Been a wild last four days, here’s some of the recap:

4/12-We’re doing 6 knots now under furled jib poled out to starboard and storm trysail. The main is sea-furled and lashed to the boom. Nice to be back a little more under control now, but even with this, we’re still hitting lots of 8’s and 9’s and even a few 10’s coming down the steep waves.

It got squally last night right after roll call. Charisma started surfing down the waves hitting 10 knots. Initially Wilson was doing a pretty good job of steering so I decided to leave the main up, since the alternative at that point was going up on deck at night in the squalls and waves to take down the main. I was hoping conditions wouldn’t deteriorate. Oops, they did. While my watch from 2200 to 0300 went OK, right about 0300 as Ann came on deck for her watch the squalls became much worse. I checked the radar to “see” what might be behind us and was rewarded with a picture of some big red blotches coming right at us. Red means heavy rain. Heavy rain out here also means lightning. Nice. We watched the red returns on the radar come towards us and then split, with one going to each side. Whew, dodged a bullet! Unfortunately the respite was short lived as just after the squalls passed, everything right, left, in front and behind went “red”. Squally weather had filled in everywhere and there was no more chance of avoidance. It had also gotten way too windy for even the double reefed main. Just too much force for the wind vane to manage. There’s just too much chance now for a major wipeout-we’d already taken a few little ones where we got a bit sideways coming down a wave. It was time to slow Charisma down. So at 0400 in shorts, tee shirt, flip flops (hey, we’re in the tropics) , harness and tether, I clipped into the jackline and made my way to the mast with Ann standing by on the mainsheet. It came down more easily than I thought it would and once furled and secured on the boom life seemed to get a little better on board now that Charisma had slowed to a more stately pace. Even though we had wind gusts to 35 knots, we now only had the equivalent of a couple of dinghy sails up, so I wasn’t so worried about the rig, or about wiping out on a steep wave. But, I didn’t know what still lay ahead. 4/13-It’s 1200 hours and we’ve already hove to twice. Once at 0600 and we’re hove to right now waiting out a big thunderstorm that’s right in front of us. Both times, the T-storms were so big there was no way to go around. We had to just stop Charisma and wait. Kind of nice actually after all the banging around of the last couple days to have an hour’s respite to relax and chill. The only downside is you’re not going anywhere, so that “1500 miles to go” doesn’t get any shorter.

It’s at this point with a new weather forecast in hand that I realized the ITCZ had” come up” to greet us. It moved a couple degrees North in the last 24 hours, so while we weren’t yet literally in it, we were in the “120 mile zone” that the forecasters said would see moderate to severe convection. “Convection” is such a mild word for what in reality means; “all hell will break loose”. Anyway, we’re well within the 120 mile zone, so for the first time in 13 days, we changed course. We jibed onto port tack and made a course of 170 degrees magnetic. Due South given the 09 degree deviation in this neck of the woods. Our goal; get through the ITCZ as fast as possible. Also the grib files were showing some promising weather on the other side of the ITCZ to help us get through the doldrums and down to the equator. I figured we’d use the radar to see the thunderstorms and sail around them on our way. Nothing could be much worse than the past couple days of squally weather. Right? Oops again.

We were still under a highly furled jib and storm trysail since the wind had not let up, the waves were still unnaturally steep for this area and we were anticipating some gusty weather. Thank goodness we kept the sails “small”. It didn’t take long before we were screaming downhill dodging squalls when one squall just ate us up. It enveloped us. No way out. We’re back to lightning and wind in the 20’s-30’s, but now also monsoonal rain. And it didn’t stop! Usually in trade-wind squally weather, you get something like this and it lasts for 15 minutes or so. This just went on and on and on. Finally I realized this wasn’t just a simple squall this time. This was our weather for the next 100 miles or so. After sitting in the cockpit for an hour or two watching this spectacle, I realized neither Ann nor I were dressed for this event. I just had shorts and a light nylon jacket (no shirt) and was getting chilled and Ann was due for her watch soon. We also hadn’t eaten in a while given the bumpy ride and the difficulty standing in the cabin, much less cooking. So again, for the third time in 24 hours we decided to heave to and wait things out a bit. So, we furled the jib, strapped in the trysail, set the helm to weather, locked it there and Charisma stopped and relaxed. It’s an amazing thing that you can do this in the middle of such weather, but nice to know. Gave us the chance to break out our foul weather gear (which had been stowed since we assumed we wouldn’t be using them in tropical weather. I also put on some thermal underwear as protection against chilling in the drenching rains) since this was going to be a very long night of storm chasing. Or was it BEING chased. I’m not sure. And we made dinner.

