Sunday, June 26, 2011


2011 06 25

33 40N
055 20 W

With the cruising chute up we find ourselves lounging in a somnolent cockpit while light air drives us along at at a restful two knots. Except for the piercing sunlight the cockpit resembles nothing so much as a good old heroin den, we the denizens. Wind is somewhere between 2 and 3.5 knots, direction irrelevant.

About four days ago we made a serious error of judgement and ran south from what we feared would be serious winds. One commentator had referred repeatedly to "gale force" in describing the situation. As so often happens the meek don't inherit the earth they just suck all the life out of it. On the second day of the "gale" the area under threat was in fact reformed as a "high pressure ridge" which is death to a sailor. No wind, no way through or across it.

Last night we took a gamble and motored in an attempt to move sufficiently north to gain some ten knot winds forecast by the GFS grib data. At the outset we agreed to commit 15% of our fuel reserves to this effort. We failed. It seems it will be Tuesday before the winds pick up from their current tragic levels. We will use the time to rest, to effect more boat repairs and complete some unfinished reading.

There is irony here, running south to avoid high winds only to find yourself running north in search of them.

Not all irony is found amusing by the ironer.

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