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Not a day to remember

3rd June 2223 ut

46 02N 26 51W

Some days you just shouldn't get out of bed. But then if you never went to bed then you don't have that option. The day is upon you like it or not and things just aren't going to go your way.

Today it was the opportunity for my downwind sails to show me who the boss is. I am now firmly put in my place, it is most definitely not me.

I had been using the precious (code zero for those not paying attention) all through the night but by dawn, the breeze had come more behind me and it was not happy snatching from side to side when the boat rolled with the waves, making a horrible crack as it resets, which is just an expensive sound as every crack reduces the life of the fabric.

I decided to take it down and go with the a5 instead, but was already apprehensive as I had not tried to take this sail down in this much wind before.

As I prepared for the manoeuvre so the day shaped up to give me a bit of a kicking, but I was not the only one in for it. During the night a very small round bird landed on the boat and was sheltering in the cockpit. He was obviously exhausted, such tiny wings and far too far from land, however Cazenove Capital and it's mad skipper were perhaps not the ideal place for a bit of R and R and the little bird has had a day of it too.

First the halyard was not tight enough and so the sail would not furl, instead it wrapped in the middle with a big balloon top and bottom and flogging so hard you could almost see the pound signs falling off it.

With the halyard tighter and a bit closer to the breeze I tried again, this time the sail rolled beautifully, but as soon as I released the halyard to let the neat little sausage down, the top of it caught the breeze and unrolled. Half in half out flogging away.

I could not bear the noise anymore and just took the thing down un rolled, it seemed the best option. So now the precious is stuffed not so neatly into it's bag, waiting for the next time I need it, when doubtless it will cause all sorts of problems as I try to hoist the monster sail, unfurled.

All these manoeuvres were performed between the cockpit where all the controlling lines for the sails are, and the foredeck, where you get wet and beaten up by sails and ropes.

The little bird had stationed himself half way between the two, and was very nervous of the strange woman charging up and down the boat. So much so that when I ran up one side, he, on his very short less than 2 inch long legs, would run away down the other side. We must have looked a bit like an abstract Benny Hill sketch. It was all there, blondes, birds and chasing.

Not wanting to be left out the A5 came in on the act to keep me in my place. I did a beautiful hoist, pulled up the sock, the sail set with a snap and Cazenove Capital jumped forward with the increased speed. I was looking up feeling smug then all of a sudden; I was looking down at the water not feeling smug as my spinnaker was in it.

I have some jam cleats on the mast to help me get sails up. The quickest way to hoist is from the mast, to use maximum body power and avoid friction from blocks as the rope is led to the cockpit. I perform the manoeuvre at the mast, jam the rope in a cleat on the mast and then head back to the cockpit where I can pull the rope unloaded through a proper jammer.

This time I was feeling so smug that I had forgotten to pull the rope back and the little cleat on the mast not surprisingly could not handle the snap of the kite pulling and so let go.

Spinnaker trawling is not fast and not fun. The thing opens like a giant bag, fills with water and anchors the boat to the spot. It is impossible to pull the thing out of the water alone. The sodden sail is too heavy, not to mention the added pressure from the water.

The first thing to do was to get it to stream, to stop the bag effect. I was able to grab the halyard and release it so the kite and sock trailed out behind me.

Next was the long slow process of getting it back onboard. This involved using 3 different ropes, tied with a rolling hitch around the body of the kite and then winched in.

One would come in and I would attach another behind it and winch the next portion up. This was a long job and again the bird had to share the trauma. This time he had decided the cabin top next to the winches would be safer and free from me.

Now he was dashing between the winches and ducking his head as the handles flew over. Every time he found a new winch I would appear at it with a rope.

Many winch winds later, the a5 was back in and I resocked it and put it back up, remembering to pull the rope through and anxious to re-exert my authority.

It was a decreasing breeze with big waves, challenging conditions to steer in and when I went below to send my 1200 position report the autopilot demonstrated how challenging it was by wrapping the a5 around the forestay several times.

This really was enough. I ran to the foredeck, screamed 'no' and other nautical phrases in a heart wrenching manner and had the urge to sink to my knees head in hands. Problem is, girly breakdowns however impassioned just don't get the job done.

One hour of pulling and winching and being hit on the head by flailing ropes and sails and that devil spawn A5 was back in the bag.
Now some people would give up after all this, call it quits and white sail it for the day. Not me! I decided to go large; in for a penny and all that, I got the biggest kite out and dared it to cross me.

Luckily it has nothing to prove; quietly confident in the knowledge that a sail that large when full of wind is no match for a 60 kilo girl on the front of a wobbling boat, so this sail must always be treated with respect.

And here we are now, the sun has set on another day and in harmony with the A4 we are heading with good speed to the west.

There was one more ordeal in store for the bird however.

He was on the side deck when we hit a gust of wind and the boat heeled. Little orange talons scrabbling, he could not stay on and fell overboard.

A little shocked he came round and flew back towards the boat, but the bird was so tired, every time he tried to land on the toe rail, he just missed and fell in again.

I watched him in dismay as he would fall in, get up, fly back, miss and fall in again. But he never gave up, attempt after attempt, though I as getting further away between each attempt.

I know that feeling, of never giving up, getting it wrong, but trying again and again. He deserved a break, so I let the sheets go, allowed the sails to flog for a while and slowed the boat down so he could get back onboard.

Not very hard nose racer behaviour, I know. I will read the sailing instructions later to see if there is a time allowance for rescue of small birds.

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