Travel Reference
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side of the ocean. It had no mercy, no soul; it was a cold, calculated force of nature going
through the motions of a natural phenomenon when two different areas of cyclonic pres-
sure self-regulated. The wind had increased in strength. I guessed it was blowing thirty,
gusting forty, maybe fifty knots. The seas had risen dramatically in the night, and they had
become rapidly advancing mountains of water. Their shape was fairly usual for this wind
speed; gradually rising in front, they would suddenly rush under the keel and raise us high
in the air. The water would rush noisily past us, and we would then be plunged down into
the trough to await the next mountainous sea ... there were no grey strands in these beards
yet.
The wind made the rigging scream in ever sharpening and flattening tonal sounds. It was
very real and played fearfully on our nerves. I knew that we ought to eat something, but we
both felt sick due to this unusual boat motion. We had been at anchor, living the life of land
lubbers for several months now and had become soft and unused to the rough, never-ending
motion of the sea. The violence in the boat's movement had sloshed diesel and oily water
around in the bilges, and the smell below was sickening. I reached into the lazarette locker
where the main bilge pump was situated and began pumping. Filthy, oily water vomited out
the side of the boat and spread a glassy film on the turbulent water. I knew its effect and
watched as it calmed the water immediately under its oily patch. I recalled many dramatic
examples in literature where desperate sailors had used an oil bag with a little leak to calm
the stormy seas. I had no vast supply of oil to spend on this mighty sea; for us it was not an
option.
We managed to make a cup of coffee in the wildly moving galley, and I added a lot of
sweet condensed milk. Perhaps later we would attempt a meal. The bird population had
thinned out somewhat, and it was only the thrill seekers sweeping about diving for fish. I
couldn't understand how any living creature could be getting any benefit out of this mael-
strom, but I realized too how out of our element we were.
We sat staring at the waves in fearful fascination from the confines of the cockpit, re-
strained in our harnesses and life jackets and the realization that no matter what happened
we could not get off this boat. We were stuck out here hundreds of miles from any land;
we had no radio that we could call for help on; the little VHF radio-telephone was limited
to about seventy miles on a good clear day, and our ancient Yaesu 7 SSB radio was only a
receiver; it couldn't transmit. No, we were well and truly on our own and at the mercy of
the storm.
I kept these thoughts to myself, and I imagine Gavin kept a few to himself as well. There
was nothing one could do in a storm scenario like this. You can't do anything other than
stay put and stare at the sea. You certainly cannot read a book. Apart from the physical
challenge, one's concentration was apt to favor the storm. No book on earth could match
