A few times, I mentioned phosphorescence visible in the water at night. I
should have called it bioluminescence. There may be phosphorescence
involved in the light generation, but 1) there may not and 2) even if there
is, that isn't really the salient point. This has been gnawing at me.
*************
It continues to surprise me how quickly conditions change here. One watch
we started with just the slightest breeze from behind us, playing with
trim, trying to eke out an extra 0.1 knot of boat speed. Within a few short
hours, the wind had eased further, fluttered around a bit, picked back up
from ahead, and built to the point where were were taking in the third reef
with a real sense of urgency. Another day, we started watch bashing upwind
through waves, cold, and rain but by the end we had beautiful, sunny,
downwind sailing. Someone said this was due to the lack of land at these
latitudes, with the uninterrupted ocean making the weather move faster. We
shall see if it settles down as we move north.
***************
I got my first work at the mast yesterday. NOT, I hasten to add, anything
like climbing the mast to the top. As much as I'd like check out that view
at some point, that job generally goes to people who are, shall we say,
easier to winch up. Still, there is a lot of action at the base of the mast
and the boom, working with lines, especially as we reef in and out, i.e.
partially lowering or raising the mainsail. Your feet are off the deck at
bit, and as the boat heels over, you can look straight down and see the
water rushing past. Fun stuff.
****************
I was on deck as we sighted mainland Australia today. There was an actual
call of "Land ho!" Saw a few spectacular looking isolate beaches that I'll
have to research and visit someday. Maybe. When Tony joked about anchoring
off there and having our own private beach, Matt's answer was "There's got
to be a reason nobody's there."
*****************
Special "Hey" to the gentlemen, ladies, and Sumo of Hampstead Rugby Club on
the day of the Carol Crawl. First one I've missed since joining the club.
Have a good one.
Saturday, 12 December 2015
Thursday, 10 December 2015
43 deg 37' S, 147 deg 20' E -- Race 4, Day 10
First thing first: If you've been following the wider race, you may have
seen that a boat diverted to Hobart because a crew member suffered some
broken ribs. After yesterday's post mentioning a winch in the ribs, I want
to be clear that wasn't me. Sounds like it wasn't hugely different though.
He just got a bigger wave. While there's a bit emphasis on safety here, it
is tough, physical, and unpredictable. Still, I think it's probably on a
par with the rugby I've been playing for years.
On a happier note, it looks like our boat isn't in as bad shape as it
looked last post. The vang is repaired. We've come up with another kludge
for the main that seems to be working well. And we're flying our Yankee
from a spinnaker halyard, which isn't ideal, but it works. Again, a lot of
jargon, but you shoudl get the generally positive picture.
When I say "we" came up with a fix for the main, credit really goes to
Nick, sometimes called "Nickgyver" for his ability to improvise solutions
to all kinds of issues. He's a former design consultant, and at one point
he took me through a list of the huge range of products he worked on. You
can see that creativity at work here.
The sailing has been good. Today, we sighted Tasmania and rounded Great
Mewstone Rock, the major mark in the race. We actually had some warm and
sunny conditions and a very relaxed sail downwind for much of the day.
The Tasmanian coat, aside from being a nice sign of progress, made for
some pretty amazing scenery, mixing it up a bit after days and days of
ocean. We almost got the kite up again, but then the wind shifted, and now
we're headed upwind again. We think it's going to be the 14th for Sydney,
and we might manage to reel in one or two of the boats in front of us on
the way.
seen that a boat diverted to Hobart because a crew member suffered some
broken ribs. After yesterday's post mentioning a winch in the ribs, I want
to be clear that wasn't me. Sounds like it wasn't hugely different though.
He just got a bigger wave. While there's a bit emphasis on safety here, it
is tough, physical, and unpredictable. Still, I think it's probably on a
par with the rugby I've been playing for years.
On a happier note, it looks like our boat isn't in as bad shape as it
looked last post. The vang is repaired. We've come up with another kludge
for the main that seems to be working well. And we're flying our Yankee
from a spinnaker halyard, which isn't ideal, but it works. Again, a lot of
jargon, but you shoudl get the generally positive picture.
When I say "we" came up with a fix for the main, credit really goes to
Nick, sometimes called "Nickgyver" for his ability to improvise solutions
to all kinds of issues. He's a former design consultant, and at one point
he took me through a list of the huge range of products he worked on. You
can see that creativity at work here.
