Dark and stormy

In her Open 40 Lia Ditton writes from the Atlantic

A 33 knot gust hits in combination with the boat's descent down a surging wall of water, sending boat speed teetering into the high teens and a plough of water raining port and starboard. As the bottom of the trough looms, the boat skews, her bow thrown closer to the wind. I am scrambling into my dry suit by this point, groping on the cabin floor for my lifejacket as the angle of heel becomes more severe and the contents of the food and spares boxes crash against their lids in a bid for freedom. Having been laid flat, the boat is now in full round up, the wind roaring a deafening scream through the rigging.

Then it happens. I know it's going to. I can't stop it, but at the same time there is an avoidable wrench in the stomach of dread. The boom is thrown against the running backstay. The off course alarm rings into song with confirmation. We have crash gybed.

Securely clipped to the high side jackstay, I heave myself out of the sideways companionway and begin the drill. My throat is dry and I am shaking like a leaf, but I know what to do and am focused. I crawl forward to fetch the lazy running back stay and grind on the winch, release the other and dump the main...Finally the jib is rolled away and I am hand steering under main, but something is wrong. There is a lot of resistance in the helm and we are still heeling significantly even when running once again down wind. Peering with my head torch into the keel box inside, I see that the keel hasn't moved. I press the button to engage. The pump starts and stops; starts and stops. I groan. I engage the hand valves and start to crank the lever.

Daybreak seemed to take forever to arrive and by then I had dropped the main and re-hoisted with the runner unhooked, throwing in a third reef for good measure. There is a reason why half of my class has retired. Three days in huge seas with 25-30 knot winds is a merciless toll on yacht and skipper. I was this morning desperate for sleep. Not sleep, as in to doze with one eye half open out of fear, but real deep sleep. Shaking violently from the sweat-turned-cold, my body was demanding it. If a third reef drops me a knot, but allows a crash-free slumber, it was a choice worth taking.