Heading North

Old salts or Salty olds here. We write from 025 03.474N 065 21.272W. 2 pm. Winds are from the south around 15 knots. Our heading is 11 degrees to our next waypoint, and our average speed is 4.9. The seas have subsided to 3-5, but are following us, so we rock from side to side and up and down. We have traveled 405 nm from Tortola. The barometer reads 1015.1, and it is a very humid 82.5 degrees. There is cloud cover, but somehow all those UV rays continue to sear us.

It is difficult to sail in these conditions because the mainsail has to be all the way out and as the boat rocks, we are subjected to occasional but violent jibes. We have set the staysail out on the whisker pole in an attempt to catch as much wind as possible, but it fills only sporadically. The clue of the big jib is too high for us to set it on the whisker pole, and it might only make more noise. Overnight, we furled both the staysail and the jib because with the following seas, the racket of the shaking rig and blocks were too much. While we love the knew sheets on both jibs, they remain stiff and the bowlines (properly tied) on the windward side have opened on the clues three times. We have noticed it when furling the sails in. Tying another bowline into the clue of the jib involved dropping it onto deck. Yesterday’s late afternoon activity was dropping the sail, pulling it out of the water where it was not supposed to be, fixing the sheet, and raising it again. Not easy on a rocking boat.

In this heading, we are back to the autopilot. We are not yet adept with the wind vane to use it on a run, despite reassurances from the instruction manual that it is possible, albeit difficult. There was no sea traffic to be seen last night, but this morning we noticed a freighter about four miles off our bow after it had crossed our path.

Four flying fish carcasses adorned the deck this morning, stiff and bloody. It always makes me sad.

For the first morning since getting underway, we were able to eat. I prepared an elaborate meal of toast and coffee. It is amazing how long bread with preservatives will keep, and how delicious it seems in these conditions. Michael is much perkier. Clark Kent became Superman, but that is nothing compared to what happens to Michael when he feels better after a bout of sickness. Mr. Clean, tanned and muscled appears, and cleans the head. It took four days, but finally metamorphosis occurred.

I had a good solid three hours of deep sleep last night and feel much better. Last night and today are the sort of days that drive this adventure. Nothing you can do or have to do other than keeping the sails set and the boat moving forward.

Donna