Day 63 - Moving Well

The strong winds came as predicted. At very last light I rolled in more headsail to leave it with about the same area as that of the trysail, 80 sq ft. For much of the night we had Force 7 winds (30 knots) from the NNW off the port quarter, putting us on an excellent course for the Horn. At the 2.30 AM the wind was up to 30 knots but everything looked fine, with the sail giving a steady pull and the hull moving well through the water. At 6.30 AM I woke, looked through the hatch and saw that the sail was OK, so I went back to sleep for another hour.

My first MLSP weather fax in two days showed the situation. We are far enough south now to be in the squeeze zones between highs to the north and lows to the south. The winds are to the east and curve toward the south when they encounter the South American continent. The winds from the latest low are to last another 24 hours. From looking at the fax it appeared to me that winds would actually be lighter further south (say around 60S) closer to the low and away from the accelerating winds of the high. Not that I was complaining. I felt confident that the path to the Horn was now open and reliable. All I had to do was to keep things together.

Of the things that could go wrong the headsail was still no. 1 on my list. It performed very well throughout the night, giving us an average speed of about 5.5 knots, going to 6 knots at times. However, at 8.30 AM I went out and rolled in even more headsail. Happily, the loss of speed is not proportional to the reduction in sail area, at least when going downwind in a favorable current. After the sail reduction we were still doing 4.1-4.5 knots, and this was during a "lull". In a few hours the wind was supposed to pick up again. We were not going to set any speed records for the Horn but by then I had lost my anxieties about being becalmed and I no longer felt compelled to get everything possible out of every wind that came along, and was happy to move at a slower but safer and more comfortable pace. While in the cockpit I looked forward and the Zodiac and diesel containers were all in place. Even the plastic tarp that I had put behind the broken dodger window was still in place.

The sticky sliding hatch was becoming a bigger problem. In order to be able to reach around the end with my fingers so that I could force the hatch open with growing difficulty I would have to leave a 3" gap through which rain and spray from big waves would enter the cabin. The problem began after I removed the lazy jacks and began to put my weight on the hatch's "garage" or "turtle" cover while I tied down the mainsail to the boom. I planned to lift the garage on a calm day to see what was going on.

I then spent time digging through my warm weather clothes. The prize was the set of New Zealand made "Icebraker" skin fitting body stockings made of fine merino wool. I also put aside several track suit bottoms, a pair of arctic socks, and several towels. Fortunately everything but one set of pants was dry. I then put on the Icebrakers. I ended up with 5 layers on top: the icebraker, a thick T-shirt, a wool sweater, and two cotton tops. Below I had underpants, the Icebraker, and my trademark dark track suit pants. In the wings I have a seriously heavy US Navy sweater if it gets very cold. I wore the Icebrakers continuously for 3 or 4 weeks when we crossed the Tasman Sea, and I probably would have fought to the death anyone who tried to get them off me. I suspect that it will be a similar story this time. I put the other items in a plastic bag and stowed them in the head, which had moved from being one of the wettest part of the boat to the driest. ... It was a long, long way from warm and sunny La Paz (sob!).

While making a cup of Hershey's cocoa (great stuff!) I remembered that I had fitted at least one in-line fuse when I installed the Rutland wind charger. A fuse could easily have blown during those wind surges. Another fair weather job.

I decided to shut the refrigerator down, probably until Cape Town. The butter and cheese would probably be OK. There was still quite a bit of turkey sandwich meat which should be OK but whenever it did not pass the sniff test out it would go.

At noon our position was 47S12, 104W46, giving us a n-n distance of 95 miles in the direction 110T. We were a shade under 1500 miles from the Horn.

The wind sagged and backed during the afternoon and I countered by letting out more sail. It was a day of big waves and heavy rolling on the boat where nothing, including myself, seemed to be able to stay in one place. As night approached the wind strengthened and veered, putting me once again on a nice course of ESE. The evening grib file would tell me more.

That reminds me to comment on the outstanding Sailmail service I've been getting out of Chile. With the Chile station I always transmit at more than 2,000 characters a minute. Reception is a bit slower but never less than 1,000 characters a minute. Last night I transmitted at a scorching 4,400 characters a minute and received at over 3,000 characters per minute. Contrast this with the rock bottom 200 characters a minute that I've been forced to endure at times. So my earlier anxieties about the reliability of my Sailmail connections have disappeared. The Sailmail system is not concerned with the total number of characters transmitted. However, it is concerned with airtime and there is an informal weekly quota of airtime, so the faster the transmissions the better for everyone concerned.

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