Light and Dark - Day 23

Three full pages in the log on day 23 - mainly devoted to describing sail and course changes to deal with squalls. Two of these had enough rain for showering and catching and I blocked a scupper and topped off the starboard tank during the second one. Last night, the stars were repeatedly blocked by towering walls of blackness and we slept little. I woke a couple of times to Rani's frantic plea for help and a frightened 'doe in the headlights' look on her poor little face. We sailed the whole night through under 2 reefed main and 1/2 furled jib - maybe 225 square feet of sail, easily pushing our 10 tons of boat at 6 knots through the pitching blackness.

Our friend, Kurt, requested some comments on the changing 'starscape'. The stars are indeed different below the line, with the southern cross being the most notable. The milky way is stunning when the moon is not yet risen, but I am sorry to admit that I have been too sleep deprived and busy with keeping the boat going to delve into constellation identification. In fact we welcome the bright, star-obscuring moon of the last few days as it better shows up the squalls. More on stars, perhaps, when we reach port.

On the light side, we can see the end of the tunnel. Our progress through 'squall alley' has been very fast with a 135 NM run in the last 24 hours. We are less than 270 NMs from our destination and may even reach Hiva Oa in the daylight on Saturday. A green and tranquil vista will be most welcome! Our position at 1430 Zulu on Thursday April 12 was 06 22 S 135 19 W.

Squall Line Dancing - Day 22

They began steam rolling in east to west at 4am on Day 22 and are still with us. The towering cumulus clouds with dark bases that brought wind in the 20-25 knot range were easily seen during the day. In between were smaller cumulus clouds but all together they formed a line that looked like a freight train. Most of the time one train would pass in front of us and one behind us as if someone were actively guiding Ladybug in between two sets of tracks.

We kept the radar on to trace their path. The rain bearing fronts were visible at around 12 miles and it was fascinating watching their shapes changing as they neared. Chris judged the wind by the advancing white caps and waited till the very last moment to put in a second reef in the main or furl the jib. Within minutes of the squall passing, he would be up on deck shaking the reef. Wind continued at 15 knots as each set passed by and we used it to gain as much distance as we could.

At night, before the moon rose, it was harder to see the non-rain bearing squalls as they were not up on radar, so we kept a second reef in the main at all times, using the jib for finer control when they arrived. Early this morning there was a sinister looking black mushroom cloud that was 2 by 3 miles in size. It looked like a towering inferno as the sun rose behind it and back-lit the sky a golden orange. Its younger sibling trailing close on its heels caught us broadside and we both took turns to shower under the cool rain. When I looked at the radar afterwards the two were joined like Siamese twins.

"Weather forecasters define a squall as a sudden increase in wind speeds by at least 16 knots, resulting in the speed rising to at least 22 knots and lasting for at least one minute. In some areas squalls are most frequently associated with land masses, whereas in others they may occur frequently in open waters. The majority of tropical squalls are moderate (wind speeds less than 35 knots) and rarely pose a problem for sailors." - Tropical Cruising Handbook by Smaalders and Rochers. I take heart in this and am happy to report it has been so in our short experience.

The after effects of the squalls are sometimes worse. The seas build up and as the wind drops down, we have short choppy seas which toss and turn Ladybug up to 20 degrees in either direction. Cooking is no longer fun!

At 1430 Zulu on April 11, our position was 04 40 S 133 56 W and distance run within last 24 hours was 129 nautical miles. We were 400 miles from Hiva Oa, with 121 miles made good.

Drying out and Squall Prep - Day 21

We are currently sailing in a world of towering cumulus clouds, squalls, and rainbows.

Most of yesterday was spent going through the long term 'dry' locker (a misnomer on a boat, surely), which was the recipient of a gallon or two of sea water in the previous evening's squall. Rani removed all the items, soaked up and bailed out standing water, and wiped everything down. I made water with our water maker and washed the sheets, towels, sail bags, etc. The boat was pandemonium all day with 6 months of food and all the 'stuff' that accumulates in a V-berth spread out to air. Of note is that, due to Rani's excellent packing, we ended up with sea water infiltrating only 2 bags of sugar. The result is kind of like salt water taffy and I look forward to an extra ration of sweets...

We were much better prepared last night and had 2 reefs in the main all night with the hatches battened down and a vigilant radar watch. Of course we had no direct hits from squalls of any size and made miserable progress in very light airs. Early this morning the wind disappeared completely and a rolly swell began to toss Ladybug on her ear. We turned on the engine and motored for the longest period to date - about 6.5 hours! We saw a SE wind return this morning and are encouraged by reports from boats to the south that this has been consistent now for 24 hours.

Our position at 14:30 Zulu on April 10 was 02 56 S 132 43 W. We sailed/motored 91 miles in the previous 24 and are 521 miles out of Hiva Oa.

Docile day turns into a stormy night - Day 20

It was another light air day with an easterly wind of 1-4 Knots most of the morning changing to 4-8 knots from the ESE by the evening.

At 8.45 am we took down the sails and Chris jumped into the warm ocean to swim and clean the bottom. There were gelatinous masses of gooseneck barnacles clinging to the propeller shaft, strut, all along the aft section of the bottom, and along the keel. It took him almost an hour to scrape the worst areas. I stood on "jelly watch". Last year a friend of ours had an encounter with a Portuguese Man O'War mid-Pacific and he suffered for days from the poisonous sting. Well, I did not see any jellyfish but screamed the alarm when a three foot long transparent animal appeared. It must have been about 3-4 inches in diameter, had a faint pink colour around the edges and was slinky-like in shape. I had no idea what it was but warned Chris to swim away as it seemed to be drifting in his direction. If anyone can identify what it could be, please let me know.

We flew our spinnaker from 10 am to 9 pm with a couple of hours of downtime mid-afternoon when the lack of wind and large swell forced us to turn on the engine. Taking advantage of the extra power, we made water and I started to wash laundry using a couple of plastic buckets in the cockpit. Soon we had our t-shirts and pillow slips flying from the life-lines and rat-lines while the smalls had their own line crisscrossing the cockpit. It all looked colourful.

After the sun had set I gathered up the larger clothes and we watched a bit of "television". At first watch (9pm), I asked Chris if we could take down the spinnaker as it can be a liability at night when only person is on deck. Since the wind was now 8 knots, he agreed and we put up the main and jib. I went to sleep on my fresh smelling pillows with a peaceful mind while he stood first watch.

At 11.30 pm, I was woken with a light kiss on the cheek and a request to assist with reefing the main. As soon as I poked my head out of the cabin, I could hear the wind howling. Chris shouted " There is no time to reef, I have to steer us downwind, dog-down the hatches!" I ran below to close the port lights in the cabin and was dismayed to see saltwater spraying over the bunk where I had been sleeping. Worse was the sight of gallons of water pouring over the v-berth from the hatch above it. I secured everything and rushed back up to the cockpit. It was a sickening feeling, watching Chris struggling to keep the boat under control with all his might. The wind was probably 35 Knots from the northeast, gale force, and Ladybug was screaming downwind at 8 Knots. Chris ordered me to furl the jib and that was hard even using the winch as there was so much force on the sails. The rain started to pour, so I passed out a coat to Chris and closed the main companionway hatch.

