Jake, the False Prophet
So Jake got tired of the Easterlies, and asked the Gods for our bloody Nor'Wester. And got it! For 30 seconds.
Mad joy and panic ensued, as I and the other rookies present (oh wait, it was just me) still had no experience actually *sailing* the brig. I'd arrived just in time to fire up the diesels from Westport, and I'd had yet to pull on any lines save the flag halliards.
So while we frantically adjusted the Stays'ls, tacked the Fore-Course, and performed other sundry nautical functions, I was basically playing "Stay-Out-of-Me-Way-Mate!" until I was smart enough to follow someone around and haul on whatever she pointed me at. A sudden shower opened up, and getting across the slippery, heaving deck was more a matter of hand-over-handing down the fore & aft lifelines than it was actually walking.
And just as we got a chance to return to the quarterdeck to proudly enjoy our newly set rig, the wind changed. Yup. Easterly. Dammit.
So picture the same events as above, but reversed. And then repeated *again* forwards as the wind switched back to Nor'West. Rinse and repeat 2 or 3 more times.
Turns out we were in the eye of a cute little squall, about the Nth time of setting for East or Nor'West (I'd long since lost track), the wind mostly died altogether and the showers cranked themselves up to 11. Jake's eyes were glowing red by this point, and he barked out for us to furl up the whole damn thing as he sent Rob below to fire the diesels back up.
Leaving 4 of us on deck. Leaving 2 per yard.. meaning.. gh! I had to lay aloft! It'd been what, 4 days since my first and only climb?
The weather, hot rain-gear and whacky swells stirred up by the squall had left me a bit green, but aloft I went. Real slowlike. I wound up on the starboard side next to the bunt, opposite Annie, and with Beth further out to my right. After a few frantic questions, Annie got me started on the process ("Lie on the Z, grab armfuls of canvas and swipe at the dangly-thing?"). I only caught glimpses of deck and see below since I was so busy, and the only fear *this* time was not heaving onto said deck or into the sail I was furling. Thankfully, I got the job done without leaving any me-shaped dents in the deck, and as I lay low I heard someone murmer: "Wait, has he had his aloft-training yet?"
Mad joy and panic ensued, as I and the other rookies present (oh wait, it was just me) still had no experience actually *sailing* the brig. I'd arrived just in time to fire up the diesels from Westport, and I'd had yet to pull on any lines save the flag halliards.
So while we frantically adjusted the Stays'ls, tacked the Fore-Course, and performed other sundry nautical functions, I was basically playing "Stay-Out-of-Me-Way-Mate!" until I was smart enough to follow someone around and haul on whatever she pointed me at. A sudden shower opened up, and getting across the slippery, heaving deck was more a matter of hand-over-handing down the fore & aft lifelines than it was actually walking.
And just as we got a chance to return to the quarterdeck to proudly enjoy our newly set rig, the wind changed. Yup. Easterly. Dammit.
So picture the same events as above, but reversed. And then repeated *again* forwards as the wind switched back to Nor'West. Rinse and repeat 2 or 3 more times.
Turns out we were in the eye of a cute little squall, about the Nth time of setting for East or Nor'West (I'd long since lost track), the wind mostly died altogether and the showers cranked themselves up to 11. Jake's eyes were glowing red by this point, and he barked out for us to furl up the whole damn thing as he sent Rob below to fire the diesels back up.
Leaving 4 of us on deck. Leaving 2 per yard.. meaning.. gh! I had to lay aloft! It'd been what, 4 days since my first and only climb?
The weather, hot rain-gear and whacky swells stirred up by the squall had left me a bit green, but aloft I went. Real slowlike. I wound up on the starboard side next to the bunt, opposite Annie, and with Beth further out to my right. After a few frantic questions, Annie got me started on the process ("Lie on the Z, grab armfuls of canvas and swipe at the dangly-thing?"). I only caught glimpses of deck and see below since I was so busy, and the only fear *this* time was not heaving onto said deck or into the sail I was furling. Thankfully, I got the job done without leaving any me-shaped dents in the deck, and as I lay low I heard someone murmer: "Wait, has he had his aloft-training yet?"
posted by doug | 8:43 PM
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