October 7

It was a dark and stormy night. (Cliché?) Well, it WAS a dark and stormy night. Is it my fault someone born ahead of me stole all the good opening lines? We're nearing the new moon which means no moon which leads to dark, and the wind picked up to about 35 knots and the waves grew to about 20 feet which to me equates with stormy. Ergo, it was a dark and stormy night. The waves were not so big, but they were stacked up so close to one another that it seemed my little boat barely cleared one swell before another took it up. This made for a bumpy ride.

Around 9:00 PM I went on deck to ready a sea anchor. I did not want to use it because the boat was running well with the wind and the wind was east by northeast, extremely favorable. I stacked 200 feet of sea anchor rode (line) on the deck and attached my smallest sea anchor (Baby-Bear) to it. I don't remember if I've said this before, but I have three excellent sea anchors aboard.

Before the trip I contacted 5 companies that manufacture sea anchors. I took pains to explain that I would not be using them in the classic way (to keep a large boat bow first to face a severe storm). Many companies were helpful. Para-tech was particularly responsive. In the end, such companies cannot afford to tinker with their products to suit each potential purchaser. Let's face it, the market for sea anchors for ocean-going rowboats is pretty small.

I took an example of what I needed to a company near Louisville and explained that the basic shape was correct but that the anchor itself was far too big and would hold my boat too firmly. A great fellow, Dave, at Covers Unlimited sewed up some grand sea anchors. They are made of a far tougher material than the anchors I used last year and the sewing is superior. I have three sizes. Papa-Bear is the big one. This is for use in light head winds, when I don't want the boat to drift backwards at night. In this case I could use a big anchor like a Para-tech parachute type, but Papa-Bear is comparatively simple. I don't need floats or trip lines, I toss it overboard and when it's time to pull it in I just pull the boat to the anchor. It is very easy when compared to even the most basic sailboat rig which requires winches and floats. Baby-Bear is for severe storms or any situation when I need to keep the boat stern to the wind and perpendicular to the waves. In a bad storm, if this anchor were too big it would tear the hardware right off my boat and jerk the teeth out of my head. Mama-Bear, as one might guess, is between the two extremes. The American Pearl is designed to take waves stern first. Most boats want to take waves bow first. (I point this out only to explain my unorthodox stern deployment of a sea anchor.)

After setting up the anchor, I left it on deck and climbed back into the cabin. For the next several hours I let the boat run with the wind. Around midnight a swell picked up the boat and turned it sideways to the wind. The next swell was close behind and hit the boat hard. The Pearl turned on her side and dipped her roof into the water before coming up right again. If I wanted to make the fastest solo crossing, I'd had left the boat alone. I could risk a full capsize. This boat and I have been upside down before. However, I promised my friend, Barry Bingham, that I would be careful. It was time for a sea anchor.

I put on my harness and life vest and climbed out on deck. Within seconds of closing the hatch a wave crossed the cabin roof and sloshed onto the cockpit. It drenched me completely. Deploying the sea anchor only took about 45 seconds. I tossed the anchor out and saw that the line did not foul on anything. Back in the cabin, it was a miserable night. I was wet and because of the weather I was obliged to keep my roof vents closed. The weather was warm and the cabin was soon a steam bath. I counted every minute between midnight and dawn.

October 8

I spent the entire day inside. The wind remained steady between 35-40 knots all day. I cursed the fellow who makes up the pilot charts for this area. According to the chart, the percentage of gale force winds in this 5 degree square is zero, nada, zip, zilch, none. So why, tell me why, do I have 40 knot winds? The response would be that these winds are not statistically significant. It may not be significant to the statistics (barren little things that they are) but it IS significant to me. Deep breath, if rowing the Atlantic were easy there would be a crowd of people out here.

October 9

The winds died around noon. I pulled in the sea anchor and took up the oars for about three hours. Then the thunderstorms began to get the better of me. I don't mind rowing in the rain, but ever since my racing partner, Beth Brown, and I were caught in a lightning storm on the Ohio River in a racing double, I respect lighting. It was a colorful show, but I went back inside. One, two, three, four, five, twenty-two, twenty-three, ninety, ninety-one - counting the squares in my ceiling foil.

October 10

It is still raining, but there is less lightening and thunder. I could not abide spending another day in the cabin. So, I've rowed for most of the morning. A bit of sun broke through about an hour ago and my batteries are happy enough that I've taken a short break to get this letter off. All is well here. Hope all is well at home.

As ever,
Tori