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bow into the bottom of the resultant trough and would be cartwheeled over with catastroph-
ic repercussions. She would almost certainly lose her mast and all that was above decks,
including, in my case, my two cabin hatches that kept out seawater. The hatches in the
cockpit and two lazarette lockers would be washed away, and she would be waterlogged in
a twinkling. It would be over quickly, and a freezing, shocking drowning would be the last
of my experiences.
Because I was so far south, I was trying to make as much easting as possible. That was to
get myself well east of Rarotonga's longitude so that when I started to sail up north towards
this island, I would be able to sail in reasonable comfort, without having to tack endlessly
back and forth, as I would be upwind of the southeast trades. I therefore set a triple reefed
mainsail to give me some toned down sail power so that I could make a bit of way. I was
essentially still sailing with the wind on my port beam, crossing and going a little below
these large rollers with the storm wind coming down from the north. It was very noisy and
very rough going.
Mackerel sky and mare's tales
Make lofty ships carry small sails .
A few days later another gale hit me from the northwest, throwing the seas in total confu-
sion again. I had to hove to all day and all night. I literally had to hang on to the various
grab rails down below to move about, and at times, it was simply impossible to move. I
lay in my sleeping bag, fully clothed, shivering and wedged up against the hull with all my
available cushions, trying to gather my strength from this constant, violent motion.
It was blowing again at least thirty knots, a bloody waste of time! Feast or famine. I
wouldn't mind if it blew a gale going my way for a change! I had a frightening display
of temper, almost beyond control. I threw things around the cabin. I was very angry and
depressed as I had to claw my way up to the bow where I had improperly lashed my pre-
cious, little working jib sail in its bag along the safety wires on the pulpit. When I got there
to remove it to the safety of the cabin, risking life and limb I might add, I saw in dismay
the lashing had been washed away by the waves, and the sail was lost forever. I could not
afford these losses; these were the engines of the boat! Without them I was doomed! I had
to be more careful.
I noticed with a sinking heart that the barometer was falling more. So was Russia's Prime
Minister Gorbachev, I was able to hear on my SSB radio: a military and industrial revolu-
tion was taking place. Garbagetroff I called him. I allowed myself a radio reception for
news and weather every couple of days, then I would switch off to conserve precious bat-
tery power. The sad thoughts about an ocean and a world without her wild animals had
returned and sobered my days.
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