The grib file that came in confirmed that the terrific winds that we had been experiencing were from a high to the west. Unfortunately the wind would begin to die as the center of the high passed over this area, but there might be enough wind to keep the boat moving through to noon report time.
At 3 AM I was up to find that the wind had strengthened to closer to 20 knots and had not backed as much as I had expected. I took advantage of the stronger wind and calmer sea to tweak Jeff to put us a little closer to the wind and less than 20 degrees off target on a broad reach, making 5.5 knots.
I was up again at 7.30 AM to find the boat heading west at about 5 knots with the wind down to less than 10 knots. I thought about what to do over a slow cup of coffee and decided to try sailing wing and wing. Bob had mentioned it in La Paz and more recently Dieter had mentioned using the technique also, so I figured that I'd give it a go. (Wing and wing is when you sail dead downwind with the mainsail and boom out to one side of the boat and the headsail poled out to the other.) I figured that I'd best do it in stages and decided that Stage 1 should be winging out the mainsail with a preventer. (A preventer is a line from the end of the boom forward to prevent the boom from swinging back and around to the other side of the boat violently.) I had fooled around with winged out mainsails and preventers before and had not found them particularly cost effective, but the stakes now were high now and I had to give it a good try.
For the preventer I used the long 8mm line that I had been using to tie the mainsail to the boom. I tied it to the end of the boom, passed it through the big anchor bollard at the bow, for once routing it correctly past the jib sheets, then back to the starboard spinnaker winch. A little bit at a time I eased out the mainsheet and brought on the preventer, until the boom was out 45 degrees to the lubber line (i.e. center line of the boat). I lashed left the preventer on the winch and cleated off the end on a bollard then rolled in the headsail which was being blanketed. I adjusted Jeff to take us another 10 degrees downwind then observed the result for 15 minutes. I liked what I saw: the boom had stopped its occasional slamming, Jeff was steering well, and the boat was moving at over 4.0 knots. I decided to stop there for now and think about Stage II, sailing dead downwind and poling out the headsail. One issue was the dying wind. If it became too light I would not want to reduce the apparent wind by going faster with more sail. I had already looked up and seen the Windex mechanical wind indicator do a 360 degree circle because the movement of the mast had overpowered the wind. For the first time in 2 months I had been able to work along the full span of the deck without wearing foul weather gear.
Then I zoomed out and looked at the bigger picture. It was a partly cloudy but very sunny and warm day, the sea was relatively calm, we were north of 42S which meant that we had less than 2 degrees to go to get to 40S, and we were down to 285 miles from Mar del Plata. Wow!
An hour later I gybed the boat which left us headed directly to Mar del Plata, though at a modest 2.5 knots. Soon after I tightened both lower shrouds.
I spent the middle of the day doing some engine maintenance work which I had been neglecting for the past 2 weeks. The engine oil and transmission fluid levels were spot on, and I added a bit of coolant. The I took a small clean jar and drew diesel from the sediment bowls at the bottom of the tanks. The initial draw of the port tank produced a few dark red specs of residue that settled at the bottom of a fairly cloudy sample. The second draw was much better, though certainly cloudier that the diesel that one gets straight out of the pump. The starboard tank produced a more ominous result. I drew about 100ml and in the jar I saw a separation with a 3mm layer on top that looked like coffee with lots of cream in it. The second draw was OK, though still a bit cloudy. I'm no expert but that 3mm layer suggested water to me. However, I treat the fuel with an additive that is alleged to dissipate water. But how the additive works and whether it leaves a sediment is beyond me. The fuel tanks are in a state of constant agitation. I think that I'll give them a few days to settle down then I draw more samples to see what I get. During this day's engine run I will check the vacuum gauge in front of the Racor fuel filter.
Soon after the maintenance work I was forced to drop the mainsail due to lack of wind. I incorporated the drop with an engine run, putting the boat into the wind to keep the loose halyard from fouling on the mast steps as I dropped the sail. That worked OK and I managed to secure the halyard nice and tight so that it would not swing around wildly and get caught on a step. I then hand steered for an hour making just under 5 knots at 1700 rpm toward MdP. While the engine was running I slid back the engine cover and had a close look at the fuel vacuum gauge. The needle was dancing around the square at the beginning of the scale, not reaching the first tick mark of 3. The yellow zone which I regard as a warning of problems starts at tick mark 7.
I then spent 30 minutes tidying up the mainsail and boom and at the end of that I was hot and sweaty and for the first time since La Paz it felt like summer. At the nav station I saw that the boat was drifting WNW at about 1.3 knots, which suited me just fine.
At noon our position was 41S45, 054W22, giving us a n-n distance of 113 miles in the direction 302T. That was a surprising result given that the wind had begun to drop off during the night. On the other hand, we had spent many hours doing between 6 and 7 knots. We were now 273 miles from Mar de Plata. Unfortunately the wind party was over for the next 12 hours and I hoped to get information from the night's grib file on what to expect next. For me the afternoon would be one of rest and relaxation, and possibly a bath and change of clothes. I wasn't too upset about the enforced time out because I felt that we were in calmer waters and now it was just a matter of time; and besides, I had just had 2 days of phenomenal progress. The climate was certainly good. The barometer was at 1022 HPa, the highest since I began keeping records back on Dec 25.
In the afternoon I baked a loaf of bread (my best yet) and spent a lot of time downloading weather faxes from Chile. They seem to have totally revamped their schedule and I was having to monitor their frequency and see what came up. I got one ice report, 1 wave report, 2 wave predictions, and a satellite photo. Unfortunately there was no isobar report which is what I wanted. I'll keep trying. Rio must have changed their frequencies because I haven't managed to get anything out of them.
I revisited the previous night's grib file and it predicted calm winds as far as it could see - noon report time the next day. That represents at least 24 hours of becalming. I was eagerly looking forward to this night's grib file. Our drift had settled to 1 knot WSW - not the best, but no disaster.
At 9 PM local time I went on deck and saw a beautiful evening. The sky was crystal clear. Across the western horizon was the glow of the last light of the day. To the east was the nearly full moon rising. To the south was the Southern Cross and above it the False Cross. To the north was our friend the comet and one of the planets. The sea was calm and there was a gentle breeze but I knew better than to try to sail to it. Perhaps tomorrow.
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