The radar showed a 4 mile radius of squalls but we could not dodge them even if we had tried as the NE wind forced us to steer SE to SW to keep the boat under control.

It was a nightmare that lasted for about an hour. There was one accidental gybe which caused damage to the traveller. A bolt attached to a tang at the end of the starboard traveller line sheared off and the tang was completely straightened out by the wind. Chris found it lying on the deck after the squall had abated. We shall see if it can be fixed in the daylight. Thankfully the traveller is still functional.

When the wind abated a little we double reefed the main and hove to, later we turned and ran southwest with the same configuration. The rest of the night was spent sponging off the salt from the contents of the v-berth, watching the radar very closely and, in my case, praying for a quieter morning.

At 1430 Zulu today our position was 01 33 S 132 11 W on a course of 205 degrees magnetic. Our 24 hour run was 93 nautical miles and we were 612 NM from Hiva Oa.

And we are now into sunshine with some blue sky ahead...

Champagne, rice, and prayers - Day 19

At 10 minutes to 9 last night we sailed into the southern hemisphere at a sedate 3 knots. All day we had discussed how to celebrate, settling on a nice mixed veg and soy/pea curry dinner, followed by Spanish 'champagne' and dark chocolate. We tried to capture this on film, realizing too late that you cannot snap a picture of the GPS at the equator and pour a libation over the side to Poseidon at the same time. So we went with Poseidon's drink and captured the GPS reading a bit south.

Rani made a traditional Hindu offering of rice - wrapped in a paper boat, which followed the champagne. I read Rani a short poem that I had written for her. Rani played a recording of the Sikh evening prayers and bowed her head in prayer. In all the rolling we spilled yet more bubbly, so hopefully Poseidon has been appeased. His friends - the various winds - must require something other than champagne because we have had little to no wind all day and night! This may change today, for I see a mass of black cloud approaching from the north as I type.

Our position at 14:30 zulu on April 8 was S 00 29 and W 131 19. We ran 73 nautical miles yesterday and have 695 more to go to Hiva Oa.

Comment on the Slocum post

My friend Kurt wrote an interesting comment on yesterday's post...

"Your comment on the Slocum factor was interesting, but I think you left out a very critical part. Old Josh sailed off in to a world which he knew to be finite and went from A to B because he was a ship's captain by trade. But for 99.999999% of the world's citizens then, a journey of 50 miles was huge. And any journey left you vulnerable to little or no contact with loved ones at your root. Another continent was unfathomable. I am sure that any desperate immigrants to the US and Canada had next to no idea where they were going. We live in a world that is not necessarily smaller, the usual comment, but rather our minds and awareness have expanded to encompass it, to say nothing of our technology. We "think" the whole blue marble into existence now, and see it as one thing. In Slocum's day any journey, even by rail or steamship, required steely nerve of overwhelming need. Today we can afford to think of a sail to the Marquesas as a grand adventure, a choice, even a bit of retro wind powered fun that sets us apart from everyone else, both literally in the moment and in another way permanently. In part we do this stuff in search of that feeling that says we are "different" and have "been there". And it makes us part of a smaller "family" than simply of "those who pay their taxes on time". But you still need to be excruciatingly careful!"

Thanks for this perspective Kurt - technology is probably not the most important factor in what we attempt or achieve...

Advantages over Slocum - Day 18

The ARC rally has just left the Marquesas en route to Tahiti. These sailors are part of an organized, 'guided' cirmcumnavigation that they will complete in less than a year and a half. This got me thinking about all the people like us who are out here cruising on small boats. Sailing boats across oceans used to be reserved for professionals and the occasional publicity or thrill seeking adventurer. This is clearly not the case any more. What has changed to allow an average couple to sail a small boat across the Pacific or around the world?

When Joshua Slocum became the first person to sail alone around the world at the end of the 19th century, he did so using tools and techniques that were hundreds, if not thousands of years old. He navigated via sextant and clock, used kerosene to light the interior and for running lights, and sailed in a boat that was built by hand of wood and iron. The radio had yet to be invented, let alone, navigation assisting satellites. He carried water and salted food in barrels and jugs. His sails were made of cotton canvas (or possibly flax) and needed constant care.

Here is a short list of technological changes that have made what we are doing feasible:

* Beginning in the 1950's Fibreglass and polyester resin enabled the mass production of sturdy cruising boats. Polyester and nylon also replaced cotton in sails and natural cordage in lines.
* Reliable small diesels made getting in and out of harbour or crossing the doldrums far less challenging.
* Wind vane self-steering, first widely used in the 1960's made short handed cruising infinitely more pleasant, reducing the need to stand at the helm staring at a compass for hours. Electric autopilots provided similar benefits.
* Radio and satellite communications made it feasible to obtain up to date weather information and stay in touch with other sailors and those who remain at home.
* Radar allowed us to 'see' over the horizon to avoid being run down, to move with more confidence in fog and poor visibility, and to enter strange harbours.
* Satellite navigation (GPS) removed the need to learn celestial navigation (although some still argue against over-reliance on this technology).
* Solar panels - another product of the space age provided silent 'free' power. Small wind and gas or diesel generators also provided power for the comforts of life that many of us take for granted.
* Refrigeration, propane stoves, and water makers brought the comforts of home on board.

These technologies are enablers - taking much of the risk and discomfort out of long distance cruising. I am sure it is no coincidence that dozens of people now complete circumnavigations each year compared to the handful who had done so before 1950.

Our position today at 14:30 zulu was N 00 41 W 131 16. We sailed only 93 miles (with 1 of those under motor this morning). Winds have varied from 1 knot to about 12 mostly out of the east and we had a decent spinnaker run in the afternoon. We also fixed a problem with the fridge thermostat by relocating it from the cockpit locker to the inside of the fridge. We hope to cross the equator sometime today, being only about 40 miles from it now! The champagne is chilling.

Peaceful Day on the Pacific - Day 17

We passed through a rather nasty looking ITCZ front of thick clouds, wind, rain and then total calm on Wednesday night and in the early hours of Thursday morning.

During the calm period, Chris turned on the iron jenny and we motored for about an hour. We called in our crew, Frankenpilot, to steer us but he packed it in immediately, feigning sick. Upon examination, it was found that old Frankie had swallowed some water during the squalls and it had gone the wrong way - into his electronic board. We undressed him and laid him out to dry out overnight while our newest recruit from West Marine, Stevie 2000, subbed in.

There was light at the end of the tunnel around 5am as a steady 3-4 Knot SE wind came up and we put up a full jib and main to push us along at 3 Knots. This light breeze continued throughout the day. The boat rolled a bit due to swells from the north and northwest but we put up the cockpit awning and relaxed "upstairs" under it's shade. The fresh breeze tickled the skin and Ladybug settled into an easy pace for the day.

I wished for dolphins and sent out telepathic messages. They appeared in droves. Well, at first there was a recce party of about eight. Then there were splashes and sleek bodies leaping out of the water everywhere for about a mile out. And they were headed our way!

Between 50 to 100 striped dolphins swam, dived and jumped all around Ladybug for about forty minutes. We encouraged them by filming and cheering them on. What an afternoon!

As predicted, we did not set any records this day, gaining only 101 miles over 24 hours. Our position at 1430 Zulu on April 6 was N 01 56 and W 130 27. After a strategy consult with our friend Mark on s/v Southern Cross, we changed our course from due south for the equator to 210 degrees true for Hiva Oa, 935 nautical miles out, so we cannot report the distance made good.

