Sunday 25^th January 2009

NO REST FOR THE WICKED

Last night, there certainly was no rest for the wicked. Given I was up all night I feel justified in providing you dear readers with a brief account of the night's events:

It's just turned midnight as we enter the wee dark hours of Sunday 25^th January.  Sam makes me a cup of tea to stir me in to a state of alert consciousness, for the spinnaker is up and the wind is gusting and it's now my watch, 12 midnight to 2.00am.  Suddenly, I hear a flapping on the deck deftly followed by an acute stench of fish. A flying fish has misguided its way on to the deck; with harness donned I went to rescue the poor thing, its wet wings and scaly body leaving an unpleasant residue on my hands.  But I saved a fish!

My watch unfolds uneventfully after that. The inky black seas offer me no troublesome waves or swells; the dark ghoulish clouds present no unyielding winds.  When Ian appears in the companionway at about 02.15, ready for his watch, I go to make him a cup of tea.  All is well, so far.

Suddenly, from the comfort of the galley I hear a clunk, slam, flap and clink, up on deck. Was it Ian changing the battery in his hearing aid?  Alas, no, as I jump in the cockpit I note that the spinnaker is dancing around the inner forestay as if it were a maypole.  The spinnaker pole is thudding against the forestay; in short we needed to get the sail down and fast.  Within minutes, Sam and I were on the foredeck buried under 1400 sq ft of red, white and blue spinnaker whilst Linds was in the cockpit. We soon realised that the guy (rope holding the pole out and connected to the spinnaker) had snapped, hence the pole had lurched forward and the spinnaker having lost the wind had proceeded to wrap itself around the forestay.

Malcs's head popped out of the forward heads (toilet) hatch, looking remarkably like a clanger. He squeaked instructions: 'rig a bowline on the end of the guy and hoist the spinnaker back up.' before disappearing back in to the comfort of his bunk.  It took Sam and I 15 minutes to untangle the spinnaker, hoisting it within the snuffer, and then releasing the sail to the freedom of the wind.

At 0300 we all trotted off to the comfort of our own bunks, save for Ian whose watch it was.  Adrenalin was coursing through me.  I just couldn't get to sleep.  Then suddenly I jolted up out of bed having felt a presence in my cabin, something had touched my foot. I looked; there was nothing.  Then 10 minutes later my curtain fell down.  I jumped up in fright.  Too much adrenalin and an overactive imagination I concluded before nestling down to watch a Friends episode on my ipod, followed by another episode?.. well insomnia had taken hold and was pervading my every being.  The wind was howling outside, the bow crashing through the waves.

Then, I heard a persistent thudding sound in my cabin.  I switched the light on; there was definitely something in my cabin!  Upon further inspection, I found a storm petrel looking disorientated and frightened.  I held it in the palm of my hand cooing at it gently considering whether I should wrap it up warmly so it could rest for the night or take it outside to fly yonder.  I decided on the latter, by which time Linds and Malcs had woken up to see what all the kafuffle was about.  Linds being as equally as mad as me joined in with the cooing and agreed we needed to set it free, after a photo shoot!  After a clumsy start, what with flying in to the bimini and then the boom, she seemed to flutter away; I just couldn't bear it if she'd just nose-dived!

This is all about 4ish in the morning and Malcy goes on watch.  Linds returns to bed, I watch another episode of Friends.  After 30 minutes, I can feel the wind whipping up and the boat crashing through the waves.  Bleary eyed I go up on deck.  Malcs asks if I can get my life jacket on in readiness for lowering the spinnaker; we were going 9.5 knots.

Linds and I sit in the cockpit on standby.  The wind dies down.  We're sent back to bed.

Alas, at 0600, the wind hits a peak of 30 knots and the boat goes careering down a wave.  Sam and I have standing orders to jump on deck, lower the spinnaker and rig the Twistle rig whilst Linds and Malcs man the cockpit.  By this time we've entered the gloomy dawn of Sunday.  The lowering of the spinnaker goes like clockwork (well it should do by now with all the practice we get!) and soon we have rigged the Twistle. 

At 0630 I email Cowes and the Bahia race team to log our position for their records.  At 0700 Malcs is still on watch and in fact stays on watch until 0900 as Linds has developed a blistering migraine and Sam seems to have fallen in to a deep sleep. 

Hi, I'm back.  The day has passed me by in a hazy whirl of sleepiness.  Malcs spoilt us with bangers and mash and caramelised onions for supper, delicious.  My watch finished at 12 midnight and I'm off to bed.  Goodnight!