I am currently 140nm off the coast of Australia and 1012nm from New Plymouth, New Zealand. Latitude wise, I am in line with Dargaville in New Zealand. I have travelled around 370nm since departing Coff’s Harbour 10 days ago.
I have been on para anchor for over 60 hours now. Yesterday (day nine) was not a nice day. The wind had been over 20 knots all night on the evening of day 8, from the south east, and this had caused the sea state to become agitated and wild. The wind stayed above 20 knots almost all of day 9 so the sea’s continued to grow during the day. I was luckily locked into a favorable current stream with the para anchor and was being dragged in a very rough and bumpy fashion in a south easterly direction. However due to the currents, the para anchor was not able to hold me directly into the wind and I was taking the sea’s beam on (from the side), which is the worst scenario and the most dangerous for a boat as it is the easiest way to capsize. As the sea’s picked up during the morning, I braced myself in the cabin, feet against the opposite wall and waited. The waiting is the hardest part. Inside the cabin I can’t see what is coming. I hear the sound of a breaking wave approaching and brace myself, sometimes it passes under us with only a gentle bump. But every so often we get smashed. BOOM. The entire boat shudders like she’s been punched in the guts, we start to roll, my head hits the cabin wall, I am dazed and start to walk my feet up the opposite wall as the boat rolls past 90 degrees. This is it, our first capsize… But then slowly the Donkey shakes herself off and returns back upright. I rub my head, a bit of blood but mainly a bruise. I peer out at the back deck, it’s a mess, the plastic bucket housing the retrieval lines has been smashed into a number of pieces. The life raft has broken free from her tether, the carbon fibre flagstaff has been snapped off like a match stick. But most worrying is the ¾ inch stainless steel antenna mount at the stern has been bent back by the force of the wave and the sat comms antenna is now leaning back at an unusual angle. If one wave can do that to ¾ inch stainless steel, what would it do to me? I hurriedly put on my harness and clamber but naked onto the back deck. Keeping one eye on the waves as they roll threateningly towards me, I work as quickly as I can on the wet, wildly rolling deck, cutting down the flag, re-stowing and tidying equipment before the next wave hits. Then it’s back into the cabin, feet against the wall, waiting, listening, worrying…
Today (Day 10) I have a brief respite from the strength of the winds, I tried to row this morning but have an 8 knot headwind making rowing very difficult to even keep the boat aligned in the correct direction. So I am back on para anchor, advancing at 1.8 knots with the assistance of the current, hoping for a wind change after lunch to allow me some time on the oars. After being in the cabin for so long I feel weak and lethargic. The sea is wearing me down. I have new respect for it after the last 60 hours. I have even stronger winds forecast in the next few days and not many of them are favorable. The battle continues.
PS: Thank you for your comments, Monique copies and pastes them into an email and sends them to me. Out here it is easy to feel completely alone at times, so reading them gives me an amazing moral boost.