Dark and Stormy

I like maps and charts and globes and Google Earth.  They’re the things that locate me on this planet.  After last night, I took another look at Google Earth.  And I saw…

That the Virgin Islands lie between 10 and 20 degrees North of the Equator.  Hawaii is right at 20 degrees N.  South Texas and South Florida are between 20 and 30 degrees, and the rest of the US is between 30 and 50 degrees.  Cold, clammy England is between 50 and 60 degrees.  Canada is between 50 and 70 degrees.  And India is entirely North of the Equator.

Looking in the other direction, Brazil is between 0 and 30 degrees South of Equator.  South Africa is between 30 and 40 degrees.  Australia is between 10 and 40 degrees.  And the only land in the Southern Hemisphere between 40 and 55 degrees S. are the lower portions of Chile and Argentina.

The point:  the majority of the earth south of 40 degrees S. (with that exception in S. America) is … ocean

The south Atlantic, the Indian, the southern Pacific oceans.  They’re vast, cold, stormy and dangerous.  And to sailors who travel there, the winds can clock on a normal basis in the 70 mph range.   Sailors know the region as the Roaring Forties.

When the periodic single-handed around-the-world sailing races take place, the route takes them from Europe or the US south around the Cape of Good Hope (Africa), through the Roaring Forties to Australia, then around Cape Horn and back across the Atlantic to the start.  And it’s in the Roaring Forties that you read about the most dangerous moments.

In that stretch, you set the sails and the autopilot, go below, hunker down and hope that you don’t have to climb the mast in the heavy seas.  I can hardly imagine what it must be like to strap on the harness, pull yourself up the stick with tools and parts and then swing on the arc left and right at the top.  It’s hard enough thinking about the sway of the boat in those kind of waters just standing on the deck. 

I can hardly imagine, but I have a snippet of an idea after last night.  We spent the night secure on a mooring ball at the marina.  We’ve been watching the weather reports for a week because they’ve been predicting three days of heavy winds (25-30 mph) which are rare around here, unless it’s associated with some tropical storm/potential hurricane.  This is the wrong time of the year for that, but a freakish weather pattern has brought these winds from the north and they’ve clocked around so that last night, was the first of three nights with the strong winds coming from the east.  Accompanied by bursts of heavy rain showers.

Some of our friends moved their boats to safe anchorages elsewhere.  We chose to stay here, partly because of some commitments to help at the Methodist Church up the street.

And, we prepared as best we could.  We added an extra dock line over the two mooring loops attached to the boat, to keep them from blowing up and off.  We added lines as extra security for the two paddleboards, normally held on the lifelines with bungee cords.  We raised the dinghy so it wouldn’t get caught in the bouncing waters behind the boat. 

By late afternoon the winds had started to increase.  The strongest winds came in sudden bursts in between surprisingly calm periods.  As the sun set, we stayed inside looking out at an increasingly fast swing on the ball.  Coupled with that were the sudden jerks as the mooring lines stretched to their fullest and stopped, halting the boat’s movement and our ability to comfortably walk around.  We went to bed around 10pm and the wind bursts, rain showers, jerking motions continued through the night.   At least we were horizontal and not rolling side to side.

Compared to the Roaring Forties, last night was calm.  We were safe, but you never know.  Last year, the mooring line on an empty boat broke in the night and the boat drifted away missing several other moored boats but crashing on the shore a half mile away.   Each time our mooring lines stretched they held.  We were grateful.  Each time the winds calmed or the rain abated, we were grateful.  And we’re glad to see the sun this morning shining here and there through the passing clouds.  All things considered, the winds were reasonably mild – certainly not like the Roaring Forties.  Maybe tonight the winds will abate a bit.  Certainly hope so.

But whatever they may be, we’ll swing and bounce and get through it.  Grateful.

Fair Winds and Calm Seas.