[Hilde’s log]
May 13, 2008
One of the great things about Raven – no, the greatest thing about Raven – is the way she sails. She is at home in the water, regardless of the conditions. That came home to me, yet again, as we made our way from Hawksbill Cay to Great Sale Cay day before yesterday. The morning dawned with a gentle 10 knot breeze that gradually strengthened over the course of the afternoon to 18 and 20 knots. We sailed much of the way, which I like to imagine makes Raven happy. She’s like a dog running free on the beach, just bounding along with her canvas flying. It’s like riding a magic carpet. The sail was a smooth one until we reached Carter’s Cays, at which time the three and four foot seas began to stack and the waves began to bounce into each other. The rough water didn’t affect Raven at all, except for slowing her down. This is the same rough ride we experienced going the opposite direction over this stretch of the bank when we first arrived in the Bahamas. I wonder if perhaps that corner of the bank is where a couple of undersea rivers run into each other. A bit farther on we made the turn to port to approach Great Sale, lost our angle on the wind, and had to proceed under power.
Mr. P (the Perkins engine) responded well to the challenge, proving that the overheating issue is behind us, and we trudged forward, beating into 20 knot winds at a snail’s pace. I steered into the wind for about two hours, making little headway. David had time for a nap after we made the turn and we had barely passed Little Sale Cay when he woke up to relieve me. I got my book, settling down for the rest of the trip which looked to be a long one. David interrupted my reading to say, “I think we’re going to have some weather.” I really hate it when he says that, and I really hated it a lot when I got a look at the storm clouds that were approaching. They covered the sky to the southwest, although it looked like we might squeak by the major part of the system. We hurried to secure everything and put on our life vests. There’s no way to know how hard “weather” is going to blow. Raven chugged ahead on auto-pilot (there was no sea room to heave to) and the leading edge of the storm spread over the sky like a dark blanket.
I was mesmerized by the clouds. Thick and dark with a ragged edge, they produced the most fantastical shapes. At one point, the edge of the foremost black cloud folded over itself, like a hood, and then the face of a beautiful woman appeared in the hood, staring down solemnly at the water, her face seemingly only inches from its surface. She slowly dissolved into other shapes as the darkness poured over us, blotting out the blue sky. We never manage to have the camera ready when something amazing like that happens, but David did get a few photos of the clouds.
Behind the first line of black clouds were sheets of rain, hiding everything behind a gray curtain. Heavy rain peppered us for only about five minutes, as the wind gusted to the low thirties, and the turquoise water around us rose up in steep six to eight foot waves, each crested with white foam. As we hoped, most of the storm passed by to starboard, and we only caught its tip. The rain and wind lasted about 20 minutes and we proceeded safely to the anchorage at Great Sale in choppy seas.
The amazing thing? If I had closed my eyes, I wouldn’t have been able to tell we were in any sort of weather at all from the motion of the boat. Raven simply kept on going under the auto-pilot as she had been going for the last few hours – she didn’t shudder, change course, or change her position on the water in the slightest. I felt perfectly safe, and I am a huge chicken.
We anchored in some stiff wind, letting out around 130 feet of chain. The wind howled all night (another night of anchor watch), from 25 to 35 knots, and we were grateful that there were only seven boats at anchor with us. Nobody dragged, which was amazing, considering how hard it blew and the fact that the wind changed direction from south to west over the course of the night. The next day it kept blowing, not dipping below 20 knots until well into late afternoon. Amazingly enough, two boats elected to leave the anchorage in the strong (28+ knots) west wind. They must have had a heck of a ride, with the way the water was churned up. Late in the day, the wind died altogether, and this morning as we left Great Sale for West End, the sea was flat, the breeze light, and we had to motor sail to get here in one day.
And Raven? Why, she just took it all in her stride, as usual. She’s at the dock tonight, dozing and dreaming, her sails furled and her decks washed with fresh water.
May 13, 2008
One of the great things about Raven – no, the greatest thing about Raven – is the way she sails. She is at home in the water, regardless of the conditions. That came home to me, yet again, as we made our way from Hawksbill Cay to Great Sale Cay day before yesterday. The morning dawned with a gentle 10 knot breeze that gradually strengthened over the course of the afternoon to 18 and 20 knots. We sailed much of the way, which I like to imagine makes Raven happy. She’s like a dog running free on the beach, just bounding along with her canvas flying. It’s like riding a magic carpet. The sail was a smooth one until we reached Carter’s Cays, at which time the three and four foot seas began to stack and the waves began to bounce into each other. The rough water didn’t affect Raven at all, except for slowing her down. This is the same rough ride we experienced going the opposite direction over this stretch of the bank when we first arrived in the Bahamas. I wonder if perhaps that corner of the bank is where a couple of undersea rivers run into each other. A bit farther on we made the turn to port to approach Great Sale, lost our angle on the wind, and had to proceed under power.
Mr. P (the Perkins engine) responded well to the challenge, proving that the overheating issue is behind us, and we trudged forward, beating into 20 knot winds at a snail’s pace. I steered into the wind for about two hours, making little headway. David had time for a nap after we made the turn and we had barely passed Little Sale Cay when he woke up to relieve me. I got my book, settling down for the rest of the trip which looked to be a long one. David interrupted my reading to say, “I think we’re going to have some weather.” I really hate it when he says that, and I really hated it a lot when I got a look at the storm clouds that were approaching. They covered the sky to the southwest, although it looked like we might squeak by the major part of the system. We hurried to secure everything and put on our life vests. There’s no way to know how hard “weather” is going to blow. Raven chugged ahead on auto-pilot (there was no sea room to heave to) and the leading edge of the storm spread over the sky like a dark blanket.
I was mesmerized by the clouds. Thick and dark with a ragged edge, they produced the most fantastical shapes. At one point, the edge of the foremost black cloud folded over itself, like a hood, and then the face of a beautiful woman appeared in the hood, staring down solemnly at the water, her face seemingly only inches from its surface. She slowly dissolved into other shapes as the darkness poured over us, blotting out the blue sky. We never manage to have the camera ready when something amazing like that happens, but David did get a few photos of the clouds.
Behind the first line of black clouds were sheets of rain, hiding everything behind a gray curtain. Heavy rain peppered us for only about five minutes, as the wind gusted to the low thirties, and the turquoise water around us rose up in steep six to eight foot waves, each crested with white foam. As we hoped, most of the storm passed by to starboard, and we only caught its tip. The rain and wind lasted about 20 minutes and we proceeded safely to the anchorage at Great Sale in choppy seas.
The amazing thing? If I had closed my eyes, I wouldn’t have been able to tell we were in any sort of weather at all from the motion of the boat. Raven simply kept on going under the auto-pilot as she had been going for the last few hours – she didn’t shudder, change course, or change her position on the water in the slightest. I felt perfectly safe, and I am a huge chicken.
We anchored in some stiff wind, letting out around 130 feet of chain. The wind howled all night (another night of anchor watch), from 25 to 35 knots, and we were grateful that there were only seven boats at anchor with us. Nobody dragged, which was amazing, considering how hard it blew and the fact that the wind changed direction from south to west over the course of the night. The next day it kept blowing, not dipping below 20 knots until well into late afternoon. Amazingly enough, two boats elected to leave the anchorage in the strong (28+ knots) west wind. They must have had a heck of a ride, with the way the water was churned up. Late in the day, the wind died altogether, and this morning as we left Great Sale for West End, the sea was flat, the breeze light, and we had to motor sail to get here in one day.
And Raven? Why, she just took it all in her stride, as usual. She’s at the dock tonight, dozing and dreaming, her sails furled and her decks washed with fresh water.
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