April 29, 2008
We have been in Anaho Bay three days now after a very pleasant seven hour sail from Taiohae Bay on Saturday where we dropped Lal off so she could catch her flight back to the U.S. Lal has become a great friend and we miss her already. This is another bay not connected by road to the rest of the island. It is bounded partly by sheer volcanic cliffs and connected to the next bay over by a footpath over a 1000 foot high pass. The bay is full of coral and there are many colorful reef fish here.
We have seen two manta rays close aboard and sharks come in with the tide to feed, not the small black tip sharks we have seen before now, but six-foot long predators. We have decided against swimming even though we are told the snorkeling is great.
We had planned to sail to the next island to the south, Ua Po, but on rereading our guides we learned that both main anchorages there were exposed to the swell and considered "rolly." We had enough of "rolly" in Taiohae Bay, so we decided to head for Anaho Bay, described by one of our cruising guides as the nicest anchorage in all of French Polynesia. It is very nice indeed; well sheltered from the sea, so the boat does not roll at its anchor. It is also less humid here than on the on the upwind end of the island, and there has been a fairly steady wind most of the time. We have mounted a nylon wind scoop over our forward hatch and the result has been a pleasant breeze blowing through the boat - conditions that truly take the edge off the sometimes oppressive heat of the tropics and that make sleeping a joy.
Last night through Sal's organization the 13 cruisers who were anchored in the Bay were treated to a local Marquesan meal by the family that harvests copra in this place. Goat was the main dish and it was not bad. Ironically, organizer Sal cannot stand the taste of goat or its cheese, so it was rice and a local salad for her, topped off by a dessert of fresh mangos. Our meal was preceded by cocktails on CHINOOK, owned by Dave and Candy whom we had met in Daniel's Bay, along with our new friends Paul and Gina on SOLACE whom we had met the night before. They are New Zealanders who have worked for years in the U.S. and are in the process of taking their new boat to their old homeland. Also in on the dinner were Steve, Tracy and Nolan from HANNAH, a Seattle boat. Sal had met Steve and Tracy at a cruising weather class a year ago in Seattle. Today there are new boats in the harbor and Eric, Dominique, Sergio, Sylvie and Steve came over for cocktails. Our social calendar is always full.
Steve is Australian and his wife Sylvie is French, Dominique and Sergio are also French from Nice, and Eric is Swiss. We are all sailors, but Eric is special - he is a real sailor and makes the rest of us look like pretenders. Eric is single-handing his boat and has already been three-quarters of the way around the world. He is leaving here bound for Kodiak Island, but he is not making the usual stop in Hawaii because he has a "one-entry" visa into the U.S. If Eric stops in Hawaii he cannot stop in Alaska, which is where he really wants to go. So he is off next on his 4500 mile leg. Eric brought a 5 pound tuna steak to cocktails as his contribution. He fishes and always catches far more than he can eat.
We had a wonderful time this evening. Politics was in-bounds; not surprisingly George Bush is as unpopular with this crowd as he is in Seattle. Sal and I were not blamed; on the contrary, politeness seemed to require that the French president come in for some ridicule. The biggest laugh of the night came when we contemplated the trouble potential first-man Clinton could get into with the beautiful new first- lady of France on an unsupervised diplomatic adventure.
We have used the downtime to do some soul searching regarding the remainder of our cruise. Downwind is the rest of French Polynesia, the Tuamotus, a series of postcard atolls of bluewater lagoons surrounded by white sand beaches and palm trees, followed by the Society Islands, famed Tahiti, Moorea which contains what our world-cruising friend Nancy Erley says is her favorite anchorage in the entire world, and Bora-Bora, reputed to be one of the world's most beautiful spots. Yet we are on the verge of turning north, and making for Hilo which would be the first leg of our journey home to Seattle.
We have been counseled to press on west and see these wonderful sights, but our goals are in transition. For me, this has been far more about the journey than the destination. I have always wanted to do a serious ocean passage, to learn to be a real sailor. The passage is now done, and while I have much to learn, I have learned much. For Sal, this is voyage was first about support for me, but this trip also played directly to her taste for adventure and her thirst for learning new things. She also has accomplished much. A few nights ago Sal started to explain to a cocktail guest that she was an inexperienced sailor and was sharply interrupted - "not any more" the guest said - not anymore indeed, in the past seven months Sal has sailed over 4500 miles and crossed half an ocean in a 39-foot sailboat. So now we are both experienced sailors - and we are both starting to long for home.
We are turning our attentions north-westward, back towards Polaris and the rising sun.
Pax Vobiscum
Friday, April 24, 2009
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Saturday, April 26, 2008
Sandy's in Seattle - Ray is Here
April 26, 2002
We put Lal into the taxi this morning, and Brad and I will leave Nuku Hiva tomorrow morning heading for Ua Poa which is a day sail. Later this week we'll probably blast off for the Tuamotos which will be our first passage alone. The sea life continues to be stunning; I saw a small ray jump completely out of the water today near the boat landing with a SPLAT. We also watched as many Magnificent Frigates dive bombed fish that were finding shelter under a neighboring boat. Pretty incredible.
We put Lal into the taxi this morning, and Brad and I will leave Nuku Hiva tomorrow morning heading for Ua Poa which is a day sail. Later this week we'll probably blast off for the Tuamotos which will be our first passage alone. The sea life continues to be stunning; I saw a small ray jump completely out of the water today near the boat landing with a SPLAT. We also watched as many Magnificent Frigates dive bombed fish that were finding shelter under a neighboring boat. Pretty incredible.
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Sandy
We put Lal into the taxi this morning, and Brad and I will leave Nuku Hiva tomorrow morning heading for Ua Poa which is a day sail. Later this week we'll probably blast off for the Tuamotos which will be our first passage alone. The sea life continues to be stunning; I saw a small ray jump completely out of the water today near the boat landing with a SPLAT. We also watched as many Magnificent Frigates dive bombed fish that were finding shelter under a neighboring boat. Pretty incredible.
Nuku Hiva Island - Continued -
4/23/2008
Yesterday we left Daniel's Bay at first light intending to sail half way around the island to Anaho Bay, a journey of about 28 miles. The sea did not cooperate. Getting out of Daniel's Bay was the most exciting part, the ocean swells shortened and steepened at the Bay entrance causing Pax to bob and weave in a steep 8-10 foot sea. We could make only 2 knots at full cruising power and it seemed to take forever to clear the narrow rocky entrance. Once we finally had sea room, Sal put up a double-reefed main and the staysail and we began what was to be the first leg of our day's journey, eight miles to the southeastern point of the island, to where we could turn north and head for Anaho Bay on the island's northwest coast. It turned out to be the only leg we could do that day. The wind blew at 20 to 25 knots, gusting to 30, and while the period of the seas lengthened from what they were at the entrance to Daniel's Bay, they stayed at 8 - 10 feet. Our first leg was directly upwind and going into the seas was a bouncy, sometimes wet experience, as we took our first few shots of solid water on the deck. Upwind in a heavy sea is not the condition for which Pax was designed. It took us six hours to get to the end of what was to be our first leg, so at 2 PM we called it a day and put into Comptroller Bay.
