Just a little late night diversion for those that so enthusiastically enjoyed our first cruising and sailing diary the other night, Cruising Adventures - The Island of Tanna, Vanuatu and Mt. Yasur Volcano For photos and video of why we do what we do, you can click there and see the wonderful part of the cruising adventures. Below, you'll find another side of the story!
When we are underway, it's important that people know where you are. At least it is if you have a problem and you hope someone will come looking for you if you don't show up or are not heard from for a few days. Daily, I try to send out a report to family and close friends so they know where we are, how fast we are going and what direction we are going. If something were to happen, at least someone would know where we were when we last able to make contact. This would be valuable information in the event we had to ever activate our EPIRB, a satellite emergency beacon. The EPIRB is registered with the Coast Guard and if it is ever activated, the Coast Guard will immediately make contact with the person we have designated, which would be one of our family members. Daily reports also alert our family members to possibly contact the Coast Guard if we have not been heard from in a few days.
As I mentioned in the previous diary, we had a really rough trip from the Marshall Islands to Vanuatu. It was so rough at times, that it was difficult to even find a way to eat and I went for over 48 hours without making one of our daily reports.
I was just checking my daily reports to check a date and came across the report after not reporting in for over 2 days. I thought it might show the other side of cruising across the oceans of the world. Believe me, it's not always beautiful sunsets, dancing dolphins and cold margaritas!
I wasn't going to include in photos in this diary, but on second thought, this one might give you an idea of what we were seeing on the radar screen shortly after crossing the equator. This one was small in comparison to some of what we saw!
Date(UTC): 5/12/2012
Time(UTC): 16:57
Latitude: 14°41.36'S
Longitude: 170°51.44'E
Course: 193T
Speed: 5.6
WARNING: This document has been given a rating of "R" by the
International Sailor and Pirate Writers Association due to strong
content and the liberal use of profanity. Parental guidance is
advised.
The last 48 hours...
Let's cut right to the chase... The last 48 hours brought us some
of the nastiest, stink ass, shitty fucking weather we have ever
encountered! Am I off to a good start? Probably not, but let me
continue.
Those little "moderate" squalls I'd been complaining about for the
past 5-7 days, they were simply a prelude to the squalls(AKA
thunderstorms) that we have endured for the past 48 hours. I always
wondered what the difference in the terms used by NOAA when they
refer to thunderstorms mean. They have 3 different terms, moderate,
strong and severe. I now have a much better understanding of the
true meaning of these words! They also use 3 different words to
describe the frequency one might encounter the aforementioned
storms. Isolated, scattered and numerous.
Those last 3 terms are easier to define than the preceding 3. When
you just occasionally run into a thunderstorm, that would be
isolated. When you have a few of them popping up on your radar
screen at the same time, that would be scattered. And, when you
have great numbers of them marching across your radar screen like
hordes of hungry army ants, I'm pretty sure that would be
considered numerous.
Those previous 3 words are a little more subjective. I can't recall
ever reading NOAA's definition of the words moderate, strong or
severe but with the experience of the past 7 or 8 days(I'm
starting to loose track) I come up with some fairly reasonable
definitions of my own. I've come to the conclusion that these terms
define approximate size, speed and personality. Personality you
say? Yes! These things definitely have a personality.
Moderate: A thunderstorm with a size of 1 to 2 miles in diameter
that is fast moving. They are content to slap you in the face with
a quick buildup of winds to 20-25kts and then pass you by as they
quickly move on.
Strong: A thunderstorm with a size of 5 to 10 miles in diameter
that is fast moving until it arrives at your position. Once located
above you, it likes to intensify, grow larger and seems to relish
in multiple, rapid changes of wind direction and sustained winds of
25-35kts. Once upon you they slow down and try to pummel you with
everything they have. As these are more sinister than their
moderate cousins, sometimes they will even pass you by, then
re-intensify and swallow you up again from behind and give you
another pounding. I'm fairly certain they do this because they
think it's fun!
Severe: These little nightmares are 10 to 20 miles in diameter and
have all of the same characteristics of strong thunderstorms, with
the following exceptions. They have multiple changes in wind
direction and top wind speed is unpredictable. They like to add
large quantities of lightening to intensify the terror they like
to inflict on anything they discover floating on the surface of the
ocean. These big bastards have a nasty, evil personality. They are
not content to simply rapidly approach you then stall out on
top of you while beating the shit out of you. No, these big
bastards call in reinforcements as they slowly weaken. They send
out a call to the other hordes of little army ants requesting
backup. These other thunderstorms rush to your location and then
merge with the monster and continue to beat the shit out of you
for hours at a time. They never surrender, they never give up until
they have expended every last drop of energy they have and there
are no more troops in the area to strengthen their position. If,
by some chance they leave your position while awaiting
reinforcements, they will almost certainly re-intensify and swallow
you up again from behind to repeat the beating.
