JesseMartin.Net
24th August 1999
AT the start of last week I encountered the worst weather to date. For four days I had front after front pass over with the wind not dropping below 25 knots except on one occasion for a few brief hours.
With the wind blowing straight from South Africa, the temperature was quite pleasant, and on the first night I stood outside willing a few clouds with bolt lighting to keep their distance. I couldn't help thinking of the song by Enya called Storms in Africa.
It was during the third day that the wind started to increase. Instead of 25-40 knots, it was 40-50 knots and with no sails up, Lionheart kept getting thrown around. I was having to hand-steer and it was getting dark. It would be dangerous to stay outside in the dark without any warning of large waves, but the wind vane couldn't handle the steering alone. Then the line towing the drogue broke and made the decision for me. I stopped Lionheart by turning her into the wind and lay a hull carrying no sail.
It was a bit wet down below, so I undressed and climbed into my bunk to try and get some sleep. I was woken by what seemed like a bucket of water aimed directly at me.
I flicked the light as Lionheart came up from a knockdown. I searched for a broken porthole which I assumed was the reason for so much water but they were all intact. I was dumbfounded. I flicked the switch on the electric bilge pump, then the second wave hit.
This time I saw where the water was coming from. It was spurting in through the small crack from the companionway slide. The stove was upside down on the ground leaking methylated spirits into a stew of pencils, books, pots and pans and food on the floor.
I was worried for the mast. Two knockdowns in five minutes, what else was to come? I threw everything into the front of the boat where it would do least damage if we went over again and took a look at the wind instrument - 50-55 knots!
There was not much I could do except wait for it to blow over. I got out of my soaking thermals and cringed as I pulled a soaking sleeping bag over my goosebumped skin. And so continued the worst night of my life.
By morning Lionheart had been knocked down five times and the wind had only let up a little. The knockdowns had bent the 2.5cm diameter steel rails of the solar panel frame even more and the starboard panel had been torn completely off.
Most annoying of all was the stove, which wouldn't work. It took me another day before it was up and running so I could start the long process of drying. Since then I've slowly been getting away from the land mass which is to blame for tampering with the pressure systems.
Hopefully, the Indian Ocean will be a bit kinder.