We spent last night as the only boat at anchor in a fjord between two long, verdant ridge lines. It is another beautiful anchorage. We set our 66 pound claw anchor in 14 feet of water about 300 yards off the sandy beach at the head of the bay. Six or eight smoky fires were burning on the beach as we arrived, and lights from two or three houses could be seen through the trees. Today we launched the dinghy and Sal and Lal went to shore where they made friends with a shop keeper in the small town, much as Melville may have done in this same spot 170 years ago. Sal got a bottle of what was reported to be the local salve for no-no bites. Yesterday dozens of welts had appeared on her legs, souvenirs of her trip three days ago to the waterfall near Daniel's Bay. The shopkeeper told Sal that the no-nos love pale white skin; for them it is a hard to find delicacy.
I spent half the day doing sail repair. The strap holding our top batten to its mast slide wore away at some point as the boat rolled back and forth in the light air we have sometimes had on this trip, and chafe wore a small hole in the top batten pocket where it would occasionally rub against one of the stays that holds up the mast. Putting the slide back on was more than a match for my sewing skills; I made a messy job of it that I hope will hold until Tahiti. Sticky sail tape covering the hole in the batten pocket will have to do for now. We have read that if you use your boat as we are, everything will eventually wear out or break, and we are starting to get a taste of that.
This afternoon the steel ketch "Bear" from Castine Maine pulled in and anchored alongside. Chuck and Diane are coming over in a few minutes for cocktails and hors d'ourves. The cruising population in the Marquesas is predominantly American and is quite friendly. Cruising etiquette in the remote islands requires guests to bring their own drinks and a contribution to the food to be served, otherwise hosting cocktail hour could deplete one's hard- to-replace cruising supplies. The long distance cruisers are a small population with its own unique set of common appearances and its practical customs. We are starting to fit in.
Pax Vobiscum
Yesterday we left Daniel's Bay at first light intending to sail half way around the island to Anaho Bay, a journey of about 28 miles. The sea did not cooperate. Getting out of Daniel's Bay was the most exciting part, the ocean swells shortened and steepened at the Bay entrance causing Pax to bob and weave in a steep 8-10 foot sea. We could make only 2 knots at full cruising power and it seemed to take forever to clear the narrow rocky entrance. Once we finally had sea room, Sal put up a double-reefed main and the staysail and we began what was to be the first leg of our day's journey, eight miles to the southeastern point of the island, to where we could turn north and head for Anaho Bay on the island's northwest coast. It turned out to be the only leg we could do that day. The wind blew at 20 to 25 knots, gusting to 30, and while the period of the seas lengthened from what they were at the entrance to Daniel's Bay, they stayed at 8 - 10 feet. Our first leg was directly upwind and going into the seas was a bouncy, sometimes wet experience, as we took our first few shots of solid water on the deck. Upwind in a heavy sea is not the condition for which Pax was designed. It took us six hours to get to the end of what was to be our first leg, so at 2 PM we called it a day and put into Comptroller Bay.
We spent last night as the only boat at anchor in a fjord between two long, verdant ridge lines. It is another beautiful anchorage. We set our 66 pound claw anchor in 14 feet of water about 300 yards off the sandy beach at the head of the bay. Six or eight smoky fires were burning on the beach as we arrived, and lights from two or three houses could be seen through the trees. Today we launched the dinghy and Sal and Lal went to shore where they made friends with a shop keeper in the small town, much as Melville may have done in this same spot 170 years ago. Sal got a bottle of what was reported to be the local salve for no-no bites. Yesterday dozens of welts had appeared on her legs, souvenirs of her trip three days ago to the waterfall near Daniel's Bay. The shopkeeper told Sal that the no-nos love pale white skin; for them it is a hard to find delicacy.
I spent half the day doing sail repair. The strap holding our top batten to its mast slide wore away at some point as the boat rolled back and forth in the light air we have sometimes had on this trip, and chafe wore a small hole in the top batten pocket where it would occasionally rub against one of the stays that holds up the mast. Putting the slide back on was more than a match for my sewing skills; I made a messy job of it that I hope will hold until Tahiti. Sticky sail tape covering the hole in the batten pocket will have to do for now. We have read that if you use your boat as we are, everything will eventually wear out or break, and we are starting to get a taste of that.
This afternoon the steel ketch "Bear" from Castine Maine pulled in and anchored alongside. Chuck and Diane are coming over in a few minutes for cocktails and hors d'ourves. The cruising population in the Marquesas is predominantly American and is quite friendly. Cruising etiquette in the remote islands requires guests to bring their own drinks and a contribution to the food to be served, otherwise hosting cocktail hour could deplete one's hard- to-replace cruising supplies. The long distance cruisers are a small population with its own unique set of common appearances and its practical customs. We are starting to fit in.
Pax Vobiscum
Monday, April 21, 2008
Pax in the Islands
April 21, 2008. Nuku Hiva Island.
We have now been here a week. While Cabo San Lucas and vicinity was like an extension of the United States, this place is very different. The population is small - we have landed in the administrative capital of the Marquesas, yet the Island has less than 2000 inhabitants. We are anchored in Hakatea Bay, also called Daniel's Bay after a Marquesan nicknamed Daniel whom we had hoped to meet, but who we are told has recently died. This is a sheltered cove that is almost surrounded by sheer volcanic walls. It is quite spectacular. Two hundred yards off is a small sandy beach, in the flats behind are mango, grapefruit and coconut trees, and several cows and a horse graze between two open shacks, no windows, no doors, no power, and no TV dish.. The landlord is not on site, but Sal and Lal met him on the trail to a waterfall a few miles inland as he was guiding a tourist group. On the trail they came across a small village, vegetable gardens and many beautiful flowering trees. As is true everywhere on the island chickens and roosters ran free on the paths. The trail ended at a waterfall. Sal and Lal swam at the cool pool at the foot of the falls, finding out only later that the pool was home to large eels.
We are told that this place was used to film one episode of the Survivor television series. It is remote. While we are only six miles from the center of town, no roads connect this place to civilization. The residents must boat or walk to get to a store, the post office, or the bank.
They probably do not do so often. The goods for sale in the small stores in town are more expensive than any we have ever seen anywhere. Sal went in and bought milk, juice, a few cans of soup, a frozen pizza and a couple liters of box wine, provisions for a few days - it set her back over 12,000 d'outre-mer francs, about $200. These were not tourist prices - they are the prices in the stores for staples, the prices everyone pays.
