Chapter 26

Not fifteen minutes after Krys had taken the watch from our favorite spy, Cassie, she stomped on the deck. The Flint is pretty big... 90 feet LOD (Length on Deck) but she’s not huge. With dual wheels and a wide salon, the helms person is standing over one or another of the master suites. It so happened that it was my turn in the barrel. I thumped the overhead to let her know I was awake and slipped on a tee and shorts and headed up and out.

“What?”

“What is that?” She pointed over the port side.

“Ooo, that is trouble. Run ... get everyone up and in their immersion suits, mine is in the EMERGENCY closet next to my cabin hatch. The EPIRB is on the charger. Get in yours and fetch mine, please.”

She ran off.

I heard her yelling.

“Surprise said!” and relaying the message. There was the slamming of ports and cursing. No doubt about it ... we needed the practice. If nothing came of the emergency, there would be a discussion later. When there was no backtalk or discussion I knew Miss Kucherenko was a full fledged member of the crew.

When it comes to abandonment at sea, I saw to it that we had excellent gear. The suits were almost two grand each but I wouldn’t feel guilty. The Musto HPX Gore-Tex Dry Suit offers the ultimate level of protection, making it a must for serious offshore sailing to extreme latitudes. The Black Sea isn’t extreme but close enough. I know the suit will keep me alive for days in 50 degree F water.

Boiling up on deck, the crew swarmed me.

“Everybody here?”

There was a quick count along with assorted versions of, “What the fuck?” A quick point portside settled that. Sure, they weren’t moving fast but the three waterspouts snaking across the black storm front were heading our way.

One problem with catamarans is their shallow draft ... another is the hollow between the hulls.

The shallow draft means there’s not a lot of wetted area ... water tends to ‘grab’ at wetted surface and hold a hull ... friction.

Besides filling up the holes between continents, water has a job ... sink stuff.

Because boat designers want the finished product to be ‘swoopy’ ... swoopy is pretty ... the fiberglas area joining the hulls is damn near an airfoil ... and airfoils fly.

Check out the aftermath of a hurricane.

Monohulls tend to sink.

The upside-down hulls are catamarans ... too much air too fast.

After the ordeal ashore with grand parents, Krys wanted to see ... and she was of an age to be seen. One of us had to go with her and ... generally ... the escort was me.

At 22, I’m not all that much older ... and I look like mom ... not Krys’s mom. My mom. My mom was one of the wonders of the universe. We beached a bunch, walked in parks, saw the sights ... we were seen as one of those sights ... and generally had a pretty darn good time.

Krys was becoming decorative ... younger sister style ... and EVERYBODY knows Ukrainian women are beautiful. I believe ... although I wasn’t a witness to it ... being ‘busy’ myself ... that Krys got ... at a bare minimum ... kissed at least once. I know I sure did.

Excited enough to have to change my thong. An all together good time.

At the boat ... we were looking for a decent weather-window to get us to the Straits of Bosporus and Istanbul. But first we had to visit the Crimea and Sevastopol. The winter winds of the Black Sea usually blow from the south and we wanted to GO south. Summer they’re from the nothwest. But ... May/June are ‘unsettled’ and iffy. So ... we waited. Two weeks.

July. Winds from the northwest 12 knots ... gusts to 20. A day of check out and provisioning and we were gone. Sevastopol coming up.

The weather-window lied.