Alone Together: Sailing Solo to Hawaii and Beyond by Christian Williams

Author:Christian Williams [Williams, Christian]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: East Wind Press
Published: 2016-10-12T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 23

DARWIN

DAY 15, 1130 HOURS. Still rolling. Wanna make something of it?

Four days of rolling, day and night. I’m not very good company just now, and we have 600 miles to go. The leak seems to have backed off. The overflowing bilge, which could return at any time, is currently replaced by a continual stench from the toilet which is no doubt the result of my early misunderstanding of the valve setting and our full waste tank. Somehow, the contents have overcome a rubber valve that prevents effluent from back-flowing into the bowl. It’s shaped like a silly rubber hat and is universally referred to as a joker valve.

It’s now clogged, so the joke’s on me. I pump 20 gallons of clean sea water through the bowels of the toilet and two hours later my own waste seeps back into the bowl, reeking. You say I exaggerate? Smell is connected to imagination, and imagination has no joker valve. Once apprehended, a noxious odor requires thereafter only a bare few molecules to be remembered and amplified. Even on the bow, where air and spray mix in sparkling purity, I smell it.

Did I say how tired of this rolling I am?

Excuse me, that’s a booby overhead. Note the distinct dark shading along the trailing edge of the wings. Not as stocky as a fulmar, and with a longish beak. Also, not as slender-winged as a shearwater. It’ll come back, they make multiple passes.

I’ll tell you why I’m tired of rolling.

Sending the noon position report is a prizefight in a phone booth. Typing a GRIB request on the laptop is a game of Whack-A-Mole. My seat at the navigation station is athwartships, and merely keeping erect is a Pilates exercise. It is a good thing I trained myself not to feel human emotions or I might be getting really, really pissed off.

Sleeping? Forget about it.

A relaxing dinner? Never mind. I strap in at the gimbaled stove and eat like a dog stealing scraps.

This afternoon I shaved. In the days of straight razors my head would now be rolling back and forth on the cabin floor, and fine by me because my neck is sore just trying to hold it up.

Bathing? I don’t even care.

Rolling through 60 degrees it wouldn’t be so bad if we weren’t broaching, too. If this sounds like complaining, I assure you it’s not, it is objective reporting. You may say that we are once again carrying too much sail for 25 knots. Do you say that? If so, speak up. I’m open to advice, but implied criticism won’t get you very far. It’s a small boat, people can get on each other’s nerves. So then, let nothing go unsaid, but watch what you say. May I tell you why your nerves are on edge? It is because you are not sleeping well and eating hurriedly and moping around, instead of reaching within for the mature philosophy necessary to assuage a week of being tossed non-stop like a wet salad.

Let us both get a grip on ourselves and take a lesson from Darwin.

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