May 24, 2014
Nuka Hiva
Early morning at anchor, a cup of cappuccino, a baguette with marmalade, sheer green hills shrouded in clouds, roosters crowing. The air is soft, and pleasantly cool One truck heads along the waterfront road. An outrigger canoe zips quietly past, the crew out for an early morning workout. This is the life. We have spent almost a week here. It is easy fall into the slower rhythm of the islands. Stores close from 11:30-2:30 Everything closes on the weekend. There are constant holidays, being French and all. It is difficult to remember what day it is. We sleep late, have a lazy breakfast and get into shore about 11:00, just in time for lunch. There is a outdoor cafe at the dingy dock with free wifi where the cruisers hang out. There are chickens and roosters and baby chicks and cats and dogs underfoot. The roosters are beautiful, colored almost like a pheasant, red and white and brown and black and yellow. The typical lunch is a huge plate of stewed meat, rice and sweet potatoes. The most interesting dish is poisson cru, the polynesian version of cheviche, raw fish and onion drenched with coconut milk.
One of our main reasons for stopping here was to get at least one of the sails repaired. It took all week but It is finally done. We are not the only ones with broken parts. About half of the boats here came limping in with some sort of problem. Everyone is jockeying for the attention of the one factotum who takes care of everything. Kevin is the go to guy for everything. Need to check into the country? Need to have a sail mended? Need to rent a car? Need to get fuel? Need to make a phone call or get parts shipped in from the US? Need info about the local farmers market or grocery stores or what’s happening in town? See Kevin. His store is right on the wharf, next to the cafe. An American cruiser who fell in love with a local girl and never left, he has made himself the go-to guy for all the cruisers.
The weekend we arrive there is a music festival, a perfect introduction to the island. There is such a feeling of peace and good will and security. I suppose the fact that we are on a volcanic island, thousands of miles from the mainland means that they do not have too much trouble from marauding gangs of teenagers. I expect that the community comes down quickly on any problems. The performance is held on what looks like the ruins of an ancient religious site (I find out later from Kevin that it is a recent recreation).. Kids climb on the tikis. The band is on the central platform and everyone sprawls around on the large stones of the walls The music is everything from American jazz to Marquesian nationalistic songs.
Our last night we attend the school dance performance. Very sewed and typical school event. All the proud parents with cameras. The little ones looking like deer in the headlights except for the one little girl who was eating it up. The next grade had it a little bit more together but by the time they were through all of the little girls strapless tops were around their waist. Quality got progressively better as the ages got older. Again a lovely evening and a fitting end to our stay in les isle Marquesas.
We are heading around the corner to another bay where we can walk to the 3rd largest waterfall in the world. Then we will head to the Tuamotos, . We are only expecting to stop a couple of times before we head to Tahiti. Should take about a week. Hope it goes better than it has so far. I am ready for those long easy sails where you just hang out in your bikini and watch the miles go by.
Saturday, May 31, 2014
Thursday, May 29, 2014
Tahuata to Nuka Hiva
May 23
Tahauata to Nuka Hiva
We spend the next day just being lazy and visiting with other boats We seem to do a lot of that. In the afternoon we take a look at our poor tattered main sail. This is the worst of all. It is not a straight tear along a seam like the others but several rips, each about 18” long across the grain right along the reef line. It is going to be very hard to fix. Eventually we decide to reef it down to the second reef point. This leave us with just a small sail but it should be enough. We still have the little jib and the mizzen to work with.
Our next stop in Nuka Hiva, about 100 miles to the north. This time we decide we are going to plan our trip right. We spend several hours with charts and iPad figuring wind direction, course and points of sail. We finally decide that If we leave at 10am tomorrow we should get there about first light the following day.
As usual, it does not go as planned. First of all, we are up and ready to go early. We weigh anchor and head out of this lovely bay. Since we need to charge the batteries, we motor for a couple of hours before putting up the sails but eventually we carefully raise the main. Will it hold or will it tear again? It seems to be holding fine, and we are going much faster than we should be. Time to put the other sails up and turn the engine off. OK, we are going 5+ knots. This is faster than we ever did on the whole passage. We are on a beam reach is is the fastest point of sail but we must have a current or something. There is no way we can go this fast with just this little bit of sail but we do. Alan is having great time. I send him off for a nap in the afternoon so he will be rested for his night shift and then after dinner I turn in to be ready for my midnight watch.
Sometime during the night disaster strikes. We have 2 iPads and a mini that we use for navigation. All of them have the very expensive Life Proof cases so that we can use them in the cockpit without worrying. Alan has one of them in the cockpit tracking our course. Unfortunately he has neglected to be sure that the charging port is closed. A big wave scores a direct hit and it dies. The other iPad is not charged and he never loaded the charts on the mini. I plug the other one into the charger and the rest of the night I hand it to him once an hour so he can check our position and then take it back inside and put it back onto the charger. I am taking no chances with our last navigation resource. If we use this we have to use the handheld GPS and then find our position on the paper chart. This is fine on a long passage but not accurate enough this close to land.
As usual the wind strengthens after dark and we just keep racing along. We take the mizzen down but it does not make much difference. We start to realize that we are once again going to arrive in the middle of the night, way too early. Sure enough, about 2am we find ourselves about 5 miles off on the harbor at Nuka Hiva. DARN. Once again, we need to heave to in the dark and once again it does not quite work. Alan spent part of our time in Tahauata reading up on the theory and techniques of heaving to but once again it does not work quite right. So once again, he goes to sleep and I sit up on watch with the iPad watching us drift north. Luckily we are just east of the island so we probably won’t hit it and we are only drifting about 1 knot but we are getting awfully close. At first light I stick my head out and see a very large and very rocky headlong much too close. I get Alan up, he sets the sails and we head back towards the harbor. Lots of wind and big seas but this time we have no trouble getting in and we are anchored about 10am.
The harbor is filled with boats. This is the largest town and the main check in point for the Marquesas so everyone comes here eventually. We see lots of boats that we know. After our traditional naps we head to shore where we find free internet and the friendliest, most helpful yacht agent ever.
Tahauata to Nuka Hiva
We spend the next day just being lazy and visiting with other boats We seem to do a lot of that. In the afternoon we take a look at our poor tattered main sail. This is the worst of all. It is not a straight tear along a seam like the others but several rips, each about 18” long across the grain right along the reef line. It is going to be very hard to fix. Eventually we decide to reef it down to the second reef point. This leave us with just a small sail but it should be enough. We still have the little jib and the mizzen to work with.
Our next stop in Nuka Hiva, about 100 miles to the north. This time we decide we are going to plan our trip right. We spend several hours with charts and iPad figuring wind direction, course and points of sail. We finally decide that If we leave at 10am tomorrow we should get there about first light the following day.
As usual, it does not go as planned. First of all, we are up and ready to go early. We weigh anchor and head out of this lovely bay. Since we need to charge the batteries, we motor for a couple of hours before putting up the sails but eventually we carefully raise the main. Will it hold or will it tear again? It seems to be holding fine, and we are going much faster than we should be. Time to put the other sails up and turn the engine off. OK, we are going 5+ knots. This is faster than we ever did on the whole passage. We are on a beam reach is is the fastest point of sail but we must have a current or something. There is no way we can go this fast with just this little bit of sail but we do. Alan is having great time. I send him off for a nap in the afternoon so he will be rested for his night shift and then after dinner I turn in to be ready for my midnight watch.
Sometime during the night disaster strikes. We have 2 iPads and a mini that we use for navigation. All of them have the very expensive Life Proof cases so that we can use them in the cockpit without worrying. Alan has one of them in the cockpit tracking our course. Unfortunately he has neglected to be sure that the charging port is closed. A big wave scores a direct hit and it dies. The other iPad is not charged and he never loaded the charts on the mini. I plug the other one into the charger and the rest of the night I hand it to him once an hour so he can check our position and then take it back inside and put it back onto the charger. I am taking no chances with our last navigation resource. If we use this we have to use the handheld GPS and then find our position on the paper chart. This is fine on a long passage but not accurate enough this close to land.
As usual the wind strengthens after dark and we just keep racing along. We take the mizzen down but it does not make much difference. We start to realize that we are once again going to arrive in the middle of the night, way too early. Sure enough, about 2am we find ourselves about 5 miles off on the harbor at Nuka Hiva. DARN. Once again, we need to heave to in the dark and once again it does not quite work. Alan spent part of our time in Tahauata reading up on the theory and techniques of heaving to but once again it does not work quite right. So once again, he goes to sleep and I sit up on watch with the iPad watching us drift north. Luckily we are just east of the island so we probably won’t hit it and we are only drifting about 1 knot but we are getting awfully close. At first light I stick my head out and see a very large and very rocky headlong much too close. I get Alan up, he sets the sails and we head back towards the harbor. Lots of wind and big seas but this time we have no trouble getting in and we are anchored about 10am.
The harbor is filled with boats. This is the largest town and the main check in point for the Marquesas so everyone comes here eventually. We see lots of boats that we know. After our traditional naps we head to shore where we find free internet and the friendliest, most helpful yacht agent ever.