Our new friend Corinne tells us that many young French couples looking for adventure move here but leave a short time later - they cannot afford to stay because they live the French way - they work at jobs and they use the money they earn to buy the necessities of life, the same way we live, but the money is not enough. The natives live the Marquesan way, on land handed down from their ancestors, in houses cobbled together out of whatever is at hand. They eat fish they catch and fruits and vegetables they grow, they tend and slaughter goats, cows and chickens, they ride horses as well as drive the occasional jeep. They buy little, some rice, some diesel fuel and a few Hinano (Tahitian beer that tastes much like Budweiser). We heard from another cruiser that the Marquesans are aided in purchasing these few things by a direct per person subsidy from the French government - they call it "zipper money" because each new baby increases the family's subsidy.
The high prices for everything are due to factors real and factors invented. Transporting goods to this remote island is expensive, but more significant are the steep import duties the government imposes on everything. Napoleon gives with the subsidy and takes with the duty - a colonial version of the company store.
There is an independence movement - no wonder, hard to see why it makes sense for France to govern these tropical islands. But the movement is held back by the knowledge that success would end the zipper money, and that the infrastructure, primitive as it currently is, might suffer even more. We drove around the island several days ago in a rental car - a four wheel drive four passenger pickup truck that a local lent to us for a day rate of $180 - cash. Most of the trip around the island, including the last 10 miles to the airport, was unpaved, and not the nice sort of unpaved you get in the Cascade foothills, it was spine-jarring ruts'r'us unpaved.
We treated ourselves to three nights in a bungalow in a small resort (Nuku Hiva's finest and only) and it was heavenly to shower, to sit in an air conditioned room, and to eat in a restaurant. The staff was very nice and the experience altogether pleasant. At the end of our stay we bid goodbye to our shipmate and good friend Sandy Brown. We trust he is back safe and sound in Seattle and in the arms of his beloved Gail by now, but the limits on our communication prevented us from confirming this..
At the end of our stay in the bungalow we were ready to get back to the boat. We have been back aboard for three nights now. The temperature varies between 84 and 90, the humidity between 90 and 100 percent. Electric fans run all the time at anchor all the time, yet we are always a little too warm, and a little bit sticky. This is the tropics of which we have read observed the traditional way, without air conditioning. We will also be enjoying it without benefit of refrigeration. Our diesel driven system will not keep up without running the engine excessively, so we have given it up. Pasta, canned soups, coffee with dehydrated milk, onions, potatoes and fresh fruit when we can get it are on the menu, the beer is warm and there is no ice for the rum.
There are three other boats in this little cove and we have had guests for cocktails the last two nights. John and Amanda from "Gingi" have been cruising for nine years but this is their first trip to the South Pacific. John is a professional trumpet player, he was with Woody Herman early in his career, and he can be heard practicing each evening. David and Candy on "Chinook" cruise three to five months a year. She is retired and he is a petroleum industry consultant, they live in Colorado when not cruising. Gingi is John and Amanda's only home, but they are thinking of giving up the life. Amanda wants a real kitchen.
We are off today for Comptroller Bay, where Melville hid out after deserting the whaling ship "Acushnet." In his day, the several thousand natives of that place were particularly ferocious and were known as the cannibals' cannibals. Melville was treated well but he walked away one day when he was unsure whether he was truly welcomed or was just being fattened-up for the feast. Today the several hundred residents are reported to be quite friendly.
Pax Vobiscum
We have now been here a week. While Cabo San Lucas and vicinity was like an extension of the United States, this place is very different. The population is small - we have landed in the administrative capital of the Marquesas, yet the Island has less than 2000 inhabitants. We are anchored in Hakatea Bay, also called Daniel's Bay after a Marquesan nicknamed Daniel whom we had hoped to meet, but who we are told has recently died. This is a sheltered cove that is almost surrounded by sheer volcanic walls. It is quite spectacular. Two hundred yards off is a small sandy beach, in the flats behind are mango, grapefruit and coconut trees, and several cows and a horse graze between two open shacks, no windows, no doors, no power, and no TV dish.. The landlord is not on site, but Sal and Lal met him on the trail to a waterfall a few miles inland as he was guiding a tourist group. On the trail they came across a small village, vegetable gardens and many beautiful flowering trees. As is true everywhere on the island chickens and roosters ran free on the paths. The trail ended at a waterfall. Sal and Lal swam at the cool pool at the foot of the falls, finding out only later that the pool was home to large eels.
We are told that this place was used to film one episode of the Survivor television series. It is remote. While we are only six miles from the center of town, no roads connect this place to civilization. The residents must boat or walk to get to a store, the post office, or the bank.
They probably do not do so often. The goods for sale in the small stores in town are more expensive than any we have ever seen anywhere. Sal went in and bought milk, juice, a few cans of soup, a frozen pizza and a couple liters of box wine, provisions for a few days - it set her back over 12,000 d'outre-mer francs, about $200. These were not tourist prices - they are the prices in the stores for staples, the prices everyone pays.
Our new friend Corinne tells us that many young French couples looking for adventure move here but leave a short time later - they cannot afford to stay because they live the French way - they work at jobs and they use the money they earn to buy the necessities of life, the same way we live, but the money is not enough. The natives live the Marquesan way, on land handed down from their ancestors, in houses cobbled together out of whatever is at hand. They eat fish they catch and fruits and vegetables they grow, they tend and slaughter goats, cows and chickens, they ride horses as well as drive the occasional jeep. They buy little, some rice, some diesel fuel and a few Hinano (Tahitian beer that tastes much like Budweiser). We heard from another cruiser that the Marquesans are aided in purchasing these few things by a direct per person subsidy from the French government - they call it "zipper money" because each new baby increases the family's subsidy.
The high prices for everything are due to factors real and factors invented. Transporting goods to this remote island is expensive, but more significant are the steep import duties the government imposes on everything. Napoleon gives with the subsidy and takes with the duty - a colonial version of the company store.
There is an independence movement - no wonder, hard to see why it makes sense for France to govern these tropical islands. But the movement is held back by the knowledge that success would end the zipper money, and that the infrastructure, primitive as it currently is, might suffer even more. We drove around the island several days ago in a rental car - a four wheel drive four passenger pickup truck that a local lent to us for a day rate of $180 - cash. Most of the trip around the island, including the last 10 miles to the airport, was unpaved, and not the nice sort of unpaved you get in the Cascade foothills, it was spine-jarring ruts'r'us unpaved.
We treated ourselves to three nights in a bungalow in a small resort (Nuku Hiva's finest and only) and it was heavenly to shower, to sit in an air conditioned room, and to eat in a restaurant. The staff was very nice and the experience altogether pleasant. At the end of our stay we bid goodbye to our shipmate and good friend Sandy Brown. We trust he is back safe and sound in Seattle and in the arms of his beloved Gail by now, but the limits on our communication prevented us from confirming this..
