With a 3 day respite consisting of minor repairs and sail
untangling, catch-up naps, shore exploration, and libations various and plenty,
on the morning of Nov 5th we set off on the route to Santa Maria. The
start was another rolling one, ending after an hour with the development of a
morning shore breeze. The sailing over
the subsequent hours were described by
someone on the radio net as “champagne sailing”, literally perfect, 12-18 knots
right behind us.
But despite conditions perfect for marketing purposes, on a
sailboat things are never ideal. The
skipper, having been chastened by the flaws of his prior decisions, was told by
the crew that they would henceforth firmly demonstrate their resolve against
the development of any sailing condition that might conspire towards their
later fear or discomfort. Fair enough,
thought skipper, we’ll take it easy this leg – no pushing.
As a lesson in the battle against narcolepsy that defines
offshore sailing, let it be remembered: sloth is as powerful a force of nature
as the wind.
As the wind hit 18 knots in the late afternoon, in a magnanimous gesture of conciliation by the skipper to his crew, the A5 kite was
dutifully furled. Over the course of the night the wind abated a little, but we
still kept the boat moving forward under our easy to handle Jib Top. It did appear that the crew were indeed pacified
by this gesture and they gave acknowledgment by maintaining their conciliated posture
through the night hours. So in their variously
prone conditions, they resolutely continued, all through the next morning.
Cried skipper, “we need to re-hoist the kite – the winds have
gone light!”
“We are off-watch” answered one and all. And so then did Anduril, the Blade and Flame
of the West, Sword of the King of Men and Slayer of Orcs, languish slowly, hour
on hour – waiting for breeze and crew to awake.
It is an undoubtable fact that fine ladies and gentlemen customarily
awaken late. At 2pm the skipper finally
persuaded the now wakening crew to hoist a kite, which happy condition lasted to
sundown. Alas, this late effort would
not be enough to transit us towards a finish that would be again blighted
by light night airs. Waking later from his pre-midnight nap, the skipper
reluctantly made the dark-hour call to motor through the balance of the route
and end the Torture of Transit. Know Ye
All that the powers of Sleep and Sloth call also to provoked Skippers!
.........Greg
.........Greg
Alice flying the kite.
I love the 4 - 8 AM watch! Always a beautiful sunrise.
Arrived in Bahia Santa Maria. Out comes the dingy.
Bahia Santa Maria.
Out come the inflatable kayaks.
Another beach party.
The rock and roll band and food vendor drove on dirt roads and crossed a river to get here.
Fu$%%#k!
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