Monday, May 26, 2014
Marquesas, Fata Hiva to Tauhata
May 19, 2014
Fata Hiva to Tahuata
Once again the easy overnight sail did not turn out as we expected. instead of a long slow slog into the wind, we had the perfect sail. We must have been in a current because we fley along at 5-6 knots with a very light wind. It was wonderful but also awful because it put us just off of our destination about 10 pm, rather than 3 am as we had planned. Oh well, we had expected to have to heave to for a few hours, this will just be a little longer. The wind is fairly strong by now but that should not be a problem. Somehow it does not work. The first time we are drifting slowly towards the island whack is only 2 miles away. At1 mph we will be on the shore before we know it. So we turn around and try again. This time we are drifting away from the island towards open ocean so that is OK. Except that the point of being hove to is that the boat should not be moving at all. Alan tries various adjustments and finally decides that this is the best that we can do. He goes to sleep and I settle in the cabin to read and watch the iPad and keep an eye on things. We are drifting. At first it is just one knot but gradually the wind builds and our speed builds until we are doing 2+ That is faster than we often go under sail. We are heading away from Tahuata but also north, into the channel between Tahuata and Hive Oa where the wind and currents are really wild. I finally decide that we should not go any farther and get Alan up.
We set the sails and head back down to the south end of the island where we heave to again. This time we seem to be drifting slower. Same drill, Alan goes to sleep and I stand watch. Once again we drift north, a little slower this time but still too fast. Once again I wake Alan up when we reach the channel. We consider just abandoning Tahuata and going on north to our next destination, but Eric Hiscock said that this was one of the most beautiful anchorages in the South Pacific and Alan does not want to miss it.
It is now 4am and it will be light in an hour so we decide to sail back down south one more time. By then it should be light and we can get in close to shore, out of the wind, and motor north to the anchorage. Getting south is not too much of a problem but getting close shore is. The steep cliff of the island should provide a barrier from the wind but they seem to be acting as a funnel instead. We are trying to go directly into the wind again and it is not dying with the dawn like it is supposed to.
Eventually we get in close enough that there is enough relief that we can turn on the motor and get the sails down. And then another disaster. Just as we are about to bring the main sail down there is a lout POP and the sail rips at the back edge, right at the reef point. We hastily bundle it down so that it does not tear any more. I don’t believe it. 3 sails torn. For what it is worth, this is a much smaller rip and should be fairly easy to fix, once we get somewhere where there is a sail maker, or at least a sewing machine and room to spread out. The problem will be getting to that place without a main sail.
We motor on into Hanamoenoa Bay and drop anchor among about 8 other boats, some old friends and some we have not seen before. It is indeed beautiful with a white sand beach at the head of the bay. The water is crystal clear and filled with fish. Just after we anchor a school of rays show up and play along side of us. Other sailors dingy over to greet us. One of the other boats has a heavy duty sewing machine on board and the captain used to work in a sail loft so we agree to meet in Nuka Hiva to get all these sails patched. As per custom, we have a quick swim and settle down to sleep for the rest of the day. In the afternoon we go ashore and walk along the beach. There is no village here, just one young man who has a shack and some fruit trees. I think we are finally getting close to paradise.
Fata Hiva to Tahuata
Once again the easy overnight sail did not turn out as we expected. instead of a long slow slog into the wind, we had the perfect sail. We must have been in a current because we fley along at 5-6 knots with a very light wind. It was wonderful but also awful because it put us just off of our destination about 10 pm, rather than 3 am as we had planned. Oh well, we had expected to have to heave to for a few hours, this will just be a little longer. The wind is fairly strong by now but that should not be a problem. Somehow it does not work. The first time we are drifting slowly towards the island whack is only 2 miles away. At1 mph we will be on the shore before we know it. So we turn around and try again. This time we are drifting away from the island towards open ocean so that is OK. Except that the point of being hove to is that the boat should not be moving at all. Alan tries various adjustments and finally decides that this is the best that we can do. He goes to sleep and I settle in the cabin to read and watch the iPad and keep an eye on things. We are drifting. At first it is just one knot but gradually the wind builds and our speed builds until we are doing 2+ That is faster than we often go under sail. We are heading away from Tahuata but also north, into the channel between Tahuata and Hive Oa where the wind and currents are really wild. I finally decide that we should not go any farther and get Alan up.
We set the sails and head back down to the south end of the island where we heave to again. This time we seem to be drifting slower. Same drill, Alan goes to sleep and I stand watch. Once again we drift north, a little slower this time but still too fast. Once again I wake Alan up when we reach the channel. We consider just abandoning Tahuata and going on north to our next destination, but Eric Hiscock said that this was one of the most beautiful anchorages in the South Pacific and Alan does not want to miss it.
It is now 4am and it will be light in an hour so we decide to sail back down south one more time. By then it should be light and we can get in close to shore, out of the wind, and motor north to the anchorage. Getting south is not too much of a problem but getting close shore is. The steep cliff of the island should provide a barrier from the wind but they seem to be acting as a funnel instead. We are trying to go directly into the wind again and it is not dying with the dawn like it is supposed to.
Eventually we get in close enough that there is enough relief that we can turn on the motor and get the sails down. And then another disaster. Just as we are about to bring the main sail down there is a lout POP and the sail rips at the back edge, right at the reef point. We hastily bundle it down so that it does not tear any more. I don’t believe it. 3 sails torn. For what it is worth, this is a much smaller rip and should be fairly easy to fix, once we get somewhere where there is a sail maker, or at least a sewing machine and room to spread out. The problem will be getting to that place without a main sail.
We motor on into Hanamoenoa Bay and drop anchor among about 8 other boats, some old friends and some we have not seen before. It is indeed beautiful with a white sand beach at the head of the bay. The water is crystal clear and filled with fish. Just after we anchor a school of rays show up and play along side of us. Other sailors dingy over to greet us. One of the other boats has a heavy duty sewing machine on board and the captain used to work in a sail loft so we agree to meet in Nuka Hiva to get all these sails patched. As per custom, we have a quick swim and settle down to sleep for the rest of the day. In the afternoon we go ashore and walk along the beach. There is no village here, just one young man who has a shack and some fruit trees. I think we are finally getting close to paradise.
May 18, 2014
Fatu Hiva
When Alan went for his quick swim Just after we arrived he came back with a very worried look on his face. Apparently the rudder is in danger of falling off. Not good at anytime and a particular problem here with only a small fishing village ashore. We both have visions of trying to sail all the way to Tahiti without a rudder. Not pretty At least he discovered the problem before the bolts fell off and were lost in the middle of the ocean. With all the heavy weather we have had, I am not too surprised that the rudder is feeling the strain. Since he has been up all night last night he decides to wait until tomorrow to go back into the water and do a through assessment
Next day the wind blows, not just a little but seriously strong wind all day. Still without a wind gage, I am guessing it was 25 knots at least. We are anchored just off of a very steep canyon and the wind howls down the side of the cliffs and across the little bay. So not a good day for working on the rudder. We have 175 feet of anchor chain out and we check every few hours to be sure it is holding. It does just fine. I am really impressed with this anchor. We spend a very peaceful day on board, working on small jobs. I make pan perdu for breakfast with the stale baguettes. He gets the new anchor light wired and hoisted. We go through all of the flashlights and put new batteries in them. Several no longer work and are tossed. He also goes through all of the batteries to see which ones are still good. Keeping everything charged is an ongoing problem. We have 2 small solar battery chargers and a large solar storage battery for charging the computers. Unfortunately the cables are going bad in the salt air.
Next day is much less windy. After breakfast Alan goes overboard to take a good look at the rudder problem. The rudder sits on a series of 4 pins which are held on with 4 bolts. The top two pins have come out and the bolts are loose. The bottom 2 are OK. The rudder needs to be reset back onto the pins and then the bolts need to be tightened. It takes the two of us a couple of hours but we are able to get it all put back together and tightened down. Another plus for the “old school” boat. No tricky cables or electronics just 4 bronze bolts and pins.
Once that is done we head ashore to have a look around. It is just a quiet village along a stream. People are friendly and offer to sell us fruit: pomplemus, bananas, papaya, oranges and limes. Fruit trees are everywhere. Unfortunately, Alan has forgotten to bring any change. He has only 1,000 franc notes in his wallet. However, I have brought along a bag of individually wrapped chocolate squares. They are a pain on board because of all the trash from the wrappers but serve to get us a stalk of bananas and a bag of oranges. Back at the dingy dock a woman from one of the other boats is wheeling and dealing with a group of kids to trade pencils for fruit and bread. The most desired trade item is rum or wine. That is what everyone asks for.
Back on board we spend some time going over the charts and guide books and talking about the wind and plotting a course. We plan on leaving tomorrow to head north to Tahuata where there are supposed to be lovely anchorages with clear water and good snorkeling. It is 40 miles almost directly into the wind, or at least the usual wind. We won’t know until we get out there what the wind is actually doing. It should only take us 10-12 hours but we are giving ourselves plenty of time. If we get there before dawn we can always heave to and wait.
