Aiming for Straya Once More

Tuesday 27 July 2021

Tasman Sea, 370 miles east of Eden

After nearly two days of head-on-winds-and-seas, things are starting to turn our way. We are finally managing to break out of a holding pattern that has seen us essentially go south, then north, then south again, all for barely 100 miles west towards our goal.

It’s been our nautical version of trench warfare, our enemy putting before us neither smooth seas nor fair breeze, in an effort to defeat us – to wear us down and to break our will.

Today dawned with a glorious sunrise – golden, not red – and there was even a small amount of warmth in the rays that swept low through the cockpit, casting aside the cold, damp of the night just passed

Flattening seas, a lightening breeze and the prospect of it coming from a more favourable direction – soon – had us shaking out the third reef in the main. That ever-loyal, yet rarely used, third reef, which reduces the size of the mainsail down from something close to half a tennis court, (cut diagonally) to little more than a bed sheet. At the same time it was also an opportunity to fly the staysail, and roll out the working jib to almost its full size. 

We were still pointing high [to the wind] and so the engine was kept ticking away in the background, just to give us that extra punch through the remaining sea.

The sun had been up an hour or so when Harm declared … “this morning I am going to make pancakes” … although, soon after Sam took up the galley-challenge. To great success it must be said, if the appreciation of his customers at the “Cockpit Table”, Matt, Harm and I were anything to go by, despite Sam’s modest pleas to the contrary.

With the return of some stability aboard, albeit at a 10-15 degree tilt to port, we set about tidying and drying. A long clothesline was strung on the foredeck on which all the (damp) cockpit blankets were strung. They stayed there about an hour, but then it seemed clear they’d be going through another rinse-cycle soon, if the approaching rain clouds and unpredictable slap-of-a-wave against the side were left to have their way.  
In the end the rain clouds passed ahead of us, leaving us untouched, and the waves continued to decline, enabling us to increase our speed and head more towards the East Coast as the wind lifted to around 15-20 knots.

Matt took the opportunity to inspect the deck-mounted weather display unit in the cockpit. We’d lost count of the times it had been submerged over the last two days, as waves regularly swept into and around our feet. Mostly we could anticipate what was coming – just by the lurch of the hull and the sound of the waves and advancing water – enabling us to lift our feet or quickly get onto one of the side the seats. In the end, the “well” where you stand to steer, was full so often it became known as the “Jacuzzi”.

Anyway, the wind speed indicator stopped doing its job on several occasions. Sometimes displaying “00”, at other times generating what looked like random numbers, and at still other times it displayed a wind speed, something like … “12 knots” … when clearly it was blowing 30-40 knots outside. Then, after an hour or so, all of a sudden the wind speed numbers would begin to make sense again, and the past was all forgotten … “wind speed indicator is back … 32, 35, 38 …” someone would call  

Fortunately the wind direction indicator kept on keeping on, which really was a good thing, due to the Windex at the top of the mast having been blown away and us not being able to see the small lengths of red wool we tie to the shrouds each side; on account of it being dark.

Matt quickly diagnosed two loose and corroded wires and in no time had it in pieces on the cockpit floor. I took a photo of him sitting there surrounded by pieces and tools, and mockingly announced the caption for the photo … “you break it, you fix it…”  

“Awwww …. that’s unkind”, responded Harm to laughter all round. Matt’s assurance to rebuild the connections … better … more reliable, are to be believed given his impressive track record with electronic gadgets and all things media and IT. Now we’ve just got to stop water getting into the back of the unit. It’s supposed to be waterproof – to a point. It’s clear we crossed that point a couple of nights ago for a time.

While I’m on the topic of salt water. Specifically salt water getting into things … and no, not through deck hatches and onto our bunks, mercifully that hasn’t happened … no, into our water supply. Yep, that’s right, the fresh water we pump to the basin taps for all things, including making coffee, tea, washing and drinking.  

“This coffee tastes salty” Matt observed two days ago.  

“Maybe it’s because I’ve washed the dishes using the salt water tap at the sink” replied Harm.  

That could certainly account for the taste, and we all agreed to give things a freshwater rinse in future … particularly such an essential piece of kit as the coffee plunger.  

Soon after though, Sam, who had just taken a swig from his water bottle, gave a funny face and suggested … “that water tastes salty” … and sure enough, we all agreed water from the tap was salty. Not massively, but enough to make it challenging to drink.  

Up to this point we hadn’t even used one full tank – about 375 litres. I switched over to the second stainless steel tank, also holding 375 litres … “Aww, that’s also salty” said Matt … doing what all good wine tasters do … into the sink.

“Mmmm, that’s no good … I’ll try the third tank … the one that’s separate from the stainless steel tanks” I suggested.  

After running the earlier water through the pipes, it was clear when the new stuff came through … “Arrr that’s lovely … Opua water”, exclaimed Matt … no spitting out this time.

So there’s a lesson … always check the deck-mounted water filler cap is done up as tight as tight … bro … before leaving the marina. Not such a problem if the only water to hit the deck comes from clouds above … but most water on this voyage … particularly the last few days … has come from the sea below.

Using up the salty water for cleaning and washing has become new Chimere policy, with the remaining “good tank”, of around 250 litres being for drinking only. As a back-up, I ran the onboard water maker yesterday – during a quiet stretch – just to be sure. It can make 3-4 litres every minute if required – our own little desal plant – and so that’s the plan if the drinking water is getting low. I didn’t make a lot of water, but everyone agreed it was ” very drinkable”. Good thing I had the old water pump attached to the desal unit, replaced while we sat sat Opua … just a bit over a week ago … wow, have we been at sea that long?!

Still on the topic of water … all four of us had a shower today. OK, you can stand up now. Not together, you understand … it’s not that kind of South Pacific Cruise … but taking advantage of the morning sun, the relative stillness of the deck and the fact that we had plenty of “fresh” water that tasted salty, to use up … Oh, and that we were all overdue for one… we took it in turns to strip off and scrub, lather and rinse.  

Maybe we’ve acclimatized to our environment, but a cold shower on the deck of a yacht, in July, mid-Tasman, doesn’t sound too warm, or clever … but funny, it wasn’t cold … certainly not as cold as the biting blast we received the other night from the south west.

Photos of the “shower experience” may not make it to this website, sorry. In fact, there were assurances all round that there ARE NO photos of the event … even though it was suggested by one or two that it might spike viewer numbers to this blog … at least within certain demographics.

Like a farmer, there’s always got to be a reference to the weather … which for us, at least for the next 24-36 hours, appears to be favourable. We are even getting close to being able to aim WEST again … with the sunsets on the bow, and not off to starboard as it was tonight.  

The short range forecast shows another big blow coming out of Bass Strait … surprise surprise … in about two day’s time, so we are currently flat out trying to close the coast – primarily for shelter if needed. No intention of landing ashore of course, but if there’s a choice of 1. Bashing into more big seas and howling winds OR 2. Seeking a bit of temporary shelter in a bay or behind and island somewhere … then, for the safety of all, we’ll pick “2” … temporary shelter.

If we DO need to seek shelter, we’ll of course inform “the relevant authorities” … but whilst this morning it seemed a probability, after studying the latest forecast, it seems our arrival off Eden in a couple of days might coincide with a wind shift to the North … good for making the hop around the bottom towards Westernport. We’ll see.

In other news … I baked a couple of loaves of bread today … and it’s nice to be back on a starboard tack again so the heel of the boat keeps me IN my bunk and not always trying to tip me OUT. 

Smooth seas, fair breeze and aiming for Straya once more.

Rob Latimer