March 13, 2019

Day 160

Noon Position: 52 16S  95 31W

Course(t)/Speed(kts): ESE 7

Wind(t/tws): NWxN 17-30

Sea(t/ft): NW 8

Sky: Overcast, solid slate gray

10ths Cloud Cover: 10

Bar(mb): 1011, steady

Cabin Temp(f): 57

Water Temp(f): 46

Relative Humidity(%): 81

Sail: Working jib, two reefs.

Noon-to-Noon Miles Made Good (nm): 157

Miles since departure: 21,969

Avg. Miles/Day: 137

Days since Cape Horn: 103

Miles since Cape Horn: 14,328

Avg. Miles/Day: 139

Longitude Degrees Made Good (degrees minutes): 3 54

Total Longitude Made Good Since Cape Horn (degrees minutes): 334 02

Avg. Long./Day: 3.24

Miles to Cape Horn: 930

A photogenically dull day. For the sake of color, I have added an orange winch handle to the Mo header shot. Otherwise our world is slate gray above and steel blue below. We have a fast but cold wind. I can see my breath.

All morning we ran with the working jib poled to port and the big genoa free to starboard. After noon, I decided to shift from the poled-out sail to the main. Wind had veered into the north and was strengthening.

Three feet from the third reef, the main halyard jammed, and tug as I might, it would not budge. Had to climb half way up the mast and tie-in a down haul line, which I took to a winch. Pop. And down she slid.

I’ve had this problem before and thought I had it solved (halyard kinking at the sheave–I now check the line religiously). Today I don’t know. Maybe the load of wind we had over port side pulled the halyard out of its sheave.

I hauled the main back up. By this time it was blowing over 30 knots and looked to be building. Mo was overpowered. I hauled the main back down and lashed it up for heavy weather. Wind dropped to 25 knots.

It pleases me to provide such entertainment for the gods.

—

Today we passed within spitting distance of not one but two earlier waypoints. In the photo of the chart plotter screen, the blue “x” to the upper left is our noon position from December 16, 2017. We were on final approach to Cape Horn on day 49 of the first Figure 8 attempt. Within two days, we would encounter our first big blow–50 gusting 70; within four days, I’d be hand steering for Ushuaia.

The red “x” next to it is today’s noon position, and the red “x” to the upper right of the photo is noon on November 23, 2018, day 53 of our first approach to Cape Horn on this second attempt. We were five days from rounding and making fast time. That noon was 111 days ago. Since then we’ve made the circuit and returned and are possibly but a week from Cape Horn again.

March 12, 2019

Day 159

Noon Position: 51 17S  99 25W

Course(t)/Speed(kts): ESE 6+

Wind(t/tws): NWxN 10 – 20

Sea(t/ft): NW 4

Sky: Altocumulus and Stratus

10ths Cloud Cover: 10

Bar(mb): 1011+

Cabin Temp(f): 57

Water Temp(f): 46

Relative Humidity(%): 75

Sail: Working jib poled to port, Big genoa free to starboard; two reefs each.

Noon-to-Noon Miles Made Good (nm): 113

Miles since departure: 21, 812

Avg. Miles/Day: 137

Days since Cape Horn: 102

Miles since Cape Horn: 14,171

Avg. Miles/Day: 139

Longitude Degrees Made Good (degrees minutes): 2 51

Total Longitude Made Good Since Cape Horn (degrees minutes): 330 08

Avg. Long./Day: 3.24

Miles to Cape Horn: 1090

A slow night but a fast day. Wind has filled in from the NW, and I’m meeting it with both headsails. Even with reefs, they are big and billowy and we scoot along at seven knots.

Clear skies give way to fog which clears and then reforms. But sun or no sun, it’s cooling down quickly, more quickly than the above daily temperatures indicate. I’m back to insulated rubber boots and an extra layer of fleece. The cabin was 50 degrees when I woke. If this descent to the Horn is like the last, it will be below 45 in the mornings soon.

—

A monumental event yesterday. My one-beer-per-night ritual was dramatically altered when I consumed the last beer.

Well, not quite. I still have a flat of light, lemony stuff I dislike, which is being saved for our climb into the tropics.

But the last good beer has gone the way of all … malts.

We departed San Francisco with 186 cans of brew aboard, and they took up so much space and contributed so much to overall weight, I just couldn’t fathom putting on one more can, though I knew they wouldn’t last the voyage.

It was the right decision, but I rather regret it now.

This event has led, today, to reflections upon my overall consumption of provisions in the first 159 days of the Figure 8 2.0 and how much lighter Mo must be now than on departure day.

The back-of-the-envelope math looks something like this.

Food Stuffs Consumed

-Canned goods: 3 cans per day at approximately 1lb per = 477lbs of canned goods consumed.

-Dry Grains: 22lbs of Muesli, 9lbs of pasta; 6lbs of Quinoa; 4lbs of Polenta = 41lbs.

-Crackers, cakes, flour for bread baking, etc. = 15 lbs.

-Clif Bars: 238 consumed (1.5 per day) at 2.4oz per = 35lbs.

-Coffee: 15 12oz bags = 11lbs.

-Dry Milk: 5 3lb cans = 15lbs.

TOTAL WEIGHT OF FOOD CONSUMED = 594lbs.

Liquids Consumed

-100 gallons of water. (We’ve consumed approximately 159 gallons but caught about 50, so the net is around 100.) At 8.34lbs per gallon, water weight consumed = 834lbs.

-159 cans of beer. At 16oz per can, that’s 20 gallons of beer. Using above weight-of-water figure yields 166lbs.

-10 bottles of wine. A 750ml bottle is a fifth of a gallon; so two gallons of wine consumed = 17lbs.

TOTAL WEIGHT OF LIQUIDS CONSUMED = 1,017lbs.

Fuel Burned

-1.5 20lb tanks of propane = 30lbs.

-90 gallons of diesel. At 7.5lbs per gallon = 675lbs.

TOTAL WEIGHT OF FUEL BURNED = 705lbs.

How much lighter is Mo today than when she departed San Francisco five and a half months ago?

A ton!

Well, 2,316lbs, to be exact.

March 11, 2019

Day 158

Noon Position: 50 41S  102 16W

Course(t)/Speed(kts): E 4

Wind(t/tws): N 8 – 10

Sea(t/ft): NW 3

Sky: Fog

10ths Cloud Cover: 10

Bar(mb): 1002+

Cabin Temp(f): 57

Water Temp(f): 48

Relative Humidity(%): 78

Sail: Big genoa and main, full. Reaching on port tack.

Noon-to-Noon Miles Made Good (nm): 127

Miles since departure: 21,699

Avg. Miles/Day: 137

Days since Cape Horn: 101

Miles since Cape Horn: 14,058

Avg. Miles/Day: 139

Longitude Degrees Made Good (degrees minutes): 3 09

Total Longitude Made Good Since Cape Horn (degrees minutes): 327 17

Avg. Long./Day: 3.24

Becalmed.

