Misery to Bliss in 36 Hours

We are currently battered, bruised, and moving like men twice our age. We just came through a storm unlike anything I have ever experienced or ever want to experience again. For four straight hours we had sustained forty knot winds and twenty foot seas. In that kind of weather, the wind is so strong it lifts sheets of water off the surface and throws them at you like sideways rain. Hazel is now completely crusted in salt, and so are our foulies.

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At one point, a wave slammed into the cockpit, filled it completely, and launched me from one side to the other, straight into a winch. If I had not been clipped in, I would be seafood. Both of us are covered in bruises and aches, feeling every bit like old men. I tried not to be frightened, but there were moments when we were racing down the face of a wave, basically surfing a moving wall of water, and it was genuinely terrifying.

But Hazel showed her teeth. She set a new speed record, and we covered one hundred fifty miles in twenty four hours, which is a solid run for her. The upside of a storm is you make distance. The downside is the toll it takes on the crew and the gear. We lost a spare anchor to Davy Jones Locker, nearly lost our lifesling when waves snapped its fasteners clean off the pulpit, and sacrificed a Genoa sheet to severe chafe. We have just finished replacing that. Through it all, we carried only the staysail, our storm sail, while the main and Genoa stayed completely down. That tiny, tough triangle of canvas kept Hazel stable and steady.

I have to say, in conditions like that, Hazel did all the work. Peter and I were just hanging on. She rode those monsters like she was built for exactly this. Down below, though, you would swear a cyclone had torn through. Everything that could fall, fell. Everything that could fly, flew. Pete was not feeling great, so he was resting, and I came very close to tacking toward Florida. I was right on the edge of making that call, but in the end, I stayed the course.

And then, like golf, you hit that one perfect shot and suddenly you are hooked again. Fifteen hours later we were sailing in absolute bliss, blue skies, calm seas, steady wind, and dolphins all around us. You try to pretend the day before never happened. Today has been beautiful, peaceful, and genuinely enjoyable.

We even turned it into a training day for Peter at the helm. I had him steer without looking at any instruments, just feeling Hazel, feeling the wind on his face and neck. He managed three, maybe four full circles before he got the hang of it. Comical, yes, but he is starting to understand how to sail by instinct rather than electronics.

If we were not so sore and bruised from the night before, we would have embraced this day even more fully.

While Peter practiced steering, I took on a new role, Paul the Plumber. I will spare you the details, but let us just say the head is officially out of commission. Peter and Paul are now relying on a five gallon pail until further notice.