Race to Alaska: Strait of Georgia
I’ve taken to carrying a little nub of ginger tucked into my bra, so I can nibble off a bite when I’m feeling sick. I haven’t puked since the first day’s 12 hours of emesis despite some pretty rough seas, so something is working.
Already the days are blending together. I was two days off my guess looking up tides in the tide book. All I know is, I’ve seen all the sunrises and all the sunsets in the last several days, and I know the time of my next watch.
We sleep when we can. Most of today was so bumpy that I couldn’t sleep in the side berths without wedging myself sideways in the lee berth sling, and when I tried to sleep in the v-berth, I got dripped on by leaking-in spray, bruised against the wall, and rained on by Pringles, Oreos, Cheez-Its, and spare propellors.
We’re heading downwind now, racing at seven knots with a steady tailwind. That means that though we can bump over waves, the ground is generally level. It’s a lot less work: straighter navigation, no tacking, no bracing against the boat. Still challenging to use the toilet.
I’m aiming for a 24 hour-ish cycle of toothbrushing, splash bathing with my packtowel, rebraiding my French pigtails to keep hair out of my face.
I’d better get some sleep. I’m on from ten until two tonight.