Monday, February 6, 2010
We cut the lady’s lines and were on our way by 10:30 am. The winds were strong and I was looking forward to a strong healthy sail. By 11:30 am. Fred reefed the mainsail and we were flying. “Wow, Fred, look at the dinghy” I said as it were trying to break loose. Then the dink settled down a bit and the second wind took it. The line holding it to Casa Mare’ broke and she nearly went airborne dangling from the davits. It all happened so fast all I could think of was the motor coming loose from it...again. Fred tried to strap her down again but it was futile, it broke again. I reached into the lazerette and pulled out some more line for him to work with. By this time her starboard was pointing straight up and trying to flip over. I knew if it broke loose, we could always come about and retrieve it but the seas started getting rougher and the winds stronger. As I handed him the extra line, the gas can started working it’s way off the dink. I tried to stop it but it was too late. It fell into the ocean and we were still under motor sail. I couldn’t believe it was still attached to the hose leading to he engine. I tried to pull it in but it was too heavy with gas and also we were still moving flying. I reached back and threw the throttle into neutral. Fred got it close enough to grab it and it took both of us to get it on Casa Mare’. I could see the next thing to go was the anchor and I knew we would either lose that also or it would puncture the dink, the way it was jumping around. While Fred was on my right trying his best to steady the dink as close to Casa Mare’ as he could, I climbed nearly over the stern of the boat and pulled it into Casa Mare’ also. Yes I did have my harness on and I was attached to Casa Mare’, just in case I went in too. The padded top cooler was next to go but thank goodness Fred had bungeed it to the dink or we would have lost it for sure. It never came open and it was packed with life jackets and the infamous foot pump. He reassured me the motor was okay, it was “chained” to the dink already. Stepping back to give Fred all the room he needed to secure the dink I did a record short prayer for help from God. and went on with helping him. By then everything was under control. It wasn’t funny and still isn’t but in a day or two after I process this it may be. The winds started picking up and the seas were getting high. Things were getting pretty rough and it started to get really cold. I went below to change into some longer pants and a long sleeved t-shirt. A few things had already worked itself loose and were out of place and I made a mental note of things to secure more tightly next time. A few hours later I wondered if there would be a next time. The seas were 6-8 foot and wind was coming straight in front of us. It felt like we were in a washing machine on a rollercoaster. I didn’t want to go below for anything. There could have never been enough things to hold on to even if I had made it down there. I had to go though, I needed sweats and a sweat shirt. I know there were times I was airborne below. It was like something had just removed the floor under me. ‘I just have to time my moves when under these stressful seas’, I thought, but nothing was normal about this. I could never outthink the seas. They are powerful! We were surfing over the swells and crashing down nearly knocking the wind out of us. Not a pretty site. I knew if I came out of this with no broken bones, it would be a miracle. He gave me the helm and I knew how to stay on a rum line. So...I just sailed, making sure we stayed on course. The further I sailed things didn’t look right. We were headed straight for some islands so I woke Fred. Hey, I am not sure about the course you set us on, we are going to hit some islands and we are going further off the rum line. “Where are we?” he said. “where are we? How the heck should I know, I am just staying on your course.” ’Can you still see the rum line”. “Yes but we are not going along the rum line, we are headed east of it straight into some islands.” “What’s the course?” “135 but we are sometimes 160 or more then it goes back to 135.” “OK” he said, keep sailing and rolled over and went back to sleep. All I knew is there were plenty of reefs to go between and I know what it is like to hit one. The worse part? He was sleeping and I was at the helm...alone...trying to relax and at least acting like I had everything under control. “Okay, just checking” I said just before he rolled over. We were going to take two hour shifts but that didn’t happen. Who could sleep in this? Stasia...that’s who! She did try once to go below, working herself down one step at a time then when she finally made it, she swayed back and forth, never quite regaining her footing. I could see her weaving herself to the lazerette but just as she was ready to jump up, it slid off and went right in front of her. That’s enough for her. This boat is alive and she wanted off. She tried to work her way back to the companion steps but ended up with all four’s moving but sliding in the opposite direction. One would think she and Fred were in competition of the best boat dance. She let out a terrifying meooooooooow and came back into the cockpit, knowing it was, believe it or not, safer in the combing locker. That took the edge off our teeth gritting mood and we both looked at each other and laughed. Poor little Stasia. She gets the medal! As the long night seemed to grow longer, Fred and I communicated with our eyes. All we could hear was waves crashing over the bow and things falling down below. My clothes were not warm enough so I knew I have to make another dreaded trip below if I was to stay warm. This time I put on the warmest thing I had, a pair of sweats and a heavy sweatshirt. A few hours later I went down below and got the leftover chicken tenders and macaroni & cheese, split it into two bowls and put them in the microwave. Dinner! It wasn’t much but it was something.
