29 September 2010
We left in the company of Tzigane with the other yachts not far behind. One hour into the trip a new forecast was sent out. Another low was developing and we were to head south as quickly as possible, down to 15 degrees, 30 minutes, 300nm away. We put Voyageur on a course of 220 degrees and hurried on our way. If I looked to port the sky although cloudy was bright enough. However looking out to starboard the sky was as black as night itself. A tough day and night followed. The seas were rough, the wind gusting to nearly 30knots, with driving rain just for good measure. Mind you we were going well, covering 187nm in 24 hours. At first light just after I had taken over my watch from David I noticed that the uphaul for the pole was shredded and nearly parting. We took the genoa pole in pronto and within an hour had replaced the halyard. It is very early on this passage to find such wear and tear, and we will have to be very watchful for anything else.
Survival!
The sea is ugly, the sky is ugly, the weather is ugly. It has not taken long for me to decide that I do not like the Indian Ocean. We are in the worst conditions we have ever experienced on the ocean. We are surviving. We have not showered in two days but we do manage to brush our teeth and wash our faces and change into fresh t shirts and underwear. Somehow I have managed to make a breakfast, lunch and dinner. Food is important for our morale, especially hot food. But everything is an effort. Every movement around the boat has to be carefully timed and executed as Voyageur pitches violently in the confused seas. We hunker down in the cockpit taking two hours rest each. We do not take up our books, nor do I feel like posting the blog. We merely exist. Each day we hope for better and each day is worse. The one lucky thing is that we have stayed dry in the cockpit unlike most of the other boats in the fleet. Our full cockpit screen remains in place the door way closed up. It gets a bit hot and steamy but it is infinitely preferable to getting wet for it rains most all the time. Is there is no end to this? We just do not seem to be able to sail out of this wretched weather. Feeling pleased with ourselves we had reached 16 degrees south within two days of leaving Cocos. Then with the wind veering to the south east we put Voyageur on a more westerly course. It did not last however as another low pressure system arrived, bringing with it torrential rain, and a wind shift of seventy degrees heading us south once more. One minute the wind was gusting over 25knots, the next we are slopping around in twelve knots with an enormous breaking sea. With the visibility reduced it is tiring in the extreme keeping a constant lookout. If you think I sound miserable it is because I am. We have lost sight of all the other boats but Tzigane, Thor1V and Lady Eve1V are not far away for they are still within VHF radio range. From what we can gather on the morning net the others who left earlier are not faring any better, perhaps even a little worse......
A lighter shade of grey
No sun, no sky, no moon, no twinkly stars, but cloud, just thick grey cloud. David jokes about the Eskimos having thirty descriptions of snow. Judging from the last three days we think we could come up with thirty shades of cloud. We look out on our bleak watery world, not the deep cobalt blue of the Pacific but a hard, cold metallic grey. Perhaps this is normal weather for the Indian Ocean for this time of year. After all, reading in our pilot book, The Indian Ocean Crossing Guide, Rod Heikell suggests that 'it is not a bad idea to make the passage around June before the south east trades get up to full strength'. We have little choice but to soldier on. At least we have now just 2000nm to go.....
Susan Mackay