Atlantic Rollers

Adrian, a serious professional, had spent a lot of time planning the trip including a meticulous navigation plan on hard copy charts. I was well briefed and shown the basics of the reefing system back to the cockpit which was not familiar to me. Neither was the helm and autopilot which I quickly learnt. Also Adrian taught me how to steer a course by sun and stars! 

The sea state remained fairly calm for much of the morning but it was gradually becoming more interesting as we headed South East on a broad reach. The waves became longer and longer. I was hungry, it was lunch time so I volunteered to make some sandwiches; the others did not seem to show any interest and declined my offer. I thought nothing of it and proceeded to consume a healthy and sizeable lunch followed by coffee and a Mars bar. 

My mother described how much fun she had when young sailing to India free from her mother who’s seasickness would confine her to her cabin for much of the trip. My wife Juliet would feel ill just looking at a cross channel ferry, so I am very aware and sympathetic to those who have this problem. It had not occurred to me that keen sailors might feel this way though. Neither did it escape my notice that when you are feeling seasick someone boasting that they don’t get seasick might be a little bit irritating!

The waves were getting longer and longer and at an angle to the boat that caused her to move unevenly. A corkscrew motion with 200 yards between crests and a drop of 50 feet. Some People pay to go on fairground merry go rounds and with no ill effects but by teatime Fredrick had disappeared below with apologies not to be seen again until seven o’clock the next morning. Adrian and I ploughed on and I gradually became aware that he didn’t really appreciate my prattling on. I was loving every minute on the ocean waves. This was sailing.

The wind continued gently from the South West, occasionally we needed to motor sail to keep up to speed but we were keen to avoid using it. The rollers continued to cause this uneven motion which I found quite exhilarating, coasting down the waves only to mount the next in a gentle tipping until the next one. We were making good time according to Adrian’s plan: so all was well.

Unlike the previous night, dinner was eaten solo and thrown together in very quick time. The bearing I was to continue to follow remained constant and I was relieved when Adrian checked our position on occasions. He remained in the cockpit on hand throughout the night keeping me company but obviously in considerable discomfort when he was awake. The sails looked ghostly yet comforting in the mid summer starlight.

This was the second time I was to sail through the night. Some lights were extremely strange. Fishing boats, ferrys, lonely and rather spooky sights of yachts with tricolour navigation lights at the top of their masts and some others which were completely unidentifiable. The stars, a lack of light pollution and a clear sight of the Milky Way made the experience awe inspiring. I was aware of some very strange sounds wafting around Dragonfly too. 

The rollers had subsided by two in the morning so keeping on course was easier especially with stars to follow. Nevertheless no one is impervious to the dreaded ‘fatigue’ in the early hours. I was very glad when Fredrick and Adrian, like butterflies from their chrysalis, now in high sprits, took over from me at seven. 

I had not been down for more than an hour though when the dreaded 

“Robert, Robert”

came wafting down the companionway.

“Dolphins”

For the next hour and forty minutes I “sang” with the dolphins, hand stretched out to them as they eyed me inches from the bow and riding on our wake. Darting around us and with us, in effortless grace and speed. This was one of life’s magical and rare moments when the recent horrors in my life seem to be doused. It got me wondering about those strange sounds in the night too.

Thank you Adrian for that special moment.