January 11, 2019
Noon Position: 46 08S 67 49E
Course(t)/Speed(kts): E 5.5
Miles since departure: 13,682
Avg. Miles/Day: 138
Strange weather day. We are riding the bottom of a small high. Winds have been due to veer from SW to W to NW and lighten significantly as the high moves over us and then on to the E. Accordingly, this morning I poled out the working jib, but left the main up, thinking I’d jibe around as the day developed. That combination, poled out headsail and main, can handle a wider wind range than both headsails poled.
Wind direction hasn’t budged all day, but it has strengthened to 20 knots and more.
I argued with the weather for a time, lecturing it on its duty to perform according to plan. I won the argument; how could I not? Still, wind has stubbornly remained WSW at 20. I’m not unhappy to have 20 knots of wind aft, it’s just that my sail plan makes me slower than need be. I had anticipated a changing wind day, after all. My muttered rebuke, “this damned wind is costing me miles.”
Splashes of sun in the afternoon. Good, because both sets of foulies need airing, as do the sopping galley tea towels and, now, my two favorite hats and some heavy fleece.
I went on deck last night without donning my foulie jacket, which I never do in such brisk weather, especially when Mo has spent the day tossing spray everywhere. But wind had eased. Decks were dry, and I just wanted to let out a bit more jib, a quick operation.
And I was about done too, when WHAM!, Mo launched an entire bathtub of water into the cockpit. For a brief moment, it was like standing under a waterfall. The second of my two favorite hats, soaked, as were my layers, including the second of three sets of heavy fleece. One clean and dry set left.
I’m not a screamer ashore, but at sea I can have a hard time controlling emotions when things go contrarily, which they do with some frequency down here. I can reason with myself. I can ask, What would Epictetus do? Remember, he says to fret only over things you can control. But in the moment, the outburst…bursts.
The odd thing is that there’s no one here to be mad at…but me. I’m the one who failed to put on his jacket, after all.
But the damned sea! Did it have to toss up a wave just then? A little deference would be appreciated once in a while.
This article was syndicated from The Figure 8 Voyage