The night was clear, the north wind, cold, and stars twinkled with an icy intensity. But by daybreak we were enveloped in a thick, drippy fog that slowly smothered everything except the north swell on which Mo rolled luxuriously. By afternoon I dropped the sails, else they’d rip themselves to shreds.

Wind was due to come from the NW by evening, so I rigged both poles in anticipation. While lowering the port pole, the deck came alive with the tapping of tiny balls the size, shape, and nearly the color of English peas. The end cap on the pole car had split open, spilling its bearings.

The thing is I knew last week that it had split. I distinctly recall lowering the car to deck level so I could tighten the fasteners on the hinge assembly. I saw the crack, even touched it with my index finger. I thought, “I’ll have to fix that.” Then I didn’t.

Why not?

I have had these end caps split before. I know that once cracked, it won’t be long before they fail altogether. Moreover, I had recently seen its replacement while searching The Hardware Store (forepeak locker full of spares) for a different part. Yet I did nothing. It’s not as though I intended to let it fail first. I simply saw and forgot. I didn’t even add it to the chores list.

It’s a minor job, the fix, and it’s not as if we had a race to lose today. But it has me worried. What other maintenance issues have I unconsciously deferred? We are coming to the pinnacle of this section of the voyage. There are plenty of failures that could be damned inconvenient right about 56S and 68W.

Am I lazy? Too tired? Overwrought? Answer: I don’t know.

“You just made a mistake is all,” says a voice. Sure. I get that. But when you depend on your own actions for your survival, such mistakes can be costly.

The pole is repaired and back in service. Sails are out and softly filling. The wind is west, 11 knots. The sun has set. And we go. But ever so painfully, painfully slowly.

March 10, 2019

Day 157

Noon Position: 50 01S  105 25

Course(t)/Speed(kts): ESE 6

Wind(t/tws): NExN 23 – 27

Sea(t/ft): NNE 6

Sky: Rain

10ths Cloud Cover: 10

Bar(mb): 1000+ falling slowly

Cabin Temp(f): 57

Water Temp(f): 49

Relative Humidity(%): 80

Sail: Working jib and main, three reefs; close reaching on port

Noon-to-Noon Miles Made Good (nm): 144

Miles since departure: 21,572

Avg. Miles/Day: 137

Days since Cape Horn: 100

Miles since Cape Horn: 13,931

Avg. Miles/Day: 139

Longitude Degrees Made Good (degrees minutes): 3 28

Total Longitude Made Good Since Cape Horn (degrees minutes): 324 08

Avg. Long./Day: 3.24

All morning we close reached to the SE and into a hard northeasterly. Two reefs, then three. By noon a sea was building, and I was on the verge of putting up the small staysail when everything shifted.

Wind went from NE to NW in a matter of five minutes. During the transition, wind speeds nearly touched forty, and then backed down the seventeen. Within fifteen minutes, the windward sky, which had been low, dark, ragged and pumping with rain, cleared; within half an hour, there wasn’t a cloud to be seen. Wind filled in to twenty on the quarter; I shook out the reefs, and again we fly SE.

—

By evening, we will have sailed 21,600 miles since departing San Francisco last fall. Those gentle readers with seafaring inclinations will know that number to be the circumference of the globe in nautical miles. In term of distance alone, we have circumnavigated as of today.

But of course, we haven’t. Our “There and Back” is still in the “There” stage. We’re still in that tricky bit leading up to the closing of the first of the Figure 8’s loops.

Miles to Cape Horn: fewer than 1,400 now. Close enough that I can see the boat icon and the massive peninsula, Tierra Del Fuego, on the same chart plotter screen. Today we dipped into the screaming 50s, where we will stay for the duration, which I am hoping to be in the neighborhood of ten days, Neptune and Aeolus and Mo willing.

One hundred days in the roaring forties as of today and all is well. I’m still hungry and eat like a horse. I still sleep like the dead but also dream vividly in my ninety minute stints. My shoulders, which have been very sore and brittle for months, are feeling better (no idea why; they’ve been getting more of a workout recently). My sit bone, injured in a bad fall on the foredeck a month ago, is still delicate, but now the pain is nothing but a gentle reminder to move carefully and with intention.

I could do with a clean change of clothes; also dry would be appreciated, but I still have plenty of layers with which to stay warm.

I will admit this last leg has become a grind and that some of the poetry is lost in repetition upon a theme. I long to be anchored in a fine cove, to row ashore and hike among pine scented forests; to hear a warbler. A warbler! Oddly, the southern Pacific is empty in comparison to its sister oceans. Empty of birds, I mean, but this is likely due to its also being empty of high latitude islands.

My visit to this alternate planet, this austral ocean world, has been long and difficult. But as my friend, Tony Gooch, wrote recently, “Be sure to enjoy your slant towards Cape Horn; soak up the seas; admire the sky; this may be your last time in the great south.”

And I promised to do so.

March 9, 2019

Day 156

Noon Position: 49 08S  108 52W

Course(t)/Speed(kts): ESE 6

Wind(t/tws): NWxW 12

Sea(t/ft): W 5

Sky: Squalls; we’re nailed about once per hour

10ths Cloud Cover: 5

Bar(mb): 1000+ rising

Cabin Temp(f): 59

Water Temp(f): 49 (note dropping temp)

Relative Humidity(%): 70

Sail: Twins, poled full

Noon-to-Noon Miles Made Good (nm): 136 (lost an hour because I moved to zone time GMT-8)

Miles since departure: 21,428

Avg. Miles/Day: 137

Days since Cape Horn: 99

Miles since Cape Horn: 13,787

Avg. Miles/Day: 139

Longitude Degrees Made Good (degrees minutes): 3 13

Total Longitude Made Good Since Cape Horn (degrees minutes): 320 40

Avg. Long./Day: 3 .24

Two reasons to be pleased with the day.

For starters, the sailing has been grand. I poled out the twin headsails about midnight last night and didn’t touch them until a hour before sunset today. I know that my friend Eric Moe desperately wants me to fly the spinnaker while we’re in the south (“Give puffy a chance,” were his words), and I know that the Commodore would also prefer the spinnaker because it isn’t prone to making the boat roll, but the twins poled out are set-and-forget. And for a guy who’s done nothing but haul a line for the last three days, the “forget” part of that equation is grand.

It also doesn’t hurt that we’ve been frothing a deep blue sea under pale blue skies with (ok, I’ll admit) a number of squalls. But today the squalls carried no punch, and after the first three, I stopped watching for them.

The second reason to be pleased is that I got important maintenance work done on Monte.

The folks at Scanmar recommend replacing the Monitor’s plastic parts about every 15,000 miles (think San Francisco to New Zealand and back). Well, we blew by that number a month and a half ago, and still Monte is minding the tiller all day every day.

