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I own the last Wauquiez Centurion 42  (hull#55).

Thursday, June 5, 2014

From the rockin' of the cradle...

Got up yesterday at 0700 or so. Ally is on watch. Pitch black outside. We haven't changed our clocks yet and we are still on Cabo time. The wind is light from the NNE and Appa is gurgling along at 6 knots touching 7 at times. I thought some coffee would be a good start to the day. Two scoops of Nestle Instant in my cup and some hot water from the kettle. I'm sitting happy. I know that coffee makes me jittery and even more unpleasant than usual but I decide to have another cup. I don't really like coffee though. I like the routine, the grown-upness about it. I have never felt particular adult-like but when I have a cup of coffee in front of me, I start to think of myself as I little bit more mature. The feeling doesn't last long thankfully.
The ocean swell is a beastly thing, using every opportunity to hamper movement, food prep, and sleep. Just prior to going to bed the previous night a swell, out of nowhere, attacked me at the helmstation. Just me. We were all up in the cockpit and I was the only one who got punished. The swells are getting bold I tell you. And smart. Soon they will be changing our course on the autopilot. They already are moving my tools. In fact one of them launched a squid into my bunk through a very small porthole. Laying in bed, I roll over and swore something was tickling me. Shook it off as boat noise and motion. Got up in the morning and there, smashed into the sheets is a dead squid. Part of his tentacles were on my back. Nice. Evil waves. Poor squid.
I've been thinking about my dad on this trip to Hawaii. My dad and my Uncle Gordon. I don't know if my dad ever had plans to get to the Pacific but I know his boat was ready to go for the Caribbean. He's been dead now, what 4 years? Jen got pregnant with Sam and we found out in the very beginning of September 2010. My dad died just before I found out about the impending arrival of Sam. Sam is now 4. Good God. Sam told me she couldn't wait to turn 5 that way, when showing people how old she was, she could use her thumb also.
My brother recently bought a J105. It is a raceboat. He plans on campaigning it in Lake Michigan with his family serving as crew. Maybe a ringer thrown into the crew mix. I'm flying out to Chicago mid-August to race with him. My religious views are still being developed so I'll spare this blog any ramblings on the subject but I want to believe that Gordon and Arne will see my brother and I sailing that boat like they taught us.
Open ocean sailing makes me...wistful.
We had light winds last night but still sailed on. The winds also clocked more and made for a dreadful ride. The waves were slapping the hull of Appa in joy at our discomfort. For one week the boat has been heeled over at approximately 15 degrees to port. All the while being shook by the evil waves. Our food and stuff have all found equilibrium in the holds of the boat. Then the swell started to rock us back and forth. 15 degrees to port and then 15 to starboard. Couple of times we had some 30 degree rolls. Now our stuff is sliding back and forth in the cabinets, lockers, bilge. To quote another book, sounds like a burglary gone bad.
First World problems, eh?
OK. Enough of this blogging for now. We have to get this spinnaker rigged. I think. Maybe I'll let the crew sleep. Boat motion is a tad better. A well rested crew...






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