Day 17 – The Doldrums

It had been stalking us for a couple of hours, shifting around on the northern horizon behind us, as we motored south. Deciding the best place and time to make its attack. The sun had disappeared behind a high cloud a while earlier, along with the wind which was now just a faint breeze, hardly strong enough to ruffle the water. Rafiki was chugging along on a grey, lumpy sea, jib rolled away and mainsail tied to the boom to stop it flapping around as the boat lazily rolled from one side to the other, oblivious to the scene unfolding behind. Late in the afternoon as the light was starting to fade, the monster on the horizon made a move in our direction. Underneath a low and menacing black cloud, solid sheets of rain were pouring down, like strokes of a giant paint brush wiping the sky into the sea. A thin white hazy line sat where the sky stopped and the ocean started, indicating a whole lotta wind at the surface. It got closer, and closer. Soon we could hear the hissing. And then we were engulfed.

After getting into the doldrums on Monday morning (23rd), we’d had a few rainy squalls with gusty winds, but this cloud looked different. Dark, low and sinister. Seeing it approach during Tuesday afternoon, I’d tightened up the lashings around the mainsail, and put a rain jacket on. No getting the soap out for a fresh rainwater shower in the cockpit this time. When the squall hit, the wind picked up. First 20, then 30, 40 knots. I turned off the autopilot and took the helm, steering the boat into the onslaught. Rain was heavy. Heavy heavy. I had to squint into the wind to see anything, and spotted the wind instrument innocently indicating 50 knots, ignorant to what that actually meant. The sea was pummelled flat by the rain, with the drops hitting the surface so hard they kicked up a layer of spray which made it look like we were surrounded by a calm, morning mist. The lack of swell indicated that the wind was only going to be around for a short while, which was reassuring. Forgetting to put my hood up, I was soon wet through, but at least it was warm. Sure enough after a few minutes, the wind dropped and rain eased. As quickly as it arrived, it was over. But the clearing sky showed another squall coming up behind the first. I took the opportunity to break out the new storm jib, which we hoisted on the inner forestay and braced ourselves for round 2.

Same again, the wind and rain came on in a flash, and as the wind rose first to 40 and then 50 knots I wondered what we were in for. Rafiki was cruising along very comfortably with just the storm jib up, a bit underpowered even, in 40 knots of wind. I think we were making about 5 knots with the wind at 50, on a broad reach. I was so in awe of the scene around that I wasn’t really focussing on the numbers. A few minutes later, a gust of 60 knots came through – probably the windiest this boat has ever seen! The squall passed over, and then it was calm again, leaving us drifting along in its wake. The rain soaked skipper was wet and bedraggled but happy – everything had worked out well – a good test of boat and crew.

And today, Friday 28th, we’re out of the doldrums! This is the area where the NE trades and SE trades meet, over hot seas, causing convection clouds and unsettled weather, a little north of the equator. Feared by sailors for centuries, it’s a mix of squalls and calms, with the wind blowing from all kinds of directions. In the days of sail, ships could wallow around for weeks, making no more than a few miles a day. These days it’s less dramatic. I stocked up on loads of diesel, and we’ve just motored through the calms. When I handed the watch over to Dave at 0100 this morning, we were skirting a low, dark cloud, beyond which were clear skies and stars. We’ve had five or so days of watching squalls, getting wet, drying out, getting wet again, and doing lots of motoring in between. After those first few windy ones, we’ve not had anything similar- really just lots of rain. The aft cabin is letting in water somewhere (rain, not sea!), so we’ve had the cushions out on deck a few times to dry out when the sun appears. The sealant I bought in Mexico is water soluble until cured, and it seems to take more than 24 hours to cure, so that’s not been too successful. I got to wash my clothes in fresh water though!

I slept for almost 8 hours solid this morning, catching up on a few days’ of short cat naps, being alert and aware of conditions, with the wind usually too light to sail, but with the threat of all hell breaking loose at any time. That’s the most sleep in one go I’ve had in two and a half weeks, and it feels good! I’m always thinking about what it would be like to single-hand a passage like this. To really explore what it’s like to be at sea by myself for weeks, immersed in the boat, the ocean, the sky… but the lack of sleep would be tough. Having crew aboard is great, but makes for a completely difference experience. One day I’ll cross an ocean solo. Food stocks are good – we’ve still got plenty of cheese, bacon, sausages and other cold stuff in the fridge, 40-odd eggs, potatoes, onions and some apples. And then the rest is immortal, stuffed away in tins and packets in every corner of the vessel. No fish yet, but we’ve lost a lure so they are definitely out there!

The little red helicopter came past again yesterday – I couldn’t read the numbers on the side but it must be the same one. Maybe 800 miles from where we saw it last? Very strange. This time I think he went back in the direction he came from- which meant he flew over just to check us out. I didn’t try him on the radio, but should have done, to ask what he was up to. More dolphins today, but they only stuck around for a few minutes. I built an extension to the rope ladder, so I can hoist it up the mast and climb up to the first spreaders for a better view. Mainly so we can see coral heads when we’re motoring through the atolls later, but also pretty awesome being up there out here in the middle of the vast ocean. Yes, the view is different from up there! You can see the shadows of the clouds on the sea, and much further over the horizon. Next time we get dolphin I’ll see if I can get up there fast enough for a photo.

Less than 300 miles to the equator! We’re 1700 miles from Mexico, with about 1000 still to go to the Marquesas – I think we’ll make landfall on Nuku Hiva. Ship and crew doing well – I’m getting through books, doing the odd job around the boat, and reading about the islands ahead. David and Eva keeping busy with various things- though we all thought we’d have more time on our hands than we actually do. I think constant night watches mean more rest during the day. Right. Tea time now. And let’s see what’s left in the biscuit locker…

WHALE! Just popping my head up to check things are OK on deck, I spot the spray from a whale’s breather off our port bow. We pass pretty close – he’s HUGE. Just floating on the surface, I think he’s asleep. Glad we didn’t run into it… We get out the mammal guide and decide he’s a sperm whale. Definitely time to celebrate with a cuppa.