The effect of all these extra miles is that he’s gotten a bit loose in the knees–functional, but not quite his peppy self. As these next few weeks are critical, and very tough winds, likely, I took the opportunity of a gentle day to give my friend a little make-over.

By “loose in the knees” I mean that the bushings and bearings in the actuator arm and around the watervane support shaft have worn, causing play in the system and a worrying rattle. Replacing them is no big deal…except when one is hanging over the stern on a boat in a seaway. Drop it, whatever it my be, and it’s gone forever.

The challenge to the first job is that the black bushings of the actuator assembly are held in place by tiny bronze retainer rings. One false move on the part of the installer and they are likely to claim their freedom, however brief it may be.

The second job, inserting new bushings around the watervane support shaft, is equally delicate. This one is best done with Monte engaged and requires one push the shaft (a 1-inch stainless steel rod) slightly forward in order to dig out the worn bushing. This shaft is the heart of the Monitor system, and the false move here could actually spill the shaft, all its many bearings, and the gears into the drink–a bracing image when one is in the middle of nowhere.

Both jobs successful. And Monte is Senior Esmoove and Esuave once again.

March 8, 2019

Day 155

Noon Position: 48 21S  112 05W

Course(t)/Speed(kts): ESE 6

Wind(t/tws): WSW 25 – 30

Sea(t/ft): W 6

Sky: Cumulus, some cotton ball, some heavy with squall

10ths Cloud Cover: 10

Bar(mb): 995+

Cabin Temp(f): 57

Water Temp(f): 51

Relative Humidity(%): 71

Sail: Working jib, two reefs, broad reaching

Noon-to-Noon Miles Made Good (nm): 141

Miles since departure: 21,292

Avg. Miles/Day: 137

Days since Cape Horn: 98

Miles since Cape Horn: 13,651

Avg. Miles/Day: 139

Longitude Degrees Made Good (degrees minutes): 3 16

Total Longitude Made Good Since Cape Horn (degrees minutes): 317 27

Avg. Long./Day: 3.24

It’s a good job I like sailing, because that’s all this is over the last few days. Haul a line, crank a winch, reef and unreef; grab a can of something from the cupboard and get back on deck.

Overnight winds veered from NW to NNE and built to 25. By 3am I was putting second reefs in anything I could find. The barometer had dropped again, from 1001 to 996. Heavy rain.

At 5am it was dropping still, now 995. As I crawled back into my warm sleeping bag, I was reminded of the sailor’s proverb, “With a low and falling glass, soundly sleeps the careless ass.” But I just wanted one more hour.

I put a third reef in the main before coffee and also rigged for rain catch. Five more gallons in the tank by 10am. That brings total catch to 47 gallons. Soon, it should be enough.

The day has been similar. From NW all the way to SWxW and back. Winds to 30. Also to 15. Clear skies, then squalls, then cotton ball cumulus. A lovely day, if it weren’t for the unrelenting change.

At one point I took a photo from the bow, all dark cloud; then I turned and took a photo from the stern, all blue sky and soft cumulus. That about sums it up.

What appears to be happening is that we’re in the middle of a massive low pressure system. Not the eye, as such, but an area of constant low pressure and a mix of winds. As strong winds circle around us but many miles away, here winds are converging and rising and causing all kinds of mayhem in the troposphere.

It’s also noticeably colder.

This was all due to dissolve this afternoon and give me a fine breeze from WxN, dead astern. No such luck. Still lots of south.

I’m on edge. The approach to Cape Horn will be long, at least twelve more days of this. And the further south we get, the risker it gets. Weather will intensify. There will be no north to run to. And all of Chile will soon be lee. Small comfort: no other way around but down.

March 7, 2019

Day 154

Noon Position: 47 29S  115 21W

Course(t)/Speed(kts): ESE 6

Wind(t/tws): NW 14 – 17

Sea(t/ft): NW 5

Sky: High haze

10ths Cloud Cover: 5

Bar(mb): 1005+, slowly rising

Cabin Temp(f): 63

Water Temp(f): 50

Relative Humidity(%): 68

Sail: Twins poled out

Noon-to-Noon Miles Made Good (nm): 141

Miles since departure: 21,151

Avg. Miles/Day: 137

Days since Cape Horn: 97

Miles since Cape Horn: 13,510

Avg. Miles/Day: 139

Longitude Degrees Made Good (degrees minutes): 3 27

Total Longitude Made Good Since Cape Horn (degrees minutes): 314 11

Avg. Long./Day: 3.24

It’s good sailing today, but I wouldn’t mind just one type of breeze for a while; I mean, a man likes to do other things than crank a winch.

Slowly, and over the course of the day, wind has gone form W to N, but not evenly nor in one movement, but rather in fits and starts. North a bit, then back west; then north a bit more; nine knots and then nineteen. Twins poled out; twins down; twins out again; then big genoa and main on port tack; suddenly, the rail is in the water; so, big sail down and working jib out. Now we do seven knots. Great. Then the rail is in the water again and Mo takes off sideways; so, another reef in the main and a tuck in the jib. The wind drops to twelve.

Worse: this is all set to reverse. By morning, wind will be south.

Not sure when I’m going to get sleep tonight.

When flying the starboard pole this morning, my jury rig parted.

Some months ago, the latch mechanism that holds the pole to the rail car began to let go at inopportune moments. Just when I was heaving skyward, for example. Investigation showed that the latch receptor had worn down on both poles. I bolted the lock mechanism into the locked position. No effect.

Options for a jury rig are limited as the attachment needs to allow for at least 180 degrees of rotation. So, after thinking it through for a few days, I did the simplest thing. I tied a single loop of Dyneema twine between the pole and the car; the loop is loose enough to allow the pole its natural rotation and yet tight enough to keep the two units connected (single loop because the existing holes allowed exactly that).

One finally chafed through today and the pole came crashing down like a felled tree. Light wind, so no other breakage (to gear or sailor’s head). Jury rig back in place, but with a chafe-check schedule.

—

I’ve made the turn towards Cape Horn. Bearing: 107 true. 1802 miles.

Date: March 6, 2019

Noon Position: 47 19S  118 48W

Course: ESE 7

Wind: NW 21 – 34

Noon to Noon Miles: 155

Barometer: 997, falling

Sail: Working jib, heavily reefed.

Evening now. We’re in the heart of it, so just a quick note.

The barometer has been falling dramatically all day, from 1008mb at 2am to 995.5mb as I type. I’m hoping that’s the bottom, but I’ve been hoping that since 998mb.

Wind is *still* NW, which means that for hours now we’ve been stuck in the initial, NW phase of this low. I’m tired and wet through. A random sea struck Mo’s flank while I was in the cockpit chatting with Monte. A familiar sound. KATHWHACK! I duck but the wrong way, and great gallons of water slosh over my head and down my foulies. My last pair of dry fleece–no longer dry. One less thing to worry about.