Ann and I have shared duties aboard. For the most part we split watches evenly and other shipboard stuff, but in heavy weather I handle the boat and she does support. In this case, that meant being extra help on deck in case of sail changes , but it also meant keeping coffee on the stove, hot food, and as it turns out plugging leaks. It rained so hard, we found leaks where I have never seen them before, like over several bunks that could soak the beds. So after dinner, I made my way to the cockpit for a long night managing the boat and Ann made sure we had hot food and drink, kept the leaks from soaking the bunks and monitored the radar looking for a path through the T-storms if one became available. It didn’t.

As soon as we started sailing again, there was an eerie lull in the storm. We were in the middle of some ugly looking clouds all around us, but the wind had subsided, and the seas got flatter. It was the last calm moment for the next 12 hours. Within 30 minutes the wind came up, we could start to hear the thunder and as darkness fell, see lightning all across the horizon. There was nowhere to go to avoid it, so I just steered our shortest course through; still due South toward the equator. Since the wind had lightened, I unfurled the jib to allow Charisma to keep up some speed to get through the zone, but now that night was falling, I could also feel and smell a change. The wind suddenly had dropped a good five degrees and there was an odd smell. Maybe ozone, I don’t know, but I knew we were about to get blasted, so quickly grabbed the furling line and pulled the jib down to its shortest usable furl, which is around 40%. Not a minute later we got hit by the first blast. The annenometer hit 25 knots and never went below it for at least the next two hours. Gusts went well into the 30’s. But the rain that started was unbelievable. Picture Charisma leaping forward in the darkness, rail in the water, small jib, and storm trysail pulling her along on a power reach at 6-8 knots in what were now flat seas due to the heavy rain. It just knocked all the waves flat. Then picture that water all around glowing from the volume of rain hitting so hard it was making the green phosphorescence from the plankton kick off. I’m just stunned by the sheer power of it all until jolted to reality by the lightning that was now above us, blinding me for 10-20 seconds with each bolt. The only thing I could see were the instruments and compass light right in front of my face. Thunder pounding on my ears. This finale of the past two days went on for about six hours and all we could do was ride it. By the time we came out the other side, I had only slept for about four hours in the past 48. The only things that kept me awake were Coffee, Red Bull and adrenaline, but as we sailed past the major squalls and left most of the lightning behind, I was seeing things and couldn’t keep awake any longer. Ann came up and drove through the last couple hours of darkness and the final squalls (including some lightning) so she had some time experiencing this storm first hand driving the boat (and she did great!)

So, ultimately I’ve sailed in more wind and larger seas, but have never seen such rain and lightning anywhere much less at sea. What I really liked was the storm trysail. This sail option is a great way to keep a short-handed boat under control in challenging conditions. I’m very glad to have rigged it and know we will use it again. The best part about it is how easy it was to hoist. It stays attached to the mast on its own track and we keep it rolled up in a sail bag, tied around the mast to keep out of the way. When I needed to put it up, I just dropped the main, swapped the halyard from the main to the trysail and attached the sheets, which were already rigged and tied off on the lifelines. Pull the halyard and you’re done. Even though Charisma was 100% prepared and I felt comfortable with how she handled in the winds and seas, I did feel some anxiety about the lightning. I was worrying about the unknown thought: “will the next one hit our mast and fry all the electronics or maybe blow out a through-hull?” I still don’t have the answer. I guess we were lucky since while most of the lightning stayed up in the clouds, each of us saw at least one bolt hit the water. Could have been us. That was what was really worrying me.

So, now that we’re past it, we are both in even more awe of nature’s power but also glad for the experience of a lifetime. After all, it’s not really an adventure if it’s easy.