hour's nap. Jan and Philip had been up all night somehow could keep going. When I came up at 8 am to relieve them they were smiling. The real monsters had gone. We were slicing diagonally across 20 footers, but headed east for Florida. We had been pushed 50 n. miles too far south.
More about the storm in our next post.
The wind dropped steadily from very early Sat. morning until becoming nil about noon 12-16-07. There was a lot of moisture in the air and scattered thunder showers moving about. It was not as if we did not know there was a norther coming. We had picked up a weather forecast on Thursday from a work boat that a 25 knot norther was coming Sat. with 15 foot seas. That was not too bad. I did not have enough diesel to motor to Logger Head Key. We were in the exact middle of the Gulf. I was frustrated by the lack of wind. I actually welcomed seeing those white horses trip across the flat water from the northwest. This was about 4:30 pm. The moisture was blown thousands of feet into the air. As it caught the dying rays of sunset the vapor reflected an eerie 'out world' yellow light. "Look, Jan, it's God doing an imitation of Stephen Turner." We were all to suffer for that blasphemy!
We quickly put away the sails and headed off on a bearing of 107 directly to Logger Head Key with 50% of the genoa rolled out and no main. White Pepper and her crew handled the wind shift well. The wind speed was about 35 knots and the auto pilot was holding the stern into the waves without difficulty. I went below for a nap and to get ready for my shift at 9 pm. When on watch the wind died down a bit, and I wondered if this front had enough punch to push us all the way to Florida. Then the real front hit with ferocity that was physical. Phillip, who worked all of his life as a merchant seaman and engineer, thought that some of the initial gusts were 70 knots. Certainly the winds were a steady 55 to 60 knots. The boat was nearly out of control and as the waves built getting more so. We rolled the genoa into about 5% and headed off dead downwind at 150 degrees. The maneuver is called running with speed.
I was steering and my sensations were focused on wrestling the wheel. Jan's sensations were aural. What she heard was screeching and screaming worse than any horror movie. She had never heard sounds like that before. I, however, do not recall any noise what so ever.
For the next 10 hours we concentrated solely on keeping the stern of the boat square to the waves. Phillip and I both handled the wheel. Often it took both of us straining to wrestle the wheel back from those monsters. We had to give each other brief mental breaks as we were hallucinating by 3 am. Jan stood by helping in the cockpit with flashlights and water. Her job was the hardest. She had to look back and watch the waves. They would flash into the small circle of the stern light, rear up, froth, hiss, and usually slip under the stern. About half a dozen, however, made it into the cockpit filling it up with warm water. It did drain quickly thru the scuppers. Jan was amazingly calm and never once uttered a negative or anxious word. By 5 am the wind began to moderate, say about 40 knots. At dawn about 7 am the waves became visible. The scene was unsettling. Everywhere there were rolling cylinders of grey-blue water about 30 feet high. They did not roll uniformly but at slight angle. When two waves would cross there was a spectacular plume and cascade of water. The drill now was simple albeit delicate. A wave would come from astern, lift the boat up 30 feet, and put it down at the bow. All of this was quite gentle unless another wave came across to push the stern around. Then the escalator ride turned into a roller coaster. Or two troughs might combine leaving a big drop. I recall one moment when White Pepper had 40 feet of air under the bow.
By 7 I had become quite frazzled and was sent below for an hour's nap. Jan and Philip had been up all night somehow could keep going. When I came up at 8 am to relieve them they were smiling. The real monsters had gone. We were slicing diagonally across 20 footers, but headed east for Florida. We had been pushed 50 n. miles too far south.
More about the storm in our next post.
6 comments:
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It sounds like you had a rough time. Did you consult the Bible during the storm or was it too hard to get out of the Walmart boxes?
-Patrick
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