21/10/2020
Woke up naturally in the morning before 6:00 a.m. Continued set out to south, 15 to 20 knots of northerly and 7-8 knots of boat speed. A big catamaran was following us but couldn’t overtake us until it raised Spinnaker. A water bird landed on our deck and rested for a while, then suddenly took off and landed on the next boat. I called it Freddie Freeloader (Miles Davis’ music).
The wind dropped a bit in the afternoon and we put the genoa back on.
Later afternoon the wind was particularly good so we decided to sail at night. There were some strange clouds J said he didn’t like the look of it but we still didn’t think it would come near…
After dark there was lightning in the clouds to the west, which seemed far away and we couldn’t hear the thunder, so we continued at 6-7 knots. I made stir fried pork with eggplant for tea, and we sat at the table to eat before I went out for watch.
The wind picked up after dinner and we dropped the genoa and changed to jib just to be safe. The lightning was still coming from the southwest, and it was becoming more frequent. The sunken pink moon was gradually covered by thick black clouds. As if a flying witch was about to appear. We passed by a steep rocky island called Steep Island, only its towering shadow was visible in the darkness of the night, like a giant devil. We passed it quickly, not knowing if we were sailing into a deeper darkness…
After midnight the lightning became more frequent to the west and the stars faded overhead, but fortunately the lighthouse on the Clara group 4 nautical miles ahead was still flashing in rhythm. The wind was getting stronger and we dropped the jib and sailed on the mainsail only. It was obvious that there was a strong current against us that kept the boat almost on the some spot. It was right where the tidal stream is marked on the chart.
We started the engine but didn’t see much forward movement, suspecting a problem with the gearbox. There is a spare outboard motor on board, but we both didn’t pay attention while Bob was demonstrating how to untie it, so we gave up for now. At about 2 or 3 o’clock thunders rolled overhead, rain was pouring down and the waves were getting bigger and bigger. We sailed with the wind to the southwest towards a bay, so the boat can stay stable. After a while we got closer and closer to the bay and had to turn the boat around. It was difficult to do so with just the mainsail, not to mention in a storm, so we had to try the engine again, still no use. I suggested a granny jibe, that is, a gentle turn to the rear and continue turning until the mainsail swung to the other side. This time it worked, and the bow turned northwest, drifting away from land.
At about four o’clock, we were far enough away from land, so we decide to drift for a while. J dashed to the deck with protective gear to lower the mainsail. The top bit of the main sail got stuck and couldn’t get it down no matter how hard he tried. So J tied up the rest of the mainsail for now and came back to the cockpit. We just sat there and floated in a stormy sea. The moments of lightning were as bright as daytime, with glimpses of the skyline and the turquoise coloured sea. Luckily the cockpit was well covered, with not much rain flying in. Big waves one after another, making a sensation a bit like riding a carousel, not like on Dagmar it will roll so badly. This trimaran has wide flat area, just like a floating platform, easing from one wave to another.
After a while the sky was a little brighter, never feel so eager for the daylight to come, the feeling of the unknown dwindling away. As dawn came, the rain subsided and Mustang passed the storm test. The boat and us have been through harshness and were really bonding together now.
Three o’clock in the morning is a bizarre time, as it is said to be the time when many boats get into trouble. This was our shake down cruise, we didn’t lose much stuff except for a bucket as we hadn’t tied it on deck so it was blown away.
I’ve always wondered what it feels like to encounter a storm on a boat at night. I was mostly calm, my legs were shaking only a little bit, my jaw were only a little tight, but I was able to joke, sing a song ‘Stormy Weather’, and humming the Doors’ ‘Riders on the Storm’ in mind… mainly because I trust J very much. He was very calm, with accurate judgement and decisive execution, without showing any sign of panic. He bravely went into the rain several times and worked on the deck to get us through safely. He is a real sailor!
Sea Journal 