Ok it's me again. It seems that every time I do something worth "blogging" about someone beats me to the punch. I've been at sea now for around 37 days so I'm beginning to find less and less to write about. Well, what happened yesterday was definitely blog worthy. So here I am to bring you the experience through the eyes of the 'doer.'
It was around 2:00 in the afternoon yesterday, the 12th of November, and I was sitting in the salon reading yet another book trying to pass the time until my next watch or at least until something exciting happened. I heard Cress mention something about dropping the main sail to do some work on another one of the baton pockets that had separated from the track car/slider on the mast. He was sitting in the nav station doing his radio work which meant I had time to finish the chapter and hop up and
help when he was done.
As you know, the dreaded spinnaker was flying in all it's "glory" and this makes working on the main a little trickier for both the people repairing the sail and the helmsman. The helmsman's job is to keep the boat on course, which is much more difficult with no main sail as it is the "main" contributor to keeping the boat steady. Even with all the sails up, the spinnaker makes steering a nightmare, in my opinion at least. We completed the work on the spoiled batten pocket just to notice the one
we had repaired in Vanuatu had come loose and needed a second mending. Cress thought zip ties might be the easiest solution and sent me below to dig through the drawers to find some. As I was making my way back up the companion way I heard the words no one wanted to hear and when I looked up at the bow, I saw the spinnaker was wrapping around the forestay. I dropped the zip ties and sprinted forward, avoiding the shrouds and blocks on the deck to help the Captain force the sail back around. We
pulled and pulled but to no avail. You see, once the sail gets wrapped around it is nearly impossible to unwrap. We needed to figure something out, and fast! So we released the halyard and dropped the massive sail to the deck, grasping at every piece of the red, white, and blue monster to keep it from dragging in the water. It brought me back to my elementary school days when we used to play with those big parachutes in gym class! To make a long story short (at least this part) I'll cut to the
chase. We got the sail to the deck successfully, managed to untangle it and get it ready to go up again. I wasn't in favour of putting it up again but I never was in favor of putting it up in the first place!
Just like the Genoa, the Spinnaker also has a retrieve line, which is used to (you guessed it) retrieve the sail when it needs to come down. The Spinnaker's retrieve line needs to be attached to the deck so it doesn't fly up with the halyard. Well we forgot this step and as we raised the sail the retrieve line did just that. The next few minutes were a blur.
I was now looking up some fifty feet in the air, and at the outboard end of the starboard side of the second spreader was my next challenge on this sailing adventure. The retrieve line had wrapped itself around the spreader which made bringing the sail back down to the deck impossible. The cone that contains the sail was now violently slamming against the mast with every wave. All the sails were down and we were sitting in the middle of the ocean, not moving. Someone had to go up the mast and
untangle the lines. That someone was me. Out came the bosun's chair and the Solent's halyard. I've gone up the forestay several times before to re-screw the pesky set screws that continually work there way out but I've never gone up the mast, and never under such stressful conditions. Was I afraid? Of course I was! My heart was racing and my mind was going a mile a minute. If I fall, I'm seriously injured or worse!
The first attempt to get me up the mast proved unsuccessful as I swung 5 feet to starboard and quickly returned back to center with a light thud. Cress, then being the sincere guy that he is, didn't want me to get hurt and then volunteered himself to be the one to go up. Quickly realizing that if he were to get hurt we'd all be screwed, he volunteered Bob to go up. You should have seen his face! I insisted that I go up to save Bob from the task and to overcome the fear welling up inside me.
We pondered what would be the safest way and came up with a pretty good plan. We decided to raise the main and solent, heave to (steer into the wind to stop the boat) and steady our ailing Conversations II. Then rigged a block at the bottom of the mast, tied a line around the bottom of the chair, put it through the block and wrapped the other end around the winch. With the port side spinnaker halyard lifting me up, and the retaining line reducing the chair's swing I was ready to go. With my ok,
Bob started turning the winch handle. As my feet left the deck, I grabbed on to the mast and started to climb up knowing that I wouldn't return to safety until the job was done.
After four and a half minutes of maneuvering through the jungle of stays and continually being smacked by the backwinded solent, I was at the second spreader, roughly 50 feet in the air. (Bob you're a machine!) Five feet to my left was the line that I was determined to untangle and set free. I wrapped my leg around one of the shrouds leading up to the mast to steady myself and cautiously leaned over to determine the severity of the knot. Man was it tight! I returned back to the mast to center
myself and devise a plan. At this point I became entirely present, not noticing the water or onlooking eyes below, not thinking about anything besides the task at hand. After a few long, deep breaths I took my left hand and lifted the Spinnaker halyard up to give me some slack on the knot, with my right holding on to the mast for dear life, and my left leg still wrapped around the shroud. I was able to get enough slack to begin to work the knot free. After a few moments, the knot released and
in slow motion gracefully floated down to the top of the spinnaker which was now free to come down! Thankfully, so was I. Believe it or not I was most afraid coming down as I was beginning to slip forward and out of the chair. I was no longer centered and the fear of falling rushed back into my body and I could now feel the small cut I had on my knee, and the immense heat that had now taken over my face. I shouted down to Bob to stop me when I reached the first spreader, a place to stand, so
I could readjust and get my butt to the back of the boson's chair. After settling down I continued my descent, reworking my way down the mast. My feet touched the ground and a rush of excitement and accomplishment flooded through my body. The whole process, up and down, took eight and a half minutes! It sure seemed like a lot more.
The other day Cress wrote a blog about courage and mentioned that I had said that I didn't really fear anything. That's not entirely true. What is a fact though is that I don't let fear control my life! Courage is not about having no fear it's about being able to overcome it. There is nothing greater than the satisfaction of beating a fear and coming out on top! It's a great rush! But, do keep in mind that every time I see a big cockroach in Singapore I scream like a little girl! I'm working
on that one...
Until next time,
Matt
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