Stop. Think.

Day 73

Noon Position: 48 03S 26 04W

Course/Speed: SE 6

Wind: NE 20

Sail: Two tucks in the working jib, two reefs in the main

Bar: 985

Sea: NE5

Sky: FOG and rain

Cabin Temp: 58 (how I do not now; I’m freezing)

Water Temp: 45

Miles last 24-hours: 137

Miles since departure: 9539

Early this morning I came about onto starboard tack close hauled. Winds had been pushing Mo south when I thought I needed more northing. The sails filled, we heeled over and charged off. I set Monte on his new course, tidied up the lines in the cockpit, admired the day (fog) and … OH NO!…

Above the companionway ladder I have a small sign that reads “Stop. Think.”

Beyond being a practical admonition generally, this sign has a specific intention–to remind me to close the galley sink drain valve when we come onto starboard tack (something we have not done since I can remember). The galley and sink are on port side, and as the boat heels, sea water can back-flush through the drain into the sink, fill it, and spill over into the cupboards and pour into the bilge.

The first time I failed this test was departing Hanalei Bay for home in 25-knot trades.  I’d nearly filled the bath-tub sized bilge before I discovered my mistake. This time I was “lucky.” Only one cupboard had to be emptied and dried, and the bilge took only 20 stroaks to clear.

Clearly I need a better memory aid.

Each new forecast shows the approaching low has changed slightly such that I’ve given up aiming for a particularly beneficial position and am just pushing east as fast as we can reasonably go.

Winds have been from the north at plus 20 most of the day. With two tucks in the working jib and two reefs in the main we are comfortably averaging 7+ knots.

Every hour the bar drops another point. And the fog continues without a break–three full days of featureless gray and visibility no further than a few waves on. I had no idea an ocean could contain this much fog. Today rain was added to the mix, sometimes heavy. All of which heightens the sense of foreboding and unhappy inevitability of what comes next.

But what comes next? We all have to wait till it gets here to know.

Tonight I’ll make a double-sized portion of stew, enough for two days, maybe more. Along about daybreak I’ll drop the main and secure the boom in its crutch. I’ll rig the second running backstay and make sure both are good and tight. Then I’ll run the storm jib sheets and prepare the halyard. And with that we’ll be ready.