Everything could be so nice and quiet if it weren't for the daily repairs. Our windpilot now wants to give attention twice a day with the wrench, the same screws have to be tightened again and again. I have to think of something else. Still, we're having a good time, I find time to climb into the pulpit and take a picture of Jens and Jakob in the cockpit. What the picture shows is that we have come to terms with it when our floating apartment leans to one side again.
In the evening Jakob and Jens have just gone to bed, my watch begins. After a few minutes I see a huge dark cloud in the light of the full moon, which is flying towards Sissi from behind. I turn on the radar and a huge orange stain proves that I'm right. There the first squall of our Atlantic crossing comes roaring up. I immediately reef the genoa, leaving only a scrap the size of a bath towel. Warning time: about five minutes. Note, with a squall you have to reef immediately.
There is no longer enough time to get shower gel and a towel from the bathroom, instead I barricade the companionway and stay in the cockpit in a T-shirt and underpants. I'm waiting for the downpour that such a squall supposedly always brings with it. Allegedly. In fact, that first squall splits into two cells two miles behind our stern, one on port and one on starboard rushing past Sissi. We are spared for the time being. The wind is still up to 35 kn, it remains very gusty even after the squall.
At midnight I wake Jakob to his watch, and we're back in the middle of a squall. This time there was enough rain to wash the salt off my skin. Unfortunately no more. Again the number on the anemometer climbs to unimagined heights, sometimes 35 kn, sometimes 40 kn. It starts from. After a few minutes, Jens pushes the hatch open and asks if we have a squall. The wind generator would cause resonances the size of a rocket launch.
The following morning, in the best weather, Jens and I dismantle part of the wind vane, replace short screws with longer ones, which I can then properly counter with nuts. Perhaps the problem has now been resolved once and for all. If not, I'll have to come up with something new. It's amazing how creative you can get on a sailboat in the middle of the Atlantic when the nearest hardware store is thousands of miles away.
We still have to come up with something for tomorrow. Today or tomorrow we will celebrate the mountain festival. Then we have more miles in the wake than in front of the bow. Perhaps we will offer a can of holy cider for this divine festival.
9. Etmal: 117 nm
Position at 12 o'clock: N15 ° 43 ′ W40 ° 49 ′
1104 nautical miles to Barbados, we have 982 miles behind us.