You might be wondering why I bothered to go into so much detail
describing thunderstorms. It's because there are only 3 words that
can be used to describe the weather conditions we've endured for
the past 48 hours. Numerous, strong and severe!
With these conditions, every minute for the past 48 hours, one of
us has been sitting in the companionway ready to release the
main sheet immediately when a wind shift and/or major increase in
winds occur and to put the boat on a new course according to the
new wind direction. And so I sat on my watch yesterday at about
11:00AM.
We were sailing in about 17kts of wind with the wind coming from
our port bow. From out of nowhere and without warning we were hit
by a wind shift of 45 degrees and a gust that came straight across
our beam that must have been 50-60kts. It slammed us so hard and
fast that releasing the main sheet had no effect. We just
suffered a knockdown. For the non-sailors out there, the idea of
sailing a boat is to keep the mast pointed to the sky and have the
boat heeled over 10-30 degrees when the sails are full of wind. A
knockdown occurs when you far exceed that 10-30 degrees of heel. In
the classic example, your boat is now heeled over 90 degrees and
your sails are in the water.
And so it was yesterday! I didn't have a chance to glance at the
wind speed to really know how strong the wind gust was, but I heard
it as it hit. I'm guessing when I say 50-60, it very well may have
been stronger. We know what 40kts of wind is, as we see those
occasionally in squalls, but above that I'm really only guessing.
Although the whole episode lasted for only 1, maybe 2 seconds
before we were upright again, there are 3 images that are burned
into my memory that I will never forget. The first is looking
out the window of the dodger seeing the mainsail laying atop the
ocean. The next was the blue water of the ocean as it passed by
the side dodger window. I find this one interesting as everything
else was grey. The surface of the water was grey, the overcast
skies were grey but the ocean, looking through the dodger window,
was bright blue. And the last was looking down below, to see
spoons, forks, knives and other assorted kitchen gadgets falling
from the port side of the boat to the starboard side. I use the
word falling as opposed to flying, because they weren't flying.
With the boat heeled over a full 90 degrees, possibly slightly
more, they were definitely falling!
Fortunately, I was firmly positioned in the companionway and Sheri
was off watch laying down on the starboard settee so no injuries
were sustained. After a few Holy shits and a couple good rounds of
WTF's, we assessed damages. The cockpit was filled with water, but
nothing, fuel cans, etc. had been washed off the decks and all the
rigging and sails looked fine. The cable ties at the base of the
cockpit weather curtains had all sheared, but they are meant to do
that.
Sheri always ensures that everything on the boat is stored properly
so nothing goes flying around when conditions get rough. Aside
from some little items like sunglasses and a box of kleenex,
nothing else in the boat was disturbed. The locking mechanism on
our silverware drawer was the only thing that let loose. Most of
what fell from the galley, ended up on the nav station in one big
pile on the starboard side. To give you a better idea of how far
over we were heeled, not one item was found on the floor! After
regaining our composure, which took a little while, Sheri gathered
up all of the utensils and put them in the sink so she could wash
them again before stowing them. Yes, she really did wash them
again!! As she was putting everything away, she noticed we were
missing 3 sharp steak knives. After a quick search, we couldn't
find them. After a more intensive search, we found one of them
along with a heavy can opener and a pair of scissors in the cubby
hole where our computer lives which happens to be right above
where Sheri's head was while she was laying down. Immediately,
after this whole ordeal happened, she kept saying "I saw knives
flying at me." She said a pillow flew from the other side of
the boat and she just covered her head. We still haven't found the
other 2 knives, but I suspect they are behind my computer. Who
knows what else we might find back there!
Fortunately, Sheri and I have had previous experience with this
seldom used technique of sailing known as the knockdown. Back in
1999 we were racing with our dear friends Ralph and Joanna(who
also receive these updates) in the Delta Ditch Run aboard their
boat En Sueno, a Newport 41. It's a downwind race from Richmond, Ca
back to our sailing club in Stockton. It was planned to be a fun
race and there were about 10 of us aboard.
We were around the Antioch Bridge with Ralph's "big ass spinnaker",
as I always referred to it, flying and we were laughing at the boats
a mile or so in front of us as they were hit by a sudden wind gust.
We watched sails get ripped, boats get knocked down and thought it
was pretty funny until we sailed another mile and it was our turn.
The wind gust that hit us laid us over and due to a line that was
wrapped on winch that couldn't be immediately freed, we laid on
our side for what seemed to be an eternity until someone in the
cockpit finally freed the line and let the spinnaker go. I was at
the mast at the time hanging on for dear life, standing in water
up to my knees. Although I didn't think it at the time, I thank
you Ralph & Joanna for giving us this vital bit of training. And,
write us a note when you read this! We have been reminiscing about
the great times we had with you in Mexico and Central America!
I learned 2 very important lessons from my experience aboard En
Sueno that day:
1) NEVER. EVER. DO. THIS!!!