The sailing has been good. Today, we sighted Tasmania and rounded Great
Mewstone Rock, the major mark in the race. We actually had some warm and
sunny conditions and a very relaxed sail downwind for much of the day.
The Tasmanian coat, aside from being a nice sign of progress, made for
some pretty amazing scenery, mixing it up a bit after days and days of
ocean. We almost got the kite up again, but then the wind shifted, and now
we're headed upwind again. We think it's going to be the 14th for Sydney,
and we might manage to reel in one or two of the boats in front of us on
the way.
Wednesday, 9 December 2015
42 deg 31' S, 141 deg 58' E -- Race 4, Day 9
It has been... eventful since my last post, thus the missed day.
Shortly after my last post, the wind shifted, as we'd been waiting for.
Suddenly, the boat flattened out, the bouncing died down, and we were
making good time sailing downwind! That lasted about two hours. The wind
then died off before picking up as a headwind again.
Just after I went off watch, the other watch was putting in a reef when a
small section of the mainsail track pulled off the mast. (The main runs up
the mast on sliders along this track.) When I next went on watch, they had
kludged a fix that basically involved cutting out the bent bit of track but
required hand feeding sliders in when working with the main.
But the bigger news was that the spinnaker was up! We were properly sailing
downwind, making good time on a course directly to our waypoint. This was
what we'd been waiting for. As Matt said, it was the day we would find
out whether our race strategy would pay off. We sailed the whole watch
under the kite, but just as we were going off watch, the wind started to
build, and we had to take it down, a big task, which I'll talk about more
another time. After we got it down, we still had to wool it (basically how
you pack away the kite), which ate into my off-watch time, which meant no
post yesterday.
We came back on watch at 10pm, and the wind was way up, 60 knots stead with
gusts in the 90s, I'm told. We had to drop the Yankee 2, which was far too
much sail for the conditions. Initially, the idea was go go to Yankee 3,
but we ended up with the storm jib. Getting a big sail in with that much
wind blowing, water splashing over the bow, and in the dark of night is
hard work. But it's pretty exhilarating as well. (And actually fairly safe.
Everyone keeps well tethered in. But, like a roller coaster, your adrenalin
doesn't necessarily know this.) Meanwhile, as they were taking in the main,
the kludge failed, so there was a lot of work necessary to secure that.
Four hours of intense work under tough conditions, but kind of what I
signed up for.
This morning, we were again sailing downwind in 40-60 knots. It was wet and
cold when we started, but eventually the sun came out and it turned into an
awesome day, with 4-5m swells all around and lots of albatross visiting.
The cockpit was even a fairly pleasant place to be. Until the first wave of
the day came crashing over just as I was on my feet helping to set up for
a gybe. It knocked me over, and I think I took a winch in the ribs. Nothing
worse than I've had on the rugby pitch many times, but it was another good
reminder about keeping tethered in, even when the sailing has been
relatively civilised.
So, it has been some great, if demanding, sailing.
On the downside, our boat is not in good shape. The kludge on the main
means we can sail at third reef (which is OK for current conditions) or
full main (when/if the wind is low), but nothing in between. We've also
lost two Yankee halyards up the mast, and there's no real hope of getting
them back until Sydney, so we're very limited on headsails. And just a few
hours ago, we snapped the vang, though that should be repaired fairly
shortly. Lots of jargon there, but you get the picture. We're going to be
sailing conservatively for a while and likely losing ground. Even worse,
apparently all this was down to preventable errors. Let's see how we learn
from them.
By the way, I'm sending all these updated by email, so I'm not getting a
chance to see any comments or questions on the blog. But you are able to
post, and I'll catch up when I'm on shore. It will be great to hear from
you!
Also great would be to see some progress on my charitable fundraising
effort, which I have woefully underpromoted so far. I'm raising funds for
GiveDirectly, who help some of the world's poorest people by the simple
approach of giving them money and trusting them to know how best to use it.
It's a great concept, and there is good research supporting its
effectiveness. I THINK the page is at
www.youcaring.com/SailingForGiveDiretly. But if that doesn't work, there is
a link in the sidebar on the blog. I'll even be matching donations!
Shortly after my last post, the wind shifted, as we'd been waiting for.
Suddenly, the boat flattened out, the bouncing died down, and we were
making good time sailing downwind! That lasted about two hours. The wind
then died off before picking up as a headwind again.
