A Little Low and Note on Feet

Day 130/8

Noon Position: 47 42S 169 36E

Course/Speed: NE7

Wind:WSW20

Bar: 1003, rising

Sea: W10

Sky: Broken, clearing

Cabin Temperature: 55

Water Temperature: 49

Sail: Twin headsails poled out

Noon to Noon Miles Made Good: 156 (now that’s more like it; over twice the distance of the last two days combined)

Miles this leg: 969

Avg. Miles this leg: 121

Miles since departure: 18,224

All night we rode the top of a low whose center was so far south, it fell off my weather chart. The forecast had called for 25 knot winds from the northwest turning west after midnight and then southwest by morning. Perfect winds for rounding a cape like New Zealand from the south. I thought we might run dead before it–headsails poled out–the whole way.

As we came to the bottom of The Traps, wind remained northwesterly, brisk and increasing. I canted the twin headsails a touch to starboard in an attempt to put some east in our course, but it was no good. Even double reefed, we were carrying too much sail, sail that seemed intent on dragging us south.

Yet I hung on.

It is a difficult flaws to overcome: sticking to a strategy, whether sail or course, past its usefulness in hopes that conditions will soon change.

By four in the morning, winds were a steady 30 with long pulls to near 40 and still northwest. Mo rolled gunnel to gunnel as if trying to shake off her press of canvas. But what made me rise and dress in foulies was that we had passed 48 South and were still going down. I had just turned May 1st–the northern equivalent of October 1st. The sun sets at six and doesn’t come back till after seven. This is no time to linger below 48 South.

I lowered the poles beneath a pale moon undercut by scud the color of ice. The sea was heavy and black, breaking with abandon, but happily, it hadn’t had time to develop height. Not yet. Earlier I’d caught a Stewart Island Maritime Radio forecast; gale warnings everywhere. You could see where this was going.

Back in the cockpit, I noticed we were making an easy 6 knots under bare poles. I sat and watched the night for a time as Mo enjoyed her relief; then set a tiny jib, put her head east and went to bed.

The low moved on by mid morning; by early afternoon it was clear with brisk winds from the southwest.

We’d made it round the bottom of New Zealand.

We’re now headed north and for home.

To celebrate our rounding of the cape, this morning I ate the last of the Hot Cross Buns. These were everywhere in Hobart during Easter. My wife’s favorite; mine too.

—

Temperatures have been falling steadily with our southing, which means cold management has become necessary again. We departed Hobart drenched in the warmth of Indian Summer with 70 degrees an easy average, but recently a cabin in the low 50s is more the norm, and there’s no heat save one’s own when we’re underway.

This means I’m back to wearing Ugg boots any time I’m not on deck. Feet in particular, once cold, take ages to rewarm. Often an hour’s nap in the afternoon in a thick, down bag is *not* enough time to warm lower extremities. So, the rule is that feet should never be bare, not even for a visit to the head; and thus, Uggs go on any time I rise in the night and first thing in the morning.

The pair I’m wearing has covered my feet across the top of the Arctic and (almost) around the world. A patch here and there has kept them going strong.