18/05/23, 12:05 am
Waves scream across our boat along a diagonal that begins on our starboard side, and then punts us to port. In bed, I hear the rush of water beneath me and an occasional pounding against my belly as the water funnels between the hulls and demands a way out. It is a bit like being inside a washing machine with water surrounding me.
I’m in my pajamas with a copy of ‘Heidi’ at my head and somewhere a stuffed snowman is poking into my side. This is not like any family road trip I can remember.
At the nav desk, Rick is watching the sails and the chart plotter.
“I want to be anywhere but here,” I hiss.
Venting my fear is not helpful. I know it. An anxious person can raise the contagion of confusion and angst on a boat.
I know a skipper who said he’s seen people go loopy in times of stress, and there is no helping them. There is no time.
Already, Betty has overheard me and is starting to doubt whether we are taking the best course given the variable winds.
Rick tells me we’ve had worse weather before. He’s surprised at my reaction. After all, we’ve been sailing for 8 years. But as the years have passed, there are no notches on my belt. If anything. six months in a harbour in New Zealand has left me soft.
The sea doesn’t care. The sea tells me to do things now. Tomorrow, a storm could be brewing on the horizon. The sea teaches me to keep my focus.
Betty wants to tell me about the psychology of colour. But I just can’t. Not now.
The data on the chart centres me. I am watching the angle of the wind in relation to our starboard side.
One seasickness pill later and I internalise what I already knew and could have told you days ago. This weather did not come as a surprise.
In less than twelve hours this storm will be over. I eat an entire bag of microwavable popcorn to myself. Whatever works.
I’m in a better mindset than I was a few hours ago. I’m trying to categorize my situation as something other than ‘to be endured.”
We are on top of the waves. The current squall extends for the next 7.5 miles. At times, water rolls into our cockpits where it is invited to leave out the back door. I am dry.
Soon we will be in Fiji. How nice it will be to see other people, particularly our friends who have also sailed this past week from New Zealand.
28 31.186S 173 43.200E
Sea Anchor is Out, Now We Sleep
18/05/23, 4:39 am
We have stopped mid ocean to rest and get some repairs done. We have our sea anchor. I am grateful for the time this anchor affords us.
I am tired and hungry.
We saw gusts of 49 knots this morning. My fretty uglies emerged today. Meanwhile, Rick was a rock. He and the boys were on the deck tying down the sail, and tying on the sea anchor as waves dwarfed them.
Of course, now it is rainy but we are no longer on an insane rollercoaster ride we called ‘waking up to some excitement.’
When the weather calms down we will get a line out of our port propeller, and get our sail bag sorted. A line that holds it up called a lazy jack snapped last night and became entangled in our propeller.
28 11.538S 173 31.895E