SHTP stories - July 11th - exhaustion day

I get up tired, and somehow panicked because Mr Fusion doesn't seem to be keeping the batteries charged up. It is running constantly basically as it has turned from my backup system to my primary system and it is down to half a jug of methanol. I had changed jugs about three days ago, when the previous one was completely empty (another nice feature of the fuel cell, it really does consume the entire content of that jug)

Of course I probably have enough fuel since we are probably talking three days worth of sailing - and if the batteries are full, I probably have some 20+ hours worth of autopilot work...Plus it really is a performance issue, not a safety issue. 

Regardless, I am stressed. I also start crying uncontrollably for no apparent reason. I am not sad. It is a beautiful sunny day, still light as it is the morning. 

I had rehearsed my plan in my mind - if the last jug reaches halfway, my plan - and as discussed with Nathan and Brian, was to connect at least the two smaller and portable batteries that have plenty of cable straight to the batteries. I would then up the use of the autopilot and that in itself would be a charge controller as it would be very unlikely that I would over charge the batteries.

This morning, I feel so so tired that I am not even sure that I am able to do this simple task (negative / black wire with negative terminal of the battery and positive / red wire with positive terminal of the battery). I feel the need to call Nathan to double check...and walk through the entire procedure. I also say that I think that I am tired.

Nathan recommends food - I drink a Pellegrino and I go about the electrical work.

I put both small panels below and turn them around to make sure that there is no current passing through the wires.

For some reason my wire cutter isn't with the tools where it normally lives so I use a knife to strip the wires. Since I will just be coiling them around the terminals, it isn't a big deal to not have anything to clamp the wires with. I am still wearing my sailing gloves because I just slept with my entire gear on...I was too tired to even remove the harness.

Two of the batteries are set up in parallel as a bank. I connect the 20W panel to the starboard 55Ah battery and the 40W panel to the port 55Ah. Technically, they are both connected to the same point. I look at the electrical meters: they indicate a surge in voltage when I expose the panels to the sun, and a dip when I connect a load to the batteries. Amps are pushed through so this seems to be working.


I 




am running the wires straight through the companionway hatch. I have not had to close the doors for a while and even if I have to, I can just push the two panels down below in a hurry.

Then I put one panel at the back and one panel resting against the dodger.

I call Nathan to declare victory. Nathan thinks that I sound better. I ask permission to call him again soon.

I check my rope burn from the previous night. I will just put some ice on it and it'll be that. Not serious, just a tad painful.

I walk up on deck, leaving the autopilot on. I have the main and the blast reacher up from the previous night. I scoop up more fish at the blow, feeling again very sad for them.

And more fish at the back...On the left some sort of flying bug that seems to be jumping on the water...

I had agreed with Nathan that I should really be trying to get some sleep so I go down below. I can't stand being in my bunk because it is getting hot and there isn't enough air so I sleep on cushions on the settee. It is pretty calm and I don't feel the need to harnessed up on the high side, or to be on the floor. I am in the shade and with a nice breeze from the companionway. I should be able to sleep. The autopilot can easily keep up and doesn't even need a super high gain.

I try to sleep for a couple of hours but I just can't. My body must be thinking that it is daytime and wouldn't let me sleep. I get up and call Nathan asking how it is possible to be so completely exhausted yet not being able to even doze off.

I should be gybing as I have been on port pole all night and I need to head North a bit on starboard pole. We are now at a point where Hawaii is dead downwind so I usually sail starboard pole during the day and port pole at night, making my way to the islands that way (roughly speaking...not quite like that, as when it is lighter, I need to head up a bit and I can sail quite deep with the surf and heavier air of the afternoon and the squalls of the night...)

I am so tired that I can't even fathom gybing the blast reacher. Nathan just says 'you should do whatever is safe'. And that means shorten sails. I remember my takedown from the previous night. And if I want to sleep, I need the autopilot to drive - and I can't be fiddling with sail changes, etc... I recognize that right now, I need a day off. So down goes the headsail so I can just get some sleep...

I even take two reefs in the main as the AP has trouble with a full main as the wind picks up earlier than anticipated. With a main only, there is more weather helm and the boat is less stable in the swell so I have to increase the gain of the AP. 