Fatu Hiva
When Alan went for his quick swim Just after we arrived he came back with a very worried look on his face. Apparently the rudder is in danger of falling off. Not good at anytime and a particular problem here with only a small fishing village ashore. We both have visions of trying to sail all the way to Tahiti without a rudder. Not pretty At least he discovered the problem before the bolts fell off and were lost in the middle of the ocean. With all the heavy weather we have had, I am not too surprised that the rudder is feeling the strain. Since he has been up all night last night he decides to wait until tomorrow to go back into the water and do a through assessment
Next day the wind blows, not just a little but seriously strong wind all day. Still without a wind gage, I am guessing it was 25 knots at least. We are anchored just off of a very steep canyon and the wind howls down the side of the cliffs and across the little bay. So not a good day for working on the rudder. We have 175 feet of anchor chain out and we check every few hours to be sure it is holding. It does just fine. I am really impressed with this anchor. We spend a very peaceful day on board, working on small jobs. I make pan perdu for breakfast with the stale baguettes. He gets the new anchor light wired and hoisted. We go through all of the flashlights and put new batteries in them. Several no longer work and are tossed. He also goes through all of the batteries to see which ones are still good. Keeping everything charged is an ongoing problem. We have 2 small solar battery chargers and a large solar storage battery for charging the computers. Unfortunately the cables are going bad in the salt air.
Next day is much less windy. After breakfast Alan goes overboard to take a good look at the rudder problem. The rudder sits on a series of 4 pins which are held on with 4 bolts. The top two pins have come out and the bolts are loose. The bottom 2 are OK. The rudder needs to be reset back onto the pins and then the bolts need to be tightened. It takes the two of us a couple of hours but we are able to get it all put back together and tightened down. Another plus for the “old school” boat. No tricky cables or electronics just 4 bronze bolts and pins.
Once that is done we head ashore to have a look around. It is just a quiet village along a stream. People are friendly and offer to sell us fruit: pomplemus, bananas, papaya, oranges and limes. Fruit trees are everywhere. Unfortunately, Alan has forgotten to bring any change. He has only 1,000 franc notes in his wallet. However, I have brought along a bag of individually wrapped chocolate squares. They are a pain on board because of all the trash from the wrappers but serve to get us a stalk of bananas and a bag of oranges. Back at the dingy dock a woman from one of the other boats is wheeling and dealing with a group of kids to trade pencils for fruit and bread. The most desired trade item is rum or wine. That is what everyone asks for.
Back on board we spend some time going over the charts and guide books and talking about the wind and plotting a course. We plan on leaving tomorrow to head north to Tahuata where there are supposed to be lovely anchorages with clear water and good snorkeling. It is 40 miles almost directly into the wind, or at least the usual wind. We won’t know until we get out there what the wind is actually doing. It should only take us 10-12 hours but we are giving ourselves plenty of time. If we get there before dawn we can always heave to and wait.
Hive Oa to Fatu Hiva.
May 15
Hive Oa to Fatu Hiva.
IT was supposed to be an easy overnight sail from Hiva Oa to Fatu HIva. There is a full moon and it is only 40 miles. Leaving in the evening should put us there at dawn. If we leave in the morning there is a good chance we will not make it before dark. Alan has a long nap in the afternoon and we head out about 4pm. As we leave the little harbor we realize that the wind is blowing hard with white caps everywhere. Now only that but there are big swells and a strong current all going directly against us. It probably would have been smart to ask some other the other boats for a weather report since our system is still not working. We could still turn back but we decided to go on. Chances are it will settle once we get our of the channel between these three islands.
It is 2 hours till sunset and we use all of that time getting the sails up, with me on the tiller trying to keep the boat steady and into the wind and waves while Alan balances on the foredeck hoisting sails. By the time we are done I am feeling very queasy so I grab a seasick patch. It helps a lot but I am still not too chipper and now I am sleepy also. Once everything is set and the motor is off I head below to heat up some dinner for Alan, along with a couple of thermoses of hot tea. The huge swells are tossing the boat from side to side and once again everything that wasn’t ties down is thrown all over. This includes things that had ridden safely from Vallarta to the Marquesas. Apparently we have found a new angle of rolling.
Once I have handed Alan’s dinner out to him and settled things as much as possible, I climb into bed. Unlike most people, my favorite way of getting through the first hours of seasickness is to sleep. If I can lie down and settle into the rhythm of the boat it usually goes away. Not this time however. There is no rhythm, just rocking and rolling from side to side and those moments when we hang at the top of a wave before suddenly dropping, just to climb up again. This is not going to work. Eventually i give up and move out to the cabin. The settee here is lower and more mid-ships and I finally drift off.
Meanwhile, out on deck, Alan is having the time of his life. Dressed in yellow oilskins and a big grin, he is just sailing along under clear skies and a full moon. I wake up and poke my head out about every two hours or so to see if I need to relieve him but he is doing fine. Good, because I am not. Back to bed again, back to sleep. Move very carefully. About 4am, the wind dies way down and Alan decides that he would like a nap, if I am up to steering. We were about 15 miles from the island and moving at about 1-2 knots. He wants to wait until dawn and then motor on in. Unfortunately I am still not feeling great so instead of going below he just stretches out next to the cockpit. Good thing because within 10 minutes I managed to get us completely off course and heading north instead of south. Nonetheless, I struggle on until dawn and he at least gets to rest.
At dawn we can see the island, directly into the wind from our position. We can either sail all day, tacking off to the east and then back to the southwest or just take the sails down and motor from here. Guess which we choose. Alan once more scrambles up to the foredeck while I handle the tiller and we get the sails down. 3 house later we enter into beautiful Hanavave bay. . There are about 15 other boats already anchored in this tiny bay, a number of friends from Puerto Vallarta. as well as ones that we have heard on the radio This is a steep volcanic island. Green cliffs plunge straight down into clear water. It takes some doing to find a spot that isn’t impossibly deep but we finally settled in 10 fathoms (60 feet). After a quick swim and lunch, Alan settles down to sleep for the rest of the day.
Hive Oa to Fatu Hiva.
IT was supposed to be an easy overnight sail from Hiva Oa to Fatu HIva. There is a full moon and it is only 40 miles. Leaving in the evening should put us there at dawn. If we leave in the morning there is a good chance we will not make it before dark. Alan has a long nap in the afternoon and we head out about 4pm. As we leave the little harbor we realize that the wind is blowing hard with white caps everywhere. Now only that but there are big swells and a strong current all going directly against us. It probably would have been smart to ask some other the other boats for a weather report since our system is still not working. We could still turn back but we decided to go on. Chances are it will settle once we get our of the channel between these three islands.
It is 2 hours till sunset and we use all of that time getting the sails up, with me on the tiller trying to keep the boat steady and into the wind and waves while Alan balances on the foredeck hoisting sails. By the time we are done I am feeling very queasy so I grab a seasick patch. It helps a lot but I am still not too chipper and now I am sleepy also. Once everything is set and the motor is off I head below to heat up some dinner for Alan, along with a couple of thermoses of hot tea. The huge swells are tossing the boat from side to side and once again everything that wasn’t ties down is thrown all over. This includes things that had ridden safely from Vallarta to the Marquesas. Apparently we have found a new angle of rolling.
Once I have handed Alan’s dinner out to him and settled things as much as possible, I climb into bed. Unlike most people, my favorite way of getting through the first hours of seasickness is to sleep. If I can lie down and settle into the rhythm of the boat it usually goes away. Not this time however. There is no rhythm, just rocking and rolling from side to side and those moments when we hang at the top of a wave before suddenly dropping, just to climb up again. This is not going to work. Eventually i give up and move out to the cabin. The settee here is lower and more mid-ships and I finally drift off.
Meanwhile, out on deck, Alan is having the time of his life. Dressed in yellow oilskins and a big grin, he is just sailing along under clear skies and a full moon. I wake up and poke my head out about every two hours or so to see if I need to relieve him but he is doing fine. Good, because I am not. Back to bed again, back to sleep. Move very carefully. About 4am, the wind dies way down and Alan decides that he would like a nap, if I am up to steering. We were about 15 miles from the island and moving at about 1-2 knots. He wants to wait until dawn and then motor on in. Unfortunately I am still not feeling great so instead of going below he just stretches out next to the cockpit. Good thing because within 10 minutes I managed to get us completely off course and heading north instead of south. Nonetheless, I struggle on until dawn and he at least gets to rest.
At dawn we can see the island, directly into the wind from our position. We can either sail all day, tacking off to the east and then back to the southwest or just take the sails down and motor from here. Guess which we choose. Alan once more scrambles up to the foredeck while I handle the tiller and we get the sails down. 3 house later we enter into beautiful Hanavave bay. . There are about 15 other boats already anchored in this tiny bay, a number of friends from Puerto Vallarta. as well as ones that we have heard on the radio This is a steep volcanic island. Green cliffs plunge straight down into clear water. It takes some doing to find a spot that isn’t impossibly deep but we finally settled in 10 fathoms (60 feet). After a quick swim and lunch, Alan settles down to sleep for the rest of the day.
