Along the Edge of Hurricane Irma—Under Sail. It Has Begun!

Along the edge of Hurricane Irma—under sail. Chronicles of crossing the Caribbean Sea along the edge of the hurricane, counting on fair winds. Days 3–4. That very wind has begun. Seasick. How lovely “We’ll ride along the edge of the hurricane with fair winds” must sound :). On the third day, those very winds began. At first they blew rather timidly, cutting the main trade wind off from its power supply, but on the night leading into day four they perked up, surrounding themselves with storm clouds and cirrus. Twenty to twenty-five knots with no waves and a following current would have been a fairy tale. But the current here, as we remember, is the Gulf Stream—not exactly the weakest current in the world—and it is also against us, knocking about 2 knots off our speed. A two-metre swell comes bounding towards the Gulf Stream all the way from the hurricane, and it meets the Gulf Stream waves right here, alongside us, or under the keel, or ahead of the bow. The waves greet each other with a joyful leap, sending the female half of our crew rolling from side to side as they lie down. Lady Mary resembles first a lazy goose, then a wilful, fat gelding. Everyone was reminded of the winter Mediterranean :). She heels so hard as she wallows over the waves that the sun still bakes its way into every nook and cranny, and there are not many shady places to lie on deck. The young sailors’ shoulders and little faces got sunburnt, no matter how hard Mum tried to rig awnings for them and slather them with sunscreen. On the third day we finished off the mahi-mahi and the fish soup made from it, but today we hardly feel like eating. We are getting by on buckwheat and tea, fruit and cornflakes—great food for passages. Ladunka spent the whole of day four lying down and listening to audio fairy tales, while Nastya is learning the opening of “The Bronze Horseman.” The captain keeps watch over the winds and waves. . During the night, the first mate got a broadside of strong language from the captain for deciding to switch the autopilot at the wrong moment. Well, why had it been screeching non-stop for half an hour? It turned out that, after a gybe, the captain had not yet secured the boom preventer, and if Lady Mary had veered off course, the boom could easily have clobbered him on the head—or worse. In response to the dressing-down, the first mate mumbled, “You’re an idiot yourself,” and went back to sleep on a stool in the wheelhouse—only here and in the cockpit can you catch anything resembling a breeze. Nastya sleeps on the cockpit sole. Together with whoever is on watch. It is very hot around the clock. Mexico was hardly cold, but now we are heading even closer to the equator, where it is scorching; the heat feels especially fierce after we batten down the hatches against the waves. Tell me, where did you come from? Flocks of birds sometimes appear on the horizon, looking not at all like seabirds. Are they already flying south from the temperate latitudes? Just now, a lone little bird resembling a swallow flew past the stern. It soared up towards the clouds, circled for a while and, without ever deciding to rest aboard, vanished into thin air. How do they know where to fly when there is nothing but water for hundreds of miles around? . Yesterday morning the dolphins came by, but they were probably hot too. They cruised lazily around us for half an hour and then swam off without even jumping, though they did say hello to Ladunya. And who wouldn’t say hello when someone calls out to them: “Hello, my dolphins! I’ve been waiting for you so long!” ... Time to stop—I’m seasick (. In four days we have covered 400 miles along our overall course. Cartagena is 536 miles away, and the island of Curaçao is 750 miles away. We will decide where we are sailing in a couple of days, when we draw near Jamaica. Wishing everyone a level floor beneath their feet! The continuation is— here and here !