Another peaceful night on the Atlantic! Joe’s strategy has paid off and time we spent working our way north has allowed us to stay in the wind and sail faster because we have room to turn upwind a bit and get some air in the spinnaker when the winds lighten.
It wasn’t peaceful all day, however. When I woke up, it was cool-ish and cloudy outside. Joe had done the wash and he and the kids hung it (see, I told you we all do laundry) in the cockpit. Gemma said, “We’re going to get wet soon!” which I took to mean either she saw a large wave in the distance or it was going to rain. Either way it seemed prudent to take down the laundry. Gemma helped me take it all down. Then I figured it wouldn’t hurt to have a few more minutes of drying time until it actually started raining so I hung up the ones that were still damp. At that point, Gemma left me to it, probably thinking (and justifiably) that I was making a poor choice.
Of course she was right because about 10 minutes later, the squall moved in, the rain started and the wind increased 10 knots. Gemma started hand steering and yelled for Joe to come up. I frantically pulled the clothes down, mainly because I felt like an idiot for hanging them back up. It wasn’t torrential rain but the clothes were flapping and increasing the feel of chaos. Joe came up and assessed the situation. Gemma pointed out “a line of white horses” moving towards us from off the port side. I noticed a wall of rain. Joe said we should drop the spinnaker until the squall passed.
I called Cobin out and we headed to the foredeck. Gemma was working the sheet lines and Joe was steering. It was probably blowing in the low 20s at that point so quite brisk for Le Grand Bleu. We have a snuffer on the spinnaker which acts like a giant sock that you can pull down over the sail to help get it down so you don’t have to jump on top of it and gather in huge piles of sail. The snuffer is delightful in theory and on the rare occasions that it works as designed. Most of the time someone ends up pulling on the line that is supposed to get the snuffer to descend and nothing happens. This was one of those times.
Cobin and I pulled with all of our strength and the thing didn’t move. Gemma and Joe maneuvered to collapse the sail so there wouldn’t be as much force working against the snuffer and that allowed us to move it down a few feet but we were still more or less stuck in place. The spinnaker was flapping wildly, waves were splashing around us, it was raining, and we were both trying to yank down on the slipperiest, most unmanageable line we have on the boat. You can’t get any purchase on that line whatsoever. I’m not sure if the designers planned this as a cruel joke or if there’s some benefit to having a frictionless rope that has escaped me.
To help you appreciate just how unpleasant this task is, let me give you an analogy of a greased pig. I’m not sure when you would actually need to grease a pig but that’s a topic to explore another day. Picture you have to move this greased pig somewhere the pig doesn’t want to go. You are able to hold the pig in place through sheer willpower and a small amount of friction. The pig is actively trying to move away from you. Your weight is just enough to keep the pig from going anywhere but if you actually want to move the pig, you have to reposition your hands. If you take one hand off to move it, the pig will escape. Now if someone had provided an ungreased pig, you might have a fighting chance. But this is not your life. You have the pig that has been meticulously greased.
So there Cobin and I are, both pulling down on to this ridiculously slick, narrow blue line, made even more slippery (if possible) by the rain. The snuffer is halfway down and we can’t do anything except keep the spinnaker from reopening. Multiple times I resist the urge to wrap the line around my hand to get purchase. If a puff came and grabbed the sail, the blue line would get yanked away and the force could crush my hand. I try to step on the line on the trampoline to trap our gains and get an additional source of friction but this is also an impossible task. Occasionally Cobin or I manage to get an inch or two more of line down but it seems like our strength will give out before we get the spinnaker down. I’m holding on with all I have and the snuffer isn’t budging.
Just about then, our hero came vaulting to our aid. Joe must have activated the auto-pilot and left the helm. With one or two big heaves, he got the snuffer to move and doused the spinnaker. Whew. I dropped the halyard, Joe held onto the sail, Gemma eased the sheets and tack lines and the spinnaker was down. Cobin passed around a dry towel and then Gemma and Joe took advantage of the fresh water to scrub down Charm’s deck. About 15 minutes later, the squall passed and we put the spinnaker back up. I got to pull up the snuffer and cursed the slippery blue line once more. Then I went inside and moved my sailing gloves to a more convenient location so I might remember them in the future. My latest (and only) theory on why a snuffer designer would use such an unfathomably slippery line is that he/she is in cahoots with a sailing glove company. One of the few times I wish for gloves is when I’m on snuffer duty. Unfortunately, I never remember them until it’s too late.
A moment to extol the virtues of non-refrigerated produce. Here is a photo of carrots that we bought in St. Helena and Cape Town. The withered ones (Cape Town) are at least three weeks old but still useable in soups or carrot cake. Non-farm fresh carrots barely last a week, even in the fridge. If stored outside the fridge because someone told you they had not been refrigerated and you believed them, they deteriorate into disgusting brownish goo. The ones from St. Helena are at least a week old now and going strong.
So, a plug for farm fresh produce, available somewhere near you. Also, a plug for my CloudBags which are a delightful replacement for plastic produce bags. Just put them with your recyclable grocery bags and you can have all your produce in beautiful bags that weigh nothing and keep single-use plastic out of landfills and oceans. I got a set on Amazon and love them.
In other news, Gemma is continuing with the ballet lessons and the girls are continuing to learn. It’s a bit challenging to practice good form on the boat – it’s like doing ballet on a Bosu ball (one of those weird blue half balls you see in the gym) - but I’m sure they will develop good stabilizing muscles in the process.
Cobin and I have resumed our Atlantic Ocean tradition (begun the only other time we crossed the Atlantic) of playing volleyball on the foredeck. I have made a great improvement to our game by stringing a line across the foredeck to simulate a net. Before the trip, I bought a soccer trainer which I have repurposed to use on the boat. The ball is trapped in Velcro bands and has an elastic “leash” that keeps it from leaving the boat. As with any physical activity on the boat, we have the added fun of wave action plus an unstable surface (our court is made of trampoline). As of today, we haven’t encountered any other teams in our section of the Atlantic so the bar isn’t set very high.
In fact, the skill requirements are so low that Joe and Cobin decided they can play just as well without even standing up. They just lay on the trampoline and throw the ball back and forth, thus eliminating all the excessive physical activity needed to balance.
Cobin and Marin continue to do their shifts on watch although Marin’s enthusiasm can best be described as lackluster. The conditions are so pleasant that very little action is needed so it can be a bit tedious. When we hand off the watch, we’re supposed to let the next person know the heading, course, anything special to watch out for, etc. Today, when Marin handed off the watch to Gemma, she said, “Just keep going towards Brazil.”
Unless we encounter some abnormal situation, we should arrive in Salvador no later than Tuesday, February 11, giving Gemma exactly one day to explore Brazil before she catches her flight to England. Light winds and extra time in Namibia and St. Helena mean that we are arriving in Brazil about a week later than expected so, despite her careful planning, Gemma will not get to see much of South America on this trip. Although, we’ve heard from several sources that Salvador has a high rate of crime so, if we’re lucky, Gemma might have just enough time to have her wallet, phone and/or passport stolen and have to stay with us longer!
I’m kidding – of course we don’t want that to happen. As much as we enjoy Gemma’s company, we know her family (all safe in England now) are anxious to have her back.
Until we meet again, enjoy the gentle sea breezes, but please encourage them to be about 5 knots more robust – then Gemma can have 1.5 days in Brazil!
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