Hiva Oa, Marquesas
May 10
Hiva Oa, Marquesas
We slept like a log, both of us at the same time after 5 weeks of never sleeping at the same time. Of course I am up earlier than Alan. I make myself a cup of cappuccino with one of our last remaining matches and try to clean up some of the mess. There is the trash, of course. Not as much as might be expected after 5 weeks. All plastic, bagged and squished, it fills an old pillowcase. Laundry fills another pillowcase. The torn jib sail still fills half of the cabin. Hopefully we can find someone with a sewing machine here today and get it fixed.
There is a knock on the hull and a voice saying “Ahoy Rhapsody” One of the other sailors has brought fresh baguette! Perfect timing. It is just 8:30 local time. I make a fresh pot of coffee just as Alan wakes up.One of the things that we really missed in Mexico was good bread. Somehow they just could not get it right. So it is a real treat to have good, fresh bread again.
A lazy breakfast Find clean clothes that fit. Alan has lost weight again. He is down to 175 lbs. Most of his pants just fall off unless cinched in tight with a belt. Open and launch the dingy. Round up the paperwork we will need to check in with the French authorities. Finally we are ready. We have been told that the bond agent will meet us at the dock and drive us into town to the gendarmerie where we will be officially stamped into the country. Once we are done, we will hit the ATM and the market and explore the town and find out where we can use the internet. . Except that, when we reach shore we discover that the “office” is only open 9-11, Mon - Fri. It is not 11:30 on Sat. There are a bunch of locals sitting on the porch, hanging out, but no one official around. Eventually we decide that we might as well walk into town and see what is there. It is a couple of miles along the cliff road and both of us have wiry stiff muscles. I guess the long night’s sleep gave them the chance to stiffen up. Luckily, we have not been walking more than a few minutes when a jeep pulls up and offers us a ride to the edge of town.
As we enter the town, we discover that there is a free community lunch just about to start. I think this must be the high school gym and the whole town seems to be here. Many of the women wear beautiful floral crowns. There is music and a speech in french and marquesian. Long rows of tables filled with enormous pots of food. Kids race around, as kids always do. We see people from several of the other boats also. There is rice, barbecued pork, crabs, raw fish in coconut milk, several varieties of stew and a number of things that I have no idea what they are. An hour later we are stuffed. When we realize that most people are packing to-go plates, we do the same. It is Saturday afternoon and all the stores seem to be closed. People are friendly and helpful but no one seem particularly interested in who we are or where we are from. I suppose they must see a lot of cruisers.
We collect our gear and set out to see the town. 5 minutes later Alan realizers that he has forgotten his hat. He returns to the gym and it is no where to be seen. No one at the table knows anything and no one seems interested in helping him look. I check back again later in the day as we are heading back, with the same result. This is his Tilly hat, the only one that stays on when the wind blows and he needs it to keep the sun off. Makes us a little bit less enamored of Atuona for this to happen.
We wander around the town for a while. Actually more of a village than a town and then head back to the boat. Once again we get a lift. Back at the boat, we sleep. read, have dinner and sleep some more. Tomorrow we need to move the boat. When we looked down from the road on our walk back, we realized that we are anchored right where the supply boat will come in. We don’t know it’s schedule but need to be out of the way So when we get back to the achorage we haul up both anchors and move to a clear spot. A number of the boats that were here have left so there is more room now.
May 13, 2014 Wed.Hiva Oa
We finally get checked in with the Gendarmerie. The process is smooth and painless and takes about 1/2 hour. Latitude 38 has contracted with a bond agent to ease the entry process for cruisers that register through their website. and shed takes us into town and makes sure all of the paperwork is in order. Otherwise it is necessary to deposit a bond with a local bank equivalent to the price of a ticket home for each crew member. The French do not want any starving students or castaway sailors being stranded in their paradise. Can’t say that I blame them. One we are checked in we spend most of the day just wandering around the town.
The predominate impression is of quiet prosperity. Lovely homes on the forested hills. New cars and trucks whizzing along the coast road. No litter, no graffiti. According to the guide books most people either work for the government or in agriculture. There are a few small stores including 3 grocery stores featuring mostly canned goods. Prices are high. Eggs are $4/dozen, a can of tuna $2. There are large freezers full of frozen meat, much of it from New Zealand. The strict immigration policy means that everyone here belongs and has a home and a job. People we see seem happy, relaxed and not the least interested in American cruisers.
Hiva Oa, Marquesas
We slept like a log, both of us at the same time after 5 weeks of never sleeping at the same time. Of course I am up earlier than Alan. I make myself a cup of cappuccino with one of our last remaining matches and try to clean up some of the mess. There is the trash, of course. Not as much as might be expected after 5 weeks. All plastic, bagged and squished, it fills an old pillowcase. Laundry fills another pillowcase. The torn jib sail still fills half of the cabin. Hopefully we can find someone with a sewing machine here today and get it fixed.
There is a knock on the hull and a voice saying “Ahoy Rhapsody” One of the other sailors has brought fresh baguette! Perfect timing. It is just 8:30 local time. I make a fresh pot of coffee just as Alan wakes up.One of the things that we really missed in Mexico was good bread. Somehow they just could not get it right. So it is a real treat to have good, fresh bread again.
A lazy breakfast Find clean clothes that fit. Alan has lost weight again. He is down to 175 lbs. Most of his pants just fall off unless cinched in tight with a belt. Open and launch the dingy. Round up the paperwork we will need to check in with the French authorities. Finally we are ready. We have been told that the bond agent will meet us at the dock and drive us into town to the gendarmerie where we will be officially stamped into the country. Once we are done, we will hit the ATM and the market and explore the town and find out where we can use the internet. . Except that, when we reach shore we discover that the “office” is only open 9-11, Mon - Fri. It is not 11:30 on Sat. There are a bunch of locals sitting on the porch, hanging out, but no one official around. Eventually we decide that we might as well walk into town and see what is there. It is a couple of miles along the cliff road and both of us have wiry stiff muscles. I guess the long night’s sleep gave them the chance to stiffen up. Luckily, we have not been walking more than a few minutes when a jeep pulls up and offers us a ride to the edge of town.
As we enter the town, we discover that there is a free community lunch just about to start. I think this must be the high school gym and the whole town seems to be here. Many of the women wear beautiful floral crowns. There is music and a speech in french and marquesian. Long rows of tables filled with enormous pots of food. Kids race around, as kids always do. We see people from several of the other boats also. There is rice, barbecued pork, crabs, raw fish in coconut milk, several varieties of stew and a number of things that I have no idea what they are. An hour later we are stuffed. When we realize that most people are packing to-go plates, we do the same. It is Saturday afternoon and all the stores seem to be closed. People are friendly and helpful but no one seem particularly interested in who we are or where we are from. I suppose they must see a lot of cruisers.
We collect our gear and set out to see the town. 5 minutes later Alan realizers that he has forgotten his hat. He returns to the gym and it is no where to be seen. No one at the table knows anything and no one seems interested in helping him look. I check back again later in the day as we are heading back, with the same result. This is his Tilly hat, the only one that stays on when the wind blows and he needs it to keep the sun off. Makes us a little bit less enamored of Atuona for this to happen.
We wander around the town for a while. Actually more of a village than a town and then head back to the boat. Once again we get a lift. Back at the boat, we sleep. read, have dinner and sleep some more. Tomorrow we need to move the boat. When we looked down from the road on our walk back, we realized that we are anchored right where the supply boat will come in. We don’t know it’s schedule but need to be out of the way So when we get back to the achorage we haul up both anchors and move to a clear spot. A number of the boats that were here have left so there is more room now.
May 13, 2014 Wed.Hiva Oa
We finally get checked in with the Gendarmerie. The process is smooth and painless and takes about 1/2 hour. Latitude 38 has contracted with a bond agent to ease the entry process for cruisers that register through their website. and shed takes us into town and makes sure all of the paperwork is in order. Otherwise it is necessary to deposit a bond with a local bank equivalent to the price of a ticket home for each crew member. The French do not want any starving students or castaway sailors being stranded in their paradise. Can’t say that I blame them. One we are checked in we spend most of the day just wandering around the town.
The predominate impression is of quiet prosperity. Lovely homes on the forested hills. New cars and trucks whizzing along the coast road. No litter, no graffiti. According to the guide books most people either work for the government or in agriculture. There are a few small stores including 3 grocery stores featuring mostly canned goods. Prices are high. Eggs are $4/dozen, a can of tuna $2. There are large freezers full of frozen meat, much of it from New Zealand. The strict immigration policy means that everyone here belongs and has a home and a job. People we see seem happy, relaxed and not the least interested in American cruisers.
