All too Familiar

All too Familiar

It has become an all too familiar refrain. Chased from behind by a storm that with nowhere to go but North. On my track East are 35-45 knot winds, gusts to 55 and 9-10m seas. Just a bit North and the prospects aren’t quite so uninviting. We make haste Northeast while we can. Building North winds will force my hand and bend my track back East. We will have done all we can before the sprint to South Cape and the turn homeward.

I am thinking that if not the last, then this will be the penultimate test before New Zealand. There just isn’t enough real estate left to brew up another storm and hurl it my way. But I whisper these thoughts lest I anger whatever demonic hell-dweller is responsible for the  weather in the South Tasman Sea. If I could have gotten here a day earlier, finding a cove or bay to shelter in Tasmania to shelter in for 24 hours or so might have been possible. Now ironically I need the safety of the open ocean to find shelter from the storm.

“If it was easy, it would be raining whiskey.” – Sir Robin Knox-Johnston on completing the first ever solo, non-stop unassisted circumnavigation.

So right Sir Robin. So right.

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