Our Little Universe

These days we live in our own little universe. It is an ever changing universe of mainly two colours - blue and white and all shades thereof. The ocean varies from the Royal Blue of a sunny day like today to the dusky indigo of the early evening. In the moonlit night it becomes molten silver and graphite grey. Night or day, it is always laced with white. It heaves and pulses like the living beast it is, the energy in it's belly speaking of unpredictable power.

The sky above is of different hues of blue. The baby blue at the sea surface deepens a few shades as one gazes higher. Fluffy cotton clouds hang picturesquely in this ceiling like the trail of a steam engine. On the horizon all around us they coalesce and are interlaced with grey. When the sun sets these same benign clouds will appear darker and evil. It is little wonder that mankind through the ages has worshipped the sun, the bringer of light and goodness.

Ladybug is bouncing alone in this universe like a puppy on a short leash. We know there are other other sailboats within a hundred mile radius but we have not seen any for 16 days. We live in a Water World.

Sunburn, spinnakers, and reverse osmosis - Day 16

The sun at 4 degrees latitude is dangerously strong. It has been so hot and humid that we are down to our underwear. I have rather badly burned the top of my legs after very brief (pun intended) exposure. We rigged the small cockpit awning that allows us to sail with it up to get some relief from the rays, but later had to strike it due to squalls.

The day began with very light NE winds, which pushed us along at 4 knots broad reaching. Our starboard water tank ran dry, so we realized it was time to bring the water maker back into service (it had been 'pickled' with sodium metabisulphite back around Christmas). The water maker does not like rough seas or fast sailing, getting air bubbles in the system. This causes the 800 psi pressure required for the reverse osmosis to work to drop to about 200 psi, so we sailed the whole morning at an increasingly sedate pace, making about 20 gallons of water in 3 hours.

Around noon we took another sextant sight. This time, the sun passed behind us as we headed south while I was taking the sites - a very strange feeling to have it go to the north of us. Our location was only within 7 miles of the GPS one on this sight - again our longitude was good (within a mile or to), but our latitude off. Not sure what I am doing wrong, but hope that further practice will get us a bit closer.

By early afternoon, the wind was down even further and we had perfect conditions for a spinnaker run. We hoisted the cruising chute for the first time on this crossing and our speed immediately returned to 4+ knots. We spent the afternoon rolling down toward the equator with the big red and white balloon gracefully towing us along. Unfortunately all good things must end and around supper time, we ran under another line of towering cumulus clouds filled with rain and wind. I held onto the chute until the last minute, raising Rani's blood pressure, but just before the first squall we doused it with its snuffing sock and re-hoisted main and jib.

All last night we had very light winds from the east and south east with a few squalls. The first major squall was enough for another cockpit shower - a welcome relief after sweating for 2 days in 90 degree heat!

Our position at 14:30 zulu on April 5 was N 03 19 W 129 33. We ran 99 NMs making good 93 toward our equator crossing point (199 miles to go!).

Squalls and Sunshine - Day 15

Monday night and the early hours of Tuesday morning were busy hours on deck as we passed through confusing systems of light airs with lightning and heavy showers accompanied by 20-25 Knot winds. Watches were unfair as I had to ask Chris to tend to the sail changes on my shift too. Due to the large frequent swells rocking the boat it was a tough balancing act lifting the heavy teak hatch door aside as we entered and exited the cockpit in the rain. I was happy that we had taken the pole down earlier in the evening - that would not have been a lot of fun in those conditions.

On the plus side, both of us took a refreshing rain shower to wash off the sweat and grime.

We continued on a westerly course. In the early afternoon we could see blue sky ahead and figured it was time to make the left turn to head south. We put in a new way point to the equator. Only another 384 miles to the line! The sunshine was a boost to spirits, the wind on the beam - God was smiling upon us again!

Our position on April 4 at 1430 Zulu was N 04 50 and W 129 11. We managed to sail 129 nautical miles despite the ITCZ conditions.

Squalls to the left of us, squals to the right of us - Day 14

Ladybug is definitely in the doldrums. We have spent the last 24 hours dodging squalls and listening to the rain pound the decks in a torrential deluge. The squalls sometimes pack a punch, with winds increasing to 25 knots or more, resulting in frantic sail changes- three of these last night in the wee hours. I did one sail change sans clothes and had a very effective shower at the same time. We found a leak in the cabin 'roof' where the traveller for the main sheet is attached and had to take apart the interior to find and fix this. In one of the squalls I sacrificed the rubber end of our flashlight to Neptune when the jib sheet was jerked out of my hands.

The radar has been a great help in squall watching - they show up as evil looking chunks on the screen in contrast to the elegant little blips that a ship would make. We are fairly near a shipping lane that runs from Panama to the Philippines, so the person on watch has to be doubly vigilant.

As of 14:30 zulu on April 3, we were at position N 06 23 and W 128 28. We ran 126 miles but only 99 of those in the right direction. Hot and muggy below with all hatches battened down.

The Doldrums

Being at approximately 7 degrees north and 127 degrees west, we are now officially in the doldrums or the Inter-Tropical Convergence Zone as NOAA calls this area of rain squalls, variable winds, and lightning:

From the April 2 NOAA forecast:

INTERTROPICAL CONVERGENCE ZONE/MONSOON TROUGH...
ITCZ AXIS EXTENDS FROM 09N121W TO 04N140W. SCATTERED MODERATE
WITHIN 75 NM EITHER SIDE OF AXIS BETWEEN 129W AND 133W.

The GRIB (weather model) file shows a 1012 millibar gradient running north east to south west just below us, with a 1012 high to the southeast and a 1012 low to the northeast of that. Not sure how one can have a high and a low beside each other with the same pressure, but - hey - I'm no meteorologist.

Practically - this means that our 140 mile days are over for a while. The ITCZ should go somewhere else in a couple of days if the GRIB forecast files are correct, but it looks like we are in for a couple of days of frustrating sailing, dodging rain squalls and lightning.

Halfway - Day 13

Well - we are more than halfway to Hiva Oa, passing the halfway point (as the seagull flies) at mile 1308 around 2 pm local time yesterday.

We have begun to pass through rain showers and impressive cloud formations. During the first good morning shower, we stripped off and jumped into the cockpit, lathering up and then dancing around in the cool clean heavy rain - lovely!

We also finally had suitable conditions to do a noon sextant site, following instructions drafted for us by Kurt ('Kaptain Krunch') off S/V Raven.

Here is how we did this:

1. Adjusted our clock to a time signal broadcast over the SSB radio so that it was correct for Greenwich time.
2. Looked up when the real local noon (sun as far overhead as possible) was according to our rough current position.
3. Took a series of sextant 'shots' that bracketed this time, to determine a) the maximum height above the horizon of the sun and B) When exactly that height was reached (local apparent noon). This is quite a fun exercise as you swing the sextant back and forth, watching a little red ball (the filtered sun) arc back and forth like a pendulum. The trick is to know when the bottom of the red ball just grazes the horizon. This is not always easy on a rolling boat with 6 foot swells getting in the way.
4. Adjusted these numbers for factors such as how high we were above sea level (about 2 meters), errors in the plastic sextant, and the half diameter of the sun.
5. Looked up various values in the 2012 nautical almanac that use these data to obtain lat and long.