Just after I went off watch, the other watch was putting in a reef when a
small section of the mainsail track pulled off the mast. (The main runs up
the mast on sliders along this track.) When I next went on watch, they had
kludged a fix that basically involved cutting out the bent bit of track but
required hand feeding sliders in when working with the main.
But the bigger news was that the spinnaker was up! We were properly sailing
downwind, making good time on a course directly to our waypoint. This was
what we'd been waiting for. As Matt said, it was the day we would find
out whether our race strategy would pay off. We sailed the whole watch
under the kite, but just as we were going off watch, the wind started to
build, and we had to take it down, a big task, which I'll talk about more
another time. After we got it down, we still had to wool it (basically how
you pack away the kite), which ate into my off-watch time, which meant no
post yesterday.
We came back on watch at 10pm, and the wind was way up, 60 knots stead with
gusts in the 90s, I'm told. We had to drop the Yankee 2, which was far too
much sail for the conditions. Initially, the idea was go go to Yankee 3,
but we ended up with the storm jib. Getting a big sail in with that much
wind blowing, water splashing over the bow, and in the dark of night is
hard work. But it's pretty exhilarating as well. (And actually fairly safe.
Everyone keeps well tethered in. But, like a roller coaster, your adrenalin
doesn't necessarily know this.) Meanwhile, as they were taking in the main,
the kludge failed, so there was a lot of work necessary to secure that.
Four hours of intense work under tough conditions, but kind of what I
signed up for.
This morning, we were again sailing downwind in 40-60 knots. It was wet and
cold when we started, but eventually the sun came out and it turned into an
awesome day, with 4-5m swells all around and lots of albatross visiting.
The cockpit was even a fairly pleasant place to be. Until the first wave of
the day came crashing over just as I was on my feet helping to set up for
a gybe. It knocked me over, and I think I took a winch in the ribs. Nothing
worse than I've had on the rugby pitch many times, but it was another good
reminder about keeping tethered in, even when the sailing has been
relatively civilised.
So, it has been some great, if demanding, sailing.
On the downside, our boat is not in good shape. The kludge on the main
means we can sail at third reef (which is OK for current conditions) or
full main (when/if the wind is low), but nothing in between. We've also
lost two Yankee halyards up the mast, and there's no real hope of getting
them back until Sydney, so we're very limited on headsails. And just a few
hours ago, we snapped the vang, though that should be repaired fairly
shortly. Lots of jargon there, but you get the picture. We're going to be
sailing conservatively for a while and likely losing ground. Even worse,
apparently all this was down to preventable errors. Let's see how we learn
from them.
By the way, I'm sending all these updated by email, so I'm not getting a
chance to see any comments or questions on the blog. But you are able to
post, and I'll catch up when I'm on shore. It will be great to hear from
you!
Also great would be to see some progress on my charitable fundraising
effort, which I have woefully underpromoted so far. I'm raising funds for
GiveDirectly, who help some of the world's poorest people by the simple
approach of giving them money and trusting them to know how best to use it.
It's a great concept, and there is good research supporting its
effectiveness. I THINK the page is at
www.youcaring.com/SailingForGiveDiretly. But if that doesn't work, there is
a link in the sidebar on the blog. I'll even be matching donations!
Monday, 7 December 2015
42 deg 08' S 134 deg 10' E -- Race 4, Day 7
More high winds, with sustained winds near 40 and a peak gust of 57 knots.
Decent seas as well, with swells that I'd guess to be 4-5m at times. Even
the guys who saw 80+ knots just outside Cape Town are saying that these are
tough conditions, not just high winds but sustained.
The waves are rather short and confused rather than nice long rolling
swells. This means we're slamming around a lot, flying off the tops of
waves like Sheriff Roscoe P Coltrane is chasing us and Waylon Jennings is
offering commentary. (That was Waylon Jennings, wasn't it? And are we still
allowed to have fond memories of the Dukes of Hazard, or have protesters at
Swarthmore gotten that banned as well?)
Just to mix things up, we drove right through one wave. I got to truly
eat my first wave, as this happened while I was on the bow with Tony,
securing the Yankee 3 to the stanchions so it wouldn't wash away. I got
swept back about 6-8 feet. (Don't worry Mom, I was tethered in and wasn't
going any further than that.) When the water cleared, I was laying on my
back, holding onto a sail tie, with my life jacket having automatically
inflated. The guys back at the helm later said we'd totally disappeared
under a wall of water. Meanwhile, Tony barely moved, the skill of having
been doing this from the start.
