Old Man and the Sea

Took 10 hours to get from entrance of Jiquilisco Bay to Gulf of Fonseca- a 40 nm trip.  Ugh.  50 knot winds.  Gales most of trip.

March 9, Sunday, Gulf of Fonseca

Hiding behind small island in the middle of Gulf of Fonseca, with a Honduras coast guard gun boat. Decided not to leave today, wind still blowing 50 knots.  Back still hurts.  Boat is a MESS from our unexpected gales.  Everything flew all over the place.  I'm ready to be off this boat and done with this trip!  But first must move boat to other side of island, wind has shifted.  Approached gun boat to ask if this was a good idea.  10 sailors ran to their stations in their boxers and pointed 50 mm machine gun at me while I asked for directions.  Nice boxers.

March 10, Monday, Fonseca to Puesta del Sol, Nicaragua -- 48nm

A good day.  Amazing what a shower and some sleep can do for one's attitude.

Woke at 5:30 am to pull up anchor and depart.  Mark found two large dead birds in anchor well, would later find 2 more under anchor chain- Yuk!

Left Fonseca and had an easy sailing day.  Motoring, I should say.  Clear sky (some clouds), big swells  but no waves.  Made it to Puesta del Sol by 2:45 pm.

Some Explanation:

When we left Huatulco, Mexico, we were prepared for the infamous Tehuantepec winds.  When we left Jiquilisco Bay, El Salvador, I was not prepared for the Papagallo winds.  The winds were strong as we left Barillas, but we interpreted them as good sailing winds.  We rarely get enough winds to push us along, so we were glad for the 20 knots.

I was down below flat on my back, and Mark was at the helm.  He had the sails up and was having a good time, howling at the moon and all of that, " I'm 40 but not dead yet", thing. 

The winds continued to pick up, and soon got to 30 and 35 knots - gale, by definition - all time record for us.  Mark's howling intensifies.

As we raced along the shore line like a quarter horse deep in it's stride, we had to unexpectedly swerve towards shore to avoid a fishing line which had been laid in front of us by a fishing panga.  Closing with the shore at great speed due to the increasing winds, Mark needed to turn and jibe again out towards sea. The jibe action, brought the jib sail across the bow of the boat, and the leach line in the end of the sail somehow caught on the mast-mounted radar dome, and hailer speaker. 

The radar ripped or should I say unzipped, the leach line all the way down to the bottom of the sail, and the leach line retaliated by yanking the radar dome and hailer off of the mast.  For two hours the 40 pound radar, which was hanging by some very small wires 40 feet up, slapped against the mast.

Mark called me up to help him, and we ended up cutting the leach line from the radar mount.  Battling a 120% jib in a 40-knot wind we finally got the sails safely put away.  The radar hung precariously from the mast for awhile, leaving us wondering what would happen next. Wanting to be a witness to what ever happened, Mark decided to go forward and inspect things a little closer.  Just as he got to the mast, the radar and its metal mount broke loose to free fall the 35 feet. 

Miraculously, in a once in a life time event, the radar path was intercepted by the boom just as it was swinging by in 9 foot cross swells, 50 knot straight line winds and all of this onto a 4 inch wide beam.  If you are having trouble picturing this, try to picture the government's efforts to shoot down a ultra-sonic missile, in space, with another missile.  These are the same odds.

The radar mount, made from some space age material, struck the boom, wrapped a section of it around a piece of line (shown above), tore that off and then continued to roll off like a paratrooper onto the deck of the boat, finally coming to rest farther below in the lifelines.  Mark was able to grab the radar unit before it was swallowed by the sea.

Somebody was looking out for us.  The situation could have been much worse.  If the radar had fallen directly onto the deck, rather than bouncing off the boom, we think we would have a big hole in the boat.  If Mark had not been there when it fell, the radar would have gone overboard as did the hailer speaker moments later.

As it was, we were able to recover all the parts, and once we got to Marina Puesta del Sol, our friend Fred and an army of helpers worked  together to sew our leach line back into the sail. 

Now, a month and a half later, the radar with it's new mount are back up on the mast, but currently out of operation.  It is unclear if we will have radar for the remainder of our trip.