The Greatest Show on Earth
Day 18
Stats - 9/17/2023
Time: 20000
Trip Miles: 2,050 (we are actually going backwards now due to storms)
Weather: Clear, no rain, barometer rising. We are between systems.
Wind: 30 Knots blowing from the WN
Sea State: Ten to 20 foot rolling swells at 7 second intervals. Violent rocking.
How Far North: 190 miles to Kodiak Island (wind blowing opposite direction)
Propulsion: We set the drogue (no sails up) and we are drifting 2.5 to 3.5 knots per hour South
Sea Temperature: 50
At some point after midnight last night, this massive low-pressure system arrived and turned into a full-blown storm. To watch what beauty this earth can produce is truly aw inspiring. The barometer plunged from a high of 1013 to a low of 974 in the span of 48 hours. Interestingly, when the storm hit, the rain stopped. We have been anticipating the arrival of this system for three days and thought we were ready - well as ready as we would ever be.
Perhaps this was wishful thinking on my part, but I thought that because we had done so much preparation before the storm, that it would be cozy-mozy inside MŌLI for the duration of the inclement weather. Kind of like it would be one long game night where Randall and I would play checkers and Monopoly in our PJs and drink hot chocolate all night long waiting out the storm. Well….that was wrong. We were getting wet and thrown about all night and did not know when or where the next hit would come from.
The benefit of using a drogue during the storm is that you do not get blown off course by nearly as much. Without the drogue, we would likely have lost 160 miles per day as we get blown downwind (which happens to be the direction opposite that we want to travel). With the drogue, we lose only 30 miles or so per day. One big downside of drogue use is that we become sitting ducks for waves crashing over us. If you think about it, we are traveling 3 knots downwind while the waves are traveling an average of 15 knots. The bigger the wave, the faster it travels. Randall prefers a drogue because a sea anchor is deployed from the bow and under these rough conditions, it is hard enough getting to the drogue in the cockpit. Getting to the bow would be extremely dangerous.
Not every wave crashes over us, of course. Most do not. But every so often, a big one does. The storm waves of the North Pacific, after all, are not known to be forgiving. The term “pooped” refers to when the boat takes a direct hit at the rear of the vessel - for us that is the cockpit/dog house entrance. Even though MŌLI has a canvas cover over the entrance, AND a metal hatch cover behind that, a direct hit by a massive wave still means a significant amount of seawater intrusion. Getting pooped is an irregular enough occurrence that it is not typically expected or anticipated (although Randall has experienced his fair share so he is always on alert). This makes it all the worse and upsetting when it happens. I can only compare it to being rear-ended in a traffic accident while having someone through a swimming pool amount of cold seawater on you at the same time.
As water pours through unexpected seams of the boat, it soaks our seat cushions, log book, clothes we are wearing, and worst of all, our electronic equipment including phones, laptops, and chart plotter. Honestly, we can take one or two of these intrusions, but by the third or fourth we are depressed, wet, and completely out of cloth and paper towels. A warm cup of coffee brings our spirits back quickly.
The strangest occurrence happened around midnight. Randall was sleeping and I was in the cockpit sitting on the port side just watching the greatest, most beautiful show on earth out the window, when I heard what can only be described as a missile approaching. Within a second the missile (or in reality a massive cross-swell of a wave) slammed into the starboard bow with such force as to shoot the boat straight up and over on it’s opposite side. A super quick knockdown. Fortunately, I was already braced when the shock hit. Randall flew out of his bed but was caught by his lee cloth. All of the fresh food in bins in the V-berth flew out all over my bed (again). Where I was sitting is a dorade vent that we sealed up previously by inserting a metal disk to prevent any flow through. Immediately upon impact as MŌLI went on her side, water filled in that dorade box, and as we righted, the water shot out the vent onto the cockpit. Kind of like Old Faithful, but in reverse.
Being on drogue also seems to exacerbate the inevitable rock and rolling a boat will experience during heavy weather conditions. Last night we seemed to be getting more than our fair share. As the wind picked up to 50 knots we were heaving more than 60 degrees from side to side in a violent fashion. What this does to the interior of a boat is unspeakable. Food flying, cabinets opening with contents strewn about, cups, plates, and silverware shooting across from one side to the other in milliseconds, dinner gone, and let’s not even talk about the head. The cacophony of noise is unbelievable, including canned goods slamming around in their cubbies, silverware, and tools shifting, and all the gear on deck banging around. But still, we are able to sleep.
And what is it about the locker doors when the boat is rocking? If you open one, it slams about to and fro, picking up energy so by the second or third slam there is an infinite amount of power behind that swinging door - be careful!
Well, it seems that we are now on the tail end of this massive low-pressure system that extends from the Aleutian Islands to British Columbia. The wind is dying down (30s and 40s). It had peaked at 61. The waves are still building a bit…they are messy but there are some spectacularly beautiful 20-footers. The not-so-great news is that there is a smaller low-pressure system right behind this one. This means that we will likely have to drogue in place until Tuesday. Could be worse….I could still be swimming!
Today’s leadoff picture is a screenshot of our tracker. You can see three things: First the major low pressure system is almost past us. Second, you can see that it is sucking us with it in the same direction (East). Third you can see the smaller low pressure system directly behind it at the foot of the Aleutian Island chain. The close proximity of the second system makes it impossible for us to do anything except wait out the second storm. Should be over by Tuesday afternoon.
Before I went to around 0200, the fastest wind we encountered was 51 knots. A couple of hours later during Randall’s watch the blow hit 65.
The head has turned into a repository of wen towels, rags and mats. In a pinch, it is easy and quick to throw them there.
The top of the stove, because it gimbals (rocks with the boat), is an attractive place to leave a cup or a kettle, just not a chocolate cake! You can see remnants of last nights quinoa explosion whereby quinoa ended up all over the floor, stove and kitchen. We still have no idea where it came from.
Today’s honorable mention goes to Lexi Klionsky who gifted me the most delicious Crema Ala Pistacchio - she procured on her summer trip to Italy. It made Randall’s and my morning as we spread it over fresh bread (and butter). Good luck at Poly!!