Wed, May 7
Arrival
Less than 100 miles. According to my calendar, this is the day that I had predicted we would arrive but we still have 100 miles to go. As the other boats have made landfall they have stopped checking into our nightly Pacific Puddle Jump radio net. There are just a handful of us left out here. I took over as net control a few nights ago when there was not one else. First thing I did was to lighten it up. It had been very formal and serious; position, course, speed and weather info. Under my brief tenure it was all about how are the kids, what did you do for the equator crossing, what’s going on on board, where is there good internet ashore? Much more fun, the girls net. Now it is my turn to hand it off to someone else. The problem is that once we make landfall the time changes and the net is at 4:30 in the afternoon instead of 7pm. I really miss hearing from everyone. Occasionally others check in and we hear reports from the Tuamotos and Tahiti as well as the Marquesas
It is a lovely clear day with an easy wind. Alan decides that it is time to get out his new mizzen staysail. It is supposed to be good for just these conditions. We spend about an hour getting it up and set and then decide that it is not doing any good and take it down again. We are off track again so we try the other tack but that takes is too far north so it is a frustrating day. So close. And then, as the sun sets, we realize that clouds on the horizon are not clouds, Land Ho!! There it is finally! 60 miles away but we can definitely see 3 masses that are islands, not clouds. Now we just have to figure out how to get there, given that it is just about to get dark.
After checking the iPad and the wind direction, we decide that we are going to have to sail past it and the come back up in the morning. It is a long night. for the first time is 5 weeks, there are hard things to run into even though they are still quite a ways away. At one point I decide that we should change course and get Alan up to ask him. He is so groggy that he agrees with me when he should not. We get the sails changed and then realize that this course is even worse than the other one, so we tack back again. At first light I cannot see the islands. Little by little the light grows and there it is! Still 30 miles away, straight to windward. Eventually Alan gets up and brings coffee out to the cockpit and we discuss strategy. We want to get in while there is still plenty of daylight. We could use the sails and go way past ant then come back. That would probably take us another day. We were not in a hurry before but now that we can see it, we want to be there. We decide to turn on the motor. We still have plenty of fuel since we only used the engine a few days.
Hiva Oa, green and rugged and beautiful. They say you can smell land when you get close but we never did. I clean the cabin as best I can. I round up all of the wet, dirty, salty clothes and put on clean sheets in anticipation of laundry service when we arrive We dump and clean the composting head. I have a shower. It is good that we turned on the engine because there is a very strong current between the islands here and we fight for every mile. And eventually we arrive late in the afternoon. It is a small bay and full of boats, everyone with a stern anchor. Eventually we find a spot to anchor and one of the other boats comes along side in his dingy and takes our stern anchor out and drops it for us.
After 37 days, here we are in the South Pacific. We open our last bottle of champagne and a jar of peanuts and relax on the foredesk. Other boars that we met in Mexico and have been in contact with on the radio stop by to say Hi. Dinner tonight is pasta with mushrooms and cheese and a bottle of two buck chuck. We will deal with all of the official paperwork in the morning
Arrival
Less than 100 miles. According to my calendar, this is the day that I had predicted we would arrive but we still have 100 miles to go. As the other boats have made landfall they have stopped checking into our nightly Pacific Puddle Jump radio net. There are just a handful of us left out here. I took over as net control a few nights ago when there was not one else. First thing I did was to lighten it up. It had been very formal and serious; position, course, speed and weather info. Under my brief tenure it was all about how are the kids, what did you do for the equator crossing, what’s going on on board, where is there good internet ashore? Much more fun, the girls net. Now it is my turn to hand it off to someone else. The problem is that once we make landfall the time changes and the net is at 4:30 in the afternoon instead of 7pm. I really miss hearing from everyone. Occasionally others check in and we hear reports from the Tuamotos and Tahiti as well as the Marquesas
It is a lovely clear day with an easy wind. Alan decides that it is time to get out his new mizzen staysail. It is supposed to be good for just these conditions. We spend about an hour getting it up and set and then decide that it is not doing any good and take it down again. We are off track again so we try the other tack but that takes is too far north so it is a frustrating day. So close. And then, as the sun sets, we realize that clouds on the horizon are not clouds, Land Ho!! There it is finally! 60 miles away but we can definitely see 3 masses that are islands, not clouds. Now we just have to figure out how to get there, given that it is just about to get dark.
After checking the iPad and the wind direction, we decide that we are going to have to sail past it and the come back up in the morning. It is a long night. for the first time is 5 weeks, there are hard things to run into even though they are still quite a ways away. At one point I decide that we should change course and get Alan up to ask him. He is so groggy that he agrees with me when he should not. We get the sails changed and then realize that this course is even worse than the other one, so we tack back again. At first light I cannot see the islands. Little by little the light grows and there it is! Still 30 miles away, straight to windward. Eventually Alan gets up and brings coffee out to the cockpit and we discuss strategy. We want to get in while there is still plenty of daylight. We could use the sails and go way past ant then come back. That would probably take us another day. We were not in a hurry before but now that we can see it, we want to be there. We decide to turn on the motor. We still have plenty of fuel since we only used the engine a few days.
Hiva Oa, green and rugged and beautiful. They say you can smell land when you get close but we never did. I clean the cabin as best I can. I round up all of the wet, dirty, salty clothes and put on clean sheets in anticipation of laundry service when we arrive We dump and clean the composting head. I have a shower. It is good that we turned on the engine because there is a very strong current between the islands here and we fight for every mile. And eventually we arrive late in the afternoon. It is a small bay and full of boats, everyone with a stern anchor. Eventually we find a spot to anchor and one of the other boats comes along side in his dingy and takes our stern anchor out and drops it for us.
After 37 days, here we are in the South Pacific. We open our last bottle of champagne and a jar of peanuts and relax on the foredesk. Other boars that we met in Mexico and have been in contact with on the radio stop by to say Hi. Dinner tonight is pasta with mushrooms and cheese and a bottle of two buck chuck. We will deal with all of the official paperwork in the morning
Saturday, May 24, 2014
May 1, 2014
We are getting close. After so long we are finally less than 500 mils to go. We could be there in a week. It turns out that I had predicted we would arrive on Wed, May 6 after a trip of 5 weeks. I can’t believe I called it so close based on nothing. Of course now everything seems tog go wrong. The wind refuses to cooperate. There is always too much or too little and not quite from the right direction. When we set a starboard tack for the south east it is just a little too far east and when we try the other tack we end up going northwest rather than south west. Either tack we are so close to the wind that we have to watch the main sail like a hawk to be sure not to jibe. Off duty sleep is broken by loud crashes as the person on watch dozes off for just a minute and Rhapsody’s mainsail flips to the other side. It is becoming increasingly difficult to stay awake on watch. The schedule is shot all to heck as each of us tries to give the other one a few extra hours of sleep. One extraordinarily loud crash bounces me out of a sons sleep and onto deck to find alan has really fallen asleep and with the wind blowing so hard, has not only jibed but ripped the preventer right out of the pulley. In the morning we discover that the metal is twisted and broken and half of the pulley is missing. The rope is also too frayed to use any more so from now on when we change course we need to re-rig our one remaining line. Luckily we are mostly on the same tack.
We have discovered that the compass light is actually hypnotizing us. There is a little solar light on the mast just above the compass that comes on at dusk and stays on until dawn and gives just enough light to read the compass. We hadn’t realized before that it also creates a tiny spot of reflected light just on the top of the compass glass. As the boat sails along the compass card swings slowly back and forth with the little dot of light following. Sleepy, you are getting very sleepy, mot to mention that we are already very sleepy. Within a few minutes, BAM, we nod off and the sail jibes. We had not noticed the problem before because we had not been watching the compass so closely. We had been looking at the stars, the clouds, the sails and only glancing at the compass occasionally to check that we were on course. Now we are staring at the compass fixedly, watching for that moment that we need to correct the course to prevent the crash. Well, at least we know about the problem now.
Little by little we trek along south, trying different combinations of sails, watching the clouds build in the south and pass by. On Tues, May 6, day 35 for anyone who is keeping track, the weather pattern changes. The dark clouds of the night before do not clear in the morning as usual, instead they darken and the wind builds. and then a really wild storm hits. I have Fred steering but i am standing by for the moment he is overwhelmed. After half an hour of howling wind I call Alan to be on standby too. It takes both of us to hang onto the tiller. 3 hours later it finally blows itself out. By mid afternoon it finally clears and from then on there is not a cloud in the sky.
We are getting close. After so long we are finally less than 500 mils to go. We could be there in a week. It turns out that I had predicted we would arrive on Wed, May 6 after a trip of 5 weeks. I can’t believe I called it so close based on nothing. Of course now everything seems tog go wrong. The wind refuses to cooperate. There is always too much or too little and not quite from the right direction. When we set a starboard tack for the south east it is just a little too far east and when we try the other tack we end up going northwest rather than south west. Either tack we are so close to the wind that we have to watch the main sail like a hawk to be sure not to jibe. Off duty sleep is broken by loud crashes as the person on watch dozes off for just a minute and Rhapsody’s mainsail flips to the other side. It is becoming increasingly difficult to stay awake on watch. The schedule is shot all to heck as each of us tries to give the other one a few extra hours of sleep. One extraordinarily loud crash bounces me out of a sons sleep and onto deck to find alan has really fallen asleep and with the wind blowing so hard, has not only jibed but ripped the preventer right out of the pulley. In the morning we discover that the metal is twisted and broken and half of the pulley is missing. The rope is also too frayed to use any more so from now on when we change course we need to re-rig our one remaining line. Luckily we are mostly on the same tack.