At the end of our stay in the bungalow we were ready to get back to the boat. We have been back aboard for three nights now. The temperature varies between 84 and 90, the humidity between 90 and 100 percent. Electric fans run all the time at anchor all the time, yet we are always a little too warm, and a little bit sticky. This is the tropics of which we have read observed the traditional way, without air conditioning. We will also be enjoying it without benefit of refrigeration. Our diesel driven system will not keep up without running the engine excessively, so we have given it up. Pasta, canned soups, coffee with dehydrated milk, onions, potatoes and fresh fruit when we can get it are on the menu, the beer is warm and there is no ice for the rum.
There are three other boats in this little cove and we have had guests for cocktails the last two nights. John and Amanda from "Gingi" have been cruising for nine years but this is their first trip to the South Pacific. John is a professional trumpet player, he was with Woody Herman early in his career, and he can be heard practicing each evening. David and Candy on "Chinook" cruise three to five months a year. She is retired and he is a petroleum industry consultant, they live in Colorado when not cruising. Gingi is John and Amanda's only home, but they are thinking of giving up the life. Amanda wants a real kitchen.
We are off today for Comptroller Bay, where Melville hid out after deserting the whaling ship "Acushnet." In his day, the several thousand natives of that place were particularly ferocious and were known as the cannibals' cannibals. Melville was treated well but he walked away one day when he was unsure whether he was truly welcomed or was just being fattened-up for the feast. Today the several hundred residents are reported to be quite friendly.
Pax Vobiscum
Monday, April 14, 2008
Pax in Port
Monday April 14, 2008 2000 UCT
Position: 8 degrees 55 minutes S, 140 degrees 6 minutes W
Nous arrivons!
Anchored in Baie Taiohae, Nuku Hiva, Ilses Marquises, Polynesia Francais.
Pax Vobiscum
Position: 8 degrees 55 minutes S, 140 degrees 6 minutes W
Nous arrivons!
Anchored in Baie Taiohae, Nuku Hiva, Ilses Marquises, Polynesia Francais.
Pax Vobiscum
Following the Southern Cross - Land Ho!!!
April 13 1930 UCT
Position: 8 degrees 13 minutes S, 138 degrees 51 minutes W
We expect to anchor tomorrow and perhaps to sight land before sunset today. As if to say goodbye, we had an extended dolphin display last evening. About a dozen of the four foot long mammals played in our bow wake for nearly an hour, shooting in and out of the wake, clearly having fun. When the crew finally retired from the bow pulpit to the cockpit the display intensified and several dolphins leapt from the water as if to search for their departed audience. Where they watching us as intently as we were watching them? So it seemed.
Last night as we watched the sun set behind puffy tradewind clouds we dined on cheese and crackers, sipped a very modest white wine and listened to Joan Baez on the cockpit speakers until moonlight and stars filled the sky. Soon the now familiar Southern Cross reappeared, at first on its left side while its close cousins Alpha Centauri and Beta Centaurus were in vertical alignment, but by the wee hours of the morning the Cross was straight up and down and the companions were horizontal, and by sunrise the Cross was on its left side and the companions were again vertical. The six stars are near the south celestial pole and appear to be in constant rotation about it can easily be seen when one watches the display night after night, at all times of the evening. Our preferred course last night was 210 degrees magnetic which put the constellation 20 degrees off our port bow during the dog watch. It was easy to tell when the windvane strayed too far upwind - the Southern Cross would appear straight ahead and a correction from the sleepy helmsman was required. "A star to steer her by" is no longer just a line in a poem to us.
Moon light now fills the early evening sky giving us light bright enough to cast shadows, just as it did when we left Mexico by the light of a full moon 23 days ago. Nearly a month of our lives now spent at sea, the patterns of nature have replaced the patterns of our urban lives. It is tempting to say we have traveled back to a simpler time when nature's rythems dominated human life, and when self-reliant giants like Captain Cook set out with little more than their wits to explore the oceans.
But as I type on this Dell Inspiron 300 I hear the watermaker's back and forth groan. I am about to go to the GPS to punch a button and get our precise position. Soon I will send this by shortwave radio to Honolulu, retrieve e-mail from loved ones and finish the day by reporting our position on Ham radio to dedicated amateurs in Long Beach and Oahu, who I know will stand by to help in any emergency. No, we have kept one foot firmly rooted in the 21st Century. But that other foot has been in an interesting place these last few weeks. This journey we will not soon forget.
Addendum: April 14 0200 UCT: Land Ho!!!
Pax Vobiscum
Position: 8 degrees 13 minutes S, 138 degrees 51 minutes W
We expect to anchor tomorrow and perhaps to sight land before sunset today. As if to say goodbye, we had an extended dolphin display last evening. About a dozen of the four foot long mammals played in our bow wake for nearly an hour, shooting in and out of the wake, clearly having fun. When the crew finally retired from the bow pulpit to the cockpit the display intensified and several dolphins leapt from the water as if to search for their departed audience. Where they watching us as intently as we were watching them? So it seemed.
Last night as we watched the sun set behind puffy tradewind clouds we dined on cheese and crackers, sipped a very modest white wine and listened to Joan Baez on the cockpit speakers until moonlight and stars filled the sky. Soon the now familiar Southern Cross reappeared, at first on its left side while its close cousins Alpha Centauri and Beta Centaurus were in vertical alignment, but by the wee hours of the morning the Cross was straight up and down and the companions were horizontal, and by sunrise the Cross was on its left side and the companions were again vertical. The six stars are near the south celestial pole and appear to be in constant rotation about it can easily be seen when one watches the display night after night, at all times of the evening. Our preferred course last night was 210 degrees magnetic which put the constellation 20 degrees off our port bow during the dog watch. It was easy to tell when the windvane strayed too far upwind - the Southern Cross would appear straight ahead and a correction from the sleepy helmsman was required. "A star to steer her by" is no longer just a line in a poem to us.
Moon light now fills the early evening sky giving us light bright enough to cast shadows, just as it did when we left Mexico by the light of a full moon 23 days ago. Nearly a month of our lives now spent at sea, the patterns of nature have replaced the patterns of our urban lives. It is tempting to say we have traveled back to a simpler time when nature's rythems dominated human life, and when self-reliant giants like Captain Cook set out with little more than their wits to explore the oceans.
But as I type on this Dell Inspiron 300 I hear the watermaker's back and forth groan. I am about to go to the GPS to punch a button and get our precise position. Soon I will send this by shortwave radio to Honolulu, retrieve e-mail from loved ones and finish the day by reporting our position on Ham radio to dedicated amateurs in Long Beach and Oahu, who I know will stand by to help in any emergency. No, we have kept one foot firmly rooted in the 21st Century. But that other foot has been in an interesting place these last few weeks. This journey we will not soon forget.
Addendum: April 14 0200 UCT: Land Ho!!!
Pax Vobiscum
Sunday, April 13, 2008
Heeling Thoughts
Sunday April 13 0015 UCT
Position: 06 degrees 55 minutes S, 137 degrees 56 minutes W
The wind has backed around to the east today giving us a light breeze on our port quarter. We have slowed to about 4 knots and the seas have moderated; it is another lazy day. We have now charted our course into the main harbor on Nuka Hiva and we are still contemplating an arrival on Monday.
