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T'was a dark and...
Mar. 29th, 2010 09:32 pmI was raising the flag when the wind shifted, in the morning on Sunday. The new Southerly blew warm, snapping my hair into my face and sending the flag flying forward as I hauled it to the top of the gaff, streaming towards our bow. The captain looked up, feeling it as I did, and bit his lip. "Here's the storm," he said softly.
We knew it was coming. UGRIB, our weather software, has been painting us ominous pictures for a week, filled with the jagged little flags of high-wind warnings and the soft blue shading of heavy accumulated rainfall. But that first touch of the storm, deceptively mild and warm, was like a footfall behind you in a dark room, like the touch of something invisible in dark water.
By evening, the rain had started. Heavy drops falling hard and fast, they kept the wind suppressed until well after dark. And when I returned to the boat after an evening out, the ship was leaning hard into the dock like an anxious dog, her fenders and docklines making twangs of compression and tension, respectively. Even with bare poles, every stitch of sail furled tight, the ship heeled in the bite of the gale, whined and creaked under the pelting rain.
It was a poor night for sleep.
The gale broke at dawn, but the storm isn't over yet. Today, sparse, cold sun alternated with rainwater tantrums and grape-shot spats of hail. Our education program, 45 kids between 3 and 12, were all driven below decks by a sudden drench. Yet twenty minutes later, we ushered them all back up into sun and a warm breeze. They set a sail, doused it, and were on their busses before the rain started to fall again.
After dinner, more hail drowned out the movie I tried to watch in the foc's'l, but only rain followed me to McDonald's and the internets. The tree that sat outside the window by my usual table is gone, downed by the wind last night and dragged over behind the dumpster by this morning's shift. What damage will tonight wreak?
We knew it was coming. UGRIB, our weather software, has been painting us ominous pictures for a week, filled with the jagged little flags of high-wind warnings and the soft blue shading of heavy accumulated rainfall. But that first touch of the storm, deceptively mild and warm, was like a footfall behind you in a dark room, like the touch of something invisible in dark water.
By evening, the rain had started. Heavy drops falling hard and fast, they kept the wind suppressed until well after dark. And when I returned to the boat after an evening out, the ship was leaning hard into the dock like an anxious dog, her fenders and docklines making twangs of compression and tension, respectively. Even with bare poles, every stitch of sail furled tight, the ship heeled in the bite of the gale, whined and creaked under the pelting rain.
It was a poor night for sleep.
The gale broke at dawn, but the storm isn't over yet. Today, sparse, cold sun alternated with rainwater tantrums and grape-shot spats of hail. Our education program, 45 kids between 3 and 12, were all driven below decks by a sudden drench. Yet twenty minutes later, we ushered them all back up into sun and a warm breeze. They set a sail, doused it, and were on their busses before the rain started to fall again.
After dinner, more hail drowned out the movie I tried to watch in the foc's'l, but only rain followed me to McDonald's and the internets. The tree that sat outside the window by my usual table is gone, downed by the wind last night and dragged over behind the dumpster by this morning's shift. What damage will tonight wreak?
