Numbered Days
by: Ralph E. Ahseln  10/2014

Part Two........

Speaks the Angry Storm

It made sense.
He would be 38 years old on his birthday, coming in just a few days. As well, his father had been stationed in Korea during that war. His Dad had been there July 1953 when the armistice was signed. It happened on the 38th parallel which at that time, and even now, divided the two countries.

He remembered too, the disastrous 2011 earthquake in Japan. Its epicenter was at 38.3 degrees. The Tsunami that followed, swept away several communities in the Iwate Prefecture. Looking at a map of the Japanese coast, if one averaged the latitudes of that coast, from Fukishima at 37 degrees , to Miyako at 39 degrees, it put the center of the Tsunami's major surge at ..... 38 degrees North.

Too many coincidences were falling into place not to capitalize on the oddities. He MUST start from the West Coast of America , and set a Rhumb line course along the 38th parallel on his 38th birthday. He would continue, eventually touching land on Japan's and Korea's 38th parallels. A spark of an idea came to him. Why not spend as many cruises as possible, sailing the latitudes bearing the same number of his age! After this trip, he'd swing below the equator and run 39 degrees South on his next birthday. He laughed at the "My birthday, in degrees" plan.

After the flash of inspiration at the Barge Inn tavern, , he spent several hours sitting at Skälm's galley table with the charts of the west coast spread out. Slowly he ran his finger down the edge of the chart, and stopping at the 38 degree line, he smiled. "Perfect" he thought.

``````It Was the tip of a point of land at exactly 38 degrees N, on his chart!
Point Reyes California.

The land there formed a sharp projection from the mainland that was like a "Finger" pointing West. It was showing him the way. The "King" would point the way! It couldn't have been planed any better. With a little luck, He'd be there in a few days to celebrate his 38th birthday and the start of a new adventure.

He did make it in time, and he did celebrate. In his log book he wrote, "October 30, 2014, course: 270 degrees, on the 38th parallel."

Watching the coastline of California fall below the horizon off the stern of Skälm suddenly a strange chill washed over him. He was ok, he told himself, but that shudder coursed through his body as the hills of the Bay Area turn blue then dark gray and finally disappeared from his view.

That last look at land had been 25 days ago. An average of 4 knots had put him and the boat Northwest of the Hawaiian islands. Skälm still ran along the 38th parallel. The days had been a mix of downwind sleigh rides, close hauled slogs that left him totally exhausted and mind numbing calms. The calms had bothered him the most and he'd foolishly used half of his fuel to motor through them. He promised himself to use the engine sparingly until he'd made landfall in Japan someplace. There he could refuel and continue on.

Water was no problem. There had been a series of rain squalls that allowed him to top off the tanks. He'd even begun to catch fish to help extend his larder. Once a large Sea Turtle snagged his fishing line. Pulling it aboard, he killed and butchered the thing. It gave him a change of diet from the fish he'd been eating. He sampled some of the seaweed that floated by each day. Finding it to have a pleasant taste, he started using some types for salads. Other varieties of the sea plants he used for replacements to the canned vegetables he carried.

Life was being good to him. He was enjoying the ride........

Things were about to change.
Now the ride was headed into the oncoming storm. It was likely going to get rough and wet. He sat in the cockpit looking at that Monster ahead of him. He didn't like the view.

The closer it came, the more concerned he got. So much so, that he decided to forego setting the storm sails and try to survive bare poled. He would set a Sea Anchor of course and secure everything he could. Nothing was going to be free to swing loose to do damage.

He'd read somewhere that it was best to secure the boat and then try to wedge one's self into a tight space below, preferably setting on the cabin sole. After setting the Sea Anchor, he went below, poured the hot chili into the vacuum, gathered some snack food, a few water bottles and stuffed them all into a duffel. With the necessary support items, he would pull the pillows and cushions around him and settle down in the cabin. Riding out the storm would be easy and safe without having to move around.

Once more, he checked the oncoming storm's huge wall. It seemed to be arriving faster that the last time he'd checked.

"This is not looking good", he said to himself.

Standing on the cabin ladder steps, looking forward over the bow, watching the oncoming "Beast", the first rush of chilled air hit his face. It ran into and through his body like a needle. As the first gust burst through the halyards and shrouds he thought he heard a moan. A woman's angry moan! It grew louder as the wall of the storm got closer until it was a wail....
A wrathful wail.

His rational self knew there couldn't be a woman out there in that maelstrom. But the sound rose in volume and pitch until he couldn't deny that the sound was feminine and it was.... ANGRY. He tried reasoning with himself that it was just a trick of the senses. He had been traveling for a long time out there, and solo sailors have often reported on things they only imagined. But there it was, that female voice. It would be hard to deny it didn't make him uneasy. He quickly scribbled the observation in the log book. Then the sound changed!

He swore that there were WORDS in that screech. He couldn't understand them, but they sounded like real words. Was he going crazy? He laughed at the idea that he was beginning to hear a voice talking. But, even though he was hundreds of miles from any human, ... he heard HER voice.

Out here in the middle of the North Pacific Ocean where there was only he and his boat, where no one else should be, what he heard WERE words ! Each phrasing and syllable, each intake breath and expulsion.

He froze.

The words came in torrents smashing against his ears. They came in a language he couldn't understand, but whatever it was, they hurt, nevertheless.

Then ... change again!

He could understand a word or two. There were English words mixed in. Obscene words, accusing words, hateful words, terrible words that no person should speak out loud. Slowly he realized that the screaming was aimed at HIM. It continued ceaselessly striking at his senses. Now, he could understood each word, each phrase. They WERE for him and him ALONE. It called out every meanness in him, every wrong he'd done, every evil he'd done to others. A catalog of names of those he'd cheated and lied to. All the business dealings that were illegal. The cheating and lying just to win at games or relationships . He pulled himself deeper into the cabin cushions trying to hide his shame.

The voice changed once more. The sound came as an accusing whisper. .

"I am Västlig, ...Listen to ME!"

* end part two

Part 1

Part 3

Part 4