We have started to fantasize about dining in a restaurant, a place where we dimly recall someone brings food to a table that is not heeled at 20 degrees and is not swinging fore and aft and back and forth with every wave. We remember that diners eat on plates in such places, rather than out of dog food bowls with rubberized bottoms. Some of us even remember that clear solid substance one makes from freezing water, and we crave a drink, any drink, that is cooled with cubes of it. And some of us are starting to think of a shower, the kind where water comes out of a spigot in a controlled way, rather than the kind that happens while you are in the cockpit, on watch and still dressed, the planned kind of shower where you can dry off afterwards, rather than nature's unplanned downpour that leaves you sitting soggy in wet clothes for the remainder of your watch. We are beginning to think of these small familiar things that we left behind 23 days ago.
The sea-life is returning as we approach the islands. We saw two large mammals, either dolphins or small whales, around dinner time. Sandy was visited during his late watch by dolphins stirring up the powerful phosphorescence we have seen every night on our journey, and this morning we had a flying fish on deck, our first such little corpse in quite a few days. The moon is back for the first part of the night, and the clouds are more rare than they have been the last week, leading again to great stargazing in the late watches. We can feel the difference as we get further south from the equator.
Pax Vobiscum
Position: 06 degrees 55 minutes S, 137 degrees 56 minutes W
The wind has backed around to the east today giving us a light breeze on our port quarter. We have slowed to about 4 knots and the seas have moderated; it is another lazy day. We have now charted our course into the main harbor on Nuka Hiva and we are still contemplating an arrival on Monday.
We have started to fantasize about dining in a restaurant, a place where we dimly recall someone brings food to a table that is not heeled at 20 degrees and is not swinging fore and aft and back and forth with every wave. We remember that diners eat on plates in such places, rather than out of dog food bowls with rubberized bottoms. Some of us even remember that clear solid substance one makes from freezing water, and we crave a drink, any drink, that is cooled with cubes of it. And some of us are starting to think of a shower, the kind where water comes out of a spigot in a controlled way, rather than the kind that happens while you are in the cockpit, on watch and still dressed, the planned kind of shower where you can dry off afterwards, rather than nature's unplanned downpour that leaves you sitting soggy in wet clothes for the remainder of your watch. We are beginning to think of these small familiar things that we left behind 23 days ago.
The sea-life is returning as we approach the islands. We saw two large mammals, either dolphins or small whales, around dinner time. Sandy was visited during his late watch by dolphins stirring up the powerful phosphorescence we have seen every night on our journey, and this morning we had a flying fish on deck, our first such little corpse in quite a few days. The moon is back for the first part of the night, and the clouds are more rare than they have been the last week, leading again to great stargazing in the late watches. We can feel the difference as we get further south from the equator.
Pax Vobiscum
Friday, April 11, 2008
Pass the Bread
April 11, 2008 2200 UCT
Position: 4 degrees 53 minutes S, 136 degrees 37 minutes W
We have had more beautiful sailing weather the past 24 hours. The wind has held steady from the southeast at 12 to 15 knots giving us a close reach at 6 knots, good speed for Pax. We had one intense shower at dusk last night that drenched Sandy and the Captain, but have otherwise managed to dodge the rain this day. Our big excitement was sighting our first ship in weeks. It was a large commercial vessel that passed across our stern at a range of about 2 miles. It was going slowly, unlike a cargo ship. We guess it is a mothership for for an offshore fishing operation, but we have no positive identification.
While the sailing weather is great, the constant heel makes everything down below arduous. Sally, with assists from Lal and Sandy, deserves special commendation for continuing to put great food on the table under very difficult conditions. Today's fresh macaroni and cheese and the clam linguini of two nights ago were special hits, and every fresh baked loaf of bread that comes out of our small gimballed oven that is in constant motion is both a treat and a miracle.
It is now early afternoon here, Sal and Lal are taking short naps and Sandy is minding the self-steering vane above. The constant back and forth moan of the watermaker fills the cabin with white noise as it squeezes the salt out of 1.5 gallons of seawater ever hour. We are fast closing in on 300 miles to go and starting a pool on when we will first sight land. Dawn Monday is the Captain's guess.
Pax Vobiscum
Position: 4 degrees 53 minutes S, 136 degrees 37 minutes W
We have had more beautiful sailing weather the past 24 hours. The wind has held steady from the southeast at 12 to 15 knots giving us a close reach at 6 knots, good speed for Pax. We had one intense shower at dusk last night that drenched Sandy and the Captain, but have otherwise managed to dodge the rain this day. Our big excitement was sighting our first ship in weeks. It was a large commercial vessel that passed across our stern at a range of about 2 miles. It was going slowly, unlike a cargo ship. We guess it is a mothership for for an offshore fishing operation, but we have no positive identification.
While the sailing weather is great, the constant heel makes everything down below arduous. Sally, with assists from Lal and Sandy, deserves special commendation for continuing to put great food on the table under very difficult conditions. Today's fresh macaroni and cheese and the clam linguini of two nights ago were special hits, and every fresh baked loaf of bread that comes out of our small gimballed oven that is in constant motion is both a treat and a miracle.
It is now early afternoon here, Sal and Lal are taking short naps and Sandy is minding the self-steering vane above. The constant back and forth moan of the watermaker fills the cabin with white noise as it squeezes the salt out of 1.5 gallons of seawater ever hour. We are fast closing in on 300 miles to go and starting a pool on when we will first sight land. Dawn Monday is the Captain's guess.
Pax Vobiscum
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Beginning to Think of Land
April 10, 2008 2100 UCT.
Position: 03 degrees 02 minutes S, 134 degrees 51 minutes W.
Midday finds us close reaching at six knots in brilliant sunshine. Sandy is at the helm in bathing trunks and life jacket - he is winning the vessel tanning contest in a walk. Lal has been doing her laundry in the kitchen sink and is now on the way topside to close-pin it to the lifelines. Soon the usual assortment of towels, shirts and panties will be streaming off to leeward, our own personal salute to Neptune. Not that any of it really dries in this sodden wind, it only become a little less damp - so long as we get it in before the rains start. This humidity envelopes our existence.
Sal is reading on the settee after just having made soup for lunch. The cabin is full of the smell of fresh bread in the oven that will be served as well. We are eating like Kings on this voyage. The Captain has just awoken from a late morning nap to type this daily report. The extra hour in the sack has taken the edge off his fatigue - the 1 to 3 AM watch has been taking a toll.
There has been little sea-life these last few days. Hardly a flying fish in sight, no dolphins, and despite much effort Sandy has not snagged his second tuna.
We are starting to plan our landfall. Our first port will be Nuka Hiva where Melville once deserted a whaling ship, arriving Monday or Tuesday if the wind holds. We plan to explore that island for several weeks before moving on.
