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We have just ended our first dry and sunny day in three days. It felt good to have dry decks - which were immediately draped with wet clothing from the previous three days of hard and wet sailing. The crew has also begun to tend to minor repairs in the rig. We have re-cleaned the steering gear of old grease (less than 10 hours old) and gone back to oiling instead, but frequently, like every four hours. I have had a chance to catch up with business communications with the office and my own business with the ship. The weather seems to be stable for a little while, so now I can catch up on writing to you in this log.

Monday evening (two days ago) was the beginning of a rough night at sea with winds up to 46 knots in one of the many gusts that night. All night Pride II drove along at 8-9 knots using only the foresail, storm jib, and trisail. The rain was pretty fierce at times. Steering was a challenge in the dark with rising seas to about 12 or more feet. I spent much of the time monitoring the crew and reviewing the weather, trying to decide if carrying on was better than stopping. It was a close call. My main concern what that the low would continue east and thus bring us closer to the eye of the low (and not go northeast as predicted).

At one point I considered reefing the foresail. But to do that would mean bearing off and losing more latitude to the north and getting closer to the low. We were OK without the reef when the wind stayed around 30 to 35 knots. We could even stand gusts to 40. But sustained gusts of 45 knots were another matter. Also, reefing in the dark was better avoided, if possible. I held on and didn't order the reef. When morning arrived, so, too, came moderation in the wind and a feeling of having come out of the storm - though the wind was still over 25 knots. Wonderful thing daylight is.

The rest of the day after the night of gale conditions was spent merely riding the sea and wind. No sail changes till near the end of the day. We may have waited to make sail for too long. Pride II can often outrun a cresting wave. But with reduced sail and the leftover sea, she got hit three separate times by sloppy sea crests. All but one of these sloppy crests hit Pride II up forward with a horrible slam that shook her to her keel. The third and last one was thankfully the smallest. It did not so much slam the ship as slide in two feet off over the rail cap just aft of the main rig, near the aft cabin. It was 1600 hours and snack time. Andy had brought out some edibles, since it had not been raining since late morning and the aft deck was dry. Two watches were standing around enjoying the sunshine after an awful night when I spotted what I call a "square wave." It was heaped up and traveling right at us, square to the ship. No crest visible. Just heaped up and approaching. I have seen this before in other situations and knew that some of that wave was going to come aboard. I called "hang on" and all of us were washed around the deck by a sudden two feet of water that hit most of us at waist level. It was as if we were standing hip deep in water at the beach and a two-foot cresting wave came ashore. Clothing and people and gear were washing around the pool of water trapped momentarily inside the bulwark of the ship. The ship's horn went off as water rushed into the open boat speed gauge and engine control box mounted (water automatically sets it off). Several buckets of water rushed into the aft cabin through the half open skylight. A half a bucket of water came in through the aft cabin slide hatch opening.

After the unexpected deluge cleared the bulwark, we first checked for all souls and found everyone aboard. Then, in a daze, we picked up the gear that was awash and floating around. When we realized water had gone below, we immediately went to check things out. Thankfully, the electronics were not hit directly, although the chart table was wet. The aft cabin settee was soaked, and mopping up began immediately. We all marveled at the suddenness of being trashed after a whole night of hard sailing and day of moderating conditions. I have noticed over my years at sea that keeping speed on is a good way to avoid these lazy seas. I guess we waited too long and got hit by a big one.

After the clean up while we were making sail again, out of the rain appears one of the racing fleet - Eendracht, our Dutch mates to whom we were rafted in Boston. We had been tracking a blip on radar for some 17 miles, but we had no idea what it was. We had seen two big container ships go by in the past two days, so it was easy to think it would be another commercial vessel . So it was a pleasant surprise to see one of our own fleet. She was under shortened canvas, too, and had yet to shake out more sail. She wallowed in the left oversea in a slow and sedate manner. Had I been her skipper, I would have wanted more sail to reduce that wallow. We spoke with her by radio, exchanging hellos between crew mates who had developed friendships during our stay in Boston (Captains Log, July 15)). We also talked about weather. We were in the midst of resetting the reefed mainsail. Eendracht was setting one of her big jibs. As she crossed our stern, we could see flashes of light - camera flashes! We took shots of her, too.

Behind her was low lying cloud that on radar had the makings of more rain, and possibly more wind. As the vessels separated and disappeared into the gloom, I saw that Eendracht was taking in the jib they had just set. We prepared for the next rain and the coming night. After the rain and a little wind had passed, we settled in for the night - a rather benign night it turned out to be, too.

DATE: Thursday August 3, 2000

TIME: 0800 HRS SHIP (-2)/ 1000 UTC

CONDITIONS: Sailing under all lowers plus foretopsail and jibtopsail.
Weather is southerly at 20 knots with low over cast sky and scattered rain.

We are making speed again, 10 knots, in what I hope is a good direction. The rain is a disappointment but acceptable since we're sailing fast in a somewhat more comfortable sea. We have been trying to reach a wind zone created by the lows to our west and a high-pressure area to our east. I think we are in that zone. With any luck, we will see at least a full day of this - and maybe two. I thought we had reached the zone yesterday. We had sailed nicely all day in the sunshine. Last night the rain came and wind moderated some. Earlier this morning, the wind dropped to 10 knots with even more rain. But now we are charging again. I think the next challenge will be choosing a way through the anticipated weather due in about 4-5 days when we are further north and east.

We expect to be at the halfway mark in the Race sometime this afternoon. I have a feeling that we have struggled to get away from the North American Coast to find ourselves choosing the wrong track into the European Coast. I have no feeling of being in the middle of the Atlantic. Maybe that will come during this run in a good wind zone over the next day or so. It would be nice to have a middle where we can feel like we are "sailing" instead of thrashing our way to the finish. But now I'm showing the signs of not being an aggressive racer. Thrashing to the finish is what racers do, no matter the length of the race. Well, this may be called a race, but with cadets to depend on and mission responsibilities beyond the race across the Atlantic, I will forgive myself for not being as aggressive as we might be.

Speaking of which - as I was writing this, the wind crept up to 22 knots and I decided it was time to take a reef or two. Interestingly some of the crew expressed the notion, "This was nothing and lets keep going fast!" But going fast does not necessarily require being barely in control. With wind from the aft quarter, the aftmost sail in this schooner provides a huge amount of pushing power - enough to overpower the forward sails and create a lot of strain on the helm to keep the ship from turning up into the wind. Large rudder angles are a drag to the forward speed. And excessive angles of heel can feel fast but do not always equate with the best speed achievable. After the first reef was put in the mainsail and it was reset, we got her original speed back from before the reef. As a result of that bit of seamanship Pride II was standing up taller and was a little easier to steer. A mixture of aggressiveness and good sense might just be the ticket to do reasonably well and meet our other obligations.

Cheers,
Captain Miles