3:45 PM Fri 18 Dec 2009 GMT
Cape Breton Island, 14th December
Wind lines, the sirens of the sea. Always there but always just out of reach, beckoning tantalisingly on the horizon, tempting the unwary sailor to enter a merry dance of seeking the wind, any wind, but always spinning away just as the elusive zephyr appears to be within their grasp. Oh, the frustrations of light wind sailing!
Scanning the horizon for that line of slightly darker water, seeking out the slight ripples on the surface the indicator that an extra knot or two of wind might be present. The difference between two knots of boat speed and 3 knots, a difference that may prove to be crucial later in the race as we seek to exit the high pressure area that has engulfed the fleet. Watching, helplessly, as a promising line of wind passes by within one or two boat lengths, the promise unrealised as we are left sitting on a glassy mirror-like sea.
With the frustrations comes beauty though. The beauty of vivid crimson sunsets highlighting the wispy clouds high above us, of wine-dark seas drinking the last of the evening light, of beautiful dawn mornings as the rising light illuminates the expanding horizon of the ocean plain stretching out in all directions as far as the eye can see. An unimaginable sense of space after the earlier constricted horizons of steep waves and poor visibility, just one more of the many faces of the Southern Ocean.
Meanwhile, the merry dance continues, the sails drawing on the slight breaths of wind, as we make our slow, gradual progress towards our goal of Geraldton in Western Australia. Stronger winds are promised in a day or two. Meanwhile we just hope that we are making slightly better progress than our rivals in this race, but for now the sirens continue to tempt us. And when the wind does build it tempts us to follow it, offering us the promise of higher speeds, but always leading us off slightly in the wrong direction. Oh, the joys of light wind sailing!
by Adrian Healy
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