Pax Vobiscum
Position: 03 degrees 02 minutes S, 134 degrees 51 minutes W.
Midday finds us close reaching at six knots in brilliant sunshine. Sandy is at the helm in bathing trunks and life jacket - he is winning the vessel tanning contest in a walk. Lal has been doing her laundry in the kitchen sink and is now on the way topside to close-pin it to the lifelines. Soon the usual assortment of towels, shirts and panties will be streaming off to leeward, our own personal salute to Neptune. Not that any of it really dries in this sodden wind, it only become a little less damp - so long as we get it in before the rains start. This humidity envelopes our existence.
Sal is reading on the settee after just having made soup for lunch. The cabin is full of the smell of fresh bread in the oven that will be served as well. We are eating like Kings on this voyage. The Captain has just awoken from a late morning nap to type this daily report. The extra hour in the sack has taken the edge off his fatigue - the 1 to 3 AM watch has been taking a toll.
There has been little sea-life these last few days. Hardly a flying fish in sight, no dolphins, and despite much effort Sandy has not snagged his second tuna.
We are starting to plan our landfall. Our first port will be Nuka Hiva where Melville once deserted a whaling ship, arriving Monday or Tuesday if the wind holds. We plan to explore that island for several weeks before moving on.
Pax Vobiscum
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
Squalls then Smooth Sailin'
Wednesday April 9, 2008 2030 UCT
01 degree 44 minutes S, 133 degrees 21 minutes W
Today finds us with the perfect breeze, 8 - 10 knots about 90 degrees off the nose, enabling us to make an easy 5 knots along our course in gentle seas. The sailing does not get much better than it is now.
Last night was a different story. The fun started at 3 AM. Sally had just relieved the captain when the first squall hit. The wind piped up to 20 knots and the skies opened. Sal, and the captain who rushed on deck with barely a stitch on, were drenched. All was calm in 20 minutes, but over the next two hours the sequence was repeated twice more. Lal took over at 5 AM and soon the wind died to almost nothing, leaving her with 3 and a half hours of frustrated bobbing, using all her energy just to keep the boat moving. The wind finally returned at about 9 AM and has held steady since, leaving us with a very pleasant morning for long-neglected domestic pursuits.
Tomorrow we will have been at sea for three weeks. We have traveled over 2000 miles and have a little under 600 to go. Our eggs, and most of our fresh fruits and vegetables are gone, but we still enjoy great meals -- clam linguini is on the menu tonight. The beer is holding out, the water maker continues to work, and we have about half of our 97 gallons of diesel left. Life is good.
Pax Vobiscum
01 degree 44 minutes S, 133 degrees 21 minutes W
Today finds us with the perfect breeze, 8 - 10 knots about 90 degrees off the nose, enabling us to make an easy 5 knots along our course in gentle seas. The sailing does not get much better than it is now.
Last night was a different story. The fun started at 3 AM. Sally had just relieved the captain when the first squall hit. The wind piped up to 20 knots and the skies opened. Sal, and the captain who rushed on deck with barely a stitch on, were drenched. All was calm in 20 minutes, but over the next two hours the sequence was repeated twice more. Lal took over at 5 AM and soon the wind died to almost nothing, leaving her with 3 and a half hours of frustrated bobbing, using all her energy just to keep the boat moving. The wind finally returned at about 9 AM and has held steady since, leaving us with a very pleasant morning for long-neglected domestic pursuits.
Tomorrow we will have been at sea for three weeks. We have traveled over 2000 miles and have a little under 600 to go. Our eggs, and most of our fresh fruits and vegetables are gone, but we still enjoy great meals -- clam linguini is on the menu tonight. The beer is holding out, the water maker continues to work, and we have about half of our 97 gallons of diesel left. Life is good.
Pax Vobiscum
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
Equatorial Fete
Tuesday April 8 2130 UCT
Position: 00 degrees 44 minutes S, 132 degrees 40 minutes W
Yes, we have crossed the equator.
We had our crossing party about sunset last night. Each member of the crew had a part in the ceremony. Lal put a note in a bottle and launched it at 00 degrees, the Reverend performed the ceremony of the reversing drain to welcome the clockwise flush we will wonder at in our new hemisphere, Sal lit a candle to honor our good comradeship, and the Captain read a few pages from Conrad's "Typhoon" in thanks to Neptune for what he did not throw at us. We dressed in our fanciest outfits, long white dress and life jacket, coat and tie, bathing suit and life jacket, and bathing suit,squid earrings and a squid cravat, and we consumed a bottle of champagne that our good friend Cheryl Carlson had given us at the start of the journey. We thought the occasion well celebrated.
King Neptune disagreed. Soon we found ourselves nearly becalmed, and as of this writing we are struggling south at about 1 knot only 44 miles south of the equator -- this will be our slowest day. Did Neptune really expect us to toss the champagne overboard for him to drink?
Pax Vobiscum
Position: 00 degrees 44 minutes S, 132 degrees 40 minutes W
Yes, we have crossed the equator.
We had our crossing party about sunset last night. Each member of the crew had a part in the ceremony. Lal put a note in a bottle and launched it at 00 degrees, the Reverend performed the ceremony of the reversing drain to welcome the clockwise flush we will wonder at in our new hemisphere, Sal lit a candle to honor our good comradeship, and the Captain read a few pages from Conrad's "Typhoon" in thanks to Neptune for what he did not throw at us. We dressed in our fanciest outfits, long white dress and life jacket, coat and tie, bathing suit and life jacket, and bathing suit,squid earrings and a squid cravat, and we consumed a bottle of champagne that our good friend Cheryl Carlson had given us at the start of the journey. We thought the occasion well celebrated.
King Neptune disagreed. Soon we found ourselves nearly becalmed, and as of this writing we are struggling south at about 1 knot only 44 miles south of the equator -- this will be our slowest day. Did Neptune really expect us to toss the champagne overboard for him to drink?
Pax Vobiscum
Monday, April 7, 2008
Equator - Toast to Neptune
April 7 2008 2330 UCT
Position: 00 degrees 9 minutes N, 132 degrees 29 minutes W
Today is a lazy day. The wind has dropped off to 6 knots and the seas have flattened out. The weather makes for easy sleeping, but slow traveling. We have been inching up on the equator and hope to cross before sunset.
Sal is now steering in a long skirt, her first make up in weeks is brightening up that perpetual smile, and, of course, she is wearing her life jacket. She looks ready for the grand ball on the Titanic. Lal was just seen going by in a colorful skirt wearing squid earrings, the Reverend is napping, and even asleep he looks snazzy, and the Captain has taken a bath. The champagne is in the frige and we have just run the engine to make sure it is appropriately chilled.
We are ready for King Neptune.