According to our GPS, we were only off by 4 miles in our sights - very good for our first attempt using Kurt's instructions. We tried this once before using the simple instructions from the sextant manual and only achieved a 30 mile accuracy!

Our position as of 14:30 zulu this morning was N 07 04 and W 126 38 for a day's run of 126 NMs with 123 of them in th right direction. Winds became light and shifting with lightning and showers in the early hours this morning, which has slowed us down.

Bloody boobies! - Day 12

Yesterday was a reprieve from the twisting and turning of the previous two days as we steered 200 degrees magnetic with following seas. The seventh hill or so rolling in to the beam still managed to surprise us. The kerosene lamp above the galley stove swung at just the right angle to strike a stainless steel glass I was holding and the globe shattered and flew in all directions.

Around noon, twenty to thirty dolphins appeared, some swimming in synch like well coordinated Olympic champions while others frolicked about and chased flying fish. They varied in size from 3 to 5 feet and most had charcoal grey bodies while a few were lighter and dappled. The babies sported distinct white tipped noses like skiers wearing liberal helpings of sunscreen. We were surprised that they stayed with us for half an hour, probably encouraging Ladybug to swim faster and eventually giving up, to speed ahead.

We took advantage of the gentler day to cook a good meal ( mixed vegetable curry and rice ), pump the bilge and generally clean up. It is strange how one's appetite changes when one's insides are being churned all day long. I have not felt my usual all day long lust for chai tea or suffered withdrawal from spicy foods. In fact I actually asked Chris to cook a bland stew the other night!

The balmy evening air brought a little rain shower and I jumped naked into the cockpit for a wash. But it was not the fat rain that I was hoping for and I merely ended up swabbing the deck instead.

During the day we had several sightings of tropic birds, snowy white and plump, with long tail feathers. We also sighted red footed boobies, diving for flying fish. You may recall that these birds had been a nuisance earlier and Chris had to whack one with a fistful of sail ties to chase it off our solar panel.

Boobies really are the dumbest birds, and despite the mast arcing through 30 degrees, one tried to land again on our wind indicator. After the last bird encounter on Isla Cerralvo, when an Osprey destroyed this very useful instrument, Chris had epoxied a spike made from a straightened 3 inch fish hook to the center of the vane. We figured that this would send out a big "DO NOT LAND HERE" message to future aviators. Boobies, however, must be blind as well as stupid because this one managed to impale itself on the spike. It was unable to extract itself due to the barb and nearly destroyed the indicator and antenna at the mast head in its efforts to do so. Eventually things quieted down and the poor bird is now swinging around up there, its beak pointing quite accurately into the wind.

Now for our position report for April 1, 1430 Zulu. We were at 08 35 N and 125 12 W, with 140 miles run in the previous 24 hours, 135 made good towards our goal.

Life and Death - Day 11

Rani is outside now with the videocam trying to capture flights of flying fish. They erupt suddenly from both sides of the boat, perhaps frightened by our huge wallowing bulk. Like a flurry of silver darts they skim the waves, twisting around each swell, sometimes landing more than a hundred feet from their launch spot.

On deck this morning were 5 flying fish and one squid, ranging in size from an inch long to more than 9 inches. Before Rani was out of bed, I had cleaned and fried the 3 larger fish - firm white flesh - delicious and very fresh (sorry Rani!) The flying fish here at 10 degrees are more plentiful and larger than the ones I saw on the Hawaii trip.

We had dolphins around the boat last night, identifiable in the rough seas by their little gasps for air. I could just make out their light trails amidst the tumbling seas.

On this morning's radio net, Don on Buena Vista, currently about 150 miles north of us, reported catching 2 boobies on his fishing line. Sadly, the birds dive for the trailing lure and once hooked are soon drowned as they drag behind the boat. It took Don over an hour to retrieve the poor creatures. One of the other cruisers asked if Don had tried eating Booby. This was too good a set-up line to ignore, but I will not print Don's reply.

Karen and Mike on Chapter 2 caught a 10 pound Wahoo - large mackerel that can grow up to 7 feet long and 100 pounds. When Don asked them what type of lure they used, I broke in and told them that we had 'caught' 3 edible fish with our 34 foot red and white striped 'lure'.

Last night could have been our last one. At 8pm local time we spotted a flashing white light, which moved rapidly closer. I tried to track it on the radar, but it was lost amongst the wave scatter. It turned out to be a buoy of some sort - maybe a meteorological one - and if we had not quickly altered course, we would possibly have struck it, damaging or even sinking our boat - yikes. What the heck is a buoy doing out here 1000 miles from land? For anyone interested, the buoy was located at N 11 05.166 and W 123 01.862.

We have less than 400 miles to run to the point where we will turn south. We just brought Ladybug onto port tack so that we do not end up too far to the west. If this was to happen, we would have a hard time getting to the Marquesas against the prevailing SE trade winds.

Our position at 14:30 Zulu was N 10 30 W 123 59. We ran 141 nautical miles in the previous 24 hours with 130 of those made good toward our ITCZ turning point.

Repairs underway - Day 10

The 12-15 Knot NNE wind continued to push Ladybug due south at an average of 6.5 Knots, with occasional surfing speed of 9-10 Knots. The sky was dark and ominous with 100% cloud cover. The twisting and turning motion inside was nauseating, so I took half a tablet of dimenhydrinate (Gravol) with my morning glass of juice.

We had been pumping the bilge every 3 days and were shocked to find 3-4 gallons of water sloshing under the engine. That was a lot more than would be accounted for by the stuffing box being loose, so we set out to investigate. Chris was persuaded to take an anti-nauseant pill since he would have to crawl into the cockpit locker to look at the exhaust system to see if water was backing up through the muffler, as it had done in the boat's past history, and also check the rudder post. With the motion of the boat, it was not going to be fun.

We emptied the cockpit locker, storing all the gear ( anchor, chains, fenders etc. ) in the cockpit and cabin. Chris disappeared below with a flash light. He found the the rudder stuffing box to be loose and the most likely culprit. It was tightened up and when we checked the water level today ( day 11 ), there was a lot less in the bilge, so that's good news.

The sea state was miserable all day long, with 10 foot swells rolling in from the northwest and north. Earlier on, the boom had come crashing down on my head as we put in a 3rd reef in the main in winds up to 20 Knots. I nearly lost my temper as I attempted to cook rice pilaf while being tossed around in the galley. This motion brings out the worst in sailors.

We comforted ourselves by watching an afternoon matinee of "The Borgias". It was a popular series in England and I understood why. The period drama is all about greed, murder, sex and religious scandal - what's not to like?

In the evening we discovered another problem. The fridge was running continuously and draining the batteries. We had turned up the thermostat because after discovering a bit of mould in the open yogurt. But now the fridge had gone berserk and our solar cells would not be able to keep up to demand. We turned down the thermostat and ran the engine to check the muffler and recharge the batteries for the time being. At night we switched it off to defrost and the thermostat is still not working today, so we shall have to run the fridge manually daily. Although we lived without refrigeration for the last 3 years in Mexico, we were really looking forward to eating fresh foods a little longer on this voyage.