I’ve been working the deck most of the day but can’t yet relax. The issue is Monte, or rather, the wind, which is cycling between 19 and 39. Monte feeds on apparent wind and speed through the water, and having both change so substantially within a 15 minute period is more than he’s designed to handle. I set his tiller lines one way, and we gybe loudly in the slower wind; another way and we race off, rounding up into the sea when wind increases. More sail, less sail; more tiller, less tiller–I’ve yet not found the balance.

The highly variable wind speed within lows is the most challenging environmental feature down here.

It’s starting to clear. Orion is now half above cloud. The wind howls. Back on deck.

March 5, 2019

Day 152

Noon Position: 47 09S  122 36W

Course(t)/Speed(kts): ExN 6 – 7

Wind(t/tws): WxS 14

Sea(t/ft): W 5

Sky: Clear

10ths Cloud Cover: 0

Bar(mb): 1015+

Cabin Temp(f): 63

Water Temp(f): 50

Relative Humidity(%): 71

Sail: Twins poled out full

Noon-to-Noon Miles Made Good (nm): 154

Miles since departure: 20,855

Avg. Miles/Day: 137

Days since Cape Horn: 95

Miles since Cape Horn: 13,214

Avg. Miles/Day: 139

Longitude Degrees Made Good (degrees minutes): 3 47

Total Longitude Made Good Since Cape Horn (degrees minutes): 306 56

Avg. Long./Day: 3.23

Clear night. Not a cloud. Orion is setting in the west; Scorpio, full and bright in the east, is rising. I trace out all the star paths I know and then try to identify the outliers. Why can’t I find Miaplacidus, for example? Or Atria?

A solitary star deep in the south is, I think, Achernar, which we’ve not seen since coming down the Pacific three months ago; it will eventually lead to Diphda and on to the great, sign-post constellation, Pegasus. But that won’t be until we begin our climb into the Atlantic.

At 3am, wind spikes. I’m in my bunk when I feel Mo lay way over. I race on deck. Horizontal rain. A squall. I dash into my foulies and boots, but by the time I return to the cockpit, the apocalypse is over. There is not a remnant of cloud to be seen, and the stars twinkle as if nothing had happened.

Sunup brings sunshine. And again, the sky is devoid of its gray and cumbersome cousin. A low is on the way and the horizon to windward is hazy, but all morning, unmitigated sun.

By noon I get the clue–it will be a sunny day, and I put out things to dry: rugs, sleeping bags, towels, foulies, and then sweep and mop the cabin. This was not on the to-do list. But one takes opportunities as they arise.

I should explain that we get plenty of sun down here, but its duration is typically brief at best. A night and a day without cloud; I can’t recall the last time we experienced that!

—

Today we passed through longitude 122W, and in so doing crossed directly under my home city, San Francisco. For a moment, it felt close, what with the warm day and cobalt blue water, but it is, in fact, a full 5,000 miles to the north. And we are not headed that way now in any case. Cape Horn is 2,117 miles further on, and our course is to the east.

March 4, 2019

Day 151

Noon Position: 47 15S  126 23W

Course(t)/Speed(kts): E 7

Wind(t/tws): NW 24

Sea(t/ft): NW 6

Sky: Altostratus with drizzle

10ths Cloud Cover: 10

Bar(mb): 1003, steady

Cabin Temp(f): 61

Water Temp(f): 51

Relative Humidity(%): 80

Sail: Working jib and main, two reefs, broad reaching.

Noon-to-Noon Miles Made Good (nm): 129

Miles since departure: 20,701

Avg. Miles/Day: 137

Days since Cape Horn: 94

Miles since Cape Horn: 13,060

Avg. Miles/Day: 139

Longitude Degrees Made Good (degrees minutes): 3 10

Total Longitude Made Good Since Cape Horn (degrees minutes): 302 09

Avg. Long./Day: 3.21

Today’s news: since rounding Cape Horn back on November 29, 2018, Mo has transited 302 meridians of longitude. The circle is closing. A mere 58 degrees of longitude left to go. A tough 58 degrees. Lots of fast wind in the forecast. Fast wind and a very specific and required amount of southing.

But this morning, an even, unperturbed sea, and so I quickly pounded out a couple important jobs in anticipation of this week’s heavy weather. One was to refresh the downhaul lanyard on Wattsy. I decided to go back to the old lanyard design because it is easier to install (chafing through seeming to be the rule here). Just put the low friction ring through the loop and tighten into a larkshead.

It turned out a neat little job (pictured). When installed, fail. Was too long. Remade it. When installed, fail, was still too long. Remade it. When installed … it wouldn’t install. Was too short. The ring wouldn’t fit through the loop. By this time it was mid morning. Can’t invest the whole day on this little bit of perfection. So, I gave up and went back to the old lanyard style, the one that requires I hang half way into the sea to lace it in place.

Wattsy is back on the job of pumping amps into Mo’s batteries.

Also refreshed Monte’s tiller lines and did other, now standard, heavy weather prep.

Wind has been mid twenties all day. We make a smooth 7 knots.

In the afternoon, spoke with Matt Rutherford. Our second talk. Good conversation on drogues. Fun to talk to a sailor. Actually, just fun to talk to a person who isn’t so god awful high minded as Monte.

Wind coming up now. A steady 28. Time for another reef in the working jib.

March 3, 2019

Day 150

Noon Position: 47 25S  129 33W

Course(t)/Speed(kts): E 7

Wind(t/tws): WNW 25

Sea(t/ft): NW W N to 8

Sky: Overcast with drizzle

10ths Cloud Cover: 10

Bar(mb): 993, rising slowly

Cabin Temp(f): 61

Water Temp(f): 52

Relative Humidity(%): 85

Sail: Working jib, 3 reefs; main, two reefs. Close reaching on port tack.

Noon-to-Noon Miles Made Good (nm): 102

Miles since departure: 20,572

Avg. Miles/Day: 137

Days since Cape Horn: 93

Miles since Cape Horn: 12,931

Avg. Miles/Day: 139

Longitude Degrees Made Good (degrees minutes): 2 30

Total Longitude Made Good Since Cape Horn (degrees minutes): 298 59

Avg. Long./Day: 3.22

Mo rode out a flash low today. That’s not, that I’m aware of, a meteorological term, but rather is how I describe a low that appears to develop and dissipate quickly right on your position. This one dropped down on us from just to the north and brought northerlies in the high 20s.

I cancelled an interview with Matt Rutherford for this morning so I could deal with a day of dynamic happenings and felt bad because winds were simply brisk at that moment.

Really, I anticipated no sea, given it was all happening right here. Quite wrong. We’ve been working through short but upright seas from several directions for hours. Mo, thrown to the gunnels regularly. Randall, holding on with both hands any time he’s not propped into a corner.

