Pride comes before a fall, but what comes after Complacency?
I can tell you when you are sailing; tearing one of your best and most important sails. The Skipper was calmly relaxing in his bunk, thinking that every thing's cool but a touch windy. The crew's on deck, thinking probably the same kind of thoughts. So the Skipper (being the skipper) has a bright idea. What about another reef in the mainsail? Well, the crew, being the crew, think that it is a splendid idea, and so the drama begins.
But first to set the scene. Cleone has an inner forestay, off which to fly our storm-sails, as I think I've already explained. Partly because the original place it was secured to when not in use has broken, and partly to make it more convenient should it be needed, when at sea this forestay is secured and tensioned to the strong-point on the deck designed for it when in use. The disadvantage to this is that when we tack, gybe or need to reef the sail, the easiest and safest way of doing this is to furl the Genoa. Despite the work involved (pulling the furling rope in a breeze is quite a challenge; ask the crew) there are two advantages to this; one it means (in theory at least) that the Genoa does not flap around the crew's head as they are working at the mast with the boat's head to wind, and also that the Genoa does not beat itself to death on the stays and mast at the same time. So, since on a leg like this we don't tack or gybe that often (though we do seem to reef and un-reef fairly often - say once or twice a day), it make sense. But yesterday, all this logic went out of the window (out of the porthole? Ed). In furling the Genoa preparatory to reefing the main (which, as it transpires, we should probably have done some time before), the lazy sheet became wrapped round the Genoa and forestay, and forced the Genoa onto the waiting spinnaker pole. By the time this was noticed, it was too late, and there was a six-foot tear in the Genoa.
Well you can imagine the scene that followed. A lot of swearing - obviously - helped enormously. But the crew responded well, and we rapidly unfurled the torn sail (counter-intuitively) and stripped it out of the forestay foil, shoving it unceremoniously down the fore-hatch. Continuing at the rapid rate, we next set the working jib. This gave us a bit of shelter to work behind, and soon the spare Genoa (in all its ancient glory) was flying bravely, drawing Cleone along once more at over 6 knots. There remained only to furl the working jib, and then there was leisure time to have a cup of tea and inspect the damage. We could needle-and-thread it, but on the other hand it is a complex tear, starting near the Clew as it does and moving along a seam towards the luff. So, since we are not anticipating any up-wind work for a bit, it's probably better to entrust it to a sail-maker straight away. It will have to be mended properly as soon as we can anyway, so any work we did would have to be undone, and might make matters worse. So we hope there is a good sailmaker available, either in the Marquesas or in Tahiti.
Apart from that, we've managed to make another 160 miles or so of progress. The wind has held up throughout the night and this morning, much as predicted for us by John Dyer and Commander's weather. A very nasty cross-sea (cross as in diagonal, not angry - Ed) developed during the night, making life pretty uncomfortable, particularly for those trying to sleep below (ask Elizabeth). But this morning, although the wind is much as before, the sea is much more even, and life is more comfortable.
So with that I will close.
All well and happy, but the Skipper is having to cook again. Yesterday's potato cakes from the hands of the Master (take a bow, Chris) will be impossible to match.
Best wishes,
James, Chris & Elizabeth
Yacht Cleone