I'm on route 128 heading home to Portsmouth from my office in Boston in a driving rain storm in the middle of the night and I can't pry my eyes open. God this is frustrating, why can't I open my eyes?? I think I can see other lights and I can definitely hear the rain and feel the car bouncing all over the road...splash, boom, bang...wake up you idiot, you're not in a car on route 128, you're having a dream while you lay in bed on Zen anchored off some desolate Island in Venezuela. It's dark, pitch black, as I wipe the sleep from my eyes and I try to orient myself to the boats movement. It's a squall, I can hear the wind generator starting to hum and the rain is just starting the tap-tap-tap on the deck above my head heralding the inevitable deluge. I peek at the compass that is above my head to see what direction we are heading...Southwest...hmmm, that's not good. That puts us stern to the beach. Crap, the waves are starting to increase because the island is no longer shielding us from the fetch. I glance at my watch...ugghh, 0215 (that's sailor talk for 2:15 in the damn morning!!). I stumble from bed and head to the bridge to see what's going on and to make sure all the hatches are closed. The wind is getting stronger and the waves are growing. I can hear thunder and I see the flash of lightning as I reach the nav station. This is going to be a good one. When I reach the nav station I peer out the rain soaked bridge deck windows and see the anchor lights of the other boats around me waving back and forth. I see lights starting to pop on in the other boats as they do the same thing I'm doing. There are about 6 other boats in the anchorage and we are all being tossed around in the waves that are building as the once protected anchorage is now exposed to the wind and sea. More rain...oh crap...I run down each hull to secure all the deck hatches. As I crawl over Cole to close his hatch he squints at me through half opened eyes and asks me if we are underway. His cabin is forward most in the starboard bow and he is feeling the brunt of the wave action. No, I tell him, just a squall. He rolls over and I wrap him in his sheet. Ni, ni daddy...he is back to sleep. The kids are very familiar with this kind of event. If I'm not worried they aren't. I head back to the bridge deck, all the hatches are secure. By now the wind and rain has increased as the squall crescendos. I step out onto the back deck to take a look around. I search the sky to for stars. Not right now, just big black clouds above us. I head back inside to hide from the rain. Looks like I'm going to be up for a little while. Normally I would head back to bed after checking the hatches in a squall like this but the wind has change dramatically during the squall and we are now on a lee shore. In other words, the wind is blowing us toward the beach instead of away. The typical trade winds blow from the East in this part of the world and we were anchored on the West side of the Island in relatively protected spot...normally. Monique is up now and meets me in the bridge deck. She looks around for a few minutes and then decides to head back to bed and read until she falls back to sleep. I tell her I will stay up for a while and do an anchor watch (make sure we don't drag and that no one drags into us) until the squall passes. 20 minutes later I hear the light go out in our cabin, she is back to sleep. By now the winds are abating and the rain has slowed but the waves are rocking us all over the place. The fetch from the squall has built the seas to 5 feet in the anchorage. It's a bit unnerving when the bows are jumping and the waves are streaming past the boat while you sit on an anchor in the pitch black but I know it will settle down in a little while. The rain stops and I open the door to the forward cockpit to air out the bridge deck. It has cooled off considerably during the squall (down to 80 degrees) and I enjoy the fresh breeze that passes through our bridge. Uh oh...I smell diesel. What the heck is that, I wonder. I scamper around inside Zen to see where the smell is coming from. Nothing. I head back to the forward cockpit and realize the boat in front of me, a 50 foot monohull sailboat, is rocking violently in the choppy seas. Ahhhh, he must have extra fuel cans on deck full of diesel and they are leaking as his boats rocks back and forth in the waves. Yuck! That means I now have diesel fuel washing all over my hull. I guess the guy couldn't pass on the $0.40 per gallon fuel price in VZ. As I walk back into the bridge I wonder how much he is losing. I hope he losses it all!! Zen is going to stink like diesel until I clean it off the hulls tomorrow. Asshole! Ahhhh, calm down I tell myself. I'm just tired and cranky after being woken at 0215. I peer down at my watch...it's now 0500 and I have been up for almost three hours. The wind is down and the rain is gone but the waves are still rocking and rolling and the diesel smell is ruining what would otherwise be a nice fresh breeze through the boat. I gaze toward the sky and see some stars starting to break through the clouds. Seems like the worst is past now. That was a pretty big squall I think as I start to entertain the idea of crawling back into bed. It will make for good conversation among the other boats tomorrow. I'm definitely going to have a little chat with Mr. Diesel jerk in front of me! I'm bleary eyed and tired as I write these last few words. Please excuse any typos. The horizon has become illuminated as the sun starts to rise. "Ahhh, the smell of diesel in the morning"...isn't that a line from Apocalypse Now? Christ, I'm delirious. I hope you have enjoyed joining me on anchor watch this eve. BTW...The above picture has nothing to do with this blog entry. It's just a nice shot from some day last week that reminded me of what it will be like later today after the squall is gone. Arghhh, the wind is back up...maybe this isn't over yet...