September 26
Yesterday evening turned out not to be so bad. I rowed well into the
evening. The moon was bright. To call what I was doing "rowing" seems
like stretching the truth. I tapped the boat along on the tops of waves.
It was too rough to really row, but too calm to sit in the cabin counting
the squares in my insulating foil. This boat would surf, but I keep it
stern heavy to avoid surfing. Sure, I could gain a few extra miles on
days like today by surfing, but I do not like the loss of control as the boat
slides down the face of a wave, and in stormy situations this is just bad
news. Were I with a partner, I might be less conservative and shift some
weight into the bow.
September 27
I smell. I know that I should not admit this, but I smell. I smell bad.
My plan is to bathe twice a week: on Sunday and on Wednesday or Thursday,
depending on the weather. I'd take a bath every day, but it is very time
consuming and since I am alone and not likely to offend anyone, it is not a good use of
resources. My watermaker has been a bit fussy. It is drawing
in air through a three-way valve attached to its pre-filter. I've tried
tightening the fittings several times, and while this seems to work for a
while, within an hour it begins to suck air again. Air in one's watermaker
is a bad thing. What I need to do is to remove the valve from the
assembly
entirely, but it has been too rough to sit on deck with my tools holding my
head upside down in the watermaker compartment. So, I've not made any
water since the rough weather began. I have only about two gallons in my
main water tank. This tank holds five gallons when full. What water I
have, I must save for drinking until I get the watermaker working a little
better. This means no bath today. But I REALLY smell.
I rowed hard on Friday and, well, I perspired. On Saturday, I rowed - and
forgive me, I sweat. I know. I know. Ladies are never to progress beyond
the perspiration stage, but I couldn't help it. I sweat and I could not
have my bath. So, now I smell.
The weather was pretty bumpy all day.
Not much good rowing, but there is a grand tail wind so progress is good.
September 28
I am happy to report that I was able to remove the leaky valve from the
desalinating system and I made enough water to refill the water tank plus
and extra gallon for a BATH! Life is much better now. I've brought only
two shirts and three pairs of shorts with me. I am saving my second shirt
and third pair of shorts for the halfway point. For now, I wash and wear
the one shirt. Meaning I take off my shirt, wash it, and put it back on to
dry. I rotate my two pairs of shorts. Wearing wet shorts until they
dry is no good for a number of reasons, but mostly I am trying to avoid the
rower's equivalent of diaper rash. Shorts seem to dry okay after a long
afternoon in the sun. My shirt dries in an hour or so when it is on me,
but it would require a day of good sun to dry otherwise. The difficulty is
that in this situation it is extremely difficult to rinse all the salt
from the material and the salt holds the water.
With my gallon of fresh water the sequence runs like this. First I wash
my hair. This is a great pleasure. Then I use the same water to sponge off
the rest of my body. Next I wash my shirt and put it back on. It is a
long sleeve white shirt. (The long sleeves protect my arms from sunburn.)
By this time the water's rather dirty. I wash my shorts last, and put on the semi-clean
shorts of the last wash cycle. Often, I'll leave my shorts
in the bucket for an hour or so and allow the pitching and turning of the
boat to agitate them. After the hour of agitation I ring the water out of
the shorts and hang them up to dry.
The wind is still good, and the wavelength has changed. There is more
room
between swells. It was an excellent day for rowing. It was very good
rowing indeed. Choppy enough to be interesting, but not so choppy as to
beat me up at the oars. When it is really rough the boat dips and dives
with enough force that one must be very careful with the oars. If the
boat lurches to port it would not be unusual to have your port oar slam into
your shin while your starboard oar tries to go up your nose. It is
essential to keep a clear head and a steady grip. Most vulnerable to the
flailing of the oars are my shins and my ribs. It is rare for me not to
have at least one good bruise on my shins. My ribs are most in danger as
I take up the oars after a break. If the break is not more than five
minutes, I leave the oars in the oarlocks and they track to the sides of
the boat. When I take up the oars once again I must swing the oars around
so they are in front of me. Occasionally, I miss on the timing and
clobber myself with the oar handle.
My ribs are more exposed than they were a few short weeks ago. I'd guess
I've lost about 15 pounds so far. This is not a concern, and I do not
expect to lose much more. I'd deliberately put on a few extra pounds for
the trip and between the exertion and the first few days of an unhappy
stomach, those extra pounds are gone. Seeing my reflection in the main
hatch as I row I am pleased. I look more and more like a serious rower
everyday. I didn't plan to bring a mirror on board. I didn't have one on
the last trip except for the one on my orienteering compass. Kathy
Steward put a mirror under my Standard C communication system so I could read
its flashing lights. Up to now I've not needed to use the Standard C, but the
mirror has been very handy. I know what you're thinking, but I'm not out
here experimenting with mascara. (Although some lip-stick might protect
my lips from sunburn. I'd not thought of this. But I have plenty of Chapstick.) No, the
mirror was very
helpful when I was working on the watermaker. With it I can see around
corners.
Back to rowing. I am experimenting with "hatchet" blades versus
"spoon"
or "Macon" blades on my oars. Spoons are more traditional to ocean rowing.
Hatchets are used by flat water racing boats. I must say that I am
delighted with the performance of my hatchets in even very rough water. I
can get a much better grip on the water, without going deep. Going deep is
bad. The more you bury the shaft of the oar, the more work you create for
yourself. With the spoons, I tend to go deep. This is not merely a
question of pitch or the angle of the oar blade relative to the water.Thehatchets
merely grab better and I rarely find myself burying the hatchet.
(I'm not sure what this says about life, but reserved for rowing this is a
good thing.) I'll admit getting a good grip on the water could be a
problem if you latch onto something that would be better not to have a good
grip on - like the face of a breaking wave, which could take the oar away
from you. On the whole, I think the hatchets are terrific.
I had a big dinner this evening: freeze dried Pasta Primavera followed by
peanut butter pie.
September 29
I rose a little late 6:45. The sun was just peaking over the horizon when
I took to the oars. Feeling a bit groggy, I attribute my slowness this
morning to my having too large a meal and not enough water to go with it.
Dehydration is something about which I must be constantly aware. The other
possibility is that I worked very hard yesterday and I was just plain
tired. In either case, I will not beat myself up over the sun's beating
me to the adventure of this day.
Still a good wind. This day's adventures will carry me closer to home.
More later,
Tori
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