Pax Vobiscum
Position: 00 degrees 9 minutes N, 132 degrees 29 minutes W
Today is a lazy day. The wind has dropped off to 6 knots and the seas have flattened out. The weather makes for easy sleeping, but slow traveling. We have been inching up on the equator and hope to cross before sunset.
Sal is now steering in a long skirt, her first make up in weeks is brightening up that perpetual smile, and, of course, she is wearing her life jacket. She looks ready for the grand ball on the Titanic. Lal was just seen going by in a colorful skirt wearing squid earrings, the Reverend is napping, and even asleep he looks snazzy, and the Captain has taken a bath. The champagne is in the frige and we have just run the engine to make sure it is appropriately chilled.
We are ready for King Neptune.
Pax Vobiscum
Sunday, April 6, 2008
Leaving Polaris
April 6, 2008 2345 UCT
Position: 01 degrees 51 minutes N, 131 degrees 46 minutes W
We seem to be truly free of the ITCZ. Today has been beautiful sailing in the southeast trades under sunny skies and friendly puffy white cumulus clouds. The whole crew spent a lovely several hours together in the cockpit this morning discussing, among other things, the meaning and efficacy of prayer. We were not always in agreement, but surprisingly there was not has much disagreement as those who know our group well might anticipate. In any event, no one retired below in a huff with hurt feelings, and all thought it an interesting discussion. We then turned to the important task of appeasing King Neptune when we crossed the equator. No complete consensus here either, except that all agree that liquor will play a role.
Last night at dinner time we were greeted by about 30 playful small dolphins. They swam with us for about 20 minutes and there were many acrobatic jumps completely out of the water, some accompanied by 360 degree slow rolls. They haven't seen many boats down here since steam replaced sail more than a century ago, and all seemed to want to get a close look.
We will be saying goodbye to Polaris tonight as the north pole of the celestial sphere sinks below the horizon. The astronomical team is already working hard on southern hemisphere star identification.
Pax Vobiscum
Position: 01 degrees 51 minutes N, 131 degrees 46 minutes W
We seem to be truly free of the ITCZ. Today has been beautiful sailing in the southeast trades under sunny skies and friendly puffy white cumulus clouds. The whole crew spent a lovely several hours together in the cockpit this morning discussing, among other things, the meaning and efficacy of prayer. We were not always in agreement, but surprisingly there was not has much disagreement as those who know our group well might anticipate. In any event, no one retired below in a huff with hurt feelings, and all thought it an interesting discussion. We then turned to the important task of appeasing King Neptune when we crossed the equator. No complete consensus here either, except that all agree that liquor will play a role.
Last night at dinner time we were greeted by about 30 playful small dolphins. They swam with us for about 20 minutes and there were many acrobatic jumps completely out of the water, some accompanied by 360 degree slow rolls. They haven't seen many boats down here since steam replaced sail more than a century ago, and all seemed to want to get a close look.
We will be saying goodbye to Polaris tonight as the north pole of the celestial sphere sinks below the horizon. The astronomical team is already working hard on southern hemisphere star identification.
Pax Vobiscum
Saturday, April 5, 2008
Showers
Saturday 4/5/20082120 UTC
Position: 03 degrees 23 minutes N, 130 degrees 16 minutes W
Today the skies opened. Rain like this does not happen in Seattle. For hours this morning squalls dumped torrential rains onto Pax, accompanied at times by bright flashes of lightning and sharp claps of thunder. And it was warm. Cockpit showers were the name of the game today, and the crew could be seen all morning in swimsuits with shampoo in hand, getting truly clean for the first time in weeks.
And the winds keep coming. With the squalls come sharp gusts causing us to head down and then up, to reef and then un-reef, time and time again. Last night gave us a hint of what was to come today, moderate rain showers accompanied by distant displays of lightning flashes. We did not need reminding that for as far as we could see the flat surface of the sea was populated by a solitary 60 foot aluminum lightning target; but we have not been hit.
The wind now is from the east, swinging to southeast, signalling that the South Pacific trade-winds are near at hand. If it holds we will be across the equator in less than two days.
Pax Vobiscum
Position: 03 degrees 23 minutes N, 130 degrees 16 minutes W
Today the skies opened. Rain like this does not happen in Seattle. For hours this morning squalls dumped torrential rains onto Pax, accompanied at times by bright flashes of lightning and sharp claps of thunder. And it was warm. Cockpit showers were the name of the game today, and the crew could be seen all morning in swimsuits with shampoo in hand, getting truly clean for the first time in weeks.
And the winds keep coming. With the squalls come sharp gusts causing us to head down and then up, to reef and then un-reef, time and time again. Last night gave us a hint of what was to come today, moderate rain showers accompanied by distant displays of lightning flashes. We did not need reminding that for as far as we could see the flat surface of the sea was populated by a solitary 60 foot aluminum lightning target; but we have not been hit.
The wind now is from the east, swinging to southeast, signalling that the South Pacific trade-winds are near at hand. If it holds we will be across the equator in less than two days.
Pax Vobiscum
Friday, April 4, 2008
Cruisin' - Pax at Sea
April 4, 2008 2200 UTC
Position: 05 degrees 19 minutes N, 129 degrees 46 minutes W
We are heading due south in an attempt to get as quickly as possible across the ITCZ (Inter-Tropical Convergence Zone, a convergence zone in the vicinity of the equator, like the one around Everett, but global in scale). This is the home of the doldrums and of major squall lines and thunderstorms. So far our wind is holding up and we are making good progress to the south. We have had rain on and off today, but no lightning yet. The rain is warm, and more than a little refreshing after more than two weeks without a real shower. We are dragging jumper cables from our shrouds in an attempt to conduct any lightning strike to ground.
We can no longer remember the last time we saw another ship, or airplane, or indeed any sign of human life outside our small ship. Sea life on the other hand continues to be plentiful, we had four flying fish and one squid board last night. Everyday we see many small squadrons of flying fish maneuvering just above the wave tops, virtually everyday brings another rendezvous with the playful dolphins, and yesterday we were again visited by an albatross.
The stars were out all last night with the new moon and our astronomers are well on their way to identifying all the bright navigation stars. If lightning does hit, we are told we will likely lose all electronics, and those stars will be our nightly path to a safe harbor.
Pax Vobiscum
Position: 05 degrees 19 minutes N, 129 degrees 46 minutes W
We are heading due south in an attempt to get as quickly as possible across the ITCZ (Inter-Tropical Convergence Zone, a convergence zone in the vicinity of the equator, like the one around Everett, but global in scale). This is the home of the doldrums and of major squall lines and thunderstorms. So far our wind is holding up and we are making good progress to the south. We have had rain on and off today, but no lightning yet. The rain is warm, and more than a little refreshing after more than two weeks without a real shower. We are dragging jumper cables from our shrouds in an attempt to conduct any lightning strike to ground.
