Skippers log #31
Dear Gwen,
I am alive. Just about. I am at 55 09s 75 19w at 13:30 GMT. I had sustained winds of 60-65 knots, with gusts up to 77 knots last night. I took over a dozen near fatal knock downs. The mainsail is ripped, but I might be able to repair it in a day or two. The boat was full of water from the knock downs. She is a total mess. I had water up to 12 inches above the floor boards. Because of the frequent mini knock downs, the breather for the water ballast tank spent more time underwater. The tank filled, making the knockdowns easier and pinning the boat over. How we did not roll over, I don't know. I was under bare poles, and in some of the gusts surfing at 15 knots. I am wet, soaked to the skin. I have already gone through three changes of clothing. Each time I was forced onto deck to try and steer her, there were times I was up to my chest in water as the waves washed over the boat. It is the worst storm this vessel and I endured, and hopefully will ever have to endure. I am thankful that the seas did not grow to what they cold have been with such winds. I will put out some roller furler genoa and try and get under way again. I have 280 miles to the horn. I don't know if I made any progress towards the Horn as I can't find the log book. It is buried somewhere under the mayhem of the knock downs. Never before have I had to fight for my life like last night. I will try to get the boat cleaned up, but first I need some sleep and some warmth. I have been shivering all night, and have hypothermia. I now wish the heater was working as I could do with its warmth. Oh well, I am alive, I survived. I thought of you through out the night and wondered what daylight would bring me. I have only once before seen a barometer this low. It was all the way down to 982 mb. There was no warning of the storm to be this bad. I do not know how Minuro faired. I pray that he is okay. I will e-mail you again in a few hours time. I love you, Neal.
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Skippers log #32
I have been able to get the boat underway again, with just a little bit on the roller furler out. I am making about 5 knots in the general direction of the Horn. The seas are still very confused. They are not that huge, about 20-30 foot, but they are coming from many directions. I have not been able to put the boat back together yet. Tomorrow maybe. There are wet clothing lying on the floor, water still sloshing in the bilge which I am trying to get removed with the hand pump. I found my tooth brush, so at least I can brush my teeth with salt water. No toothpaste though. I have hunted all over the saloon for the kettle and it is nowhere to be found. How can I loose a kettle in the saloon, an area of 10 feet by 14 feet. Both cabins are turned upside down. The bunk boards are all over the place, the mattress in my cabin is barring my entrance, stuff is rolling around as we are bouncing in the seas. This is no picnic in the park. Last night frightened me. Even though I was harnessed on, the waves were trying to drown me in the cockpit. Fresh water from the rain mixed with the spray of the sea. My eyes stung, and I breathed in water as if I was diving into the sea. It was pitch black and I could see nothing without a flash light. The wind was shrieking through the rigging, sounding worst than a cat crying in the night. The spray pelted me like someone blasting me with a shot gun. Eventually there was nothing I could do more for my boat, but leave her be. I went below and layed on top of stuff dumped in the saloon berth during the knockdown. I grabbed pillows to try and soften a place to lay down. I pulled a soaking wet sleeping bag over as I lay in my foul weather gear shivering. At dawn I was grateful to still be alive. Yes, there was a time last night that I thought I might die. But now things are a little better. I found the pot, and eventually my mug. I was able to heat some water and make aa cup of tea. I will try an eat something later. I am just hanging in, taking things hour by hour.
