Friday 1st October
We are feeling much better about everything today. A less boisterous night allowed us to catch up on lost sleep, luxuriating in the comfort and snugness of the sea berth, we showered, we tidied up down below, I took up the blog again, David even read a book. I sang along to the strains of Rihanna and Toscana. I was cheerful again. Tiny patches of blue sky peeped through dark squall clouds and for the first time since leaving Cocos, and we have had no rain for several hours now. Having reached 17 degrees south I think we have at last come through the ITCZ. It certainly feels more like trade wind sailing now with steadier winds of force six. Having left in three groups, the fleet is spread out, hundreds of miles separating the lead boats from ourselves. Consequently the morning SSB radio net is a rather long and drawn out affair with many positions having to be relayed by other boats. However we are still in VHF contact with John and Jenny and Rui of Thor 1V and we now have four daily prearranged SSB nets with A Lady and Tzigane and anybody else who wishes to join in for that matter.
Pole Vaulting!
It was bound to happen sooner or later. We had been going along under poled out genoa since day one and even through the gale of two nights ago it had held. But we hadn't spotted a cross swell from the south east developing and in one great hissing thunderous roar, a monstrous wave slammed into us, throwing Voyageur hard over on her beam, tons of water crashing down on the deck and with the pole now dug deep in the water. The force caused the pole to fully rotate and it collapsed into the hull, fortunately causing no damage. We leapt onto the deck and took it in. The cap at its end twisted half out of its socket. A repair job for wherever. We had had a lucky escape. The damage could have been much worse. It was a lesson learned.
Ghostly apparitions!
Voyageur has charged on through the night under her reefed genoa and mizzen in a south easterly force six gusting seven. Suddenly a light catches my eye through the skylight window in our spray hood. A bright star, my first star! I step out through the screen. A thick bank of cloud formed a ring all around the horizon but there in all its wondrous glory was the night sky directly overhead. I was elated. A zillion stars were twinkling down on us. No longer do I feel so afraid. I am amongst friends now. I look out across to port searching in vain for the Southern Cross and realise with dismay that I may never see it again. (It had been getting lower and lower on the horizon on the passage from Bali to Cocos.) And then the moon, a near perfect half, appearing and disappearing as angry black clouds scudded across. It was both the most exciting and the ghostliest thing I have ever seen. With just five minutes of my watch left, it was time to put the kettle on for David. I went out for a last look. Dark storm clouds had once more obliterated the galaxies, except for a window through which shone Orion as bright and clear. Surely there was a message in there somewhere. I reached for my pocket book of stars and read 'A magnificent constellation of the equatorial region of the sky, representing a hunter or warrior with his shield and club raised against the snorting charge of Taurus the Bull'. Yes, we will do the same. We will face our own aggressor, this ocean, and get safely to land.....
Susan Mackay