Also wrong: that it would be of short duration. Winds stayed high until sunset.

Also wrong: that wind would stay NW (that’s the forecast talking now). Winds are currently well south of west. I’m running wing and wing, and it would take an hour to wear around. So, for the moment we’re riding out a course ENE when all we want is east.

—

Batteries are low. The downhaul lanyard on the Watt and Sea parted, again, and about four hours into today’s charging cycle. It seems I get about a month’s service out of that lanyard, and then it chafes through on something I have yet to discover. Not the kind of day to be hanging over the stern. Hopefully can get to it tomorrow.

March 2, 2019

Day 149

Noon Position: 42 29S  132 03W

Course(t)/Speed(kts): SExS 4

Wind(t/tws): ExN 11

Sea(t/ft): NE 4+

Sky: Overcast with Drizzle

10ths Cloud Cover: 10

Bar(mb): 1007

Cabin Temp(f): 61

Water Temp(f): 54

Relative Humidity(%): 81

Sail: Working jib and main full, close hauled on port (tacked around an hour later)

Noon-to-Noon Miles Made Good (nm): 121

Miles since departure: 20,470

Avg. Miles/Day: 137

Days since Cape Horn: 92

Miles since Cape Horn: 12,829

Avg. Miles/Day: 139

Longitude Degrees Made Good (degrees minutes): 2 48

Total Longitude Made Good Since Cape Horn (degrees minutes): 296 29

Avg. Long./Day: 3.22

Wind veered into the east slowly but steadily overnight. By 6am, our heading was ESE and by noon, SExS, this though we were close hauled. Worse, on that course, we were bound for a rendezvous with 48S.

Getting “trapped” too far south is a danger-to-be-avoided that was carved into my skull after the Indian Ocean knockdown last year. There I’d let headwinds push us all the way to 50S before tacking around. This meant Mo hadn’t the time she needed to get over the top of the low which stove in a pilot house window.

Today, I tacked around at 47 and a half south. Now we pound into a short but stubborn four-foot sea. Mo makes four knots north and a touch east in a wind dead east in the teens.

A deeply frustrating situation.

Big weather is on the way, and being essentially stopped, as we are, means I’ve lost much of my ability to control our position in it. The first low looks to be developing right on top of us by tomorrow noon. Winds to forty. That low won’t have had much time to whip up a sea, so I’m less worried about it than the large and mature low that will overtake us in four days. We were marginally ahead of its stronger winds before today. Now, decidedly not.

And none of today’s easterly is in the damned forecast. I had a wry chuckle recalling the fulminations of Sir Robin Knox-Johnson during his 1968 solo circumnavigation down here. Then his protest was against the inaccuracy of Pilot Charts (charts of average ocean wind directions and force by month), which predicted one wind but delivered another. Much of the data for those charts, by the way, was at least a hundred years by Sir Robin’s time, having been painstakingly gathered and published by Lt. Matthew Fontaine Maury in the mid 19th century.

Now I fulminate against GSM GRIB forecasts, whose data is gathered continuously by satellite and fed into a global weather simulator, which produces a new forecast every six hours.

And it still misses.

—

As I type, wind goes to 5 knots from the east. We heave but do not pound. Mo wanders. Sails are starting to slat. With no sun and no speed, we have gone the day without charging. I should sign off…

March 1 , 2019

Day 148

Noon Position: 46 49S  134 51W

Course(t)/Speed(kts): ExS 7

Wind(t/tws): NxW 20

Sea(t/ft): NW 4

Sky: Altostratus, frontal clouds

10ths Cloud Cover: 10

Bar(mb): 1017+, falling slowly

Cabin Temp(f): 64

Water Temp(f): 52

Relative Humidity(%): 70

Sail: Main and working jib, two reefs, close reaching on port tack.

Noon-to-Noon Miles Made Good (nm): 144

Miles since departure: 20,349

Avg. Miles/Day: 138

Days since Cape Horn: 91

Miles since Cape Horn: 12,708

Avg. Miles/Day: 140

Longitude Degrees Made Good (degrees minutes): 3 30

Total Longitude Made Good Since Cape Horn (degrees minutes): 293 41

Avg. Long./Day: 3.23

Rhumb line course to Cape Horn, 2,574 nm. About the distance from San Francisco to Hawaii, a route I’ve run several times. Such a comparison makes the Horn seem close. But those “to Hawaii” miles and our “to the Horn” miles are very different: the Horn is still quite far off and the intervening weather and requisite southing, a big challenge.

But it’s March, MARCH! I remember distinctly doing the around-the-bottom math just after Mo’s first Cape Horn rounding. Then March seemed a likely second-approach month–but an impossibly remote future. Now it is the future. Makes me shiver to think it.

No mistakes now, please. No major gear failures. Don’t push too hard. Give up on your precious daily average figures. Just focus on getting around. Keep the boat fit for getting around. That’s all that counts.

—

It was a two reef kind of night, and it’s been a three reef kind of day. Winds have been edging into the north and increasing incrementally since about midnight, when I gave up, got up and got kitted up to put a second reef in the main.

We had stars early. I thought how pleasant it will be to do some star hunting in the cockpit over a beer. But ten minutes later, the stars were gone, erased by cloud cover I hadn’t even seem coming. That’s how fast things change down here.

Mo is close reaching into a minimal sea, but it doesn’t take much head sea to pound, and that’s been our lot today. With the boat on her ear and bucking freely, I’ve not got much done. A little sewing job on the clear hatch covers. A little reorganization of a cupboard. A lot of eating. Some reading. And long rests in between.

—

This wind will keep veering east, and soon Mo will be headed south. How much to let that happen is the question for the night. There are powerful (and welcome) westerlies on the way, but I don’t wish to tempt them overly by being too, too much in their path.

February 27, 2019

Day 146

Noon Position: 46 43s  140 30W

Course(t)/Speed(kts): ExN 7

Wind(t/tws): SWxS 25

Sea(t/ft): W 7

Sky: Towering cumulus and squalls

10ths Cloud Cover: 5

Bar(mb): 1020+

Cabin Temp(f): 63

Water Temp(f): 55

Relative Humidity(%): 70

Sail: Working jib poled starboard, main out to port. Broad reach.

Noon-to-Noon Miles Made Good (nm): 146

Miles since departure: 20,117

Avg. Miles/Day: 138

Days since Cape Horn: 89

Miles since Cape Horn: 12,476

Avg. Miles/Day:

Longitude Degrees Made Good (degrees minutes): 3 32

Total Longitude Made Good Since Cape Horn (degrees minutes): 288 02

Avg. Long./Day: 3.24

Twenty-thousand miles sailed since departing San Francisco in October of last year, the equivalent of traveling that city to New York city ten times over. It seems a big number. Also, it seems *just* a number, one of many to be appreciated briefly as we pass.

