I’ve always wanted to know what the middle of nowhere looked like; when we got there, it looked the same as somewhere did yesterday. I thought I might discover some inner peace or strength I didn’t know I had. But with conditions being near perfect, and Jeanna, Molly and Jessie to share it with, who could ask for more? Any profound life experience will just have to wait for later. For now, I am just excited to make a landfall in the South Pacific. I can’t wait to see the expression on Molly and Jessie’s face each time they see something new for the very first time.
In case you were wondering, our great big world out here is really quite small. From where I sit in the cockpit, my eye is about 6 feet off the water. That puts the horizon about 3 ½ miles away. So, our world is about 7 miles from edge to edge. It looks like in about half an hour you could sail off the edge. Jeanna seems a bit closer to the edge than the rest of us; maybe her dreads are starting to tighten up.
Our first big “crossing” has been interesting so far. No big surprises, although we are using more of everything than I thought except food, fuel and battery power being the most limited in supply. We are down to two banks of four each batteries. I think number three bank has one battery with a dead cell. I will locate the offending battery and cut it out of the herd when we arrive in the Marquesas. To get a perspective on energy consumption, one needs to know how it is being used. We could be using a lot less, but for the hot showers, frozen food, fresh water, and autopilot, not to mention the computer and satellite system used to get this to you. We are just barely keeping up with both the comfort group, and the necessities for the crossing. It is taking three hours of engine running time per day to keep the batteries charged. We run the engine twice a day, to make water, freeze down the holding plates in the refrigeration system, and charge batteries.
Bottom line: we are not suffering much. Oh, we are getting a little tired, the sunsets haven’t been as red as in the brochure, and Dave looked at me funny yesterday. But all in all, I think we will get to know ourselves a little better as we roll along.
The trip started out a little tense - no wind. Should we go find it? Should we wait for it? All the weather charts said it was south of us, but light. We took off with a full load of fuel, some current behind us, and great expectation of the perfect crossing. We motored, we motored-sailed, we tried flying the spinnaker. As each hour went by, the tension increased. We really needed to find the wind. When we were half way through our fuel, we still had not found what we needed. Finally, on the third day (Happy Easter!) wind arrived, although not exactly the direction we wanted, and the swell was from the south. Very uncomfortable, but we had wind and were not complaining. At first we were a little conservative with the sail combination. The 120% jib and a double-reefed main on a close reach seemed just fine. We were doing about 8 knots over the bottom. We eased off to a beam reach with about 15 knots of wind, and still seemed fine.
After two days the wind lightened to 8 to 10 knots and came farther aft. We put the asymmetrical spinnaker up about noon, and had a fairly bumpy sail that day, still a southerly swell. The wind went a little ahead of the beam that evening, so we took the spinnaker down for the night, and continued on through the night with the bumpy seas. The next morning the wind was backing more, so we put the spinnaker up in 10 to 12 knots of breeze. All day long the ride continued to improve. The southerly swell had started to be overcome by the ESE trade winds we were expecting. That evening, we talked about taking the spinnaker down for the night, but we were still moving along nicely, and looking at the knot meter, did not want to slow down. (We have all this nice computer gear that tells us down to the second how much time to go to our destination - TTG.) The hours-to-go meter was bouncing around from 500 to 700 hrs to go. Well, the spinnaker stayed up all night. The ride kept improving thru the next day, with the wind steady at 10 to 15 knots. The time to go came down to 400 to 500. The next night, no one even mentioned taking down the spinnaker for the night. That big white spinnaker with the red shoes on it has been up for 7 days now on the same jibe, pole aft, sailing as deep downwind as we can, to try and make the rhumb line to Hiva-Oa. Everyone is focused on making the boat go as fast as we can. Our best day, (24 hr run) so far has been 215 nautical miles. We have been averaging 7.6 knots for the last 2350 miles - not bad for the light air we have had.
We have had some sort of flu bug on board. First I went down for about 48 hrs, then Jeanna, now Dave. All have suffered quietly, and missed only one night watch each, and got back on schedule after the second day. Molly and Jessie have not shown any signs of a problem yet. We hope it will be over with Dave, and we will feel great for our landfall next Wednesday.
Nine days with the spinnaker up, wind still too far aft to sail rhumb line. Jeanna and Dave spent the day talking about food, what they would eat when we arrive, and how much. Molly and Jessie seem to be taking this long leg well, devouring books and standing day watches. Jessie told me to keep an eye on Dave and Mom, as they were acting silly.
Last night I had a dream. For dinner there were flying fish, perfectly arranged on a beautiful blue plate, with roe, two peas and a baby carrot. Must be the French influence oozing from the boat. We will have to have that analyzed later.
We have been watching the weather, hoping the wind will shift to the northeast as predicted, but the wind has held steady out of the east. It looks like our track will add about 100 miles to our trip. Maybe I shouldn’t speak too soon, but we have been sailing with the hatches open. The weather is getting cooler (in the 80s) and the humidity is going down. The boat is comfortable and very dry on deck.
Today was a big day. We jibed! For the last 4 days we have been agonizing over the jibe angles, not wanting to sail a single mile farther than we have to. Jeanna and Dave are afraid there won’t be any ice cream left when we get to Hiva Oa. With the boat now pointed at our destination, and moving along at 9.5 knots over the ground, the excitement level jumped up a notch. If the wind holds, we will arrive in two days, a day sooner than we originally guessed. Plans are being made for laundry, long showers, dinner out, getting the garbage off the boat, washing the boat inside and out, and sleeping without the nets holding us in place.
The boat: the boat has been performing above my expectations. After almost 6,000 miles of downwind work, I have a pretty good idea of what the boat and crew likes in the way of wind angle and sail combination, in a wide range of sea conditions. Though mostly in winds fewer than 20 knots true, the boat is very fast, even with a big load of cruising gear. When trimming out the boat I trim for speed, crew comfort, wear and tear on the gear and sails, and minimum power consumption on the auto pilot.
In higher winds the boat need very little sail, off the breeze a small 115% jib and a double reef in the main will produce an easy 10 knots of boat speed and a very straight track. We have gone 7,500 miles so far, and the auto pilot has been driving 99 % of that. We’ve not been knocked down or had an accidental jibe.
Day 15: after 9 days with the spinnaker up, the wind got a little above our comfort level. Just after 9:00 pm we took the spinnaker down - in the dark. The wind had gone up to 20 to 25 knots, and the boat was surfing at 14 knots - just a little too fast considering the long night ahead.
In this part of the ocean, we have not seen much in the way of sea life - very few birds, only two groups of dolphins, and three large unidentified mammals of some sort. There are thousands of flying fish and squid, but we haven’t seen bait fish on the surface or any large predatory fish activity. Bottom line: no fresh fish so far. We are hoping to catch something as we get closer to the islands, where the water goes from 14,000 feet to about 1,000 feet.
Day 16: one more day to go. This morning everyone is quiet and sleeping in. I think we are all very tired. Yesterday’s excitement of two days to go just wore us out. One more night of watches and we should see the islands when the sun comes up tomorrow. About 9:00 a.m. we poled out the 115% jib and headed straight down wind. The ride is awful; rolling side to side with everything that isn’t tied down making some sort of clunking, banging, scraping, squeaking, or rattling noise. The crew is not happy.
Well, after seeing nowhere, I am ready to be somewhere else. We can see it on the charts. We are reading about it in the travel books. We can’t wait to say “land ho”. The South Pacific starts the second part of our trip, the part I have been dreaming about for a long time. It is being made even more special being able to share it with Jeanna, Molly, and Jessie.
Jim
RUBY SLIPPERS