Anybody can go to the masthead and take a snapshot, but Ms. Switzer went to the top and created a dynamic and amusing photograph.
the pole, my next challenge will be flying the spinnaker. Snags (Shannon) and I celebrated our achievement with a feast of leftover vegetable curry, sailing wing-on-wing until after midnight when the wind faded. With Shannon on watch, I tried to sleep, but it wasn't easy because the air was so hot and thick. My skin was so clammy that I felt like a glazed donut and stuck to my already damp sheet like a popsicle stick. After lots of tossing and turning, I was lured up on deck by the sound of sails slatting in the wind. "There's an electrical storm that's kinda close," Snags casually remarked. Just then a bolt of lightning ripped across the sky, with thunder right behind. "Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" I nearly peed my pants from fright! The bolt had been so close that we struck the sails and revved up the engine. I'd considered some kind
of lightning protection near the end of Swell's retrofit, and my friend James had repeatedly pressed me to do the job. But it would have taken another two weeks and $2,000, and at that point I wasn't mentally or financially in a position to do
it. So I poo-pooed the idea of being hit by lightning. But now the lightning was so close and frequent that it seemed like a strobe in a nightclub. It would be just my luck to be hit after telling James I wasn't worried. I could see the shape of the storm chasing after us on the radar. At one point it looked like the jaws of a crocodile gaping towards us, and each bolt sent me cringing into an ulcerinducing ball of stress. Hours later the storm finally moved further out to sea. Damn lightning! The next thing I knew, Shannon was standing over me in the darkness of the cabin. I could sense her panic by the way she said my name. I sprang from my bunk once again, but this time there was a different danger —a large military ship was bearing down on us! Shannon had waited a bit too long to wake me, and as I shook the sleepy daze from my eyes, I realized that the ship was less than half a mile away. I panicked. So despite not knowing which way the ship was headed, I spun the wheel 90 degrees to port. As I called to Shannon to switch on our strobe and fumbled with the VHF mike, a spotlight shone down on us from high above. I realized that in my panic I'd turned toward the ship! Once I could I make out the dark flank of the ship's port side, I knew we were clear of its path, but Shannon and I were both shaken. Until then I'd been amazed — and almost frightened — by her lack of fear. But this time I saw it in her eyes. She vowed that from then on, she'd wake me at the first inkling of a problem. The next night was more serene, so I sat on the bow by myself, thinking Liz and Shannon, just 26 and 22, are learning fast. Winging out the headsail with the spinnaker pole was just another step forward. SHANNON SWITZER
SHANNON SWITZER
IN LATITUDES