| On Board Solo, Too Alex MeVay, on board his 2000 Pogo Genasum, left Cottage Park Yacht Club in Winthrop, MA, for a 3,000 plus mile solo delivery to Europe, with his final port of call being Port Camarague on the Mediterranean coast of France. Here is an onboard report.  I
awoke to the sound of the autopilot running continuously.
This isn't something that is generally loud or disturbing,
but it was enough to tip off the sixth sense of the sailor's
subconscious that something wasn't quite right. .The
control arm has probably popped off the tiller,. I thought,
as I hastily disentangled myself from my sleeping bag.
I stuck my head out of the hatch just as the boat flung
itself into a crash gybe, the mainsail now crucified
on the running backstay. The wind had built strongly,
the boat was overpowered, and the rudders had stalled.
The pilot, with its sophomoric knowledge of fluid dynamics,
had pulled the helm hard over. I gybed the boat back
and paused for a moment.
Ok. Trav down. Back inside. Clothing, boots, harness, headlamp. Outside, clip in. Blow mainsheet. Luff, luff, luff! Halyard off. Clip tack at second reef. Halyard on. Reefing lines in. Sheet in. Check angles and adjust pilot. Deep breath, sit down. As I relaxed, my sphere of perception slowly expanded beyond the immediate concerns of the hull beneath me. Each breaking wave crest eerily reflected the moon. That the moon had not yet risen did not seem to matter. Doubting myself, I shut off my headlamp, and killed the LED running lights, which share moon's hue. No, it was true! I had sailed into an area of astounding phosphorescence. Every whitecap, every menacing breaking wave glowed of its own accord, a ghastly pale green. Each wave the boat smashed threw a surge of light, shining through the translucent sails. Aside from a few dim stars and the glowing wave crests littering the water, the sea and sky were inky and indiscriminate. Lightning flickered in a storm too distant to act upon, yet too near to be forgotten. This was terrible beauty at its purest! Gazing at my glowing wake, I saw a luminous streak tear through the ocean, headed directly towards me. I found myself almost bracing for an impact. A second streak followed, and joined the first, paralleling my course. These streaks spiraled around each other, leaving elegant and intricate trails that put the wide smear of my wake to shame. I had never seen dolphins like this before. I sat watching for an hour or so, until the phosphorescence faded, the dolphins departed, and I was left with only the rush of wind and water, and the uncomfortable question of whether I had seen the worst of the storm. - Alex 06/26/06 |