Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
edge I put the helm hard over. Déjà vu was traveling fast downwind, and she silently and
suddenly heeled over and shuddered as the boom slapped within its confines. Again, the
jib started flogging loudly, whipping maddeningly in the freshening wind. “Sheet that in,
Penny!” I yelled, not meaning to sound like Captain Bligh on a bad day.
“Alright, alright!” she said hotly.
Now we were heading straight for Whale Rock at a rapid rate. I prayed that there were
no other hidden reefs scattered about around this ill placed rock. I visualized the chart and
tried to recall any details, but I could not think straight at the moment.
“We are going to come about again in front of Whale Rock guys; get ready,” I called out
again.
“Oh God, here we go again,” muttered Penny.
I couldn't believe this show of infidelity and lack of understanding from her at a time like
this. I flashed a look at her in disbelief and saw a cocky, spoilt, little girl who must have al-
ways gotten her own way, never seeing other people's situations as they affected her center
of the universe.
“Jesus, Penny, just do what you are told right now; can't you damn well read the situation!
I can't afford to fuck up here! Can't you see that? Do you want to take over here, Miss
Madam?” I yelled at her, finally blowing my cool.
She looked shocked at my outburst. She had never seen me angry. “I'm sorry, Jonathan,”
she said quietly, sheepishly.
“OK quick, we must jibe now! “ I said as I threw over the helm again, seeing with dismay
the scant distance between us and the ugly, white, swirling water and dark, black outline of
Whale Rock.
Again, the boat rocked over to lee as we jibed. I winced again at the punishment the boom
and tackle were taking; there was nothing for it but to press on. This time when we jibed
again in front of the water's edge, the new tack saw us safely past Whale Rock and I was
able to put the wind more on our beam, thus avoiding another sickening Chinese, or uncon-
trolled, jibe. We flew along now towards the dog's leg where soon we would be forced to
change direction sharply to west and sail through the fleet of visiting yachts. This would be
the real test of our seamanship. It was uncanny how fast Déjà vu was now sailing. We had
the wind on her after port beam, her fastest point of sail. There were no waves to impede
her progress, and she silently hissed along through the water; the apparent after wind could
hardly be felt as we were running directly before it.
“Oh God, look at all those boats,” groaned Gavin, finally breaking his silence.