If the first few posts have seemed a bit up and down, that's because,
honestly, my mood has been as well. It's been a tough start, and I was
starting to adjust just as we had a really calm day, so I wasn't sure how
much was that vs. getting used to things. Today, though, was my favorite
watch so far, and it was plenty tough conditions, so I'm feeling a lot
more optimistic. Still, expect to read more about the lows as well as the
highs, like the fact that there is a persistent drip onto my bunk (where I
am now headed), whenever we're on a port tack. And I estimate we've been on
port tack for about 132 of the 141 hours we've been racing so far.
Decent seas as well, with swells that I'd guess to be 4-5m at times. Even
the guys who saw 80+ knots just outside Cape Town are saying that these are
tough conditions, not just high winds but sustained.
The waves are rather short and confused rather than nice long rolling
swells. This means we're slamming around a lot, flying off the tops of
waves like Sheriff Roscoe P Coltrane is chasing us and Waylon Jennings is
offering commentary. (That was Waylon Jennings, wasn't it? And are we still
allowed to have fond memories of the Dukes of Hazard, or have protesters at
Swarthmore gotten that banned as well?)
Just to mix things up, we drove right through one wave. I got to truly
eat my first wave, as this happened while I was on the bow with Tony,
securing the Yankee 3 to the stanchions so it wouldn't wash away. I got
swept back about 6-8 feet. (Don't worry Mom, I was tethered in and wasn't
going any further than that.) When the water cleared, I was laying on my
back, holding onto a sail tie, with my life jacket having automatically
inflated. The guys back at the helm later said we'd totally disappeared
under a wall of water. Meanwhile, Tony barely moved, the skill of having
been doing this from the start.
If the first few posts have seemed a bit up and down, that's because,
honestly, my mood has been as well. It's been a tough start, and I was
starting to adjust just as we had a really calm day, so I wasn't sure how
much was that vs. getting used to things. Today, though, was my favorite
watch so far, and it was plenty tough conditions, so I'm feeling a lot
more optimistic. Still, expect to read more about the lows as well as the
highs, like the fact that there is a persistent drip onto my bunk (where I
am now headed), whenever we're on a port tack. And I estimate we've been on
port tack for about 132 of the 141 hours we've been racing so far.
Sunday, 6 December 2015
41 deg 43' S, 132 deg 45' E -- Race 4, Day 6
The wind is back, and it's serious (at least by my standards). Yesterday
afternoon, we were sitting in nearly still air with our windseeker and a
full main. As of this evening, we had worked all the way down to the storm
jib and third reef, as the wind was 35 knots with gusts to 45 and forecast
to build. It's very wet on deck and some waves wash over and water pours
down the hatch. Some swells look to be 3-4 meters and there's a fair amount
of chop on top of that, so the boat is bouncing around a lot. It's still
not epic weather, but it is serious.
I spent most of the day below decks on what we call 'mother duty',
basically cooking and washing up. Not a good day for it. My co-mother,
Ryan, took an ambitious lead on cooking, and we made scrambled eggs for
breakfast; lentil, rice, and chorizo soup for lunch; and enhanced leftover
soup and meat pies (from frozen) for dinner. Ended up with it all over the
stove and the walls, but everyone appreciated it. I still think meal bars
are the way to go, at least in these conditions, but other people swear hot
food is critical to morale. Apparently one boat last year did a leg on
freeze dried food only and almost had a mutiny.
I did take a break from washing up at one point to help with a sail change.
I'm getting more comfortable in these conditions and integrating more with
the team, and I think we're doing a lot of things well, even if it's not
quite showing in the standings.
By the way, I mentioned in my last post that I'd been acting as navigator.
Just to be clear, I wasn't actually navigating. The skipper handles that,
sometimes bouncing ideas off the more experienced crew members and other
times consulting the wider crew if there's a choice among options. My job
was just to fill in hourly entries in the log book -- position, speed,
course, sail plan, etc. Also to check and pump the bilges. Yesterday, my
job was to check the engine and clean the heads. The romance of sail!
One of the benefits of being on mother duty is that you get pulled out of
regular watch duties, i.e. sailing the boat. That means extra sleep. I
actually have about 8.5 hours before I'm next on watch, so I'm going to go
take advantage of that... at least as much as I can on a heeling, bouncing,
slamming boat.
afternoon, we were sitting in nearly still air with our windseeker and a
full main. As of this evening, we had worked all the way down to the storm
jib and third reef, as the wind was 35 knots with gusts to 45 and forecast
to build. It's very wet on deck and some waves wash over and water pours
down the hatch. Some swells look to be 3-4 meters and there's a fair amount
of chop on top of that, so the boat is bouncing around a lot. It's still
not epic weather, but it is serious.