On the plus side, we achieved 143 nautical miles in the previous 24 hours, 134 of those in the right direction. Our position at 1430 Zulu was 11 45 N and 122 03 W. We also celebrated the 1000nm mark with a sip of Mexican brandy.

Correction to Position given in Day 8 post

We posted an old position - the correct position on the morning of Day 9 was N 15 06 W 119 06

Differences between this crossing and Hawaii in 2009 - Day 9

I have been thinking about how different this crossing is from the down-wind passage to Hawaii that I sailed a few years ago. The most notable difference is that there are two of us on the boat this time, versus one. Apart from the obvious social benefits, this allows us to keep proper watches and still get some sleep. It also makes sail changes much easier, with one of us on the foredeck and the other adjusting the sheets, traveller, and furler line from the cockpit. Finally, having Rani on board has made me more cautious, taking time to talk things through before dashing up on deck. While our relationship is not without friction, Rani has been an excellent first mate and cheerful companion to date.

Ladybug II was designed from inception to cross oceans and was re-fitted about 10 years ago with modern ocean crossing equipment. Our first Ladybug was a Cal-29, designed for weekend cruising and club racing. The things that we are really happy to have on the new boat are a reliable windvane (Ladybug had a light wheel pilot that was always on the edge of coping with big seas), small windows, a sea hood that covers the main hatch, and much higher freeboard, which combined with a small cockpit makes her much drier. We are also grateful for the radar and the SSB radio. The first allowed us to detect a ship last night before we saw her and to track the vessel to see if we were on a collision course. The second permits us to send and receive emails, get weather faxes and forecasts, and stay in touch with other cruisers who are making the same crossing. By comparison, I was sailing blind on Ladybug - with only a mediocre SSB receiver.

After 10 days out, I don't think I would want to do another long crossing on my own or without the benefits outlined above.

Our position at 14:30 Zulu was N 13 09 and W 120 15. We ran 139 miles in the previous 24 hours and have 670 miles to go to our ITCZ crossing point. We have had much cloud cover with drizzle in the distance. The seas are large and throw us around, making cooking and moving around difficult. Winds have been about 15 - 20 knots and we have been running wing and wing with 2 reefed main and poled out jib, partly furled. We have seen GPS speeds in excess of 10 knots due to the sharp high swells - quite a ride!

Flying Fish Territory - Day 8

Well folks, it is day 9 and we logged 129 nautical miles in the previous 24 hours up to 1430 Zulu this morning and 118 of those were made good towards our short range goal of N 5 degrees and W 128 degrees, roughly where we intend to make a turn to the equator. Our position was N 16 23 and W 117 34.

Since leaving Isla Clarion, Ladybug has been very frisky, rolling 20 to 30 degrees in mixed swells from the NW, N and NE. We try to fine tune our wing and wing sail trim to minimise the discomfort but it is not always successful as Chris found out this afternoon. His coffee cup jumped off the table, soaking the whole table and two rugs as well as splashing the upholstery on the settee and several books. On the plus side we are pointing our course and averaging 5.5 Knots in winds of 11-14 Knots from the NE. Last night we tried sleeping on cushions laid on the cabin sole ( salon floor, for non-sailors ) wedged in between the table and settee with additional cushions. However, we both feel sleep deprived and will try to start our watches early tonight.

This morning we found 3 flying fish, 2 of them about 8 inches long and the other a baby, plus one squid lying on the decks. Chris is planning to keep any future offerings of fish for a breakfast fry-up, like kippers on toast. During the day, it is quite a sight when these silvery blue fish take to the wing like tiny sea birds and navigate around the swells. Not sure if they are running from larger fish,like the dorado, who love the fliers for breakfast,lunch and dinner.

The temperature is noticeably warmer and there is more humidity in the air. Last night on my watch I did not have to wear a fleece on deck as I sat watching the dolphins darting like torpedoes around the boat, their trails blazing electric blue in the phosphorescence created by plankton. The black clouds which look so threatening at night had no rain in them, just looked evil, and I was a little afraid of looking up. Instead, I watched with fascination as great clouds of phosphorescence rolled away from Ladybug as she surfed down the 8-10 foot swells.

Our daily entertainment starts at 1600 Zulu with an informal chat on a radio net with our Pacific Puddle Jump buddies. We chat about everything, positions, progress, how to fix an errant hydro vane, how to fend off boobies perched on solar panels and spreaders, recipes for flying fish etc. etc. In the evening there is a more formal radio net when most of the boats in the Pacific Puddle Jump Group check in and the net controller records their GPS positions and weather. We take turns being net controller. As the earliest departed boats go past the equator, it is often difficult to hear their report, so we use a relay between boats to gather the information.

Most of our daylight hours are spent reading, cooking, eating, watching a movie or an episode of "Lost", and keeping a close eye on wear and tear around the boat. I also try to air the fresh produce to delay rot as we hope it will last for another 3 weeks at least. So far I have only thrown out one rotten tomato and circumcised 4-5 carrots as their tips were looking necrotic. Chris was looking a bit nervous...

Balancing Progress with Comfort and Sanity

We had a rough and rolling time last night with 10 foot northwest swells and a short evil chop from the north. Ladybug twisted and turned like a carnival ride, rolling through 30 to 40 degrees every few seconds. We stuffed towels and padding into the cupboards as crockery and jars began to jump and dance to the rhythm.

Such conditions drive us to try different sail combinations and boat headings. We began the night with the jib poled out behind the main on a broad reach. This was steadier but was taking us far to the west of our desired course. So we ran downwind toward our hypothetical turning point to cross the doldrums (at 5 deg N, 128 deg W). We moved the pole across to windward of the main - no mean feat on a pitching deck at night. Thankfully Rani can work the roller furler line and jib sheet while I work the various lines holding the pole. However, this change only resulted in worse rolling, with the main working against the jib, turning the boat off to starboard, followed by the wind vane turning it back again. Next, we struck the main altogether and tried running downwind with just the jib, but the winds lightened and the large opposing swells kept taking the wind out of the sail. This happens because the boat is rolled into and away from the wind with such force that the motion creates a new wind. The sails back and fill and crash around, which is both aggravating to the crew and bad for the integrity of stitching and cloth.

Ultimately, at 5 am, we returned to the steadier broad reach we had started with, taking the pole down altogether. Both of us were exhausted and irritable and harsh words flew back and forth on the foredeck as we struggled with our fourth sail change of the night. However by 5:30, Rani was back in the bunk while I dozed and occasionally looked out for shipping. We probably managed 2 or 3 hours of sleep at the most. Clearly we cannot continue this way for another 3 weeks. So - lesson learned - sacrifice progress for comfort on long passages, especially when there are only two people on board to share the watches. Tonight - unless things settle down, we will steady her off on a beam reach and get some much needed sleep.

Our position this morning at 14:30 Zulu was 16 23 N 117 24 W, with 126 miles run in the last 24 hours. Winds mainly NE 5-15 knots.

Correction - the whale that Rani mentioned in the last blog post was a sperm whale, not a fin.

All Creatures Great and Small

"Rani, there is a blue whale out here!Come and have a look!"

I was down below watching a freighter move across my radar screen. This one had confounded us by being so slow. We were sailing at less than 2 knots and had watched the ship's direction closely after an unrewarded hail on the VHF.

