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| Smooth sailing |
I woke briefly early this morning to the sound of the main winch and the sight of the main sail making its way up the track, its bright white a sharp contrast against a clear blue sky. After rolling and drifting all night, it was a pleasure to feel the boat begin to move under sail once more.
Max generally brings the main up by hand at the mast with either Victoria or Johnathan to take up slack at the winch, as the quickest way to break something is to do it with machinery, and our electric primary winches are a powerful pieces of machinery, but he had set it up with minimal wraps so that any resistance on the part of the sail would show up as slippage on the winch, and this system worked beautifully.
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| Not a conventional view of the spinnaker |
The sea state had come down overnight to the point that the 6 kts that were useless to us last night in the swell were enough to push us along nicely this morning, but by mid-day, the wind had diminished again, and it was time to bring out our Minerva Reef Spinnaker, so called because we got it from our friends at the NIRVANA sail loft (aka Gary & Julie) on our first visit there in 2014. It doesn't see a lot of use in the trade winds, but it was perfect in the light winds that we had this afternoon. [For sailing folks, the spinnaker is a 0.5oz A2 off of a J-120 race boat. A beautiful sail but too light normally for ocean passages on a cruising boat].
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| Spinnaker trim duty. |
Our spinnaker is in a 'sock' and hoisting it for the first time in two years easily employed four people - Max on the bow, myself on the main winch, Victoria and Johnathan assisting as necessary (ie frequently!). All we had to do was use the halyard to pull the spinnaker and sock out of the bag, hoist it to the top of the mast, and then use the continuous line on the sock to pull it out of the way to reveal the blue and white spinnaker against the sky. It took a few tries to get all the lines sorted as it had not been flown since Max did some did some repairs, but soon we were in business. Flying the spinnaker even gave Max the excuse to sit on the dock box in the sunshine, to have good visibility for sail trim :)
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| A team effort. Johnathan easing the halyard and I pull down the sock. |
After our night of drifting, we contacted our weather router for some input. Their advice: go North, motoring as necessary, and sailing when possible. We did some fuel calculations and determined the number of miles that we were comfortable motoring in this phase in order to ensure that we have sufficient diesel for the later stages of the journey, and this is how we have spent the remainder of the day, sailing and motoring. Other than a gentle ocean swell, the surface of the water took on the appearance of glass in the calms.
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| The light spinnaker pulling us along nicely. |
My night watch turned into a lovely evening with Johnathan. We began with motoring, and I spent some time listening to the various details of some ideas that he is working on. When it became evident that my head for details was full, and that I was dozing off, he very gently asked if I would like to take a nap while he took the watch. I gave him instructions regarding the wind (shake me if we get up to 5 kts) and gratefully closed my eyes. A short time later, we had a consistent 4-5 kts of wind. If I have ever sailed in such calm conditions I have forgotten. The sky was absolutely clear and brilliant with stars, and the sea was flat. The only sound was the shush of the hull in the water, and the only sight was the odd scintillation of bioluminescence (we weren't going fast enough for the carpets of light that we had other nights). Even the sails behaved themselves, drawing nicely, and hardly slatting. We generally made about 2-3 kts of boat speed in 4-5 kts of wind, and we ghosted along down to about 3 kts of wind, at which point the sails became noisy, and I held my breath to see if the wind would come back or if the motor would have to be called back into action. For 3 1/2 hours, we sailed in these beautiful conditions. I haven't spent much time on canoe trips on silent lakes, but I could certainly understand the appeal after this evening; there is something magical about a huge body of water being so calm and silent.
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| Slow but progress. 2.6 kts through the water in less than 5 kts of wind. |
My night watch didn't lend itself to time at the chart table writing, but just as I was feeling like I would never be able to leave the cockpit, the wind died again, and it was time to motor. The calm gave me just enough time to compose this and the winds may be coming back now that it is time to shake Max for the his watch.
Love to all,
Elizabeth
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At 2019-06-10 4:22 PM (utc) SV Fluenta's position was 26°01.93'N 166°45.13'E
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