A zone of enhanced squalliness
In terms of equipment for this passage, we have two MVPs.
The first one is our 15 years old jib, AKA "the trash bag," that has helped us sail upwind without overpowering the boat. Since our departure, we've had two reefs in the main sail that we haven't touched. Instead, we power the boat up or down by furling or unfurling the jib with the help of our electric winch. It is a great setup compared to the reefing system of our mainsail, as one person can easily reef in and reef out in a matter of seconds.
The second MVP is the starboard wall of our cockpit enclosure, which has kept us dry from the massive amount of spray and rain that we've been taking on since departure. With the waves coming from our starboard side and Polar Seal's flat hull smashing in the waves, we would have all been completely soaked without it.
We decided to award our jib and cockpit enclosure the title of "MVPs," after we finally understood the meaning of the "zone of enhanced squalliness" that a friend of Polar Seal, and climate expert, Jen warned us about before departure, describing them as "annoying." (Hi Jen! If you're read this, please know you were spot on! ;)
Yesterday afternoon, we had just settled down from five hard days onboard to get out of the Caribbean sea, when all of a sudden our nice beam reach got disrupted by massive walls of dark clouds, rain, and high winds forming around us out of nowhere, basically right in our path. There was very little doubt that the "enhanced squalliness" was upon us! While we typically see squalls coming on the radar and can attempt to dodge some of them (as I am currently doing while typing this), some are simply too big to be avoided and all we can rely on is our rapid reefing system and cockpit enclosure. (Fingers crossed I can avoid the one passing straight in front of me right now... whew!)
There was no avoiding yesterday when one of the big walls of sailing-joy-sucking appeared on the horizon, and it took us over an hour to get out of it, including several sail trim alterations. The hour we spent in the squall wasn't pleasant and we were hoping for better conditions once out of it but, nope.
The winds picked up to 25 knots, and the sea got bigger and more agitated than we'd seen through the entire passage. Polar Seal was heeling hard over, slamming and smashing in the waves again and again, which made cooking and eating dinner a bit sporty. The conditions followed us through the night, with winds still reaching 25 knots and waves reaching 4-5 meters on our beam.
Polar Seal would heel so much in the waves that it felt like I was sleeping vertically (or at least trying to), and I would even have to sometimes grab the shelf behind my pillow as to not glide all the way to the bottom of the cabin. Around 2AM, I came up in the cockpit in an attempt to figure out if the motion of the boat could be made a little more comfortable. Within two minutes of being there, a nagging wave came crashing on our starboard side, getting all the way under the enclosure and straight onto Ryan. The entire cockpit was soaked, and when I took my watch at 5AM this morning, it looked like a war zone.
I found out that our sprayhood developed a hole in a seam, and spray was now making its way into the cabin through the companion way. It is now 7:30, and I am spending the morning trying to clean up the cockpit, rinse the cushions with fresh water and dodging squalls. The winds are back up to 25 knots on our beam, and we are anxiously waiting for them to start shifting behind us.
It will be nice to exit the "enhanced zone of squalliness"!