We have discovered that the compass light is actually hypnotizing us. There is a little solar light on the mast just above the compass that comes on at dusk and stays on until dawn and gives just enough light to read the compass. We hadn’t realized before that it also creates a tiny spot of reflected light just on the top of the compass glass. As the boat sails along the compass card swings slowly back and forth with the little dot of light following. Sleepy, you are getting very sleepy, mot to mention that we are already very sleepy. Within a few minutes, BAM, we nod off and the sail jibes. We had not noticed the problem before because we had not been watching the compass so closely. We had been looking at the stars, the clouds, the sails and only glancing at the compass occasionally to check that we were on course. Now we are staring at the compass fixedly, watching for that moment that we need to correct the course to prevent the crash. Well, at least we know about the problem now.
Little by little we trek along south, trying different combinations of sails, watching the clouds build in the south and pass by. On Tues, May 6, day 35 for anyone who is keeping track, the weather pattern changes. The dark clouds of the night before do not clear in the morning as usual, instead they darken and the wind builds. and then a really wild storm hits. I have Fred steering but i am standing by for the moment he is overwhelmed. After half an hour of howling wind I call Alan to be on standby too. It takes both of us to hang onto the tiller. 3 hours later it finally blows itself out. By mid afternoon it finally clears and from then on there is not a cloud in the sky.
April 30, 2014
Trade Winds
We have passed the 2,000 mile mark. Finally we have reached the southern trade winds. This is how it was supposed to be all along. Nice steady wind from the south east. Fairly calm seas. Mostly clear skies. The only problem is that we cannot quite hold the course we need. We are paying for staying so far east to cross the ITCZ. No matter what, we are going to miss Hive Oa. We will have to tack back when we get close.
Now that things are a little calmer I decide to see if I can get patch the jib. It is just a straight tear. It should be possible to run sail tape over it and sew on a strip of sail cloth. I have extra fabric and needles and thread and a palm. I should be able to do it, but I just can’t. For one thing there is not room in the cabin to lay it our straight. I have it piled on the table and pull it into my lap to work on little bits at a time. Of course it does not go straight. The cloth is much stronger than it looks and very difficult to get a needle through. My big needles are blunt for some reason and the sharp needles bend after about 1/2 hour. I struggle with it an hour at a time because I know it would make our voyage easier if we could use it but it just is not working. The sail tape does not stick and when I try to sew through it, the needle gets all sticky. So I pull it all off and cut a long strip of fabric to make a patch. After several days I have managed to sew one side all the way across. Unfortunately it really should have a patch on both sides to hold it. When I start stitching the other side I can no longer get the needle through without using pliers. I think wistfully of the sewing machine that I did not buy because there was no room to stow it. But There is also no room to set it up and use it and not enough power to run it anyway.
Now the cabin is full of sail, along with piles of wet clothes and all of the unfinished projects. We have given up even trying to pick things up and just toss everything into the pile. There is a path to the bed and one spot big enough to sit on the couch and enough room on the table for one plate.
Finally there comes a day when we are both to tired to say awake all night. We try one hour shifts but that is even worse. Eventually we give it up, heave to and go to bed. Alan sleeps until noon the next day. I decide that realistically I am not going to be able to fix this sail underway. We stuff it back into it’s bag and cram it into the corner between the couch and the table. At least it is mostly out of the way. Usually it stays hanked onto the forestay. There is not room for it in the sail locker. We spend several hours getting things picked up and put away and get underway again about 2 in the afternoon. Only a few more days, a few hundred miles to go. We can do it.
Trade Winds
We have passed the 2,000 mile mark. Finally we have reached the southern trade winds. This is how it was supposed to be all along. Nice steady wind from the south east. Fairly calm seas. Mostly clear skies. The only problem is that we cannot quite hold the course we need. We are paying for staying so far east to cross the ITCZ. No matter what, we are going to miss Hive Oa. We will have to tack back when we get close.
Now that things are a little calmer I decide to see if I can get patch the jib. It is just a straight tear. It should be possible to run sail tape over it and sew on a strip of sail cloth. I have extra fabric and needles and thread and a palm. I should be able to do it, but I just can’t. For one thing there is not room in the cabin to lay it our straight. I have it piled on the table and pull it into my lap to work on little bits at a time. Of course it does not go straight. The cloth is much stronger than it looks and very difficult to get a needle through. My big needles are blunt for some reason and the sharp needles bend after about 1/2 hour. I struggle with it an hour at a time because I know it would make our voyage easier if we could use it but it just is not working. The sail tape does not stick and when I try to sew through it, the needle gets all sticky. So I pull it all off and cut a long strip of fabric to make a patch. After several days I have managed to sew one side all the way across. Unfortunately it really should have a patch on both sides to hold it. When I start stitching the other side I can no longer get the needle through without using pliers. I think wistfully of the sewing machine that I did not buy because there was no room to stow it. But There is also no room to set it up and use it and not enough power to run it anyway.
Now the cabin is full of sail, along with piles of wet clothes and all of the unfinished projects. We have given up even trying to pick things up and just toss everything into the pile. There is a path to the bed and one spot big enough to sit on the couch and enough room on the table for one plate.
Finally there comes a day when we are both to tired to say awake all night. We try one hour shifts but that is even worse. Eventually we give it up, heave to and go to bed. Alan sleeps until noon the next day. I decide that realistically I am not going to be able to fix this sail underway. We stuff it back into it’s bag and cram it into the corner between the couch and the table. At least it is mostly out of the way. Usually it stays hanked onto the forestay. There is not room for it in the sail locker. We spend several hours getting things picked up and put away and get underway again about 2 in the afternoon. Only a few more days, a few hundred miles to go. We can do it.
April 28, 2014
equator crossing
11:45
We did it. We finally made it to the equator. We have both crossed the equator before but not on a boat so it is a big deal. Although really, how can we tell except for the numbers clicking down on the computer? Where is the yellow line that they always put on the football field? We talked to one of the other boats with kids on board. They crossed in the night but the kids said that since it was all just water so what was the point in waking up in the middle of the night? Anyway, we break out the champagne and drink a toast and say a prayer for continued good weather. I had brought along 2 ornate goblets that we bought when we were first married. They have lost all of their silver plating and really are not safe to use any more. It would cost more than they are worth to have then resilvered so over they go, our offering to Neptune and Aeolius. I find myself thinking that it would be fascinating to do a deep sea surgery of the equator and catalogue everything that has been tossed over all of these years. We also shared a plate of brownies that I made yesterday and then we just kept on going.
For some reason, I had expected the southern trade winds to start as soon as we crossed the equator. That is what it looks like in those pictures in all of those books about weather that I have read. Instead over the next several days we get 3 more huge squalls, the strongest yet. I sweat the wind is up to 30+ nots, although with out a wind gage how can we know. I am starting to get very frustrated with all the things that don’t work. Anyway, we are finally getting closer.
equator crossing
11:45
We did it. We finally made it to the equator. We have both crossed the equator before but not on a boat so it is a big deal. Although really, how can we tell except for the numbers clicking down on the computer? Where is the yellow line that they always put on the football field? We talked to one of the other boats with kids on board. They crossed in the night but the kids said that since it was all just water so what was the point in waking up in the middle of the night? Anyway, we break out the champagne and drink a toast and say a prayer for continued good weather. I had brought along 2 ornate goblets that we bought when we were first married. They have lost all of their silver plating and really are not safe to use any more. It would cost more than they are worth to have then resilvered so over they go, our offering to Neptune and Aeolius. I find myself thinking that it would be fascinating to do a deep sea surgery of the equator and catalogue everything that has been tossed over all of these years. We also shared a plate of brownies that I made yesterday and then we just kept on going.
For some reason, I had expected the southern trade winds to start as soon as we crossed the equator. That is what it looks like in those pictures in all of those books about weather that I have read. Instead over the next several days we get 3 more huge squalls, the strongest yet. I sweat the wind is up to 30+ nots, although with out a wind gage how can we know. I am starting to get very frustrated with all the things that don’t work. Anyway, we are finally getting closer.