We can no longer remember the last time we saw another ship, or airplane, or indeed any sign of human life outside our small ship. Sea life on the other hand continues to be plentiful, we had four flying fish and one squid board last night. Everyday we see many small squadrons of flying fish maneuvering just above the wave tops, virtually everyday brings another rendezvous with the playful dolphins, and yesterday we were again visited by an albatross.
The stars were out all last night with the new moon and our astronomers are well on their way to identifying all the bright navigation stars. If lightning does hit, we are told we will likely lose all electronics, and those stars will be our nightly path to a safe harbor.
Pax Vobiscum
Thursday, April 3, 2008
Flipper and Sorpio
Thursday 4/3/08 1900 UTC
Position: 07 degrees 52 minutes N, 129 degrees 34 minutes W
Last night was another magical conversation with nature. The dolphins were back and the phosphorescence was strong, we could see the underwater streaks left by each member of the school as it zig zagged, first under, then around, then straight at Pax. The stars were again out in full force. The astronomical team's feature constellation last night was Scorpio. The full snake was visible to us northern folk for the first time. It is one constellation that really looks like what it is supposed to be, but if you want to see it in its full glory, you will have to leave Seattle and head south.
We think we will lose our wind soon, but right now it is blowing strong and we are charging south. We need no compass at night, we just point the boat at the Southern Cross and press on.
Pax Vobiscum
Position: 07 degrees 52 minutes N, 129 degrees 34 minutes W
Last night was another magical conversation with nature. The dolphins were back and the phosphorescence was strong, we could see the underwater streaks left by each member of the school as it zig zagged, first under, then around, then straight at Pax. The stars were again out in full force. The astronomical team's feature constellation last night was Scorpio. The full snake was visible to us northern folk for the first time. It is one constellation that really looks like what it is supposed to be, but if you want to see it in its full glory, you will have to leave Seattle and head south.
We think we will lose our wind soon, but right now it is blowing strong and we are charging south. We need no compass at night, we just point the boat at the Southern Cross and press on.
Pax Vobiscum
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
What's that Smell, Captain?
Wednesday April 2 1900 UCT (Uniform Coordinated Time, also called Zulu Time, or Greenwich Time)
Position: 9 degrees 41 minutes N, 128 degrees 23 minutes W
Another minor equipment failure last night, the solid boom vang came crashing to the deck a little after midnight. Sandy and Sal secured it and we repaired it this morning. Long days of continuous flexing had destroyed a cotter pin helping to hold the boom in place.
At 4 AM the Captain saw a brilliant shooting star. It covered an arc of about 20 degrees of the sky and looked like a bright red and orange flare. At the same time we were visited by half a dozen dolphins who swam with the boat for 20 minutes or so, then took off in the direction of the Southern Cross. These are the things that make getting up at 3 AM worthwhile.
Maintaining any standards of cleanliness is a challenge. This morning the first mate accused the Captain of smelling like an old fish left out in the sun too long, an accusation that the Captain thought unfair as he had taken a sponge bath in a pint of water just two, or was it three days ago. Just then vindication came in the discovery of a small squid that had landed on deck just outside the Captain's cabin in the night, leaving big ink stain - and a big smell. Lal explained that squid fire off a jet of water when threatened, often going airborne. This unlucky fellow found our small boat in an otherwise empty sea. We have not even seen another ship in almost a week.
We are now heading almost due south and are less than 600 miles from the equator. It is muggy all the time and we are starting to get periodic rain squalls. One of these nights we will start with the thunderstorms -- none yet though. So far the wind is holding out, but boats ahead have radioed about extensive calms typical of the doldrums. We have asked the Reverend to put in a plea for wind - even the Captain admits that it doesn't hurt to ask.
Pax Vobiscum
Position: 9 degrees 41 minutes N, 128 degrees 23 minutes W
Another minor equipment failure last night, the solid boom vang came crashing to the deck a little after midnight. Sandy and Sal secured it and we repaired it this morning. Long days of continuous flexing had destroyed a cotter pin helping to hold the boom in place.
At 4 AM the Captain saw a brilliant shooting star. It covered an arc of about 20 degrees of the sky and looked like a bright red and orange flare. At the same time we were visited by half a dozen dolphins who swam with the boat for 20 minutes or so, then took off in the direction of the Southern Cross. These are the things that make getting up at 3 AM worthwhile.
Maintaining any standards of cleanliness is a challenge. This morning the first mate accused the Captain of smelling like an old fish left out in the sun too long, an accusation that the Captain thought unfair as he had taken a sponge bath in a pint of water just two, or was it three days ago. Just then vindication came in the discovery of a small squid that had landed on deck just outside the Captain's cabin in the night, leaving big ink stain - and a big smell. Lal explained that squid fire off a jet of water when threatened, often going airborne. This unlucky fellow found our small boat in an otherwise empty sea. We have not even seen another ship in almost a week.
We are now heading almost due south and are less than 600 miles from the equator. It is muggy all the time and we are starting to get periodic rain squalls. One of these nights we will start with the thunderstorms -- none yet though. So far the wind is holding out, but boats ahead have radioed about extensive calms typical of the doldrums. We have asked the Reverend to put in a plea for wind - even the Captain admits that it doesn't hurt to ask.
Pax Vobiscum
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
Ships Passing in the Night
Tuesday April 1, 2008
Position: 10 degrees 51 minutes N, 127 degrees 57 minute W
What a night we had.
Late last night during Sal's watch she saw the loom of a ship off the starboard quarter. When it edged closer and closer, on a seeming collision course, all hands were called on deck. There was a warm light rain that soaked all and made for poor visibility, allowing us only glimpses of the ship as it edged closer. We tried to raise it on the radio without luck. We then turned on the spreader lights and all other deck-lights to make sure it saw us, then we fired a flare, yet it kept coming closer.
Finally we could make out that it was a sailing ship with three masts. At about a hundred feet off the starboard beam it jibed to starboard and bore off to the Northwest, narrowly avoiding collision. It rapidly disappeared in the mist from whence it came. Sandy caught a glimpse of the name - "Flying" something or other. When we tried to track its departure on radar, we saw nothing.
Pax Vobiscum
April 1
Position: 10 degrees 51 minutes N, 127 degrees 57 minute W
What a night we had.
Late last night during Sal's watch she saw the loom of a ship off the starboard quarter. When it edged closer and closer, on a seeming collision course, all hands were called on deck. There was a warm light rain that soaked all and made for poor visibility, allowing us only glimpses of the ship as it edged closer. We tried to raise it on the radio without luck. We then turned on the spreader lights and all other deck-lights to make sure it saw us, then we fired a flare, yet it kept coming closer.
Finally we could make out that it was a sailing ship with three masts. At about a hundred feet off the starboard beam it jibed to starboard and bore off to the Northwest, narrowly avoiding collision. It rapidly disappeared in the mist from whence it came. Sandy caught a glimpse of the name - "Flying" something or other. When we tried to track its departure on radar, we saw nothing.
Pax Vobiscum
April 1
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