Cleone - Leg 16 Day 6 - Powered up

Spinnaker up, and off we go.

 

Bruce promised us lighter winds during the day, and so it proved.  So just after dawn, the Skipper hauled the Blue Spinnaker Bag on deck, and then spent ten minutes sorting out the spider's web of ropes and poles that are needed to set the thing.  But soon the windward black guy was through the pole and it and the red sheet loosely placed around their winches, the pole was level (almost) and just above head-height, held in place on the mast by its up-hauls and down hauls, and once the halyard, sheets and guys had been clipped to the spinnaker itself, the fun began.  Set the pole by pulling back on the windward guy, empty the spinnaker out of its bag, remember to throw the bag down into the cabin (otherwise it blows away never to be seen again), pull lustily on the halyard and up she goes (make sure it's around a winch, or you will soon be half-way up the mast, with the spinnaker moving back towards the deck).  Cleat it off, then dash back to the cockpit, check the guy is secure and that the downhaul is secure (otherwise the outboard end of the pole shoots uselessly towards the sky), and then wind like mad on the sheet.  Bang; the spinnaker is full of breeze and the boat accelerates.  Ease the sheet, furl the Genoa and then sit back and enjoy the ride. 

 

Only it is never quite like that.  First you have to go back to the foredeck and coil the halyard and the uphauls.  Then back to the cockpit to try and separate six sheets, two downhauls, one furling line, two running back-stay lines, one mainsheet and the Mizzen Gybe Preventer, and keep them all neatly stowed but handy.  The helmsman at this point is fighting to hold the given course, whilst the spinnaker blows strongly and wildly about from side to side in the flickering breeze, knocked off balance, too, by the lumpy swell.  Ease the pole forward, ease the spinnaker sheet, tighten the mainsheet, ease the gybe preventer, pole back a bit, cleat off the main boom gybe preventer and finally gently sheet in the Mizzen a touch.  She's balanced.  Seven and a half knots are showing on the log and the steering is as light as a feather.  But as the wind backs and veers, we are soon off course, and the whole process begins again.  However, the results are worth it.  In a breeze that softened throughout the night, we have managed to average over six knots, and now that the morning has bought a bit more life to it, we are once more bucketing along at seven knots or so.

 

We have broken no records today, but 159 miles run is a pretty good total.  We have less that 300 miles to Cocos, and, if we are lucky and the wind does not ease as much as predicted, we could get there before dark on the 25th.  Here's hoping, and lets hang onto that spinnaker as long as we dare.

 

The only fly - inevitably - in this promising pot of ointment is the evening meal.  Yes, you got it, the Skipper's duty chef!  But at least we will have a proper lunch.  Alex is very quiet - he's writing.  It's wonderful to see a professional at work - furrowed brow, bearded chin being scratched every so often, fingers flying across computer keys followed by long stabs at the delete button.  Would it were as easy for the rest of us.  Chris steering, Skipper muttering, and only a kettle taking flight across the cabin today.  It made a lot less mess than a pot of yoghurt, I assure you, even if a chart did get a tiny bit damp, causing the Skipper to go ape.  It's only a piece of paper, I ask you (yes, but a very important.  If we can't read the chart how on earth do we know where we are? - Ed).