After a very challenging past few days, we finally got a perfect day of sailing. A few late morning squalls passed through leaving us caught in the "windless wake" of the last one. After we pushed through, we finally saw the perfect sailing conditions. We had the kite up from morning to evening in a brisk 18-22kts of wind and were eating up the miles all day. The mood onboard was almost celebratory, and we are finally seeing the finish line on the horizon.
After dinner we challenged each other to see who could have the best 20 minute driving session, looking at stats like boat speed, apparent wind angle (how deep did you sail, deeper = better), percentage to polars (polars are the theoretical maximum speed for any given wind speed/angle combination), and percentage to max VMG (velocity made good, or the theoretical max speed component towards a destination, usually downwind or upwind since a sailboat can't ever sail directly upwind, and often can't sail directly downwind -- or downwind quickly -- either).
A few of us went to grab an hour of sleep (you take what you can get when it is available and you are off watch) before taking down the kite (asymmetrical spinnaker) for the evening. Eric and Jeremy were on watch, and woke up the rest of us around 9pm when they saw what looked like some squalls headed our way. We woke up and set out to take down the kite, which turned out to be very "exciting" (as it has tended to be) when we caught the control lines on the radar and could only bring the sock half way down. We ended up dropping the halyard and rescuing the foot of the sail out of the water before stuffing it down the fore hatch to pack it up later.
We're now on our before-last night of sailing, which has been extra challenging now that the moon rises so late. Once the sun has completely set, it is the deepest dark you have ever seen, with not even a horizon visible and absolutely no visible points of reference outside the boat. In order to keep sailing we have an instrument bridge in the line of sight of the helmsman, and you drive "by the numbers" looking at TWA (true wind angle) and heading -- particularly difficult when the waves and wind are shaking you in all directions and the boat bobs massively side to side in 25kts+ squalls, and you need to apply small (and sometimes large) steering corrections in order to keep the boat from jibing accidentally and potentially breaking the boom. The focus required is intense, and maintaining that focus while not getting disoriented for the 3 hour long watch is difficult. Luckily, we switch every 30 mins on watch, and as the trip has gone on and sleep and energy has continued to be in short supply, we've taken to setting a cushion down in the cockpit for the 2nd person on watch (but not driving) to get a quick nap while their watch mate drives (but being there if needed to help).
The positive to the darkness, if the cloud conditions allow, are the brightest stars and view of the milky way you will ever see in your life, mixed with rich bioluminescent flickers in our wake, and huge glowing patches in the waves that go by.
Every night since we started the trip we have each held watch for 3 hours per night. Typically you will have 4.5 hours to sleep (and actually sleep much less), are awake for 3 hours, and then have 5-6 hours off for more sleep (if you can, since sometimes that watch ends at 10am).
Suffice to say that we are all very much looking forward to a full night's uninterrupted sleep soon, but absolutely have enjoyed the trials, tribulations and joys of the trip so far.
330 miles to go!
-david