April 26, 2014
Tired
Day after day. I thought we would have crossed the equator by now but we are just inching along. I am getting really tired. We both are. I discover part of a bottle of electrolytes left over from when Alan was sick and drink the rest of the bottle. It seems to help. After that I keep a bottle of water mixed with gatoraide in the cockpit. Alan drinks 2 pots of coffee a day and still sleeps. I don’t know how he does it. I do not like the taste of the coffee much any more, it tastes really bitter. I have a stash of energy drinks and caffeine pills to help me get through the long night watch. When Alan shows up with coffee and oatmeal in the morning I am ready to just fall into bed. However, we usually have to reset the sails before I can rest, adding another hour at least to my watch. The record was 12 hours with just 2 short potty breaks. I keep hoping that he will get caught up on his sleep but it does not seem to be happening. If I get him up early to relieve me he just falls asleep at the helm and I have to take over again. One nice thing is that I do not have to pay too much attention to our surroundings. There is no land to run into for hundreds of miles, actually thousands. We have not seen another boat for 2 weeks and are well out of the shipping lanes.
I listen to music until my phone dies. Now it will not charge. There is an iPod but I have trouble getting it to work while gripping the tiller with both hands and it does not have a waterproof case. I had planned to listen to French language lessons but it is on the inside radio. One of the unfinished projects is the on-deck speaker for the cabin sound system. I play endless games of solitaire on the iPad until I use up the battery. I read some but that uses up more battery. Our solar battery that we bought to charge all our computers has stopped working. Alan thinks it is because it got wet and a cable is corroded. You would think a solar system wold be waterproof. The priority of charging is the 2 iPads which have the navigation program. We run the generator every 3 days to run the water maker. It needs to be run every few days to keep the filters clean, regardless of whether we need water so while it is on we can also charge things. We run the engine every week or so for the same reason, to keep the batteries charged and just to be sure it is still working OK.
One more frustration, the light in the galley quit working the day we left. This means that I have to rely on our little solar reading lights when it is time to cook dinner. If they did not get put out to charge during the day then I am reduced to using a flashlight to find what I need and cooking in the dim light of the overhead cabin light. I have put a little stick-on battery light over the stove but of course the batteries are dead and we are running low on batteries. We have a supply of rechargeables but again we need to remember to put them into the solar chargers and put them out into the sun light to charge. One interesting face, since we are so close to the equator we get 12 hours of light and 12 hours of dark. I had not realized how much I expect it to stay light until 7 or a pm when the weather is warm. This means I am always cooking dinner after dark. 6 pm, the sun goes down and it is dark, 6 am the sun is up.
Tired
Day after day. I thought we would have crossed the equator by now but we are just inching along. I am getting really tired. We both are. I discover part of a bottle of electrolytes left over from when Alan was sick and drink the rest of the bottle. It seems to help. After that I keep a bottle of water mixed with gatoraide in the cockpit. Alan drinks 2 pots of coffee a day and still sleeps. I don’t know how he does it. I do not like the taste of the coffee much any more, it tastes really bitter. I have a stash of energy drinks and caffeine pills to help me get through the long night watch. When Alan shows up with coffee and oatmeal in the morning I am ready to just fall into bed. However, we usually have to reset the sails before I can rest, adding another hour at least to my watch. The record was 12 hours with just 2 short potty breaks. I keep hoping that he will get caught up on his sleep but it does not seem to be happening. If I get him up early to relieve me he just falls asleep at the helm and I have to take over again. One nice thing is that I do not have to pay too much attention to our surroundings. There is no land to run into for hundreds of miles, actually thousands. We have not seen another boat for 2 weeks and are well out of the shipping lanes.
I listen to music until my phone dies. Now it will not charge. There is an iPod but I have trouble getting it to work while gripping the tiller with both hands and it does not have a waterproof case. I had planned to listen to French language lessons but it is on the inside radio. One of the unfinished projects is the on-deck speaker for the cabin sound system. I play endless games of solitaire on the iPad until I use up the battery. I read some but that uses up more battery. Our solar battery that we bought to charge all our computers has stopped working. Alan thinks it is because it got wet and a cable is corroded. You would think a solar system wold be waterproof. The priority of charging is the 2 iPads which have the navigation program. We run the generator every 3 days to run the water maker. It needs to be run every few days to keep the filters clean, regardless of whether we need water so while it is on we can also charge things. We run the engine every week or so for the same reason, to keep the batteries charged and just to be sure it is still working OK.
One more frustration, the light in the galley quit working the day we left. This means that I have to rely on our little solar reading lights when it is time to cook dinner. If they did not get put out to charge during the day then I am reduced to using a flashlight to find what I need and cooking in the dim light of the overhead cabin light. I have put a little stick-on battery light over the stove but of course the batteries are dead and we are running low on batteries. We have a supply of rechargeables but again we need to remember to put them into the solar chargers and put them out into the sun light to charge. One interesting face, since we are so close to the equator we get 12 hours of light and 12 hours of dark. I had not realized how much I expect it to stay light until 7 or a pm when the weather is warm. This means I am always cooking dinner after dark. 6 pm, the sun goes down and it is dark, 6 am the sun is up.
April 18, 2014
heading South
There are two bands of westerly trade winds blowing across the Pacific, one north of the equator and one south of it. In between, about 10 degrees north, is what used to be calIed the doldrums and in now called the ITCZ or inter-tropical convergence zone. This is an area of alternating squalls and doldrums. We have been on a south west heading but as we listen to the evening reports from other boats ahead of us it sounds like they are having a horrible time. The further west they are the worse it seems to be, so we decide to forget the west and just go straight south. We are at about longitude 119 and that seems like a good place to make it across. We keep to that heading for the next week, going a little east but mostly south.
Little by little I am gaining confidence keeping the helm through heavier and heavier wind. Just hang on and keep going. Brace the feet, tighten the abs. I have calluses on my hands now from gripping the tiller so hard and my backside is covered with rashes and blisters from sitting in puddles of saltwater and sliding along on the non-skid deck hour after hour. The cockpit cushions are completely soaked and there is not enough time between squalls for them to dry out. I have discovered that I have a wonderful raincoat that I had forgotten about. The fabric almost looks and feels like paper but it is completely waterproof, even in the face of a direct hit by a wave. Best of all, the fabric is soft and breathable, warm but not bulky. It is not hard plastic like most waterproof jackets and the water seems to just run right off so that when I take it off it is already dry and I can put it in the closet. The brand is “Frog Toggs” and I think I found it at Walmart. If I ever get back to civilization I am going to see if I can find matching overalls.
We are not seeing very many birds or dolphins any more. On April 23, about latitude 04N we suddenly have a west wind for several hours and then we are in the doldrums for 3 days. We do the best we can with the sails we have but eventually we just turn on the engine. We had planned on this and have enough fuel to get us through. We get out Fred the auto pilot and finally have a day or 2 to relax and get some sleep. I take a hot shower and do some laundry. Of course being old school, Rhapsody does not have a built in shower but I have a portable solar shower that works great. Heats up isn the sun in about 2 hours and has plenty of water for a good scrub with enough left over for Alan.
Once through the doldrums, it is back to squalls again with spectacular rainbows. Some pour down from the clouds like waterfalls of light. Some arch over the entire sky. Many are double or even triple. It is beautiful out here, and peaceful and timeless. We don’t think about how long it has been or how much longer it will be. It is just time passing.
heading South
There are two bands of westerly trade winds blowing across the Pacific, one north of the equator and one south of it. In between, about 10 degrees north, is what used to be calIed the doldrums and in now called the ITCZ or inter-tropical convergence zone. This is an area of alternating squalls and doldrums. We have been on a south west heading but as we listen to the evening reports from other boats ahead of us it sounds like they are having a horrible time. The further west they are the worse it seems to be, so we decide to forget the west and just go straight south. We are at about longitude 119 and that seems like a good place to make it across. We keep to that heading for the next week, going a little east but mostly south.
Little by little I am gaining confidence keeping the helm through heavier and heavier wind. Just hang on and keep going. Brace the feet, tighten the abs. I have calluses on my hands now from gripping the tiller so hard and my backside is covered with rashes and blisters from sitting in puddles of saltwater and sliding along on the non-skid deck hour after hour. The cockpit cushions are completely soaked and there is not enough time between squalls for them to dry out. I have discovered that I have a wonderful raincoat that I had forgotten about. The fabric almost looks and feels like paper but it is completely waterproof, even in the face of a direct hit by a wave. Best of all, the fabric is soft and breathable, warm but not bulky. It is not hard plastic like most waterproof jackets and the water seems to just run right off so that when I take it off it is already dry and I can put it in the closet. The brand is “Frog Toggs” and I think I found it at Walmart. If I ever get back to civilization I am going to see if I can find matching overalls.
We are not seeing very many birds or dolphins any more. On April 23, about latitude 04N we suddenly have a west wind for several hours and then we are in the doldrums for 3 days. We do the best we can with the sails we have but eventually we just turn on the engine. We had planned on this and have enough fuel to get us through. We get out Fred the auto pilot and finally have a day or 2 to relax and get some sleep. I take a hot shower and do some laundry. Of course being old school, Rhapsody does not have a built in shower but I have a portable solar shower that works great. Heats up isn the sun in about 2 hours and has plenty of water for a good scrub with enough left over for Alan.
