-Written by Connor and Brooks
When it’s summer north of the equator, Panama is located in the path of a global band where Southern and Northern hemisphere winds meet and then slacken. This zone has a technical name: the Inter Tropical Convergence Zone (ITCZ). The northern side of the ITCZ forms the Monsoon trough– known as the doldrums to sailors stuck with no wind–where high humidity and strong sun force convective lift and produce thunderstorms. In Spanish, they are fittingly called “tormentas.” Hot days, high humidity and no wind result in daily rain and torrential thunderstorms. As lazy winds are reformed by the force of uplift, their strength and direction changes frequently, causing sailors to go out to sea expecting poor weather and winds from any quarter. Leaving Providencia, Colombia, bound for Bocas del Toro, Panama we knew we were entering a new weather zone known for thunderstorms. What we were not familiar with was the unique ways such storms can operate in the monsoon trough.
The first day out was smooth sailing and we made 6-7 knots in brisk 15-20 knot winds. By the second day the winds died and we started the motor, we could already see the cumulus clouds building in the distance. With darkness falling fast, as it does at this latitude, radar began to pick up rapidly building squalls that were moving southwest like us. Wind became shiftier as the shields of multiple storms passed over us and we brought the mainsail down to its second reef and the mizzen to its first, thus reducing sail area in case of increasing winds. As the sun set behind towering clouds we could see rain cells all around us casting deep shadows on the rolling sea.
By 10 pm, 7 to 8 large thunder cells had passed over or nearby our rhumb line and we watched them on radar merge and expand into a heavy line approximately 15 miles wide moving towards Panama. Our winds were 10-15 knots in the same direction and we enjoyed the lack of rain as this big and growing system moved towards land ahead of us and faster than us. Around midnight, and half-way through The Wall by Pink Floyd, the storm wall abruptly stopped advancing West and began rotating to our left developing the distinct and nasty look on radar of a vortex. The rest of the crew was roused and evasive action was taken to starboard with plans to slip out the western side of the storm where it looked to be lighter. The ITCZ had other ideas though and a sudden wind reversal from the west brought the brunt of the storm crashing down on our heads. We braced ourselves for the plummet in air pressure that would lead to high winds.
Some have compared similar experiences to being inside a neon light bulb. Lighting was striking multiple time a second causing small explosions on the water’s surface all around Llyr. Cloud lightning was also continuous in tangled fillamets. Torrential rain made each flash glow like everything around the boat was going critical. Confused by what we were experiencing we turned away from the core of the lightning ahead and towards a slot in the action hard to port attempting to power out the East side of the system with Llyr’s motor and storm-reefed main and mizzen; but wherever we moved, turn after turn, the winds shifted and slots closed and opened elsewhere as new rotating formations kept us in the epicenter of an exploding meteorological bomb. At about 1am the wind built to over 30 knots, and continued through numerous direction shifts. The wave state became confused or lumpy, as conflicting winds pushed from all points of compass. With sails reefed down, Llyr’s heel was around 25 degrees, sometimes more. We were trapped in that every evasive decision we made only put us right back in the middle of the storm, frustrating us and exhausting our meteorological knowledge. Cornered, it did not feel to much of a stretch that the storm was actively targeting us. At about 3 in the morning lightning intensity began to back down and shift more to crazed tangles of cloud lightning as the system appeared to be ripping itself apart. Winds set in a steady 30 knots with higher gusts from from the West, or offshore. We made a final course decision to end maneuvers and return to our rhumb line—towards Panama–which put the winds on our bow. The reefed main kept fine form close-hauled and under motor power but the mizzen began flogging heavily and had to be brought in. With heavy wind blasting sea spray and rain across Llyr’s heaving decks Connor and Brooks donned safety gear to go and bring the mizzen down. On deck, absolute darkness alternated with explosive light often now more distant and illuminating a ghostly, electric horizon. The operation went smoothly and on returning to the cockpit, shaky smiles and deep breathes went around as everyone returned to the task at hand of making forward progress. Lightning was already beginning to slack as the storm rained out yet the strong headwind held for many hours, well into dawn, before winding down 20 miles off Panama.
On reflection in harbor, we all appreciated the strength and design of r/v Llyr who, with her high, beamy transom, Spray designed hull and heavy full-keel , over-sized rigging, heavy-weather sails and fine electronics, took this adventure in remarkable stride. She never pitched or rolled dramatically, split waves assertively with her bow and no wave ever broke onto her aft deck. Doyle’s full-battened and reinforced mainsail holds our admiration. From dockside, we now feel that some of our evasive maneuvers successfully avoided cores of heavy lightning in the merging cells. However, they did not maneuver us out of the complex developing system. As we maneuvered the worst of the cyclonic development blew itself out. In hindsight we might have ended evasive maneuvers somewhat sooner to return to course and perhaps shortened our nighttime drama.
That was our introduction into the ITCZ and the monsoon trough. Practically every day here in Bocas Del Toro, through all of July, you can see flashes and explosions of similar slow-moving, swirling or stalled action offshore and inshore, sometimes for three days or more with minimal interruption. In the Domincan Republic and Haiti we often watched building thunderstoms be torn apart by trade-wind shear shortly after emerging. Not so near the ITCZ. Infra-red Satelite images and GOES water vapor loops confirm that in the monsoon trough the tormentas often control the winds.
The more we experience the weather, on the farm and at sea, the more we learn and the more refined our questions become for those more experienced than us. We are humbled before the sometimes terrible magnificence of this planet’s energy systems. It is in the background all the time that it is at the behest of these intensities that we enjoy our world and with our industries alter her forces into an unknown future.