It’s a Small World

The waves are certainly growing as we head off towards the isle of Zakinthos. It’s Thursday and the worst of the storm will be here by tonight.

As you can see from a message I shot the kids, things were gonna get rather uncomfortable. We needed to be out of the purple area and into the calm blue stuff as soon as reasonable. In this case, it wasn’t the wind but the waves that were a concern. They had the whole expanse of the Ionian Sea to build as the storm started near Italy.

The run down the west of Kefalonia was a bit nasty with waves battering us from the side. Our most valuable crew began to look less than perky and for whatever reason there didn’t seem to be a huge amount of offers to take the helm!? We had told them that before we crossed the open waters between the Kefalonia and Zakinthos we were see how everyone felt and either immediately turn in to shelter, or continue on to take a quick look at Shipwreck Bay on Zakinthos. This was on our definitely do list, but the weather was making it seem a little less attractive. We wouldn’t be able to anchor in the conditions, so it would be a sail by and gaze. Just before we got to the open water we shifted directions a few degrees and the ride suddenly felt a bit better. Just better enough that the queasiest among us said “let’s just go for it”.

So that’s what we did. Only the waves and wind didn’t feel like making it easy. We finally decided to throw up the sails in an attempt to steady the ride, but that was fraught with peril. This is where we found out the Pura Vida hated to turn under heavy conditions. Along with some miscommunication between me at the helm and Heath at the mast, we ended up doing some quite spectacular maneuvers. He claimed our rails dipped water at one point, and Daidre claims she has never seen me in such a wide legged braced stance, but eventually we got it figured out and the sails up. The thing with a Benetaue is this. They are incredibly trustworthy crafts, and the whole time we fought and struggled, I knew I could trust her. That’s a grand feeling.

Unfortunately, all the swirling and bucking had sent Nate below to wish for death in his bunk, but it wasn’t his time yet. Also unfortunately the sails didn’t improve the ride much at all, but none of us felt quite ready for a repeat performance of the circus ride. Although I had figured out what the girl liked to make it possible to turn, there is still no way to do it 100% calmly in that kind of beautiful seas. I say beautiful, cause they are. Large, cerulean blue waves with foamy white tops, some towering, some calmer, are breathtaking. In a good boat. What would have scared the stew out of me a few years ago, no joke, now was invigorating. Except I felt bad for the stomachs. And all the lurching or bar hopping people had to do when they walked around. This too is a learned art. I noticed that there was never a time on the boat that I didn’t automatically wedge some body part against a steadying surface. It’s best to go barefoot, as you literally use all 10 toes to jam into crevices or curl around tiny ledges. Ravi and I almost never wore shoes, as he is the kid that usually climbs a couple feet up the mast during sail maneuvers to work up there. He grips and clings like a monkey, waving around with the motion of the boat and at times defying gravity in his ridiculous looking orange life vest that had a strap under the bum like a baby life vest. I leap around helping where I can, and am the general runner on the boat. Fetcher.

Within an hour or two we had rested enough from the sails up attempt and in a much more orderly fashion we took them down. Zakinthos was nearing.

We had just started to be able to really see the shipwreck on the beach when I felt the first change in the engine vibrations. I was down below doing who knows what, and told myself it was my imagination. I popped back up into the cockpit and saw Heath at the helm, looking intense. “The engine is acting up” he told me, and I felt a jolt of alarm. We stood there, looking at the gauges, hoping it was a fluke. He turned out to sea a little to give us a bit more sea room should the worst happen and we would need enough water space to hopefully solve the issue before dashing on the cliffs and joining the other shipwreck already there. That might destroy the serenity of the spot and all.

The sputtering continued. It sounded like we were running out of fuel but that simply wasn’t possible. We are given these boats full up and everything we’re told and taught and have experienced just simply meant that couldn’t be. The one fuel gauge showed full, but the boat had two tanks, one to run the generator and one for the engine, and we had no clue which tank it was monitoring. Simple fuel burn calculations, which Heath always does to avoid this issue, proved again we were definitely not out of fuel. We have spent two weeks on boats and those things positively sip fuel! This was only 3.5 days.

Sputter. Sputter. Sputter. I will not lie, I was really sending prayers upwards as those beautiful white cliffs were way too close for comfort. I beseeched Daidre to pray and woke Ravi, who had fallen into a medication induced sleep. And then it died. The end.

This is where all those ASA classes come in handy. We had run this scenario through on paper some several times. Our crew was willing and responsive.

