Backing up to Day 3

DANCE OFF SWAIN REEF

Innocuous weather forecasts, sunny, calm seas and all predicted to continue for days. Seemed a perfect 'window' to set off, up the east coast of Australia.

Here's how it went.

About 12 hours into this 'window' came the following: "A Strong Wind Warning"!! However, in looking at its outer limits I saw that by the time this predicted wind was to materialize I would be 100 miles north of its northern-most boundary. So on we went.

The second night around 1 AM I noted that things were now turning worse. The full moon gave the ocean's black surface a rather sinister look with white caps frothing as far as the eye could see into the darkness.

At about 6 am things were not improving and Shearwater's speeds were getting worrying, about 16 plus knots in gusting 25-30 knot winds. As is our norm for night sailing, we were reefed to reef #3, and jib. After all, we had danced many times in these kind of seas before. I did notice, however, that one of the autopilots was now battling to control the boat - the following seas were indeed mounting. I switched to the other.

And then, suddenly and without warning a particularly fierce breaking wave took Shearwater down its face, slamming her from her port quarter hard over to starboard - her bow dove. This coincided with gusts that must have been in the forties. As for me, for the first time in so many many miles together, I was thrown against the helm and as I looked up I saw a wall of water rush down her starboard side and effortlessly rip open the bimini window. The many efficient drains went to work and emptied the cockpit of the water.

It was clear I had to get the jib down but since Shearwater had already dived once, I was very uneager to be on the front of the boat, battling a sail, when she dove a second time. It was warp time - long lines off the back of a boat - I had to slow her down first.

As quickly as I could I took Warp #1, cut the clips and threw it over the back, securing the line to a winch in the cockpit. No change, the boat was starting to accelerate again. And before I could get to Warp #2, we sped up, swerved to the left, starboard bow diving ... again and ....well, now I was truly concerned. I threw Warp #2 out, 300 feet of one inch line - better, but not enough. I had to get the jib down.

I put on my full wet suit and safety harness and ran to the front, threw open the jib's halyard lock and jumped on the falling sail, secured it down, got out of there.

Now in the cockpit, and to my surprise, with only the 3rd reefed main left, and with two long warps, we were simply not holding her speeds down enough.

It was drogue time.

Out came the big yellow parachute type of thing and over the back rail it went, attached to the No 1.electric winch. As if by magic, we forcibly dragged back from 15 knots of speed to 5. It had held her - back in control.

Shearwater had had her dance!

I was now faced with a tough decision. Should I turn back, which would put me facing directly into those fierce waters? I had a big gaping hole on the forward quarter of the bimini that in the reverse direction would face into the breaking seas-the boat could be flooded. But continue on? Further and further out in this nasty sea? (By the way, the Australian weather service CANCELLED the strong wind warning in the middle of this vigorous dance.

So I studied the chart once more, searching for an answer. And there it was ... I saw that if I headed close, very close, as close as Shearwater would go, into wind, I could possibly make the turn on the inside of Swain Reef. And now, something worked in my favor. The swells and the wind were coming from different directions - the swells further back than the wind. This was my escape hatch! I could put Shearwater hard into wind without being, at the same time, directly into those teaming seas.

In came the drogue - we were sailing once again.

It worked....after 4-5 more hours we skirted the inner tip... and ... we were on the inside of the Great Barrier Reef!!

The serene and peaceful Pearl Bay awaited us.

And, quietly anchored, as the waters gently lapped the side of the boat, they seemed to look up at me with a sort of innocence, as though to say, 'Dance, what dance?'

I smiled ... Ah, the duplicitous nature of the sea!