When I was watching the electric storms, which
had us surrounded, I was wondering which one could reach and strike us. The northern one caught up with us just as the
clouds were covering up the stars. The seas were roaring and building up, but since
it was pitch-black we could not see the waves’ height. We could feel that we
were being propelled by big waves and strong winds, though, and we could hear
the “whistling” of the wind’s song produced by the strumming of the
shrouds. The anemometer at the top of
the mast was recording wind velocities of 30-35 knots and gusts of 40-50 knots,
so our captain Nikos decided it was time to reduce canvas. With Kostas, our youngest sailor, doing the
heavy lifting in front, and me in the middle handling the lines, we quickly double
reefed the main and hoisted a storm jib in front—actions that kept the boat
well balanced. The experience during the
night was frightening and made us feel vulnerable, especially when we realized
the waves’ size at sunrise. Riding the
waves and occasionally achieving speeds up to 12 knots, due to planning, the
fright turned into exhilaration and eventually changed into a peaceful state
that was beyond our understanding. It
was at this moment that our desire to continue became paramount not because of an
innate desire to experience more thrills but because of our longing to reach “Ithaca,”
where loved ones were eagerly waiting for our return.
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