• Life jackets firmly on
• All lines ready to hoist the main asap while we still have a little bit of forward momentum to turn the boat into the wind so the sail can actually travel up the mast without getting stuck.
• Ravi rushes forward to climb the mast to help it go up.
• We were too slow and ran out of momentum. The sail went partway up but kept getting stuck on the lazy jack lines. Because of Pura Vida’s hate for turning in these conditions, we also had to have the main fully sheeted out, which is seriously dangerous working conditions. It also means the boom is free to swing madly back and forth and wack any one without asking questions first. And without an engine if someone goes over in these seas? I didn’t want to think about it.
• We pull out the foresail or jib sheet to give us some steerage and it works! We have just enough movement with the wind now to maneuver the boat into the wind.
• Heath and I trade places as his 3” height advantage makes a huge difference while working with a massive sail. I can’t quite stretch high enough to grab essential bits.
• We try multiple times to get it up, and always it catches. The wind is super gusty, and whips the sail repeatedly. Meanwhile we’re bucking up and down over 7 foot waves. (I had written 12 but Heath scoffed me. I guess 12 was real feel)
• Just as Daidre stands to do something, the boat does a massive lurch and sends her crashing into the companionway, giving her head a mighty clonk. She sits back dazed and in terrible pain.
• None of us can go to her. I stay at the helm and talk to her. Constantly. Making her answer questions which she is very good at answering. Her eyes look fine and there is no blood.
• Turn the boat back into the wind, ask Daidre a question, have the guys shout that it isn’t working.
• And then it is working and the sails are up! And we’re skimming along out of danger.

It’s not the most comfortable sail angle ever, but I set the course to go in to calmer waters and we’re off! Daidre is looking a little better and we can finally take a look and get her some medication. After a few calming breaths Heath gets on the phone with the charter base and they commence to problem solve.

This is where I realized again that God knows what we will face and paves the way. For the first time in his life Heath had taken double seasick medicine, and now he was able to be down below on the phone in rough seas! I was so relieved! I thought I would have to be troubleshooting with the base, but nope, I could stay at the helm and rejoice in safety.

I will admit that a little devil in me was quite tickled that he was getting a taste of working below in less than ideal conditions, and I kept the boat on a tight course, skimming along and making terrific time at a bit of a nasty heel angle. Sure enough, he soon hollered up and asked if I could please turn off the wind a little and I chuckled to myself and obeyed. Just a tiny taste. Apparently the water kettle had come sailing off the shelf, arced through the air and landed un damaged and upright on the table. I know. I should not be that way. I always appreciate when the helmsman makes things a little better below. From now on I will.

The guy Heath talked to actually knew the boat and was able to confirm that we had been given the incorrect information about the fuel tanks and we did actually have another whole tank of fuel we could try switching to. This involved a lot of valves and lifting mattresses on bunks, but eventually it was done. We hit the starter and voila! Engine power!

What a marvelous feeling! Such a relief we could hardly be ticked at the guy who told us weird stuff. We found out when we fueled at the end of the trip that we had also been given a tank that was fairly empty to begin with, but that was probably an honest mistake on their part. One of the drawbacks of a first of the season charter.

Heath came up and we lowered the sails. Our nerves were all shot and it was just one less thing to think about if they were down. We turned onto an even more comfortable angle and took the time to decompress. We had one energy drink on the boat and some juice, so we mixed some energetic juice to drink and toasted each other on a job well done. Daidre was looking good and we were so grateful. Nate had still not put in an appearance.

As we got in the lee of the Islands the seas smoothed out. We watched a fire burning on shore and then a plane come scoop water and put the fire out. Nate was given electrolytes and a granola bar and soon popped up to join us.

Our evening berth was at Poros, a little harbor with some great Supermarkets where we could replenish our dwindling food supply’s. We used up pretty much all the food we had left for supper and called it Close Call Chicken Cacciatore. Everyone exulted in the feel of good hard earth beneath our feet. How many people really notice and appreciate the solid ground?

Sleep was good but the general atmosphere is slightly anticlimactic. At least in our berth. We’re out of the storms reach, we only have one and a half days left and the weather will not give us good sailing winds and we hadn’t researched anything to do in this exact area.

But we’re all good. And Daidre is good, and Nate is looking downright perky, and the ship’s boy, well of course he’s doing good, eating massive amounts of food as per usual, so here’s to rejoicing.