Weary

Weary

This has been the view outside the office window for far too long. I grow weary of beating the living daylights out of the boat and myself as we hammer upwind.

Since South Cape, New Zealand we have been beating against Northeasterly winds where there are supposed to be none. Or at least none in the statistical, climatological mean sense.

The westerlies in the Roaring Forties were primarily Northeasterly gales. The light variables in the sub-tropical transition were primarily Northerly gales. The Southeast Trades have been non-existent or light North winds.

Now, with at least some wind to work with after 3 days of North wind blowing les than 6 knots in the fabled Southeast Trades, it is Northeast x North at 22 knots. I am close-hauled, beating dead upwind pounding into the 6-8 foot chop and wind wave.

I grow weary of it all. What light there is at the end of the tunnel is indistinguishable from a hope and a prayer. And I know hope for what it truly is: The last of the deadly sins not let loose from Pandora’s box. That leaves prayer. Which seems about right as most prayers pick up where hope leaves off.

Follow my tracks in real-time:
https://bit.ly/svseaburban