May 11



“I been rocked by the wind, driven by the blow,

I’m drunk and dirty, but don’t you know that I’m still…sailing.”


Sorry, Linda.  I had to change the words.  Actually sorry to whoever wrote that classic.  Lefty?  Tom T?  It’s the ear worm du jour.


So the plan was to motor like mad today, starting at first light.   There was supposed to be no wind all day, according to Predict Wind.  Then the wind was supposed to shift to the west, giving me a nice push once around the point to Savusavu.  Ah yes, the best laid plans…


Woke up at five to torrential rain (again).  JFC what is it with this rain?  Then I heard the rigging start to sing.  Uh-oh.  Then the boat started to hobby horse.  Then it went from a hobby to a vocation.  So much for the plan.  Looks like I’m sticking it out at anchor again.  Good news is I have a mud bottom and a great set; I’m not dragging, at least.


8 am.  Vocation went to obsession.  The wires inside the mast are banging like bells.  A quick glance outside indicates nothing wrong, so back into the cabin I go.  My poor old snubber rope.  I didn’t put the bridle on last night because it was so calm.  So the three-strand snubber with the hook is on the anchor chain, taking all the brunt of the swells.


Yeah, the other side of ‘I’m in good shape on mud’ is that I’m in 25 feet of water with deep water to windward.  Which means swells as the water shallows, where I be, mateys.   


So, what to do?  I know!   Make pancakes!


10:30. The weather gods are teasing me.  Starting to see some blue sky, the winds have died somewhat.  Do I stay or do I go?  (Quick - what song?). The trouble is, there is no identifiable anchorage short of 40 miles away to duck into in case the wind picks up.  I want to make that in one shot - that means an early am departure and I’ve already missed it.  Prudence dictates a day at anchor.  Dave says ‘fuck it, let’s go.’  


Prudence wins again. Dammit.

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