—

Last night, I found Arcturus, a star I think of as belonging to the northern sky.

2am. I’m on deck launching the starboard pole for the working genoa. Winds are moderating and backing quickly; the sky is clear, and without her moon, dark, save for the pinpoints of pale, blue light.

Rare it is that I see such sights from the roaring forties. I’m on deck at night in all types of foul weather, but if it’s fair, I’m probably sleeping.

With sail trimmed and taut, I paused to inspect my surroundings. To the west, Orion was setting, and Leo had shifted into Orion’s start-of-the-night position. The Southern Cross tilted high above Mo’s starboard bow. Corvus hung in the sky to port.

And then there it was, a solitary bright light near the NE horizon. Arcturus, Guardian of the Bear.

It’s called that because of its proximity to the Ursas, Major and Minor, known by most of us as the Big and Little Dipper. This association is what makes Arcturus, for me, a northern star, for we follow the edge of the Big Dipper up to find Polaris, the North Star, and we take its handle down and around to Arcturus. “Arc to Arcturus and Spica” is the mnemonic.

From here, I have two paths to Arcturus. It is at the end of a line drawn from Procyon (found just off Orion’s Betelgeuse shoulder) through Leo’s Regulus and Denebola. Or I can use the small end of the constellation Corvus to find Spica and then move on to Arcturus.

It is this latter route that is the most compelling, for one can also follow the broad end of Corvus down to the Southern Cross, and thereby connect the two hemispheres using Arcturus as the hinge.

And too, there was the romance of seeing a star visible at that moment to my family at home. Joanna, I fantasized, could walk out onto the porch and gaze at a object I was also gazing at, though we are separated by over 80 degrees of latitude.

–

Nights have been busy of late, and sleep, erratic. Tonight will be the same. Winds will diminish and back into the south, requiring several sail adjustments in the wee hours. I’m running a bit on fumes, so tried a full-on, in-my-bunk nap this afternoon. Typically, I can fall asleep anywhere…except in my bunk during daylight hours. But I think today I was successful.

February 26, 2019

Day 145

Noon Position: 46 38S  144 02W

Course(t)/Speed(kts): ExS 4

Wind(t/tws): SWxW 11

Sea(t/ft): SW 4

Sky: Clear, the Squalls

10ths Cloud Cover: 5

Bar(mb): 1016, rising slowly

Cabin Temp(f): 61

Water Temp(f): 53

Relative Humidity(%): 67

Sail: Big genoa and main, full. Reaching.

Noon-to-Noon Miles Made Good (nm): 122

Miles since departure: 19,971

Avg. Miles/Day: 138

Days since Cape Horn: 88

Miles since Cape Horn: 12,330

Avg. Miles/Day: 140

Longitude Degrees Made Good (degrees minutes): 2 58

Total Longitude Made Good Since Cape Horn (degrees minutes): 284 30

Avg. Long./Day: 3.23

Can’t remember a day when I spent more time on deck.

Was reefed way down overnight. Winds were in the middle twenties from the south, which we carried foreward of the beam and plenty healed over. I had difficulty crawling out of my bunk for the routine deck inspections.

Unfortunately, wind didn’t hold into the day. I launched the big genoa after coffee, but we were soon overtaken by squalls, which required I spend the entire morning on deck easing the main as a troll lumbered over us and reeling it back in as it passed. Every hour velocities changed as much as 20 knots; direction, as much as 90 degrees. Busy time, but I was unwilling to take in the big sails. We needed the speed.

In fairness, it was a lovely day for such exercises. The sky that was not squally contained cottonball cumulus gliding over a cobalt sea, and plenty of sun shone on my many wet things spread on deck to dry.

The afternoon has continued the variability theme, but without the trolls. Things are steadier. But to windward looks ragged. I think it may be a busy night.

—

I found these notes on the cabin sole this morning…

WESTERLIES FOR BREAKFAST

Monte and Randall are seated at a diner. A waitress approaches.

Waitress: (to Monte) What can I get ya, hon?

Monte: Señora, for me, I will have the twelve-pancake-eight-bacon-six-sausage-five-potato-and-four-egg-fry-up-Dura-Breakfast. With a small side of spinach.

Waitress: So, the number three for you?

Monte: No, one only. And an espresso.

Waitress: (yelling to the kitchen) Mac, we got an espresso machine?

Mac: (pointing) Ya, it’s right next to the milk dispenser.

Waitress: That’s an orange juice machine.

Mac: Well, if that ain’t it, Marge, then we ain’t got one.

Waitress: (to Monte) Mac says the espresso machine is out for repairs.

Monte: Then I’ll have a Madeira.

Waitress: (to Randall) And you, hon, what do you want this morning?

Randall: I just want westerlies. Westerlies at 20 to 30.

Waitress: Lately those westerlies come with a lotta north or a lotta south. Do you have a preference?

Randall: Ya, I don’t want any north or south; I just want west.

Waitress: So no north or south. (yelling) Hey Mac, can we hold the north and south on those westerlies?

Mac: Marge, you see me open a fresh can of westerlies every morning.

Waitress: (to Randall) Sorry, Mac says the westerlies are individually wrapped in north and south for baking. Can’t be separated. Would ruin the whole dish. They’re imported from France.

Monte: (raises his glass of Madeira ) Ah, the French!

Mac: Can says it’s from Hoboken, Marge!

Waitress: Mac says they’re made in a small village near the sea.

Monte: It always reminds me of home, that village.

Waitress: And I should tell ya, the brand we use has a fair bit of light wind too. In fact, I served a westerly last week and the customer found a big fat becalmed right in the middle of it. Some people go for that kind of thing. Ok with you?

Randall: Na, skip it. I’ll have a boiled egg and a black coffee.

Monte: (slyly) Señora, when you bring me the check, it is ok to set it next to him. I’ll reach for it later.

February 25, 2019

Day 144

Noon Position: 46 36S 147 00W

Course(t)/Speed(kts): E 5

Wind(t/tws): WNW 18

Sea(t/ft): NW 12

Sky: Stratus, Rain

10ths Cloud Cover: 10

Bar(mb): 1003, rising slowly

Cabin Temp(f): 63

Water Temp(f): 55

Relative Humidity(%): 88

Sail: Working jib, two reefs (we’re just coming out of the night’s gale).

Noon-to-Noon Miles Made Good (nm): 162

Miles since departure: 19,845

Avg. Miles/Day: 138

Days since Cape Horn: 87

Miles since Cape Horn: 12,208

Avg. Miles/Day: 140

Longitude Degrees Made Good (degrees minutes): 3 50

Total Longitude Made Good Since Cape Horn (degrees minutes): 281 32

Avg. Long./Day: 3.24

Monte: (at the helm, yelling over the roar of wind in the rigging) Senior, what good is this, your forecast, if it will not foretell the weather?

