What it was really Like

Yes the weather here is terrible today and I am trapped on board. But actually I don't mind it because it has given me plenty of time to reflect on what's happened so far, to tidy up the boat, to check things and to start preparations for the next part of the journey. To be honest, getting in was so stressful I could barely think about going out to sea again, but today after 9 solid hours of sleep I have been poring over the charts again and drawing in the "Course to Make Good" between Lord Howe Island and North Cape, New Zealand. I noticed a couple of sea mounts and the dreaded Wanganella Banks, where the ocean floor rises from a typical 2 to 3 kilometers deep to 80 or so meters - places to be avoided especially in heavy weather - but I can feel that excitement starting to return when I think about getting back out there and taking on the Examiner again.

Certainly the first "Examination" was a tough one for me:

• I had never sailed out of sight of land before
• I had never sailed continuously for more than 24 hours before.
• I had never tried to sleep while sailing solo before.
• I had never been sailing on a boat long enough for that sicky feeling when you are down below to go and I wondered how I would cope.
• I had used the GPS to navigate before but it had never been that important - now it was going to be vital.
• And then there was the memory of that headsail dropping off the mast.
• And the story of Jessica Watson being hit by a ship.
• And on the morning of my departure from Newcastle the wireless keyboard stopped working and I rushed into Officeworks to get another one!

I seriously thought about turning back late on the Thursday afternoon, because the sea was at least as rough as any I had ever sailed in before, the wind was gusting to over 23 knots, I couldn't seem to get the Hydrovane to hold a steady course, I was already tired and darkness wasn't far off - and I thought Port Stephens is only 60 miles away. To be honest at that point I was thinking "Ive really done it this time, bitten off way more than I can chew, I'm just not physically strong enough to overcome all this". I felt scared. So I took stock - firstly I recognized that the boat was not in any danger and neither was I . Secondly I knew the weather conditions were at the upper end of the forecast so probably not likely to get much worse, and ought to improve soon enough. And finally heading back to Port Stephens wasn't going to get me out of the bad weather any sooner than if I just carried on - Indeed getting close to the coast if the weather did get worse could be more dangerous than just staying out in the open ocean. I remembered my own advice " Feel the fear and do it anyway" So I did. The next time I felt terror and fear like that was on my arrival outside the lagoon, and I took my own advice again.

Apart from moments of terror, and quite profound tiredness and also feelings of depression, and loneliness, I also experienced many hours of terrific excitement and personal satisfaction. Sailing at night when the sailing is good and the sky is clear was another thing I hadnt experienced before and was an extraordinary revelation. Darkness covers the sky and the sea and your usual preoccupation of scanning it looking for problems becomes impossible, and before long you are just mesmerized by the motion of the boat and the soft hissing of the water streaming out behind. There seems to be nothing to worry about. A luminous trail of phosphorescence beginning at the bow wave often disappeared behind like a trail of steam, and at one point clusters of phosphorescence the size of basket balls spun out from underneath the stern every few seconds like puffs of luminescent blue smoke, like signals. I guessed they must have been some sort of jellyfish that we were passing across but I have no idea. And above, the magnificent heavens, utterly black as there was no moon, but stars that seemed more bright and more twinkly and much closer than ever. It felt like I could have been sailing through space. And I felt feelings of wonderment and awe that words couldn't convey. Sailing is an awesome experience, and coming here has been extraordinary. I have certainly learned a lot but there's still much more to learn and still a long way to go. Bring it on!

Sapphire Out

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