Sailing Encore

Night Shift

Just as the sun is about to set I get my layers of clothes and jackets and head warmer on.

And put my ‘foulies’ on (like a big yellow deep sea fisherman’s outfit, but mine is a pretty peach and navy). We also don safety harnesses with inflatable life vest, arm light, and head light. We are motor sailing with steady breeze. Post sunset it goes absolutely dark. Moonrise is not for 4 hours. The wind goes dead aft (comes from behind the boat) Sails start flapping. Decide to drop main but it gets hung up in the running back stay and a hockle (knot) gets in the halyard that prevents it from coming down smoothly. Hold boat into wind and roll in jib, finish the dirty drop on the main, securing it tightly. All in pitch black except for the instrument panel. Auto pilot on and Vernon goes below to recheck and set course numbers. I am tidying lines from the sail drop when suddenly I feel the boat spinning, exorcist style, spinning in tight circles. I see the numbers on the bearing circle all 360 options, rapidly. I hustle over to wheel, disengage auto pilot and grab the wheel. Holy **** what caused that? Reengage auto pilot but for next 20 minutes it reacts poorly to waves and wind coming from behind us. Vernon realizes that it got put into sail mode somehow. Could have been me, punching buttons frantically to stop the prior madness.

Still pitch black and 3 ½ hours to go for moonrise.Here is a picture of what I can see from the cockpit. The instruments are the only light around. Just a few stars are visible in the cloudy sky.
I say to Vernon “at least I am warm and not seasick”. His reply: “Great, about time we hit a whale then”. Gotta love that guy.

Finally the moon rises and what a difference it makes. You can see around you on the water. It just feels safer.Rest of night goes smoothly. Take turns taking short naps. I heat up some chicken soup. And sing and dance on watch while Vernon is down below. Because I look like a total nutcase.

Sunup at 6am and immediate warming.

Vernon to sleep down below but pops his head up about every ten minutes to check. (He has always been like that, even on driving trips). He looks over course and says we may not make Turtle Bay. Bummer.

We motor along smoothly. Make coffee and I take a warm nap in the sun. Then a hot shower below. Feels great. Lunch together in cockpit. The wind comes from a better angle and we roll out the jib adding more speed to the boat! Now it looks like we will make Turtle Bay just at sunset.

This is nice. The warm sun is incredible. We fill the fuel tanks with the jugs from on deck and continue past brown dirt islands heading south.

As we approach the land, I am reading guide book in cockpit. Vernon spots fishing traps in the water, they have 3 buoy floats from them. He says I will need to disengage the auto pilot if we get too close. Sure, I say but continue reading. Suddenly I realize that he is talking to me –but he is forward of where I am sitting and looking forward at the water. “Hit it!!!!” I hear him yell. I jump up and throw the throttle into neutral just as there is a big THUD. I see 2 buoys pop up behind the boat….. then the third one and then a piece of the third one. OMG. Slowly throttle forward… prop seems okay. If it had snagged completely on our prop we would not be able to maneuver.

No I am not making this stuff up… this is how it goes. Don’t ever relax too much.

We throttle up to 8 knots. And see the entrance to Turtle Bay. Motor in. Nice calm anchorage off of dirt shoreline with some small building and shacks and a fishing pier. We put on headsets to communicate with Vernon up at the front of our 56 foot boat and me at the helm as he anchors. All we get is Mexican music. Going to have to use old fashioned hand signals. Vernon drops anchor and I cross my fingers and say a prayer as I put the throttle into reverse. Hoping the buoy didn’t cause damage. It works.

We made it 520 pm. 36 hours. 316 nautical miles. Slip to Anchor.

Tidy up, and have a rum and OJ. Cheers.