I was not prepared for this weather, nor was Fred so we were happy to have that to eat. By the time I got back up with mine, Fred’s was nearly gone. “There is a fork in there” I said as he used his fingers to eat. He didn’t see the fork, it was so dark. He just knew it was edible and probably safer to use his fingers. The night grew longer and colder and the swells higher and the waves larger. This was the first time on this trip I knew I didn’t want to be here on Casa Mare’. I had to let go of that feeling and trust God would get us to Mayaguana safely, or in one piece anyway. I came below again to try to get some rest and had to put a towel over my stomach because water was coming in from above me while laying down. The last thing I wanted was to be wet. Cold was enough. Didn’t matter though, I was going airborne just lying there and had to holds onto a bar above me to keep from falling off. I was with Stasia, cockpit was better.
Just as I got in an upright position the back of the seat came open from the bottom??? and cans of food came crashing down onto the floor. ‘Great’, I thought. Now I have to feel the floor for cans of food so I don’t step on them and fall. I found all I could and threw them in the corner behind the pillows in the dining area. Forget this, it’s topside for me again. As I went to sit down the boat moved in a violent thrust giving me the floor to end up on. Moved that lazerette right from under me. “Can I laugh yet?” Fred said. “You might be better off there”. I think he was right. So there I sat, on the floor braced between the folding table and the cockpit opening. He was right, it was better. Not 3 minutes later Casa Mare’ took on a huge wave sending water over the top of my head completely soaking every inch of me. I cried in silence until I gained the strength to go back down and put something else on. Then it dawned on me, I have nothing warm left. I did have an all weather jacket which sounded like a warm fuzzy blanket at the time so I moved into plan C. I couldn’t get out of those wet clothes. They were stuck to my body. I was being thrown all around the boat and getting pretty resentful by now. By the time I got up, I could just barely see daybreak coming. Like that was going to make a difference, I thanked God for the safe overnight passage. We still had over 6 more hours to go before we saw land. There was no difference in the day and night sailing except I could see walls of 6-10 of water coming at us and looking at the backside as we came crashing down. Sails up...sails down. motor sailing, motoring, nothing worked. “They sure did miss this one on the weather forecast” Fred said. I could tell in his voice he was apologizing. Fred is not one to take chances. Weather changes, that’s why you don’t make plans when sailing. We were past the point of no return and I knew we had to hold each other up. I kissed him and said, “yeah” as the conversations slowly drifted into silence. “Land Ho” he yelled. I didn’t have the energy to even get up and look but I managed. I couldn’t get excited, I just wanted this to be over. “You did good” Fred said with a smile. I wasn’t sure what “Good” meant but took it as a compliment. All I knew was that I made the best of the situation and he was happy with that, it would be a good thing. I was in it for the long haul.
“Now” I yelled from the bow. I had spotted a good piece of sand for the anchor and Fred dropped it from the helm. I yelled out colors and he said “What happened to Yellow?” “I must have missed it coming out” (probably a long blink I was so tired) but I continued calling off colors attached to the anchor chain. “Snubber” he yelled. I knew this was the last thing I had to do and was feeling pretty relieved. The anchor held good and Fred shut the motor off. We both took a big sigh and hugged each other. “From now on we sail in no more than 4 foot swells.” he promised. “You got that right, not with me anyway” I promised back. We picked up the cockpit strewn with cushions, towels, flashlight, wench handle, Water bottles and coffee cups, a container of peanuts banana bread and various things that were out of place. We went below. “Oh nooooooo” I said with regret. “the V berth is soaked. Down to the cushions. Sheets cover, pillows, the floor was wet and I felt like crying. We hung the sheets out on the rails along with the cover. ‘Well, the V-berth is done...for now’ I thought. We didn’t know where to start. We have no idea where the water was coming. We started from the bow of the boat, working towards the stern. I opened the locker where the cans came out of and it was FULL of water. I didn’t even have enough energy to give up. I just sat down and stared. There was no rest anywhere in site as far as I saw it. Fred got the hand pump and between the water under the ac under the v-berth and that food locker he pumped out about 5 gallons of water. The labels were coming off the cans so I just laid a wet towel over the v-berth and started putting cans Fred was handing me on the towel to dry. I was in no way ready to get the marking pen out and label all these cans. Looks like the locker next to it was okay, just a wee bit of water. The shelf above it was wet. My camera case was wet as well as my camera. “The Turks and Beyond”,” On and Off the Beaten Path” as well as “The Gentleman’s Guide to Passages South” (Fred most important reading book) were all three wet. We are trying to dry them so not to have to go out and replace them. The origin of the leaks in the head last time ended not to be the leaks as everything was wet in there also. “Boats leak”. I have heard that a hundred times but this was ridiculous. It was all I could do to keep myself from losing it. After we got it 80% back in order we both went topside and just sat and stared at each other. He spoke first. The most pitiful “I’m sorry” rolled out of his mouth and I knew he was. ‘“BUT”...we need to get these things fixed. If they are repaired when you first see them, then it would get so bad. You just can’t let these things go. You either fix it or sell it. This is a nice boat. We have the summer to work on them okay?” “Okay” he said and we hugged. He knows I won’t do this again until the problem is fixed. It’s too dangerous. The plans changed. We are staying here in Mayaguana until the weather is calm, even if that takes a month. Maybe the islanders will adopt us. I wonder if “fix my truck” or whatever that show is called would consider a boat? Casa Mare’ certainly qualifies! I should have taken pictures but didn’t. I don’t particularly want to relive this leg of the trip through pictures.
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