When I got up for the 2.30 AM weather fax the worst was over. We would continue to have gale force winds for another 3 hours but the trend was downward. I could tell that the boat had taken some terrific wallops while I was asleep because the computer mouse which I thought I had secured had been thrown across the laptop and was dangling by its cord. The computer had stretched out its restraining shock cord as I had expected. There was water on the companionway landing and galley floor indicating that water had flooded through the main hatch.
The weather fax was a failure. The signal had been steadily degenerating over the past weeks to the point where I could barely make out the big and important things, and this morning there were was no recognizable signal. I didn't hear the warning tone, I couldn't see the characteristic wave pattern, nothing. I think that I am just too near the South Pole for communication with Australia. The loss of the fax was not too important at this point because the distillation of the weather fax data as expressed in grib and spot files was more useful in these close quarters.
I stuck my head out briefly through the companionway and everything looked OK. The wind was still gusting to over 35 knots. I decided to return to bed, the best place to be in a hove to boat.
I woke up at 6 AM to find the wind down to 20 knots. There was blue sky and sun. Time to start sailing again. After a big bowl of rolled oats (with powdered milk and honey) I suited up and went topside. I noticed that I had lost a fuel container from the starboard rail, which was surprising because that had been the lee rail. I'm pretty sure that it was an empty container and I'll be able to confirm this when I take an inventory.
I gybed the boat, set some sail, put the boat on a heading, and then engaged Jeff to take over the steering. One reason why I pamper myself with rest and food is to be 100% functioning when a crisis comes up. Today it was Jeff's turn to give me a scare. Jeff would not hold course. He looked like he was working but always would let the boat slowly round up to a beam reach. Then I looked back and noticed that the water paddle was not locked down and was bobbing up and down in the water. The trip line to free it from lock was broken too. I fetched the boat hook from the cabin and used it to force the paddle down into the lock position. The paddle would reach the lock position but would not lock in. Gulp. Any problem with the locking mechanism would be extremely difficult to fix or work around because it was all only 3 inches above the waterline and bobbing in and out of the water constantly. I had visions of hand steering the boat around the Horn.
I rolled in the headsail and let the boat heave to under trysail then clipped on and went over the back rail onto the Monitor frame to have a look. I couldn't do much with my hands, particularly with the danger of losing a finger when the paddle straightened into the lock position with a thud. However, using my boot somehow I got it to lock. (My leg went into the water up to my calf but no water found its way to the inside of my boot. I'm very satisfied with my wet weather gear.) Back at the wheel I still had trouble getting Jeff to steer. Looking back I noticed that the water paddle was swinging with full travel in one direction but very little in the other, even if I tried to force it the other way manually. Back over the rail I went again, being extra careful because we were now under sail making over 4 knots. The quadrant was OK and none of the welds or metal supporting it had failed. Whatever may be wrong would have to be in one of the hidden parts of the mechanism that I didn't fully understand. I returned to the wheel and worked more with Jeff and when I looked back I was happy to see full travel by the water paddle. This had been a case of lack of confidence causing me to scare myself. Later I realized that the night before for the first time during this voyage I unclipped the steering lines from the wheel hub. That may have been a mistake because it removed a restraint on the movement of the paddle during the gale.
It all took an hour but by 7.30 PM we were on the move to the SE doing over 4 knots. The wind was expected to back taking me more to the east and following the edge of the continental shelf. There would be a point when the wind would veer slightly an if at that point I could lay the Horn I would steer onto the continental shelf directly for the Horn. This would take me near Isla Diego Ramirez. The latest spot report for 56S, 072W predicted westerly winds for the next 4 days, and at only one time over 30 knots (30.2 knots). Let's hope that this transpires. I knew from the experience of the last 2 days that once I got to the Horn I would be sheltered from those gales winds sweeping down the west coast. The conditions in this area are counter intuitive. The further south one goes the weaker the NW winds because they spread out to the east once they clear Tierra del Fuego. Similarly all the data that I've been seeing in the last week indicates that conditions are much gentler at the Horn than here in what I call Gale Alley.
