From a month ago...

(I include this only because such days are so rare for us)

It was one of those days where not only did the deck get washed, the cabin top rinsed, but you got to pee in the cockpit because a) the cockpit was getting rinsed regularly b) you couldn’t get to the head because of all the stuff that had fallen from stowed positions and c) it was too dangerous to hang your butt over the side. And, as such days are apt to be, it was a day of many sail changes. We left the Isle of Shoals at dawn with a reefed main and mizzen, staysail, and jib – the flying jib and topsail stowed. As we left the protected waters, it became clear that we needed more sail to drive through the waves. Out came the reef in the mainsail as we drifted ever closer to the Anderson Ledge. Sheeted back in, we safely passed the ledge and continued to drive hard into the waves. The waves weren’t terribly big, but close enough together and steep enough to knock us back and keep us from going in the direction we wanted to go. Half an hour later, the reef had to be put back in and half an hour after that, another reef went into the main. Under the double reefed main, the boat and us were still taking a beating and we both silently considered turning around and retreating, but neither voiced that thought and High Country continued to bash her way on, with me shuddering every time her bow slammed into a wave.

Because it was so rough, I did not permit myself to go down below for fear of getting seasick and then being no help at all. So, amongst the morning’s sail changes, Rick managed to put out a bowl of oatmeal, cold by the time we got around to eating it, but a delicious distraction from worries of sailing an old wooden boat so hard. The oatmeal turned cold because before we could eat it, Rick was elected for the scary job of going out on the bowsprit to tie up the flying jib that kept losing its sail ties as waves and wind battered it. I had seen this happening but was hesitant to say anything (even though I know the situation would only get worse) because it always fills me with dread to see Rick go out there when it’s this rough. But, as always, it’s not as scary as my mind imagines. We heave to or turn downwind and the boat’s motion steadies and she doesn’t heel over much. The only downside to heaving to was that that put us on the other tack, which, for whatever reason, made the boat leak A LOT more. Hmm, something to look into. Probably that hole behind a chain plate that we didn’t feel like dealing with last spring and put some shmooey in, but could be something else.

Just as Rick was leaving the cabin for another bout of sail handling, I heard a loud crash from down below. I didn’t find out what it was ‘til the next day when I opened up my pressure cooker full of beans and the inside looked like someone had left it on high burner. I initially accused Rick of having splattered beans all over and up the steam vent (he got to make lunch too), but when asked, he said it had taken a dive, which I later confirmed when I saw a chip of wood and varnish missing from a cabinet opposite the galley.

Other exciting mishaps of the day were the fuel jugs that refused to stay lashed up-right and leaked out gas, the overhead hatch which, even after being latched down, still leaked water over our bunks and Rick’s clothing net, and the portlight over the computer, which has had lot’s of attention this past year (completely rebedded) yet still insisted on leaking down on computer, wires, etc. And what was I doing while Rick was doing all the scary, hard stuff? Holding on for dear life. My job was to not get sick and to steer. We tried the autopilot for a bit, but it couldn’t head up fast enough after a wave. The next day revealed the evidence of how hard my body was holding on – a right bicep painfully sore and a left buttock so tight I had a hard time moving between sitting and standing.

We stayed hard on the wind, thinking we might want to bail out and head into Gloucester, but by the time we reached Cape Ann, the wind had shifted a bit more to the West and we decided to make the run for P-town. For several hours, we had an exhilarating ride. With the wind on the beam and the waves no longer in front of us, we struggled to keep the speed under 7 knots, any more than that and the boat works too much.

Much to our surprise and dismay, we finished the day by motoring the last two hours into Provincetown. All afternoon, the wind kept decreasing and before we knew it, we’d shaken out all our reefs and put up all 6 sails. I suppose we could have floundered out there for a few hours and made it in around midnight, but after a morning like that, I was very much looking forward to being anchored before dark, rinsing all the salt off of me, having a glass of wine and going to sleep in my soggy bunk.