RIP Code D
Coda passed through several rain cells in the wee hours of the morning. Each one brought pretty dramatic shifts in wind speed and direction, some of them in a matter of thirty seconds. It required a lot more active engagement with the helm for the people on watch.
A rain cell passed over the boat just before the 6 a.m. watch change. I was coming off watch and could hear that the Code D headsail was unhappy, even though all indications at the nav station said it should have been flying just fine. Brianna helped me by shining a spotlight on the sail, and it looked like it maybe had a twist about two-thirds of the way up the sail. It was blowing pretty good, so we woke Wes up to help us formulate a plan for dealing with it.
Wes had a look and thought the halyard had slipped somehow and allowed the sail to drop. The halyard did seem a little loose, but the head of the sail was much farther from the top of the mast than there was remaining halyard to take in. That’s when I realized the sail had become detached from the shackle on the end of the halyard that was still at the top of the mast, and had slid down the heavy bolt rope in the luff. That meant the sail had to come down but without the ability to furl it first, as is standard procedure.
Wes fired up both engines and gave them full throttle to make the boat go as fast as possible and take as much power out of the headsail as possible. We got Dan up, and the four of us put on our harnesses and went to the foredeck. With everything lit up by the foredeck lights, Brianna released the halyard while Dan, Wes and I brought the sail down and made sure it didn’t go overboard.
We got it back into its sail bag and lashed to the longitudinal beam without incident. The sail can be repaired, but it’s not something we’ll be able to do at sea, so our faithful Code D is out of commission for the rest of the journey.