2) Never, ever do this, particularly when you have all the ports
in the boat open! Yeah! That's right! You really can't believe
how much water can come through a 12" x 5" opening until you
submerge it in water. Especially, if you have 6 of them!
After the whole episode aboard En Sueno was over and the bilge
pumps were diligently removing the ankle deep water from the
interior of the boat, Ralph, in his calm manner said "Shit
happens!" Actually, he didn't say that. Ralph, being far more
gentlemanly than myself said, "Stuff happens!", but this is my
story so I'll tell like I want!
Now, a few words to my friends at NOAA who sit in their
air-conditioned offices in Honolulu and write those High Seas
reports every 6 hours. The cryptic little reports that I read
everyday to get the big picture of what the weather is doing in my
area.
First, let me start by thanking you for diligently pointing out
the location of all those fronts, troughs and ridges and for also
providing the 24 & 48 hour forecasts for their future locations.
I'd also like to thank you for the sea state section that tells
us where we can find seas above 8 feet. I really find those 24 & 48
hour forecasts very useful for planning purposes!
My complaint is that last little section of your 6 hour reports
where you talk about thunderstorms in the area. You have all this
education, satellites and atmospheric equipment at your disposal.
If they can predict thunderstorm activity in the midwest, 2 days
in advance, giving precise locations and even the time of day they
will occur, surely you could spill a little more ink and be a bit
more descriptive in where these thunderstorms are occurring and
a 24 or 48 hour forecast would be really, really helpful to someone
like us. Let me give you some examples.
When I first read your reports of thunderstorm activity in my
area, you described them as "isolated moderate TSTMS north of 6S
west of 175E. I had already been experiencing a few moderate
thunderstorms shortly after crossing the equator. So, my first
question is, just how far north of 6S are you referring? At this
time I was at 4S and west of 175E. Does that extend to the equator
or the north pole?
Diligently reading your reports over the next 7 or 8 days, every 6
hours if I didn't have a thunderstorm overhead so I could safely
use the radio, I noticed that you continually extended the southern
limits of these thunderstorms. 6S became 8S, which then changed to
11S, which changed to 13S which then changed to 15S and then 16S.
Even an untrained observer like myself can see by your reports that
these thunderstorms were moving south and intensifying. I have a
suspicion that way back when you were reporting them north of 6s
you knew damn well that they were going to move south and
intensify.
You see, it would have been really beneficial when I was back at
4S with mostly clear, sunny skies and just the isolated little
moderate thunderstorm passing by if I knew these were going to
move south and intensify. Your reports lead one to believe that
the best option was to continue forward until you're on the other
side of your boundary. Only to discover that the line has moved. It
would only take a little bit of ink and a few seconds to include
the statement "thunderstorm activity expected to move south and
intensify". That would allow people like me to make a better
judgment on how to proceed. Had I known a little more of what I
was sailing into, I might have made a decision like this. "Hey
Sheri, this thunderstorm activity is supposed to move south and
intensify. Since it's sunny now and the seas are flat, maybe we
should heave to, put some tunes on the stereo, put on our swimsuits
on, catch some rays, make some margaritas and throw some steaks on
the BBQ and wait a couple days for things to settle down." Is that
too much to ask?
What started out as an enjoyable passage has turned to be one of
the most demanding we have made. The sheer length of time we have
dealt with squalls has been tough. As I've often said, "You can
pick your first 3 days of weather, after that, you take whatever
mother nature gives you." This may be the first passage
we actually lose weight while making. Both of us have sore muscles,
aching hands and a few bruises to show for it. We always try to
track our best and worst passages. I think this one will come up
number 1 in the worst category. It will replace the passage from
Tonga to New Zealand as number 1 due to the time spent in bad
weather conditions. I'd still make this passage again and would
not want to discourage anyone from making it. We just happen to
have run into some unusual weather conditions. As they say,
"Shit happens!"
We're really looking forward to making landfall and getting the
anchor down. I can't decide what I'll do first. A couple shots of
rum? Or a blender full of Margaritas? We'll probably end up with
a couple shots of rum while making the blender full of margaritas!
We'll have earned it!
The weather improved last night around 3:30AM. I actually saw the
moon briefly and a few stars. Today we have mostly sunny skies and
haven't seen a squall since last night. But that may not last! I
picked up the latest High Seas report last night and perhaps they
were reading my mind. The latest report said "isolated moderate
TSTMS from 16S to 21S west of 172E" Wouldn't you know it, as I'm
writing this we're at 15.30S and 170E and our destination is at
21S. But after what we went though in the last 48 hours, "isolated
moderate" sounds great to us!!
All's well aboard and we only have about 275 miles left to go!
Gene & Sheri
S/V Reflections
There may not always be beautiful sunsets, dancing dolphins and cold margaritas, but I wouldn't trade our lifestyle for anything!