I was thinking last night that the better play to have made would have been to sail in the gale in a broad reach directly for the Horn. Conditions would have steadily improved as we got under the lee of Tierra del Fuego. That would have saved probably 3 days of sailing. The problem is that it would have required many hours of hand steering and I would not have wanted to risk exhaustion in close waters with the strong current in rough conditions. (I have twice hand steered solo a boat to the point of hallucination and it is neither pleasant nor safe.) This is a case where a crew of two would have been able to make much better progress. Having said that, the 4 hours of hand steering that I did do paid off big dividends. It got me 12 miles farther south and put me far enough off the continental shelf that I could allow the boat to heave to pointing toward the east, gaining me 2.5 miles every hour.
Incidentally, yesterday's position report which I posted shortly after my 4 hours at the helm was not accepted, and rightly so. I filed it for the 15th instead of the 16th as it should have been. This is the kind of mistake made that one makes when tired.
At 10 AM the wind unexpectedly strengthened to 25 kt and veered to put me on a heading of 170T. I figured that if I gybed I'd have a good chance at laying the Horn so that's what I did. My new course was 180T which was just about the rhumb line for the Horn 137 miles away. My turning point was at latitude 56S26 which if fortune went my way would represent my deepest incursion into the high latitudes.
I visited the side decks and took inventory of the fuel on deck. I was very relieved to find that the 83 liters that I had estimated just two days earlier were still on deck. Nevertheless I regretted losing any container because they would all be useful to me in the final leg between Cape Town and Fremantle. This had been a salutary warning and I would visit the deck this day with extra lines and make sure that the fuel containers, in particular the full ones, were very securely lashed. The Zodiac was still well secured and with so many independent lines crisscrossing it I didn't expect it to get loose. Even though it was a bright and sunny day the sea was still too rough for me to attempt a fuel transfer, but I was certainly awaiting the first opportunity.
At noon our position was 56S24, 070W56, giving us a n-n run of 59 miles which was amazing given that we were hove to under trysail most of that time. Happily, the movement had been in the right direction and we were now approximately 125 miles for the Horn. We were just beginning to cross over start of the rise of the continental shelf and were making more or less directly for the Horn in front of a fair wind. It was a bright, crisp, clear sunny day and my spirits were high. I was starting to get excited.
After the noon report I spent an hour on deck attending to the fuel containers. I must admit that the two little 10 liter ones were in peril and would have been the next to go over the side (empty).
I had a big spaghetti meal then lay down for almost 2 hours for a refreshing nap. At 4 PM I was up to find the boat ambling along at about 4 knots on the same course of 085T, perfect for threading our way between Isla Diego Ramirez 60 miles to the right and Cape Horn 110 miles to the left. We had left the 4,000 meter depths and were approaching the 1000 meter contour. Not far beyond that would be the 200 meter contour. The Horn was inside the 100 meter contour. I was wondering what the set and strength of the current would be on the shelf. One component of the current was sweeping down the coast from the north to join the main body set to the east. I would keep a close eye on our position in relation to Diego Ramirez.
Now the ST60 depth display is giving trouble. I tried to turn it on thinking that it my be a good idea to have depth readings in these waters and the display part would not function. I could tell from the beeps I was hearing at power up and when changing the background light intensity that the logic is working - it just can't show anything. I probably got a dose of salt water during the recent bout of high winds. If so it was an aberration because the instruments are made to survive out in the weather. The wind instrument next to it is OK and the autopilot display/control survives OK on the very exposed binnacle. It may dry out and come good. In any event, it is not a vital instrument for the deep waters that I am plying. I have excellent electronic charts of South Africa so I should have no trouble in getting into the marina.
Then at the nav station I sat on part of the shower curtain and ripped out a ring hole at the top. I punched a new hole with a Phillips screw driver and reversed the curtain. But that was the third such repair and I was sick of tippy toeing around the curtain all of the time so I got a pair of scissors and did what I should have done on day one: cut the bottom off so that it hangs to just above seat level. That means that I can no longer walk or sit on it. I've learned not to waste anything that might be useful so I used the offcut to make a plastic cover for the laptop to replace the garbage bag and yield a very tasteful matched set.
At 7 PM we were still moving along nicely and the Horn was less than 100 miles away. The forecast predicted this kind of wind for days so I was cautiously optimistic about sailing within sight of the Horn then proceeding on to Staten Island without any wind dramas.
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2 comments:
Getting closer...soon be at the HORN. Glad the fuel is sorted.
Congratulations Bob.We are very happy for you.
Pat and Bill Fitzgerald
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