Yesterday, we crossed the equator. It was approximately 11:00 am and I was in bed...quite exciting. Unfortunately, no one was really in the mood to celebrate. For the last 48 hours, we have been beating upwind into a (at times) hellacious storm that went on for miles. Winds upwards of 50 knots made everything concerning living aboard a boat nearly impossible. My plans to shower (as was my prize for having been mother) were squashed as we were on the wrong tack to use the below-decks shower and the on deck sun showers were too dangerous. I mourned, as the stench of my own sweat had become nearly intolerable.
Sleeping was an even bigger chore. My 12 hour post-mother sleep was interrupted constantly as above deck shouts for reefs and sail changes competed with the howling wind and rain. Feeling guilty as I lay in bed whilst I watched my crew get ready for their shift, I asked if I should come up on deck. "Stay in bed," Nick, our watch leader, gently ordered me. I obeyed, but soon after heard the cries of Meg from the companionway. "Is anyone still up? We are really struggling up here and could use an extra set of hands!" Finally, the burden of my guilt could be banished. I lept out of bed, threw my foulies on and clambered on to the deck to find the crew wrestling the Yankee 2 sail into its bag. Afterwards, I stayed on deck until changeover, watching wave after monstrous wave pick our comparatively tiny boat up and slam it down. Jokes about how it was nothing compared to the Southern Ocean lightened the mood. For me, it was the roughest weather I had ever been sailing in as an adult, and my continued awe of nature's force beguiled me. No one slept. Watch changeovers became even moodier than usual. Hatches dogged down meant sleeping was nearly impossible due to the heat and humidity below decks. On a good day, waking up in your bunk is always met with a constant wonder of what liquid lay pooled on your skin. Is it sea spray mixed with the attracted moisture from the air? Sweat? Tears? The extra heat combined with the violence of boat meeting crashing waves head on meant even half an hour of shut eyes was a dream come true.
The storm lightened up during the day yesterday, but winds continued to howl. After we crossed the equator without any fanfare, I tried to find solace in the fact that we were still moving, slowly making our way to the top of the rankings. As I took my turn at the helm, I started to enjoy the excitement and all but left my nervous fear behind. Then, we took an unanticipated wave to the port beam, and as I quickly turned the wheel hard to starboard to defend the boat from the shock, I watched as James's feet were swept out from under him as the starboard rail dove into the water. Thank god he was tethered. We only lost the galley slop bucket that he had been emptying over the side. I giggled nervously as we all joked that my attempts at losing James had failed, but within moments the gravity of the situation set in. I almost lost James. It is a moment I will probably never forget, as fleeting as it was. In one instant, I realized just how serious this all is.
Later that day, I was sent up to the foredeck to help out in a sail change. As if the ocean heard my prayers for a shower, she dumped a wave on me that lasted a lifetime. Suddenly, a hissing noise rang in my ears as my life jacket self inflated. We finished the sail change- me, with much difficulty due to the fact that I could no longer raise my arms beyond waist height and both sides of my face were squished in as if I were a chipmunk storing nuts in its cheeks- and through the night sailed with a single headsail and triple reefed main. Meg succombed to illness, as did Nick and I (though more to the drowsiness of our anti seasickness medication), and Herb was not on deck because he had been mother. Hemming was difficult for all of us and we rotated frequently. I must have fallen asleep instantly afterwards, and had to be wakened twice this morning. Today the routine of a steady 30 knot wind set in. We were all happy to be on deck- although Nick's meds were fightig an uphill battle and he sat curled up on the deck for the first half. The sun was out. The waves were more manageable. We were having fun. Then Meg went downstairs to do the log and slipped. She probably broke her tailbone, and will most likely be down for the count for the rest of the leg. That leaves us with 5 crew in our watch with no end in sight for a change from upwind to a wind angle more reasonable on the human soul.
Humorous moments remind us not to take things too seriously, however. In discussing Meg's injury, I managed to come up wih the gem, "yes, but that shit never heals right and then you live the rest of your life riding around with tiny pieces of bone in your ass." And later, as someone complained that the bilges weren't being dumped in a timely manner, I crawled in to do my duties and afterwards actually took a shower in the bilge...first in the oily bilge water that plopped out of the bucket on its way up the stairs, and then with proper soap and the hose from the galley sink with James's and Herb's help. The silver lining? I can no longer smell myself, which in my book is currently just about the biggest win I could have. Now, I'll watch a movie as writing this has stirred up some emotions that will probably make it impossible to sleep. Is it weird that I am still happier than I have ever been in my life?
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