The Night to Get Behind Us
13 October 2012 | South Pacific Convergence Zone
Rod
They happen once in a while. A night so black and dark that you cannot see your hand if front of you. The wind is howling, slapping the poor sails, threatening to great damage t them unless you, as a sailor have done your work properly. Rain is coming down horizontally and soaking you to the bone if you have to step outside and make an adjustment - and you do indeed, have to step outside and make an adjustment. Then you can see all to well, because the flash of lightening is frightenly close and painfully bright. Your footing is very careful because the seas are tossing the boat. Your boat, the one with very wet decks, not from the rain, but from the waves whacking her from the side and splashing up on deck.
This is one of those nights. I had wanted to tell you about the magic of wind vane steering, a machine that uses only the wind to steer the boat. I am always fascinated with it, and I love this wonderful machine. It uses only the wind as its power. No electricity. No fuel. Only the wind. To operate it, first, you must steer the boat in the direction you want to go. Once on course, you set a flapper that you adjust so that it is balanced in the wind. When the wind hits the flapper from either side, the flapper is hinged on the bottom, and it falls to the side. This is then connected to a linkage to a small paddle in the water, also hinged, that is then moved by the water passing by either side of it. This movement is transfered by a gearing to an an auxiliary rudder that will steer the boat. Once this is adjusted, and it is really quite easy to do. The boat's own helm is now locked in place. The wind vane is now steering the boat. Silently. Tirelessly. Accurately. I am always fascinated by it. I will post photos once we are in an internet area.
But tonight, we are in the South Pacific Convergence Zone. This is an area near the equator of the western South Pacific, where the air masses of the north Pacific mix with the air masses of the south Pacific. And they fight each other, causing unstable weather systems, such as squalls. Squalls are small localized storms. They sometimes have big wind. Yesterday, we had a little one with a 40 knot gust. But it was short and was gone as soon as it arrived. Sometimes they are massive and last for an hour or more. This is what we have tonight. Dark, horizontal rain, sustained 30 knot wind, angry seas, and lightening, the sailor's nightmare. Lightening likes trees. They stand high in the field. Well, a sailboat's mast is like the tree, standing high, alone on the field of ocean. Lightening scares sailors. We know our boat is seaworthy and is built to deal with these conditions. Our little Proximity always impresses us as she soldiers on in the worst conditions sometimes, all the while warmly protecting us inside. She is in her element. She was built for this, by people in Finland who know rough seas. She is a thoroughbred. But lightening is unpredictable. It scares sailors.
So, tonight we have passed through the massive squall, and have successfully dodged a few others. Our friend Philip, who is out here on passage too, sent us an email a few minutes ago by way of HF radio that he has lost count of how many squalls he has dodged or been hit by today. In the day time, the cloud formations created by this activity are majestic and beautiful. But the night, this night continues to be blowy and unfriendly. It is the South Pacific Convergence Zone, and this is the night to get behind us. We all get one once in a while. I suppose that in some sort of perverse sense, that that is part of the reason we are out here. It helps us to appreciate the moment.
It it midnight and the beginning of day five of this passage. I just looked out and I think I saw a star behind that black cloud. Best Always, Rod and Elisabeth "Your Rock and Roll Argonauts"