It's about 1:20 am on Monday August 4, 2008. Do you know where your children are? I know where one of my two are. He's just 3 meters away, clipped into his sailing harness, up in the cockpit on this black night.
A Stygian Night Report...
Tonight is one of those nights where the sea is black, the overcast sky is black, and with time your eyes adjust to the very low light levels. Even the faintest glimmer of light from a backlit wristwatch or a sailing instrument is too bright. We have the main up to port, and the genoa poled out to starboard. These two towering triangles of sail show up well against the darker background. The breeze is up tonight, so at the change of watch when Jordan and I came on watch, and while Cress and Al were
still on deck, we double-reefed the main, and rolled out some of the deeply rolled genoa, searching for the right sail balance. Even with the overall reduced sail area we have lost only 1 kn of boat speed. We continue to surf along at 7 to 8 knots, but with less wear and tear on the boat.
On dark nights like this, the clouds hide the friendly stars. Sometimes a patch of clear sky will reveal a handful of stars for a few minutes, and you try to identify them while they're visible. Often the cloud cover is just thick enough to slightly blur the stars, making it look as if you don't have your glasses on. Instead of sharp crystalline points of light, the stars appear faint, larger, and indistinct.
You come to rely upon your watch mate in these conditions. There is little to look for, but you stand up and look anyway. You scan the horizon, or watch the dip and roll of sail against sky. But it is your watch mate that keeps you interested. Is s/he talkative, full of interesting stories or jokes? Or is s/he quiet, relying on you to keep up the conversation? Some discussions go on for half an hour or more and you've hardly looked up, aware only of the need to keep boisterous laughter down a bit,
out of respect for sleeping sailors below, but within earshot.
Perhaps you duck below for a few minutes to put on the kettle for a late night brew, or make a trip to the snack cupboard. Your mate is left on deck alone with their thoughts while you are below.
Left on your own, your thoughts turn inward while your eyes scan your surroundings. Larger than average waves announce that they are about to overtake you by a hissing sound that deepens as the waves get larger. On this point of sail, our decks are dry, indicating that we are not troubled by waves. On other points of sail you ignore that telltale hiss to your chagrin! Tonight, though, you can think your thoughts almost without interruption, safe in the knowledge that the waves - lit from within with
phosphorescence as the tops break - will roll harmlessly under you.
The thought occurs, as it has to every sailor I bet, that the birds are in their element when they soar on the ocean winds, and the fish are in their element when they glide through their trackless environment, but it is only we sailors who struggle as we bob and weave on the interface between sea and sky. The best we can do is to design sailboats that handle the waves with elegance. Even in the pitch black of a graveyard night watch.
Aloha from Paul!
N 22
W 144
690 nautical miles out from Oahu.
I’ve recently started a blog, the information you provide on this site has helped me tremendously. Thank you for all of your time & work.
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