Feb 19, 2011 Saturday
“When you set out, in a sailing ship, the effort, and the rewards of it, are yours. It is you, with your two hands and your courage, that makes her go.” Arthur Sturges Hildebrand
The departure from the four posts securing Ariel was orchestrated like a ballet with each move being choreographed by an expert seaman. Ariel played her part and reversed gracefully ever conscious of her protruding bow sprit. As the guardian of her red and green running lights, my responsibilities included releasing the front starboard line slowly to encourage the bow to exit gradually, graciously and without contacting the twelve foot posts. Captain Ed drove Ariel back to touch the sand pile created by the broken down power shovel that stood guard over the eroding soft white sand. Every tidal wash threatened the waterway into the marina with escaping sand fill. The extra pull of the full moon returned even more sand to the channel. As the bow sprit cleared the post Ed relinquished the last line. In his usual amazing style, he surrendered the rope and steered Ariel into the channel sided by jagged coral heads.
Entering the Sumner Marina in Port Nelson, Rum Cay provided many challenges. A marked path zigged and zagged through waiting black coral heads that would take pleasure in creating havoc for an unaware helms person. Ariel strayed slightly from the recommended channel and abruptly discovered a sand bar. The quick reflexes of Ed had her backed out and returned to the straight and narrow path. The exit trip did not witness any such dilemmas. High tide and our entry trail recorded on the chart plotter were our guides.
Wind dominated the forces of Nature. Mistakenly, we assumed the wind would be a friend to our sails, permitting a smooth navigatation to our destination. The huge fluffy cloud mass banded together to form a solid mass that directed the wind to howl and race across the deep blue-black water. The wind gauge recorded upwards of 25 knots consistently, and just to tease, dipped to 20 knots then rose to 30 knots. The sea refused to be out manoeuvred by the wind so the waves built a rolling curve that rushed to land. The rolls piled up. Crests plunged in and chopped the tops of the rolling waves. The sea was as confused as me. The washing machine effect was lethal to even the most sea worthy stomach. Ariel rolled and pitched, starboard to port, (side to side,) bow to stern, (front to back.) The short pitching pattern intertwined with the rolls was inescapable. The ginger lozenges accompanied the Advil and I knew I was doomed. The mainsail was set and the front sail lofted to ease the effects of the water from washing over the decks as we heeled to starboard. The time was 10:30AM and the journey was new.
Being optimistic, we hoped the wind would ease and encourage the sea to flatten. We were wrong. The wind blew and the sea continued to build. Ariel rocked and heaved. The worst motion sickness engulfed me. Ed ventured below once. Big mistake! He declared he would be remaining in the cockpit for the duration of the trip. Nibbling crackers as if the saltines were our last supplies and sipping water and ginger ale only when thirst was overwhelming, was the menu for this cruise. Accessing the head (washroom) was not a feat either of us wanted to attempt.
Daylight deserted us in favour of a full moon. However, the thick, dark clouds hid the moon that was content to peek out and tease us with her brilliance. Distinct colours drew the line, between the waves and the sky.
I lay contemplating walking the plank of Ariel’s bowsprit. Ed created permanent dents in our cockpit cushions from bracing himself in an attempt to remain seated. We heard a loud crack. Neither Ed nor I could identify the source of the sound. Ed searched inside the living area with a flashlight. The pots and pans had abandoned their place in the oven and lay strewn at the bottom of the companion way. Various belongings added to the disarray, having escaped their designated storage spots. The cracking noise remained a mystery. Ed surveyed the deck and spied a loose stay merrily dancing through the air in tune to the howling wind. The back stay, whose purpose was to secure the mast, had broken off. The stay was no longer a strong steel support. Instead the cable was flying free on the starboard side. Further investigation of the wire stay and the turnbuckle was not advisable at 22:00 hours in the warring wind and waves. The main sail was lowered to ease the stress on the remaining stays but out of self-preservation, the main sail rose again to battle the effects of the wind.
Planet Cay, a deserted rock formation became our destination to determine a course of action for the repair. Captain Ed, the ever ready mechanic, had spare parts on boar. The question remained. “Did he have the correct parts?” A boater’s saying came to mind. “An inexperienced boater hopes nothing ever goes wrong with his boat and an experienced boater prays he has the right parts to fix whatever goes wrong!” We prayed. The plan was aborted due to a lack of respite from wind and waves. Onward we motorsail to Mayaguana. A decision loomed. Do we forge ahead another four hours to be position to sail to Provo tomorrow or do we seek the first available anchorage? Since we both felt so down trodden, complete with headaches and queasy stomachs, the choice was to continue the trip. Along with sea sickness comes insanity. Our only defence was we were hoping tomorrow would be a shorter, pleasant day without high winds and raging water. Mayaguana beckoned with an offering of calm water in the protection of her jagged coral reef shoreline. The wind gusted, but at times forgot to howl.
The anchorage escorted Ariel to the edge where 4000 feet of dark water met 20 feet of turquoise water. At high tide we eased her into a spot just short of a suspected reef. Low tide confirmed our suspicion. As we bob and swung we were grateful for the 60lb Manson anchor. Just as the anchor splashed the swallow water a flock of pink flamingos took to the airb in a shared formation. We witnessed glorious pink sunsets promising a day to delight sailors, but this sighting of the graceful pink birds was magnificent. Ed activated the windlass to engage the anchor and I was the helms person. The camera remained elusive to our assigned tasks. We hoped to be granted a return performance, a gift, for our struggle against wind and waves.
In solitude, Ed sleeps a well deserved rest. For the first time on this trip I was a Deckflop. Captain Ed assured me that he was also feeling the effects of the battle with the Sea. The title of Victor remain elusive. “Otto” defeated the wind and waves and we were both grateful to have the auto helm on our side.
Our sailing PLAN veered away from our friends ThaiLynn and Peter Sheldon on Pelican Rose. Upon reflection, they decided this was not the sea voyage for their trawler. The SV Ariel was challenged as she heeled over, riding from crests to rolls for extensive hours. Pelican Rose, “the grand trawler that can,” headed North to explore destinations in the Bahamas. Our reunion is slated for a northern port, perhaps even one of our favourite. “On the Cove,” in Picton, Ontario. We will have sea tales to once again share with great friends.
Flying fish leapt onto the deck and we returned them to their home. Sharing the water with a 37ft sailboat was a new experience for their leaping ballet. We nursed our stomachs with rice, apple sauce and biscuits. The fish were safe today.
We battled Nature for 24 hours from Rum Cay to Mayaguana for 144kn. Tomorrow we anticipate the end of the whirling of the wind followed by the end of the confusion in the sea. From Horse Pond Bay, on the south shore of Mayaguana, nestled amongst the reefs, to the Turks and Caicos is 55kn. Battle weary, we rest readying to head back to sea. I wonder what decision we would have made had we known what was destined to happen to the crew of the SV Ariel?