But I can't stand looking at a 5 knots boat speed for more than 4 minutes. I call Nathan crying 'Boat speed is 5 knots! I can't go on like that. This is a race. I am never going to win.'. Nathan remains silent. The specter of Libra finishing ahead of me is haunting me and I shake off both reefs. The reefing line end is so thin that it gets caught again between the sheave and the boom and I have to bring the boom in to free it up.

My new sail configuration. At least boat speed is over 6 knots and I can sail deeper with the main only so I don't feel as bad as before. Still very little surfing and a very uncomfortable boat motion in the swell.

I get some food and call Nathan to reassure him. With food I feel better. I will just take it easy the rest of the day and put up more sail area aka a spinnaker whenever it feels safe to do so, when I am rested enough for it.

I remember Brian telling me that in the 2010 or 2012 Transpac, Ronnie had taken his sails down to sleep for four hours. At least, my mainsail is up...

I can't stand doing nothing and as sleep doesn't seem to be coming to me naturally and since the task of sailing the boat fast is taken care of by the boat itself right now, I have to find other things.

I try to fix my email client problem but my mind is too foggy to be effective so that doesn't work. A mental inventory of my daily tasks doesn't allow me to do much that day unfortunately

• Eating: I can do but with great difficulty as my body seems to be asking for sleep, not food
• Cleaning myself up - that I could do. This must be my cleanest day in a long time. I cleaned myself once in the morning, once in the afternoon and once in the evening out of boredom
• Navigation: I could take a fix but thinking through a strategy was too much for my mind...I checked the position reports but they just made me worry even more about the fact that I didn't have a headsail up
• Weather: I couldn't fix my email client so I couldn't get that
• Boat and churn patrol: I did this - twice. Above and below deck. It is amazing how easy it is to do this and maneuvre when the weather is nice... Vs when it is rainy and windy like that evening after I had met up with Elizabeth Ann and when every sail change took four times as long and made me twice as tired
• Phone calls: I am bored to I call people up to chat. I don't have an SSB so I can't talk to the other skippers. I have an SSB receiver and I turn it on to catch check-ins and chit chat. It seems to be working incredibly well. I decide to use it from now on.
• I clean up and tidy up down below. 
• I do braindead steering
• I drink. A lot.
• I put sunscreen on. A lot.
• I try to read but the idea of not racing is preventing me from reading
• I can't take videos as I am too ashamed of my sail configuration. A couple of pictures ought to suffice.
• OK - I take a video but of the back of the boat, so you can't see the sails.

• There is a mildew removal bottle on the boat - however I can't find any mildew to remove. Damned Serge, not even a teeny spot 
• I could cook which I considered a waste of time during racing but I am so not hungry that I can't face that task
• I could reflect on the past, present, future and meaning of life - and gain a new perspective on why my Honda Civic is still in my possession but that's asking too much of my sleep deprived brain
• I try to save as many fish as I possibly can
• I rinse some of my clothes
• I try to take an afternoon nap but I just can't

My 'I have the main only up, thank God no one's around to watch' look is very similar to my 'sub 5 knot of breeze look'. I decide to hand steer just so that I have the impression of doing something. But with the main up, hand steering just means resting a hand on the tiller..that's all it takes really...

I check the battery levels and that makes me smile. These solar panels are doing a good job.

It is a beautiful and calm evening but I just can't appreciate it. I call Nathan and cry again...and again for no apparent reason. On any normal day I would be the happiest person in the world to be in such a magical place...

There isn't even a ton of squalls on the horizon. That night, there will be a wonderful full moon and stars - my first starry night in a long time. Finally!!!

The evening brings peace and I feel better. 

I see a shooting star and I make a wish. After a while, my eyes start to close - I decided to sleep on deck on the little companionway hammock that I had to take advantage of the no squall night.

It is actually super comfortable. I hear the autopilot humming in a distance. I love hearing that sound. A lot of people hate it but for me it conveys an 'all is well, sleep tight' message. The boat is taking care of me. I actually love sleeping singlehanded. It is a wonderful feeling to know that your boat is working while you are not...and to wake up to tens of miles behind your keel...

I finally manage to fall asleep (which was my wish if you hadn't guessed). I was so afraid that I couldn't that I had grabbed the little bottle of whisky that Phil had given me before the start. I drank one sip of it and fell asleep within minutes - I sleep SEVEN hours straight. The conditions did not change and the boat did not wake me up. When I wake up, I feel entirely refreshed and rested and I can't wait to put the kite up!