30.08.200N 145.29.216W

(asleep)

BANG! woooooooOOOOOOSSSHHHHH!!!!! POPOPOPOPOPOPOPOPOPOPOPOPOPOP...

That combination of noises, at deafening volume, accompanied by the guy in the next bunk landing squarely on top of you, and everything else in the boat landing on top of him as you become the bottom layer of the salad of stuff in a boat will wake you up, no matter how tired you are.

In our case, we had been blasting along through a mixture of starry skies (couple of huge shooting stars) and squalls with winds over 30 knots under the sturdy little #3 spinnaker since about 7:00 pm. I was to discover later that the wake up call came about 5:30 AM. So I'd even been sleeping nervous, if you know what I mean, when fatigue finally got the best of me around 2:30. The noises were instantly identifiable to a sailor's mind that had been halfway expecting them for a while. The BANG! was something with a huge load on it breaking or letting go (the shackle on the guy for my sailing friends). The woooooooOOOOOOSSSHHHHH!!!! was the roar of water that had been pouring more or less evenly down the sides of the boat violently shifting to the port (left) side, and more alarmingly, the deck of the boat as it spun and crashed from the suddenly asymmetrical thrust and drag profile. And finally the POPOPOPOPOPOPOPOPOPOPOPOPOPOP... was the poor spinnaker, now streaming to leeward from the masthead which was fairly close to wavetops, thrashing itself to bits. Rather than a blow by blow of the shouted instructions and clambering lunges in the dark, I'll just leave it at we finally got everything harnessed, doused, and/or lashed in a position that would hold till morning, and limped along under much reduced sail with all aboard unharmed and tired.

Daylight revealed that the only real casualty had been the sail itself, and a new kink in the reaching strut. The main was unreefed and genoa set wing and wing while we rerigged for another stab at flying the chute after all had rested until late morning. Unfortunately, it was just about this time that we discovered freshwater in the bilge (the very bottom, basement if you will, of the boat). Not really good when you are sailing in salt water, because it could only have come from the tanks. In fact, it was from the tanks, and the news grew even less upbeat when it was discovered that the watermaker wasn't. Making water, I mean. So, fresh water leaking, watermaker not, means considerable time with a head in the bilge working on it. Huge thumbs up to our fearless leader for both tackling and overcoming the challenge of restoring our water supply. The main concession in terms of our race is that we spent the day under white sails, which is to say running at somewhat reduced speed, to make it possible for the work to be done. So, we'll no doubt lose some ground, despite having had a glorious sunny day with following winds and 6-8 foot seas.

The plan is to keep jogging along through the night to let the skipper regain his wits, then back on it tomorrow AM.

On a side note, we were passed during the afternoon by both a huge container ship, and the magnificent 92' "Locura", one of the much faster later starters. That makes this one of the more crowded days at sea.

Whiskey Delta Bravo 2898 VALIS out.