Squalls, Sausage Rolls and Sauce

Sunday 25 July 2021

Mid-Tasman Sea

Yesterday’s sea seemed angry … vengeful … but maybe that’s getting personal.  Although after repeated waves sweeping through the cockpit, over the top of us and directly at us, it seemed to be very personal.  Certainly very wet!

After a long night under a tiny jib and the ever-faithful motor ticking away in the background, still doing a respectable 5 knots, we emerged into the grey morning prepared to take up the battle once more.

But mercifully the wind died away, the seas calmed off somewhat and we could think once more about hoisting some sail – always being ready to bring it in again if … when … necessary.

The dilemma we faced was that a double-reefed mainsail was too much canvas to have up when it really blew hard. And the forecast said it would by the end of the day.

The sail has anchor points for a third reef, which would make the sail very small, but we would need to fit the furling lines  – they are not permanently attached.

It was calm enough mid-morning to complete the manoeuver and soon enough we were trim and balanced doing 7 knots over friendly seas, under a triple reef main, half stay sale, and a smallish jib. The engine was given a rest and we were once more in the groove, course bound south west, towards Bass Strait. 

“This is what sailing is all about”, Matt declared as he, Harm and I sat on the coach house roof on the Starboard side gazing out to sea – still a friendly sea.

“I think I’ll make some sausage rolls“ Harm said in passing. 

Being so calm we took the opportunity to address the persistent problem of water entering through the saloon roof – only when it rained or we copped a wave but it was still getting annoying.  

After removing a few headliner panels, the source of the problem was soon located with three small bolt holes with no bolts or screws in them – just holes, which come through the deck in a hard-to-investigate-area.  The holes were soon plugged and we were feeling pretty happy with ourselves.

Soon after, Harm came good with his promise to whip up some sausage rolls , and as we sat in the cockpit gorging ourselves, Matt held up his iPad, showing the latest weather download, and announced, point to the screen … “… we are here in a quiet, calm spot at the moment … between the two systems”

Later in the day, we reduced the size of the jib as a precaution, with a lot of dark grey cloud building on the north western horizon.

It can’t have been more than a half an hour later that this new squall hit us … assaulted … grabbed us and shook us with all his might. Not enough to upset our sausage rolls and sauce but with force enough to demand immediate action – co-ordinated action.

“Quick, get in the jib … you let off the sheet Harm, I’ll do the furler”, I called above the intense sound – a combination of screaming wind, rushing waves and torrenial rain that bordered on hail.

Winding in the jib – reducing its size – is done using a small winch mounted on the deck. We just call it our jib-furling-winch – it’s has a smallish drum and so it can take a lot of turns to wind in the jib, particularly when it’s under such a load.

Twenty turns or so later, my right arm was starting to get weary, as the sail flapped violently at the bow – “Sam bring your muscles quick, turn this handle as fast as you can”!!!

All of Sam‘s workouts were starting to pay off, as he made short work of the task – winding anticlockwise in low gear, then immediately the other way in high gear when possible.  Pretty soon the thrashing, violent jib and it’s attached sheet drew silent, and we were back in control once more.

Outside the confines of the warm, secure cockpit the sea had somehow flattened off, the torrential rain creating a layer of spray and rebounded particles that appeared like a whitish haze; reducing visibility and closing our cockpit-world further.

That’s all for today (as its about 11.00pm NZ time) and harder to communicate.  More tomorrow…

Smooth seas, fair breezes and squalls, sausage rolls and sauce.

Rob Latimer