I spent most of the day below decks on what we call 'mother duty',
basically cooking and washing up. Not a good day for it. My co-mother,
Ryan, took an ambitious lead on cooking, and we made scrambled eggs for
breakfast; lentil, rice, and chorizo soup for lunch; and enhanced leftover
soup and meat pies (from frozen) for dinner. Ended up with it all over the
stove and the walls, but everyone appreciated it. I still think meal bars
are the way to go, at least in these conditions, but other people swear hot
food is critical to morale. Apparently one boat last year did a leg on
freeze dried food only and almost had a mutiny.
I did take a break from washing up at one point to help with a sail change.
I'm getting more comfortable in these conditions and integrating more with
the team, and I think we're doing a lot of things well, even if it's not
quite showing in the standings.
By the way, I mentioned in my last post that I'd been acting as navigator.
Just to be clear, I wasn't actually navigating. The skipper handles that,
sometimes bouncing ideas off the more experienced crew members and other
times consulting the wider crew if there's a choice among options. My job
was just to fill in hourly entries in the log book -- position, speed,
course, sail plan, etc. Also to check and pump the bilges. Yesterday, my
job was to check the engine and clean the heads. The romance of sail!
One of the benefits of being on mother duty is that you get pulled out of
regular watch duties, i.e. sailing the boat. That means extra sleep. I
actually have about 8.5 hours before I'm next on watch, so I'm going to go
take advantage of that... at least as much as I can on a heeling, bouncing,
slamming boat.
Saturday, 5 December 2015
? S, ? E -- Race 4, Day 5
What a difference a day makes. The wind eased yesterday, but enough stayed
for some really good sailing. It also shifted direction, so we tacked for
the first time since race start, followed by a few more in quick
succession. During the night, the wind then really died off. We woke to
this morning's watch with the boat only making about 2 knots in fog. The
wind picked up again briefly and faded again, though we expect it back in a
few hours.
Last night, with the moon not yet up and clouds in the sky, it was black as
could be as we sailed, except for some more phosphorescence in the water
and an occasional flash of lightening in the distance. We executed a nice
headsail change around midnight, which is a lot more work than I'm used to
doing at that hour.
We're officially in eleventh place now after being in twelfth for a bit.
That said, we think we're better off than that. Other boats are closer, but
no one gets to sail a straight line. We think the wind will give us a
better line when it shows up, and the boats that are closer will have to
take a longer, indirect approach. We'll see how it plays out.
We saw a lot of the legendary albatrosses (albatross? albatrice? albatri?)
over the past few days, six at once at one point! The are pretty
impressive, huge birds that soar over the swells, hundreds of miles from
land, never even seeming to flap their wings. On a slightly less
enlightened note, I keep thinking of a cross-dressing John Cleese shouting
"What flavor is it? It's bloody albatross flavor!"
Also had a few tiny jellyfish off the side of the boat as we were barely
moving today. Tony was throwing out a bucket trying to haul one in, though
no success.
Still not sure what the position is. I was actually navigator yesterday,
entering position in the log book every hour, but I can't remember. And
while I have a lot more energy than yesterday, it still seems like a long
way back to the nav station for information you can get off the race
viewer. Maybe next post. I think we're about 38S, 128E. And we're not
further north than yesterday, so I definitely had that wrong.
That's all for now. Nap time.
for some really good sailing. It also shifted direction, so we tacked for
the first time since race start, followed by a few more in quick
succession. During the night, the wind then really died off. We woke to
this morning's watch with the boat only making about 2 knots in fog. The
wind picked up again briefly and faded again, though we expect it back in a
few hours.
Last night, with the moon not yet up and clouds in the sky, it was black as
could be as we sailed, except for some more phosphorescence in the water
and an occasional flash of lightening in the distance. We executed a nice
headsail change around midnight, which is a lot more work than I'm used to
doing at that hour.
We're officially in eleventh place now after being in twelfth for a bit.
That said, we think we're better off than that. Other boats are closer, but
no one gets to sail a straight line. We think the wind will give us a
better line when it shows up, and the boats that are closer will have to
take a longer, indirect approach. We'll see how it plays out.
