A Day in the Life of Quijote Crew

It's a beautiful morning. A pleasant wind is blowing, just enough to fill the sails and move the boat at a moderate pace. The sun is out and the temperature is perfect for a cool morning in T-shirt and shorts.

We should have the wind vane steering because it uses no power and isn't as noisy as the electric auto helm. But Mark was up here alone at the beginning of his watch when the winds were light and variable. The wind vane was having a tough time, so rather than fight with it, he powered up the auto helm.

A few hours later I've switched back to the wind vane. Our desired course is east, but the best we can do in this wind is southeast, so we live with it and press on. Then the wind starts backing: rotating counterclockwise, blowing from the north, then the northwest. That's great for our intended direction, but we know what's coming and see the grey smear in the horizon. Having no choice, we sail into the squall and are pummeled by rain and sturdy winds in the upper teens. The wind then goes light and fluky, turning the wind vane, and thus the boat, in circles.

After bobbing in place for half an hour, listening to the sails flap, I furl the genoa, fire up the engine, and vacate the scene.

Our weather router has given us waypoints to shoot for that will serve our objectives: finding favorable wind and avoiding the storm to our north. We decide it's worth investing fuel to reach the first of those waypoints and set off, running through the night to arrive before dawn.

We don't expect to see any different conditions at this waypoint. It's just a steppingstone to the next and then the next after that. A couple of days from now we'll be in a place where the winds will shift to the north which will allow us to make a turn as well. The reason for the intermediate waypoints is to give us a place to shoot for at 8 AM every morning.