Been awhile since I stood a four to eight watch at sea. Been even longer since I have gotten a boat underway by myself in the pitch black of night to head out to sea. The girls all slept as I slipped us from the mooring in North Sound on Virgin Gorda and headed out the channel for Anegada Passage towards Anguilla. I smile just saying the names in my mind. They are lusciously foreign on the tongue, yet familiar in spirit.I rounded Necker Island before 430AM, and pointed the bow Southeast. Thanks to Richard Branson for keeping it lit like a Celebrity cruise ship, it makes missing the fringing reef easier in the dark.
The seas are calm, the infamous Caribbean two-step absent for now. The predominant swell this far East generally comes from the Northeast, from the deep Atlantic. The predominant winds from the East or Southeast generating waves. The two combined can make for a confused and uncomfortable ride many days, but not bad at all this morning. The winds are a little far SE for a fast sail, but light, less than 10 knots. We will motor sail the passage to make it before sunset, thank goodness for sound Volvo Penta engines.
A big rain squall passed to the South of our route just at daybreak. I forget how peaceful and awe inspiring sunrise at sea on a small boat with little but water around you can be. The puffy cumulus clouds skirting along the horizon appear low enough that you could reach up and grab them. The palette of pastels and gray splashed across the sky give promise to a new and spectacular day. Your ass soon adjusts to the motion and rhythm of the boat through the water. Easier now since you can visually place a horizon with the movement. I may never truly like the jerky nature of the catamaran bounce over waves after years on monohulls, including one football shaped buoy tender. However, she is stable, high in the water, dry and spacious…all reasons we picked this boat over a number of others.
Another change is the reliance on electronic toys and tools that has significantly decreased workload, but shifted attention from outside the cockpit, to inside. Just like in airplanes, you can really navigate yourself safely from A to B with a wristwatch, compass and paper chart. But the chartplotter, radar and autopilot sure make the short-handed boat watch easier, albeit with more light pollution. Dad always scoffed at pilots that kept their heads down fiddling with instruments and GPS nav stations instead of looking around for situational awareness and to appreciate the beauty of small plane flight. I feel the same way about sailing, and if the grounding of the Volvo racer Vestas Wind in the middle of the Indian Ocean proves anything, it is that a million dollars of electronic navigation equipment is useless if you cannot miss a reef that Magellan charted. Great article here on this issue. I prefer my visual and audible cues, but do appreciate that I can set the autopilot, confirm my position and course on the chartplotter and rest easy that radar will illuminate the unlit vessels or obstructions around me.
The sun rose off the port bow in my face bathing everything in warm yellow tones. The uncertainty of night at sea, alone on watch passes. I kept the crew and boat safe once again. And in that moment realized that I could not be happier than here, now with the woman I love snuggled contently in our berth on a boat at sea.