The horizon was scattered with various shades grey throughout my entire watch as the thunderstorms built all around us.  It was Jeff and I on deck and as we struggled with catching the non-existent wind we commented on how lucky we were the dark beasts were growing off our stern and to leeward.   Moving along slowly, the wind vanished suddenly and we had to furl the Yankee, sheet in the main and turn on the engine.  Just as we resigned ourselves to some motor sailing,the wind shifted 180 degrees and the beast we watched grow over the last couple of hours was coming to roll right over us, dark as ever.  It was time to reef the main and batten down the hatches.

We could see the rain line on the water before the drops hit our faces and the wind picked up as suspected.  Sea Dragon was moving along quite nicely under just double reefed main, almost reveling the down pour cleansing every crevice of her deck.  At the helm, I struggled to keep my visibility with the sideways rain pelting my face and threatening to take my contacts out of my eyes.  It didn’t take long for us to become soaked, getting our first freshwater showers of the passage in what was relatively warm water.  I’ve definitely seen my share of weather in the miles I’ve sailed; especially strong squalls, and one thing is for certain, never are two the same.  Each is a wonderful nod to the power of Mother Nature and reiterates my amazement in the weather that would most normally be deemed unpleasant.  I definitely revel in this, especially the power of Sea Dragon moving along as we all take what’s been handed to us.

I have always had an affinity for lightning.  I feel as though when others are running inside, I’m running outside to watch the show that’s about to go off.  To capture a lightning strike in a photo as always been a goal of mine; one I cannot say I’ve achieved just yet.  Lightning on the water can almost be more spectacular than on shore, but with the extra magnificence comes extra threats, especially being aboard 72ft of steel.  While sailing on the Great Lakes last summer, we had our share of quickly forming thunderstorms packing a punch of 40kts accompanied by lightning strikes 50ft from the boat.   It wasn’t until after that experience I started to become a bit more leery of lightning upon the horizon.

Today was the first time I have cursed lightning and seen the closest, most beautiful strike ever.  As Jeff and I were getting rained on, sailing along under the dark cloud and listening to the very loud booms overhead I began to get a bit nervous.  Flashes of light burst, reflecting all around us and we kept away from the backstay.  The cracks grew more spine tingling and the booms fiercer.  Surely, even with my nerves, I told myself we’d been in this situation before.   The beauty of the weather was all around us and just as I thought we might be getting a reprieve from the most intense of the lightning and thunder, one giant crack proved me wrong.  The flash was the brightest I’ve ever seen.  Blinding white with a red core.  Spectacular.  I can’t be sure where it hit exactly, but I know I saw it forward.  Maybe just off the bow, maybe from the top of the rig down one of the forward stays.  But I know we were hit and in the very same instant our entire B&G instrument displays on deck went blank. Power down.  Quickly the word was passed down below, and other checks were underway.  Chart plotter, main engine, VHF, Radar, AIS, compass, all good. Everything except our instruments. I think it might be time for another chat with the B&G service department when we get to Bermuda.

It’s a few hours later as I write this, and I’ve been off watch with a chance to get dry, but the others on deck are still getting rained on, though the wind is backing off and the oh so admired lightning and thunder have gone.  This thunderstorm has been quite the experience and is a testament to the fact that no two situations are the same.  It does remind me of the importance of basic seamanship, and the skills to be able to find your way should all your instruments go (not just wind, speed and electronic heading).  Just as beautiful as the weather is the ability to know you could find your way with a chart, compass, and a sextant should it be the only option.  But I will say the redundancies make life a little bit easier, especially for those whom are unfamiliar.  As this storm passes we sail on, still pointed at Bermuda and with delicious fajitas in our bellies.  It’s never a dull moment on the high seas and today was no exception.

– Shanley McEntee, First Mate, Sea Dragon, May 3, 2014

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