Barely containing my excitement, I hopped into the cockpit and was instantly rewarded by the sight of the largest whale we had ever seen up this close. Uncaring about what sort of signal we may be sending to the freighter, Chris changed Ladybug's course to greet the whale. I was worried about getting too close but the birthday boy wasn't listening!

As it neared, I grabbed my videocam to record the magic but, within seconds, the camera stopped working - it had run out of memory! Murphy winked as I shook my head in disbelief. A blue whale and I had no video footage?!!

The whale, with it's hippo-like head and short dorsal fin reminded me of the sperm whales we had seen up in the northern Sea of Cortez last year. But it was much larger than any we had ever seen, between 50-60 feet long. It passed within 150 feet of our beam. The wind was not co-operating for following it's track, so Chris turned on the motor. Bad move. The whale dived immediately. We turned off the engine and resumed our course to the south.

We later identified this magnificent creature as a fin, not a blue, from the forward angle of the water spout when it breathed.

Most of Saturday, we averaged 3.5-4 Knots in the light NW airs. After lunch we hoisted the staysail to give us a little more speed but the difference was miniscule, between 0.25-0.5 Knots.

At night, the wind filled in a bit more and we deliberately slowed down to avoid running into Isla Clarion in the dark.

We approached this remote Mexican island with the rising sun on Sunday, accompanied by dolphins and boobies. If this was a sign, we were going to have an amazing experience snorkeling and hiking. Or so we thought.

Blood red rocks, grassy looking ridges and steep striated cliffs with surf pounding below them looked forbidding and inviting at the same time.

As we rounded it's eastern tip into Sulphur Bay, fierce wind came rushing off the mountains and we had to turn off to reduce the weather helm.

The Mexican Navy ( Armada ) hailed us on channel 16 frantically while we were both on deck, Chris trying to control the helm and I video-taping the coast. When we finally heard the radio and answered their call, I started speaking into the wrong microphone and wondered why they could not hear me! They asked us to prepare for an inspection and I asked their advice on a safe anchoring position and depth in the bay. Honestly speaking I would have carried on if it had been my decision. The 8 foot swell breaking on the beach,the rusting remains of a wrecked ship, surf roaring in all directions and evil looking rocks to port and starboard did not make this an inviting anchorage. I was also concerned for the safety of the inspection team trying to launch their panga in these ferocious conditions and called on the VHF to advise we would carry on sailing if it would be best for all of us. But there was no answer. Looking through binoculars,it seemed as if all the crew were coming down the ramp to their launch.

My heart was palpitating as I steered towards the wreck, Ladybug rising and falling on the back of massive swells. Chris prepared to drop the anchor. We released 150 feet of 5/16" chain in a 42 foot depth and backed down till it set in the rocky bottom. I could not wait to leave!!

Seven men, some in army fatigues and a few in civilian clothes, all carrying M16's, came out to Ladybug after an exciting launch from their concrete ramp. Five came on board while two relaxed in the panga, occasionally fending it off from smashing into Ladybug. The man taking notes spoke good English and looked at our boat papers and passports. They asked us for an exit paper from our last port of call but we did not have any as we left from Los Frailes. They asked us if we had any diving gear or if we liked fishing but we did not, so there was no need for a permit. They asked us about fire extinguishers and life vests and were satisfied with our equipment. One guy came down below to verify this and also see the boat in general.

We offered everyone biscuits and a glass of Jamaica juice ( it's not rum, but juice from the hibiscus flower and a popular drink in Mexico - reduces cholesterol according to one of our guests ).

All in all it was a pleasant interaction. There are 12 men stationed here, usually staying on for several weeks, and a supply ship arrives every 20 days. Life is good as there is not much to do. The day before, a a sports fishing charter had arrived with 26 people on board, so that must have given them a little more work than us.

There was no safe place to land in our row boat, so we departed after a few hours of rolling in the swell and watching the men ride the surf back to their launch. All of them had to jump out into waist deep water to get the panga back safely and then everyone pulled it up the steep ramp using wooden rollers underneath.

I remarked to Chris " We at least deserve a whale sighting for all the effort we spent here ". And there it was - the sleek black back of a humpback less than 200 feet from Ladybug. Magic restored.

Other than these giants we saw lots of seabirds, Magnificent Frigate Birds, Red footed white morph and Brown Boobies, a Tropic Bird and two types of petrels - Leach's Storm Petrel and a small Wedge Rumped Storm Petrel. The sea is certainly rich in life here but we were glad to be sailing away...

At 1430 Zulu today, our position was 17 26 N 115 53 W. We had sailed 106 miles in the previous 24 hours despite stopping at Isla Clarion. Wind and swells have been mainly from the north and northeast, wind in the range of 8-10 Knots.

Day 5 - Position Update

Rani will post a more detailed blog later...

This morning (Sunday March 25) at 1430 Zulu Ladybug was at 18 30 N 114 40 W, just north of Isla Clarion. Exactly 100 miles of progress in the last 24 hours with continuing light northerly winds.

Sockdolager Blog

If you are interested in other boats out here with us, you should check out the blog of our friends Karen and Jim on Sockdolager - http://karenandjimsexcellentadventure.blogspot.com. They are the smallest of the 'Puddle Jumpers' on a Dana 24 and are excellent bloggers. Karen is also a talented musician and song writer and, like me, Jim was a software developer in his real life.

Oddly enough, due to radio propagation, it is easier for us to download their blog via radio email (saildocs) than to talk to them to find out how things are going.

Cannibalism on Nuka Hiva

Great - as if light winds and running low on provisions is not enough to worry about, our friend Kurt off S/V Raven just sent us this information:

"I checked out Renova's blog today and they are out on the Marshals looking at WWII scrap metal. They mention a cruiser's rumor about a cannibal killing recently in Nuka Hiva, which has now been confirmed. A German sailor, age 40 has been positively identified from teeth remains in the fire pit - I kid you not. A local hunting guide is being sought in a big manhunt. Not a pretty picture. It will be all the news by the time you get there, but if he hasn't been caught I'd be very cautious about the whole thing as he will have nothing to lose."

I guess they must have been running low on Spam at the local store...

Birthday Musings - Day 4

I awoke late today. Rani ad let me sleep in until 5 am and I had 4 hours of uninterrupted sleep - bliss! It is my 47th birthday and this is one of the best presents you can get on a passage. The second present I received 45 minutes later when a light northwest wind began to fill in and I was able to turn Ladybug south toward Clarion Island, after a night of very light westerly progress. My third gift was a stunning sunrise, golden and framed by a line of ragged dark clouds under which we had sailed in the night. This is my 4th or 5th birthday celebrated on board, but the first while underway.

Our 4th day on passage was another quiet one - wind wise. We ran for much of the day like a cormorant with its wings spread to dry, broad reaching with the jib poled out opposite the main. In the afternoon the wind shifted and we took the pole down but continued to broad reach with the wind on our aft starboard quarter. Ladybug rolled around, even with the poled out jib to steady her, but life below was quite fine (as Hemingway might have said).

I finished "A Farewell to Arms" by Hemingway. I really enjoyed the book with its sparse narrative and unique style. We are now both listening to an audio book - a 'biography' of cancer titled the "Emperor of All Maladies" - powerful and well written/spoken. Audio books are a great way to wile away the night watches without keeping the off-watch crew awake with a light.

