Blog: 25th January 2018

This morning I feel humbled, and a little deflated. The sea has shown me her strength and I have a new found respect for her. My tiredness weighs at my focus. I sit this morning staring out over the white flecked topped waves with the golden glow of the morning sun on my back.

I try to recall the quarter moon and the clouds from last night. The heaping seas began to dwarf my boat, and I know they are nothing. The wind building in the rigging, knitting together my fascination and my trepidation. We passed the south side of an oil field with scattered platforms burning their flickering orange flames, some were very brightly lit, like a small town at sea. I cannot enter the field, I must keep to the south. Thousands of tons of water spin me like a toy, we slew to the north, towards the lights, then return to our heading away, always, must stay to the south.

Two lights appear to the north east, the fore and aft of a large ship, I can just see its port hand light. I check the AIS, we will miss each other by a distance of two miles, she will cross my bow. Two miles feels close, I trust in the electronics and she eventually slides by on my starboard side, her large silhouette back lit by the burning platforms.

It's gone midnight and I put my mattress on the floor, I've been on alert for over three hours now. Watching the sails, the course, listening and mesmerised by the comings and goings of the great waves. The UV strip on the Genoa has become unstitched and will need re sewing, which means taking the whole sail down, a job for calmer waters. I will set the spare fore stay and use the No2.

On the floor I wedge myself in and try to sleep. The noises in the boat become louder at night. The combination of scrapes, taps and rattles goes to make a sound like boots walking through squelchy mud. An impossible sound which combines with the rush and hiss of water on the hull and the wind in the rigging. I wonder if I will sleep at all, a few hours until dawn, I must keep a watch as well, there are no lights, perhaps I can sleep a few hours.

Today It's boiling hot inside the boat and there's a harsh sun outside which is now directly overhead. If I sit outside I will become drenched, but it is cooler. As a measure of the current rough weather I throw 5 flying fish overboard and make my way carefully about the deck, bare feet and with waterproofs. Yesterday I spotted a sheared split pin on a metal dowel that holds the forestay to the bow, I make sure I make a regular inspection of all such fittings. Zooming along single reefed, No2 gib, wind on the beam averaging more than 6knots, the Brazil current helps. About a day’s sail from Rio then down the coast to Florianopolis and Porto Belo, about another 500 miles. I think I actually prefer rough weather, it gets my blood pumping and also gives me a sense of calm, as well as a small amount of residual threat!