Squall
Clouds have been gathering all day to the west promising some wind. At evening they began boiling up and standing high, some darkening black. Lots of rain, maybe some wind. Now they are gathered close to us and hurling lightning among the clouds in huge flashes, wide, amphitheatre blazes and concentrated super bright explosions. The night is very black until lit up like an aerial bombardment - then the cloud mass looks less threatening. To the north, ahead of us, another battle among the gods rages, although the sky is less dark.
Every now and then the wind picks up and I think ‘here it comes’ but then it settles back to a sedate 10 knots and the lightning continues without thunder. Perhaps it will eventually come and settle on us but equally it might just pass us harmlessly by. At the moment it’s just empty gestures, a show of might, a war of words. I can see the dark cloud leaning over us and clear sky ahead – a sort of tunnel and the light at the end is near – surfing a slow motion curler that might, at any minute close in over us but maybe, just maybe we will surf clear while the water crashes in on itself harmlessly behind.
Now others have joined the battle. There are skirmishes off to the south and several others in the north west. It’s an almighty conflagration. Enough energy to light up Wellington for days. And now deep rolling thunder. Yet it’s all so quiet. No deafening thunder claps, just deep throated distant growls. There’s the gentle burble of our wake and the swoosh of each wave as our bow advances across the sea. A light lean to the breeze. All very calm and gentle in contrast to the largely silent shaking of fists among the clouds.
An hour later.
Well that was all rather dramatic. Just after that last sentence we got a few drops of rain and a different feel to the wind. Two more minutes and we were in 35 knots of wind, sheets of rain, wild lightening directly over head and the deepest, loudest thunder. I rolled up half the headsail and called Piet to help put another reef in the main. It was so dark and such a wild ride in big seas. We doused the mainsail all together and clung on. And then it was gone. Just like that. One minute a tempest, the next we were jilling around in 6 knots, sails slatting, wind vane steering not responding. Here comes Janet on watch. Its bedtime for me.
Clouds have been gathering all day to the west promising some wind. At evening they began boiling up and standing high, some darkening black. Lots of rain, maybe some wind. Now they are gathered close to us and hurling lightning among the clouds in huge flashes, wide, amphitheatre blazes and concentrated super bright explosions. The night is very black until lit up like an aerial bombardment - then the cloud mass looks less threatening. To the north, ahead of us, another battle among the gods rages, although the sky is less dark.
Every now and then the wind picks up and I think ‘here it comes’ but then it settles back to a sedate 10 knots and the lightning continues without thunder. Perhaps it will eventually come and settle on us but equally it might just pass us harmlessly by. At the moment it’s just empty gestures, a show of might, a war of words. I can see the dark cloud leaning over us and clear sky ahead – a sort of tunnel and the light at the end is near – surfing a slow motion curler that might, at any minute close in over us but maybe, just maybe we will surf clear while the water crashes in on itself harmlessly behind.
Now others have joined the battle. There are skirmishes off to the south and several others in the north west. It’s an almighty conflagration. Enough energy to light up Wellington for days. And now deep rolling thunder. Yet it’s all so quiet. No deafening thunder claps, just deep throated distant growls. There’s the gentle burble of our wake and the swoosh of each wave as our bow advances across the sea. A light lean to the breeze. All very calm and gentle in contrast to the largely silent shaking of fists among the clouds.
An hour later.
Well that was all rather dramatic. Just after that last sentence we got a few drops of rain and a different feel to the wind. Two more minutes and we were in 35 knots of wind, sheets of rain, wild lightening directly over head and the deepest, loudest thunder. I rolled up half the headsail and called Piet to help put another reef in the main. It was so dark and such a wild ride in big seas. We doused the mainsail all together and clung on. And then it was gone. Just like that. One minute a tempest, the next we were jilling around in 6 knots, sails slatting, wind vane steering not responding. Here comes Janet on watch. Its bedtime for me.
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