We also watched the final episode of season 1 of "The Six Million Dollar Man" on Rani's little 10" netbook. This is the first TV series I have re-watched from my childhood and I can easily recall how enthralled and uncritical I was as a child. The series now appears dated, the plots clumsy and contrived, but Steve Austin has plenty of charisma and there are pretty girls and evil men aplenty in most episodes. I suspect the writers borrowed this formula from James Bond and similar action/thriller movies. It is also interesting to note that several episodes touch on issues of feminism and women entering a male dominated world, with female astronauts and cowgirls.

Math and sailing - It was brought home to me yesterday how useful basic math is while out on passage. Apart from one obvious use in calculating your position using a sextant, basic math is needed to answer these questions - How far away can you see an approaching container ship whose lights are 70 feet above the sea? - Why is it that the wind indicator does not point into the 'true' wind and how can you determine from the wind indicator and your boat speed and course what the true wind is? Unfortunately my trigonometry and vector arithmetic skills are very rusty and Rani's are no better. The fact that I had trouble answering these questions also points out how much we have come to rely on the Internet as a reference. I would normally Google to look up a formula or locate a tutorial.

Nature-wise, we have seen a couple of brown boobies, one of whom tried to land on our mast yesterday. We also frequently see storm petrels flitting like swallows amongst the seas. These tireless little birds were also common on my passages to Hawaii and Canada on Ladybug I. The only sea life in the last day were dolphins, which swam alongside in the night, streaming trails of green phosphorescence. In the dark it is much easier to see how they move, with a steady pulsing left/right flicking of their tails at about 4 flicks a second. Quite lovely to watch.

Our position today (March 24) at 1430 Zulu was 19 36 N 113 26 W. We are running SW at about 4.5 knots in 5 knots of NW breeze. We hope to reach Isla Clarion tomorrow morning.

Day 3 - Becalmed - a Blessing in Disguise?

As frustrating as it can be, having no wind on a sailboat can be a good thing.

Yesterday - our third day out - saw very light airs for us and the other boats nearby that are also crossing to the Marquesas. We motored for two hours in the morning to steady the boat and look for wind, but gave up around mid-morning, figuring the swell was down enough that we could take down our sails and lie a-hull ('park the boat' - as our friends on Buena Vista put it). We swam in the indigo waters under cloudless skies, watching Ladybug roll alarmingly, even in the gentle northerly swell. It had been a week since our last proper shower in La Paz and rinsing off the grime of multiple night watches felt fantastic. Rani also took the vegetables out of their locker to allow them to air out - a daily chore now. I adjusted the propeller shaft stuffing box, which was leaking a little, and tightened some hose clamps on the muffler.

Despite the rolling boat, we decided to tackle a problem with Ladybug's structure. For the past two seasons, there has been a lot of noise - squeaks and the sound of wood flexing and rubbing against wood from the starboard center bulkhead area. The bulkhead here is what backs up the galley and the nav station, running across the boat. I finally traced the issue with a flashlight on the night watch because the sound was driving me nuts. After removing trim and panels from around the bulkhead, I found a fillet of epoxy that had cracked and no longer bonded the plywood bulkhead to the cabin sides. After chipping out the old epoxy, Rani helped me mix up some thickened epoxy and we injected this and worked it into the gap. It seems to have cured the noise from that area.

We sighted no shipping last night, but sailed through some heavy cloud and drizzle for much of the night, with a light north east wind on our beam. We actually sailed south east, 90 degrees off our desire course, in order to keep the sails filled and the boat moving. The radar alarm went off whenever a particularly thick shower came near us. The showers were too light to clean off our salty decks.

Our position this morning at 1430 Zulu (about 07:30 local time) was 19 56 N 112 02 W. We ran only 84 nautical miles in the last 24 hours, but the wind has picked up and we hope to reach or break 100 in the next 24 hours. At our current rate we will likely reach Clarion island sometime early Sunday morning.

Close Encounters of the Cargo Ship Kind

Here we are on our third morning at sea, having survived our second exciting night on the ocean blue. It is no coincidence in my mind that Chris and I had just read the chapter on "Preventing Collisions" in Earl Hinz's "Landafalls of Paradise" when we spied a large cargo ship about 8 miles to port. Hinz cites that we may think we are roaming unfettered on these vast oceans but there are hazards out here too and it is not surprising that boats are reported missing each year. We have to be aware of and cautious when crossing the shipping lanes of major trade routes. It so happened that we were in the direct path of ships coming from the Panama Canal to the Orient or heading north to the USA.

The sun had not yet set so I was pleased that we saw our nemesis or MV Antipolis in the daylight. We quickly switched on the radar and watched it's track. The fickle wind from the southwest was merely 3-4 knots and Ladybug was making little progress at 3.5K average while the mammoth motor vessel was cutting through the water at 20 Knots plus. Not having had a working radar over the last 3 years in Mexico, it is still a new gadget to us and we took out the manual to verify bearings and distances. We altered course to port, so it could pass in front of us at a safe distance.

The ship's angle did not seem to be changing and it was closing in on us fairly rapidly and I was growing anxious. Despite Hinz's note that not many ships monitor their radar or keep reliable watch when far from land, I was hopeful that they had seen us too. To allay my fear, despite Chris's advice, I called "oil tanker, oil tanker at position x, this is the sailing vessel Ladybug at position y " on VHF 16. After a second call and a long delay, I heard a heavily accented voice returning my hail. I asked if they had seen us on radar and he confirmed that they had picked us up at 10 miles and altered their course to port. I thanked them and found out they were heading for Los Angeles. He asked me about our destination and chuckled when I said "The Marquesas, eventually" and we ended on "Bon Voyage". As we looked at Antipolis back-lit by the setting sun, they blew their horn in adieu.

Phew!, I thought, we must have seen our fair share of shipping for this night. Not so. On my watch at 0250 local time, I saw a triangle of lights off our port beam. Through binoculars, I could see a red port light and maybe a green starboard light which meant he was coming straight for us. Our speed was only 3.5K and he seemed very close. On radar he was at 9 miles and a huge target. I did not hesitate in waking up Chris as the last ship only took about 20 minutes to get within a mile of us. We watched and tried to convince ourselves that the angle was changing but his relative bearing on the radar remained the same. I tried hailing on VHF 16 but there was no response. We had no idea if he had seen us on his radar. Should we alter our course or had he already made his move? When he was 2 miles away, we decided to take action. We rolled in the jib and turned on the motor to steer due south. After 10 minutes when we were 3 miles apart, we put up the sails again and watched his track as we headed on the same course but well ahead, no doubt to Japan or China.

So, all that made me wonder how many close calls did Chris have when he fell asleep every night on his solo passage to Hawaii and then Canada. I am glad I did not know of this at the time, otherwise I would have been a nervous wreck!

Our 24 hour position at 1400 Zulu (0730 local )today was North 21 deg 11 mins, West 111 deg 44 mins with 98 miles made good in the last 24 hours. During our second day at sea, the wind was light and variable from northwest to west. We had decent night sailing as it changed to 6-7 Knots from the west. This morning it's frustratingly light again. We tried to fly the spinnaker but the slow 6 foot nw swell prevented it from setting properly, so we are running the iron jenny (engine) for a few hours.

The Pacific Ocean seems justly named.

