Monday, May 11 (Day 20) at 10:41 a.m.
Hello everyone,
The wind has definitely come back, and the transatlantic race will finish with an average wind speed of 18–20 knots from 140°, with good average speeds and, we hope, manageable Sargassum.
There are clearly areas of concentration and it’s hell there, because every 30 seconds you have to clean the rudders or risk losing control of the boat. In a double-handed race, it’s manageable; solo, it’s almost impossible. I can’t even begin to understand how Alex manages to keep up this pace!
This morning, I’m checking the weather and the standings: the night went pretty well, with a few miles gained on Alex. Extremely motivated, I decide to clear the keel with a good broach.
Everything’s going well, except the spinnaker tack snap hook opens: that’s never happened before! Lowering it would cost me too much time, so I bear away hard and manage to re-hook it – all clear – but just as I’m retrieving the piano winch, the spinnaker halyard slips out… And the spinnaker collapses in front of the bow. The boat runs over it: it’s in two pieces!
It’s a struggle on deck to gather up the pieces and the sheets, trying not to let them get too tangled in the keel, as I don’t have any desire to dive in. Three quarters of an hour later, I’m back underway under A2.5 (the same spinnaker, but with the mainsail set – the sturdiest one) and we’re flying along again, but I’m frustrated… We’re back in the game and the day turns out to be tense, with the rudders constantly coming loose and the boat unmanageable for the autopilot. I’m rushing between the seaweed pole, the autopilot and the adjustments: no respite!
6 pm, the wind picks up a notch, I try lowering my A2.5 using the sock. The system is brilliant and it’s easy to manage from the cockpit. On the fly, I hoist the A3 and it’s banging against the hull again. Less sargassum too: bliss.
A day off from food, or almost, but it was too hot today.
Martinique is getting closer, I can start to smell the rum…
— JP