We saw a lot of the legendary albatrosses (albatross? albatrice? albatri?)
over the past few days, six at once at one point! The are pretty
impressive, huge birds that soar over the swells, hundreds of miles from
land, never even seeming to flap their wings. On a slightly less
enlightened note, I keep thinking of a cross-dressing John Cleese shouting
"What flavor is it? It's bloody albatross flavor!"
Also had a few tiny jellyfish off the side of the boat as we were barely
moving today. Tony was throwing out a bucket trying to haul one in, though
no success.
Still not sure what the position is. I was actually navigator yesterday,
entering position in the log book every hour, but I can't remember. And
while I have a lot more energy than yesterday, it still seems like a long
way back to the nav station for information you can get off the race
viewer. Maybe next post. I think we're about 38S, 128E. And we're not
further north than yesterday, so I definitely had that wrong.
That's all for now. Nap time.
Friday, 4 December 2015
40S, 126E (I think) -- Race 4, Day 4
So much for my plan for daily blog updates.
My plans to read Moby Dick, finish my podcast on the Civil War, and think deep thoughts are doing even worse.
This is the first time I've had the energy to do anything other than sleep while off watch. We're sailing upwind, generally 20-30 knots of wind, so we spend a lot of time heeled over pretty far. just moving around is a lot of work. The approximate position in the title is because the nav station is all the way at the back of the boat, and I really can't be bothered to go there.
The sailing itself is going OK. We had a good start and were in second for a bit, but we've since dropped back to eleventh. Part of that is tactics. We're in a group taking a slower route than some others, but it's shorter, and we think the weather looks positive in the long run. But we're also going slower than some of the others on the same route. We're deliberately spreading work around to get everyone up to speed on all roles, then really targeting the next two races. Still frustrating not doing better, but it feels like we're executing OK as a team.
The night sailing has been pretty spectacular. Some nights, we've had clear skies full of stars with a number of shooting stars. Last night was cloudy and inky black, with the only light coming from the phosphorescence of the water as we churned it up.
One thing I've been reminded of is that I don't like being the new, inexperienced guy. During training, I'd say I was as good as anyone, better than most, at least of the inexperienced sailors. Now though, some of those inexperienced sailors have crossed oceans. It's actually cool to see how far some of the guys I know have come and think I'll get there when I'm done with this. My watch leader, Barnaby, says he's one of those previously inexperienced sailors, but I don't believe him. He's really calm and measured and certainly seems to know his stuff cold. His only questionable decision so far came as victualler, when he planned pavlova for dessert the first night out. Very tasty, but it left him and Nick whipping cream with a fork for 45 minutes.
Time to prep for the next watch. Next update will come... when it comes.
My plans to read Moby Dick, finish my podcast on the Civil War, and think deep thoughts are doing even worse.
This is the first time I've had the energy to do anything other than sleep while off watch. We're sailing upwind, generally 20-30 knots of wind, so we spend a lot of time heeled over pretty far. just moving around is a lot of work. The approximate position in the title is because the nav station is all the way at the back of the boat, and I really can't be bothered to go there.
The sailing itself is going OK. We had a good start and were in second for a bit, but we've since dropped back to eleventh. Part of that is tactics. We're in a group taking a slower route than some others, but it's shorter, and we think the weather looks positive in the long run. But we're also going slower than some of the others on the same route. We're deliberately spreading work around to get everyone up to speed on all roles, then really targeting the next two races. Still frustrating not doing better, but it feels like we're executing OK as a team.
The night sailing has been pretty spectacular. Some nights, we've had clear skies full of stars with a number of shooting stars. Last night was cloudy and inky black, with the only light coming from the phosphorescence of the water as we churned it up.
One thing I've been reminded of is that I don't like being the new, inexperienced guy. During training, I'd say I was as good as anyone, better than most, at least of the inexperienced sailors. Now though, some of those inexperienced sailors have crossed oceans. It's actually cool to see how far some of the guys I know have come and think I'll get there when I'm done with this. My watch leader, Barnaby, says he's one of those previously inexperienced sailors, but I don't believe him. He's really calm and measured and certainly seems to know his stuff cold. His only questionable decision so far came as victualler, when he planned pavlova for dessert the first night out. Very tasty, but it left him and Nick whipping cream with a fork for 45 minutes.
Time to prep for the next watch. Next update will come... when it comes.
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