Randall: (at the mast struggling to douse the main. It’s raining hard, too.) I dunno, Monte. Kinda busy at moment. Can you ease her into the wind a bit?

Monte: In my day, we look over the rail, and if the wind is blowing up a gale, we call it a gale. Like now. This one is good. See, clearly, it is a gale. But your forecast calls for little wind, and only when it blows big does it say, “Oh, yes, now you should expect a gale.” I say it is nothing more than Ocustpocust, your forecast. Did you say something?

Randall: I think you mean hocus-pocus…

Monte: I know what I mean, Senior. I too have read your history. Ocustpocust was the American Indian fortune teller who helped your Lewis and Clark to voyage across America many years ago.

Randall: I think that was Sacagawea. She…  I mean really, could you ease Mo into the wind a bit? It would help me unstick the main batten from that spreader.

Monte: No, Senior, Sacagawea was the mother of Pocahontas. She was from a much earlier period. What was that you want again?

Randall: Ease the damned helm a bit, man! Can’t you see what I’m about? And no, I am quite certain Sacagawea was the guide for the Lewis and Clark Expedition!

Monte: (Eases the helm.) OH, ah, well, “expedition” you say? I thought you meant the Lewis and Clark *Voyage.* If you will recall, that was something else entirely. So maybe you are right about Sacagawea. But then who was Ocustpocust?

—

Within an hour of my stating in yesterday’s report that I would leave the main up overnight, it was down and wrapped. Winds were 35 and 40, not the foretold 25 to 30. I sat up with the gale until 4am. I was uneasy given the wind strength, the deviation from prediction, and that we were slicing across what must be a growing sea, hidden by absolute dark. It was a loud, rough ride, but Mo plowed solidly forward.

Only with the coming light did winds ease, allowing me to grab a couple hours in my bunk. Not quite long enough for feet to come back to body temperature. After coffee, I pulled the 8pm (previous night) forecast. THAT called for the higher winds, but a good several hours after we were experiencing them.

I cannot complain overly. I rely on these forecasts, and they are more right than wrong. They gave me warning of the coming low and allowed me time to position Mo into a less difficult quadrant. Still, I wouldn’t mind if they had been right about the wind speed and duration.

—

Rain lasted until noon, but there was too much spray over the boat early to think of catching it. I only rigged the hose and bottle at 11am. Caught two gallons. That brings total capture to 34 gallons. Not enough. By calculation, there are only 22 gallons left in the foreward tank.

By early afternoon, wind had done an about face and was blowing 25 from the south. Confused seas. Confused skipper. Took an hour to tack Mo around, to move sheets and running backs; to roll up and then unroll the working jib.

But we are back to a good speed … and heading due east.

February 24, 2019

Day 143

Noon Position: 46 05S  150 50W

Course(t)/Speed(kts): ExS 7

Wind(t/tws): NW 24 – 28 (steady 30 within two hours)

Sea(t/ft): NW 6

Sky: Alto and cirro cumulus. A mackerel sky.

10ths Cloud Cover: 6

Bar(mb): 1011, falling slowly

Cabin Temp(f): 68

Water Temp(f): 57

Relative Humidity(%): 77

Sail: Triple reef in both main and working jib. Reaching.

Noon-to-Noon Miles Made Good (nm): 165

Miles since departure: 19,687

Avg. Miles/Day: 138

Days since Cape Horn: 86

Miles since Cape Horn: 12,046

Avg. Miles/Day: 140

Longitude Degrees Made Good (degrees minutes): 3 57

Total Longitude Made Good Since Cape Horn (degrees minutes): 277 42

Avg. Long./Day: 3.23

We’re riding the edge. Typically by the time winds hit 30 knots, I’ve dropped even a triple reefed main. But I don’t think 30 will last long, and I want to push us. The faster we go, the longer we stay in this wind and the further ahead of the NEXT low we get.

But it’s bloody uncomfortable. The sea is running bouldery, steep and smack on the beam. Mo is healed way over, and she heaves in a way that makes one defer anything but the most basic and necessary of tasks. Even reading is difficult; after ten minutes my head is a bowl of scrambled eggs. And with the decks awash, I’m essentially trapped inside unless making sail changes.

On the plus side, we’re making good time. Two days now of over 150 miles; this should be the third. We need it. The next low and the next are right on our track and they look some serious business.

Hard to believe it’s nearly March, at the end of which I will have been at sea a full six months.

February 23, 2019

Day 142

Noon Position: 46 11S  154 47W

Course(t)/Speed(kts): ExN 7

Wind(t/tws): NW 19 – 24

Sea(t/ft): NW 6

Sky: Overcast; altostratus

10ths Cloud Cover: 10

Bar(mb): 1016+

Cabin Temp(f): 68

Water Temp(f): 59

Relative Humidity(%): 74

Sail: Working jib and main, double reefed; wind 10 degrees forward of the beam.

Noon-to-Noon Miles Made Good (nm): 154

Miles since departure: 19,522

Avg. Miles/Day: 137

Days since Cape Horn: 85

Miles since Cape Horn: 11,811

Avg. Miles/Day: 140

Longitude Degrees Made Good (degrees minutes): 3 43

Total Longitude Made Good Since Cape Horn (degrees minutes): 273 45

Avg. Long./Day: 3.22

I’ll admit I’m not fond of days like this. Mo is fast again, but on her ear and shoveling water as if it were free. One is fully kitted on deck or he begs to get dunked. The sky is a pasty, impenetrable gray; the water, slate, and filling the gap between these is but a dim, cold light.

We are running, not for the fun of it, not for the joy alone of speed, but rather to get ahead of a deep low slicing down from the north. Now and for many days the lows will deliver nothing but hard north wind. They are a chaos of oblong shapes, and their trajectories are always the bitter end of the world as quickly as possible, as if suddenly the Coriolis force has ceased.

How many gales have we ridden out? I’ve lost count. But I still get anxious in the run up to a blow. What will we find? How will I handle the challenge? What will happen?

After lunch, I pulled down David Lewis’s ICE BIRD and opened to a random page. “The notes for 7 November contain one entry,” writes Lewis at the outset of his attempt to circumnavigate Antarctica below 60S, “‘All that I need for this trip is courage–and that I possess only in very small measure.'”

Mo and I are approaching the exit gate for these waters, but I still feel that way. Risk and danger are close. Confidence is ever illusive. Fear is the companion.

I spent the day before a blow in the usual way. I cleaned. The galley, the head, the pilot house. It’s not as though I don’t clean except at the approach of strong weather, but I pay special attention then. One less thing to worry about.

February 22, 2019

Day 141

Noon Position: 46 25S  158 30W

Course(t)/Speed(kts): NExE 5

Wind(t/tws): NW 14

Sea(t/ft): NW 2

Sky: Clear

10ths Cloud Cover: 0

Bar(mb): 1021, steady

Cabin Temp(f): 73

Water Temp(f): 59

Relative Humidity(%): 68

Sail: Working jib and main, full; reaching.