Day 1 - Slow and Bouncy

Well - we have survived our first 24 hours at sea. Both of us are on board and still on speaking terms!

We left Los Frailes (pos 23 40 N 109 30 W) at 7:30 yesterday (March 20) with a very nice following breeze of 12-18 knots. We polled out the jib and for a few hours ran south in the company of Xe (pronounced Jay but with a soft 'J' almost like Che Guevera). This large aluminum French yacht has twin head sails set on roller furlers and twin poles to hold them out. She started after us but after a couple of hours was abeam moving at about 7 knts to our 5.5 to 6. The wind then died down and the seas began to lump up, running from opposite directions as we neared Cabo San Lucas and the open Pacific. Xe took down her sails and motored off into the hazy distance while we tightened in our sails and continued for a couple of hours at about 3 kts. We saw a full grown humpback whale spy hopping repeatedly and others swimming in the distance. Eventually the wind died down almost completely and we took down the sails and motored into a very rough and confused sea. The motor is running much more smoothly, so it looks like our re-alignment, while not perfect, has fixed the major vibration issue. Our 'new' autopilot, which we assembled from parts of an old broken ST 1000 and another unreliable ST 2000 donated by a friend, was able to handle the confused seas with no issues. It is really nice to have self steering now when the wind dies out (for the last 3 years we have had only wind vane self-steering).

Around supper time, the winds came up from the south west and were able to hoist full sail and beat south again. Position reports on the Pacific Puddle Jump radio net from boats further ahead of us mentioned higher westerly winds, and sure enough as the night wore on the wind began to clock around into the west and then the north west, where it remains now. The seas were very lumpy all night with the boat rolling every few seconds through 20 degrees or so.

We kept 3+ hour watches last night with Rani doing 10-1:20, I did 1:20 to 4:45 and Rani 4:45 to 6:45. Rani is now trying to catch up on lost sleep.

At 7:30 am (24 hours out) our position was 22 03 N 110 25 W (degrees and minutes - 60 minutes in a degree). You can read our previous blog entry for a way to plot our progress on paper if you are interested. We made ran 106 nautical miles in this period with an average speed of about 4.4 knots. We had 5 hours of decent winds over 10 knots, 5 of near calm, 8 of light (5 knots or less) winds, and 6 of slightly less light 6-8 knot winds. Swells have been between 4 and 6 feet.

Following our progress

In all our passage reports we will give lat/long in degrees and minutes. If you would like to follow our progress, you can do what we have done and mark of a sheet of regular blank paper as follows:

Using a ruler or one side of an envelope, draw a grid of lines at 2 cm intervals and starting from the first line left of the top right corner, moving left, label the vertical lines 95, 100, 105, and so on - these are meridians of longitude (West). Each line represented 5 degrees of 'westing'.

Starting at the first line below the top right corner and moving down, label the horizontal lines 25, 20, 15, 10, 5, 0, 5S, 10S, 15S, 20S where S means south of the equator. Now Put an X at a position just below and to the right of the intersection of 25 deg North and 110 deg west. This is our starting position. For reference, Cabo San Lucas at the bottom of the Baja peninsula can be marked about a third of the way down from 25 deg N and just to the left of 110 deg W. Next you can put a mark at our first possible destination - Clarion Island - just to the right of 115 W and just below 20 N. This is an interesting place where we hope to sea sharks, whales, and giant mantas. Finally you can mark our ultimate passage destination at Hiva Oa in the Marquesas at 10 deg South and 138 deg West near the bottom left corner of your paper.

I know that being a computer geek I should have set up some sort of online chart to show our progress, but this is more interactive and a good boy scout or girl guide project - Get your badge in ocean navigation.

We're Off!

Rani tells me we should call this post "Night of Nerves". She had a restless night worrying about the trip - invisible coral reefs, long watches, food running out, sea-sickness, etc. On the positive side, she tells me that despite reading Typee, she did not worry about being eaten once we arrive :)

Yesterday we managed to take down the broken wind indicator, epoxy it back together and put it back up at the mast head despite a rolling anchorage. We were also successful (we think) in re-aligning the engine, which runs much more smoothly now. We rigged new preventer blocks for the main and a fore guy block and line to hold the whisker pole steady as we run downwind.

The wind was up all night but has settled down now around dawn. We are drinking mugs of steaming sweet chai and will leave in a few minutes, taking our departure from sunny Los Frailes at 23 deg 23 mins North, 109 deg 25 mins West.

Spirits of Cerralvo Island

Unlike my better half, I am not normally a superstitious person, but...

We had spent a restful day yesterday in our little anchorage just north of the southeast tip of Cerralvo Island. I scrubbed the propeller and shaft, scraping off barnacles and other growth, hoping this would 'cure' the roughness and vibration we were experiencing at certain RPMs. Rani preserved ginger in alcohol and made a hot lime pickle for the voyage.

We went ashore in the early afternoon and walked the mile of sand beach in both directions. At the south end of the beach we climbed up onto the rocks - uplifted seabed full of fossil shells and corals. There are two light towers at the point - one abandoned to an osprey nest and the other functional. There is also a memorial with a cross and a heart made of stones. Near the osprey's nest we found some worked stone fragments including what could possibly be a quartz arrow head. Magpie Rani added the quartz to her pocketful of shells.

We returned to the boat and after supper an osprey tried to land on the wind indicator at the top of our mast. I stepped into the cockpit just as something fell rapidly in front of me causing me to jump back and curse. Rani thought I had knocked over her racks of drying ginger, but what had happened was that the osprey had broken off the wind indicator vane, which fell into the cockpit, its arrow head breaking off. Later I was able to repair the vane, but restoring it to the top of the mast and replacing the starboard 45 degree indicator, which was also lost, will have to wait for a calm anchorage.

This morning, the wind came up to an unforecasted 25 knots and we awoke around 6 am to a big chop rolling into the anchorage. We started up the engine, but the noise I had thought would go away with cleaning was still there - possibly indicating engine misalignment. As we beat out of the anchorage, the dinghy slipped in its lashings, gouging the hand rails. I lashed it back down. It seems that our luck has left us. Perhaps we offended the spirit of the person who made the quartz arrow head?

And the arrow head? - it rests in the shallow waters off the point where Rani threw it, with a plea to any offended spirits, as we departed.

A rest stop at Cerralvo Island

We finally left La Paz yesterday around 4:30 pm after filling the tanks and spare cans with diesel and water. We dropped the hook in Lobos in the dark after a somewhat tricky entry, dodging fish farm pens near the mouth of the bay. Our final evening amongst society was spent with John from 'Time Piece' and Tom and Jeannie from 'Eagle' playing the dice game, 'Farkle' and chatting. We both won a round of Farkle - a good omen perhaps?

We departed around 8 am this morning under sail with light winds. Tom sounded a horn from Eagle, waking up the bay, and we were off. We made it through the San Lorenzo channel until the wind died completely and a sickening NE swell made motoring the best option. Later, a south east wind came up and we managed to sail for an hour or so in the Cerralvo channel. After much discussion, we opted to anchor off a small sand spit at the south west corner of the island. Tonight we hope to get a good night's sleep and tomorrow will do various tasks that are harder to do underway, such as cleaning the bottom, the propeller, and shaft, and making rotis and curries for the passage.