From Hope Town, we started heading north for our return stateside. The weather went from iffy to down right crappy as we picked our way northwest to Great Sale. I wrote the storm story below in the cockpit the day after we experienced a particularly nasty storm that took us by surprise. On Thursday June 19, we pulled anchor from the ferry landing anchorage across from New Plymouth/Green Turtle.
We figured if we could keep a pace of 6.3 knots we could make the anchorage at Great Sale in time for cocktail hour. In hindsight, the plan was a bit ambitious considering that weather was calling for 100%thunderstorm coverage.
When we rounded the "corner" where Great Abaco meets Little Abaco we got hit with 27knot winds. Chris said "I don't want to sail in 40 knot winds and get beat up all day." Accusing him of being dramatic, I rolled my eyes and said "We're not sailing in 40 knot winds!" An hour after my bold proclamation as I was at the helm, I verified that the winds indeed were NOT 40 knots! They were 45 knots! We spent the next 6 hours teetering somewhere between sheer terror and exhaustion. There was no land mass in the area that could give us protection from the direction of the storm so our only option was to push through it. At times our trail on our chart plotter looked like spaghetti as we went in circles keeping the boat pointing into the cyclonic wind. When we were able to make headway, we could only eek out 2-3 knots at near wide open throttle. At one point I thought it had calmed enough for me to crawl up on deck to turn the dorades and snap the bottom of the dodger down (both of which were letting water into the cabin and causing soggy conditions below). At the very moment I got up on the deck, I felt the bottom fall out from under the boat as we screamed down the biggest wave of the day. I watched in slow motion, my fingers braced in death grips on the jackline and dorade sissy bar, as a wall of green water stood up over the top of my head and crashed down on top of me. When it cleared I looked at Chris through the dodger and his eyes, big as basketballs, met mine and neither of us said anything - just exhaled.
We fought this storm for more than two hours, and when we finally got through it, another monster storm chased us and was just at our backs for the next four hours. We limped into Great Sale at sundown - beaten, tired, wet, cold, hungry, but ever so relieved to be anchored.
1 comment:
No one believes the "storm" story; except for those of us who went through it. We were in an anchorage that was surrounded by very large bolders/rocks. You guys were in the middle of it trying to muscle your way through it. We all made it safe and sound, but at the time, I hated it; especially the lightning. I love your blog. I keep checking it....hey, haven't I seen that storm pic somewhere before? :-)
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