Noon-to-Noon Miles Made Good (nm): 123

Miles since departure: 19,368

Avg. Miles/Day: 137

Days since Cape Horn: 84

Miles since Cape Horn: 11,727

Avg. Miles/Day: 140

Longitude Degrees Made Good (degrees minutes): 2 45

Total Longitude Made Good Since Cape Horn (degrees minutes): 270 02

Avg. Long./Day: 3.21

Winds went light overnight, and we were back to the slatting sails game by dawn. I poled out the working jib before coffee; we went wing and wing for a time. That helped.

Sunup came bright on cobalt blue water and the ocean opened like a flower. The warm breeze carried a scent of spice into the cabin. The cloudless sky seemed a vast, pale, edgeless desert hung above the softly undulating desert below it. From Mo’s still decks, I felt like we towered above the water; I could see forever. Like when the trade winds begin to fade, but before the squalls move in.

I’m in shirtsleeves rolled above my elbows. My forearms are getting sun for the first time since… Since… Well, now, I don’t recall…

At 47S!

It has been warm and summery for days, since New Zealand, I think. And winds have been mostly lighter than one would expect. Very nice, and also very strange. I have to pinch myself. No, these are not the middle latitudes. That bird there is not a Tropic bird–it is an Albatross. Don’t go soft on me. Not here. Leave the ukulele in its case another month or two.

Still, a  fantastic sailing day. A northwesterly in the teens and on the beam. Full working sail. And we churn out the miles.

By now I’ve got about as much northing as I want. We’re in a zone where the weather forecasts calls for 30 knot winds late Saturday, touching 35 on Sunday. Better than 40. So, we’ve leveled off and are heading due east again.

February 21, 2019

Day 140

Noon Position: 47 13S  161 15W

Course(t)/Speed(kts): E 3

Wind(t/tws): NWxN 6 – 7

Sea(t/ft): W 2

Sky: Clear

10ths Cloud Cover: 0

Bar(mb): 1023+, steady

Cabin Temp(f): 70

Water Temp(f): 58

Relative Humidity(%): 62

Sail: Working jib poled to port, main to starboard.

Noon-to-Noon Miles Made Good (nm): 79

Miles since departure: 19,245

Avg. Miles/Day: 137

Days since Cape Horn: 83

Miles since Cape Horn: 11,604

Avg. Miles/Day: 140

Longitude Degrees Made Good (degrees minutes): 2 55

Total Longitude Made Good Since Cape Horn (degrees minutes): 267 17

Avg. Long./Day: 3.22

Wind slowly withdrew in the night. It was enough to sail on when the moon came up full, yellow at first and then milk white, but by early morning, I could hear the main’s rhythmic slatting on the minimal sea, a sure sign. On deck, not a breath. I dropped the complainer and rolled in the forbearing but equally useless genoa at 4am and slept in utter stillness until sunrise.

Becalmed. There is something delicious about it. The world is not rushing by but stopped, there for your unhurried observation. You can look down into the water if you choose and see new detail. Or to the horizon, where, today, I saw flashes of white, specs of breaking water–a far off school of dolphins on the hunt. And the quiet–a palpable relief. It is delicious being becalmed, unless you have some place to be.

In our case, we have an appointment with Cape Horn and a very serious bit of strong weather, due here in two days, to outrun. A wafting variable came up with the sun, so I unrolled the poled-out number one genoa and let us “drift sail” at two knots while I worked.

The work was important and began before breakfast. This would be our only chance for the foreseeable future to loft the repaired genoa. Honestly, I wasn’t quite ready; there was one last seam to stitch, and I’d broken my last drilling needle. (At the suggestion of a friend, I was using needles to prep holes in the sail rather than a drill bit, which kept the sail fabric intact). A replacement had to be fashioned from a filed-down hand-stitch needle. It was too frail for the job and only lasted five passes before it broke. But five passes were enough.

Then the spare genoa had to be dropped and folded, that latter reference being the tricky bit on a rolling deck, and stowed in the anchor locker. Then the repaired sail had to be hauled on deck. Here we ran into serious problems: the sail jammed in the companionway hatch and refused to budge. Only after repeated block and tackle runs did it finally give, falling into the cockpit and jamming the tiller. I lugged it to the foredeck; hauled it up. And that was that.

While I’d rather the sail had not needed repair, the job was an interesting one, and it gave me a deeper appreciation of my primary working genoa . The attention to detail is remarkable, and the major reinforcements at the clew, tack and “reef” points are still so stiff, the sail practically refuses to fold.

A light wind has filled in this afternoon. My new course is ENE; the goal, something around 46S by late Saturday, when the big low begins to drop in. That should give us better purchase.

February 20, 2019

Day 139

Noon Position: 47 10S  163 10W

Course(t)/Speed(kts): E 6

Wind(t/tws): SWxW 13

Sea(t/ft): W 3

Sky: Overcast

10ths Cloud Cover: 10

Bar(mb): 1023

Cabin Temp(f): 66

Water Temp(f): 59

Relative Humidity(%): 80

Sail: Twin headsails poled out.

Noon-to-Noon Miles Made Good (nm): 159

Miles since departure: 19,166

Avg. Miles/Day: 138

Days since Cape Horn: 82

Miles since Cape Horn: 11,525

Avg. Miles/Day: 141

Longitude Degrees Made Good (degrees minutes): 3 53

Total Longitude Made Good Since Cape Horn (degrees minutes): 264 22

Avg. Long./Day: 3.22

A nice day’s run. Overnight, we edged further north than I intended. I had wanted to stay down below 47 and a half S so as to avoid some of the coming windless blob. But the forecast late yesterday suggested we’d have to south it all the way down to 49S just to have 4 knots of wind. So, I gave up on escaping the blob and let Mo run at an angle fastest for her.

We may be stuck for as much as a day.

Rain in the early morning gave way to drizzle, which gave way to a low and gray and wet-looking sky that didn’t give way to anything until late afternoon. When the barometer finally got up to 1024, wind and cloud began to evaporate. Clear skies for a time. A lovely orange sunset.

I noted some unusual chafe on the main halyard today. Months ago we went through a spell when it was getting stuck up in the air. It took me several passes of that very inconvenient situation to realize that the halyard was kinking at the masthead sheave. Since then I’ve been careful to keep the line running free and easy. But still, it looks from the chafe like I’ve not been entirely successful. I cut the worn piece out after lunch.

Wind now is very light. I raised the main as the breeze moved from dead aft to the starboard quarter, but as the #2 poled to port didn’t collapse in the wind shadow, I’ve left it flying as well. We scoot along at 5 and 6 knots in 9 to 12 knots of wind.