Single Handing

Amanda and I have both been sleeping more than we usually do on a passage. I think we're both just exhausted from the last three month marathon. At any event, it's been a less social passage as well since we both crash so hard after coming off watch.

The quali-solitude has made really stop and think about what it would be like to single hand a boat across an ocean. It's amazing the comfort that I think we both take from simply knowing that there's another person on the boat if you really need any help or company - there's a utilitarian aspect of course: a broken leg, concussion, accidental slip overboard... All of these become less dangerous with back up.

But more than that, the human need for another human's presence regardless of the depth of interaction is something that I hadn't really considered until now.

We've had pretty hectic conditions for the last few days - moderately big (10-12 ft) beamy seas and 25 to 35 knot winds without a break. It's not particularly dangerous when I think about it academically. The seas are big enough so that I guess a consequential rogue wave might be more likely or perhaps there's enough wind to make a major mechanical failure less implausible, but the boat's been humming along happily and taking the seas without compliant. Basically, this is just as safe as 10 knots and flat seas if I try to spin out bad scenarios.

Maybe a deeper familiarity with the ocean comes after more than 10,000 miles at sea, but at this point I'm not afraid to admit that conditions like these we've had are intimidating. Not having a person next to you to share those feelings would make me way more afraid. I can see how single handing could almost be a religious experience. It makes me wonder what kids in their teens must feel when they attempt something like a single handed circumnavigation.

Amanda's in the quarter berth, sleeping.

I'm glad she's here.