Once through the doldrums, it is back to squalls again with spectacular rainbows. Some pour down from the clouds like waterfalls of light. Some arch over the entire sky. Many are double or even triple. It is beautiful out here, and peaceful and timeless. We don’t think about how long it has been or how much longer it will be. It is just time passing.
April 16. 2014
Internet problems
It’s pizza night again. Last week I cooked it in the frying pan and the crust did not get crisp. This week I try doing it on the grill. It not only gets crisp, it burns on the bottom before the cheese melts. I end up putting it into the frying pan with the lid on so the cheese will melt. Still tastes good.
Part of the reason we set the watch scheduled the way we did was so that Alan could have time get on the internet. He gets the weather reports and also sends an update with our position to Audrey and Chris. I have also been writing quick updates that get sent along. They are supposed to post them to Facebook so our “millions of fans” will know where we are. Eventually, I hope to get my blog written and sent along for Chris to post too. This has been working well but tonight for some reason the internet will not connect. Over the course of the next several days Alan tries everything he can think of but no luck. He finally calls the company that makes the optimizer that lets us use the sat phone for internet. After several discussions they decide to send us a whole new kit. The problem is that there is no FedEx delivery to Hiva Oa or anywhere in the Marquesas so we will have to wait until we get to Tahiti. Meanwhile, no internet and so no weather files. We call the kids to let them know what the problem is and give them our position. We also check in with Pacific Seafarers every night, so Chris is going to post the link to that website onto Facebook and people can follow us that way. Would not want people to start worrying about us when we don’t have a problem.
For the next several nights, Alan gets weather reports from the boats that are ahead of us during the nightly check in but as they gradually get farther and farther ahead their weather becomes irrelevant. Not much we can do about the weather anyway although it would be nice to know what to expect. We cannot outrun it or avoid it. It is actually fascinating to watch the clouds build and move along. We learn to gage whether they will pass in front of us, behind us or score a direct hit. Look at the wind vane to see where the wind is coming from and then look directly in that direction. Those clouds are the ones that are going to hit us. All of the others, no matter how threatening are not a problem.
We hit the 1,000 mile mark today. It is not half way but somehow it seems like a point of no return to me. No way are we going all the way back now. No matter what we will just keep on going.
Internet problems
It’s pizza night again. Last week I cooked it in the frying pan and the crust did not get crisp. This week I try doing it on the grill. It not only gets crisp, it burns on the bottom before the cheese melts. I end up putting it into the frying pan with the lid on so the cheese will melt. Still tastes good.
Part of the reason we set the watch scheduled the way we did was so that Alan could have time get on the internet. He gets the weather reports and also sends an update with our position to Audrey and Chris. I have also been writing quick updates that get sent along. They are supposed to post them to Facebook so our “millions of fans” will know where we are. Eventually, I hope to get my blog written and sent along for Chris to post too. This has been working well but tonight for some reason the internet will not connect. Over the course of the next several days Alan tries everything he can think of but no luck. He finally calls the company that makes the optimizer that lets us use the sat phone for internet. After several discussions they decide to send us a whole new kit. The problem is that there is no FedEx delivery to Hiva Oa or anywhere in the Marquesas so we will have to wait until we get to Tahiti. Meanwhile, no internet and so no weather files. We call the kids to let them know what the problem is and give them our position. We also check in with Pacific Seafarers every night, so Chris is going to post the link to that website onto Facebook and people can follow us that way. Would not want people to start worrying about us when we don’t have a problem.
For the next several nights, Alan gets weather reports from the boats that are ahead of us during the nightly check in but as they gradually get farther and farther ahead their weather becomes irrelevant. Not much we can do about the weather anyway although it would be nice to know what to expect. We cannot outrun it or avoid it. It is actually fascinating to watch the clouds build and move along. We learn to gage whether they will pass in front of us, behind us or score a direct hit. Look at the wind vane to see where the wind is coming from and then look directly in that direction. Those clouds are the ones that are going to hit us. All of the others, no matter how threatening are not a problem.
We hit the 1,000 mile mark today. It is not half way but somehow it seems like a point of no return to me. No way are we going all the way back now. No matter what we will just keep on going.
April 14, 2014
Sailing along
Sailing along, sailing along, sailing along. Sails up, sails down, different sails up. Sails reefed, sails un-reefed. Strong winds, no wind, engine on, engine off. Big swells, smaller swells sometimes. Sunshine, clouds. The days all run together, everyone different and we sail steadily south. Alan calls me on deck at midnight to see an eclipse. It is beautiful. There are just a few clouds and we have a perfect view. Easy to see why Captain Cook came out here to study the eclipse.
Dolphins, flying fish, A beautiful blue fish that follows along for hours. Its colors are amazing, 3 or 4 shades of iridescent blue with a little yellow. It seems to be attracted to the bright green line that we are dragging to clean the barnacles off of the hull. We have flying fish on the deck every morning ranging from tiny ones the size of a guppy to larger ones as long as my hand. The first several mornings I threw them all back. Then I realized that they would make good bait. I have long since lost all of my lures and have been using a bare hook with a bit of salami on it. The flying fish work like a charm. They are snapped up within a few minutes of hitting the water. Unfortunately the fish just eat them off the line and don’t get caught. I finally catch one only to lose it as I try to pull it up over the back. Obviously I need to work on my technique. For most of the trip I don’t bother to throw the line out. The last thing I want right now is to have to clean and cook a fish.
There are still a lot of birds flying around. We are hundreds of miles from land. Where do they go to rest? Where do they build their nests? A booby bird has landed on the wind vane. He makes himself at home and goes to sleep. He stays there all night. In the morning, he and I do some stretches together and then he takes off.
Sailing along
Sailing along, sailing along, sailing along. Sails up, sails down, different sails up. Sails reefed, sails un-reefed. Strong winds, no wind, engine on, engine off. Big swells, smaller swells sometimes. Sunshine, clouds. The days all run together, everyone different and we sail steadily south. Alan calls me on deck at midnight to see an eclipse. It is beautiful. There are just a few clouds and we have a perfect view. Easy to see why Captain Cook came out here to study the eclipse.
Dolphins, flying fish, A beautiful blue fish that follows along for hours. Its colors are amazing, 3 or 4 shades of iridescent blue with a little yellow. It seems to be attracted to the bright green line that we are dragging to clean the barnacles off of the hull. We have flying fish on the deck every morning ranging from tiny ones the size of a guppy to larger ones as long as my hand. The first several mornings I threw them all back. Then I realized that they would make good bait. I have long since lost all of my lures and have been using a bare hook with a bit of salami on it. The flying fish work like a charm. They are snapped up within a few minutes of hitting the water. Unfortunately the fish just eat them off the line and don’t get caught. I finally catch one only to lose it as I try to pull it up over the back. Obviously I need to work on my technique. For most of the trip I don’t bother to throw the line out. The last thing I want right now is to have to clean and cook a fish.
There are still a lot of birds flying around. We are hundreds of miles from land. Where do they go to rest? Where do they build their nests? A booby bird has landed on the wind vane. He makes himself at home and goes to sleep. He stays there all night. In the morning, he and I do some stretches together and then he takes off.
April 11, 2014
Projects
A word to future Puddle Jumpers, do not expect to get all of those unfinished projects done once you are underway. It seems like there will be lots of free time but there is not. Between steering and sleeping and cooking and cleaning and being on the radio and checking the weather and plotting the course, there is maybe 1-2 hours in the afternoon to get stuff done, assuming the sea is calm enough to actually do anything. Most of the time it is just too bouncy to do much of anything except climb into bed and maybe read for a little while.
Alan has solar panels to be wired, the new anchor light to be wired and the light in the galley to be fixed along with a myriad of other little jobs. This does not count all of the things that were OK but now have gone wrong and have to be fixed. The power generator that is towed behind the boat just needs to be to be attached and deployed. It should take less that an hour but in the end it takes 3 days but it is finally done. It is a blade on a shaft that looks like a propeller, attached to 100 feet of line and towed behind the boat. The other end of the rope is attached to a generator mounted on the stern rail. As we sail, the blade spins and generates power, not a lot but enough to keep the batteries full.
I had set aside a bag or ropes that need to be spliced. I thought this would be a good job for those long boring days. That either Alan would do it or that he would have time to teach me how to do it. Seemed like a very nautical thing to do and something that he enjoys and finds relaxing. As it turned out, with no auto-pilot there was no time to sit down together and he was constantly busy so the ropes just became a problem knocking around the cabin.
I had also planned on recovering the cushions in the cabin. They are completely filthy but I did not want to do it until we were away from land and all of the dirt and grease and mud that was getting brought on board from the dock. With two eight hour watches a day, I had no time for sewing, even if the sea had been calm enough to thread a needle. So 10 yards of fabric also had to be dealt with. Eventually it was pushed back into the corner of the bed where it got wet from the leak.
All of the games and books and art and craft projects I brought along never came out of the cupboard. The new jump suit and pants that I was going to sew never got cut out.
Projects
A word to future Puddle Jumpers, do not expect to get all of those unfinished projects done once you are underway. It seems like there will be lots of free time but there is not. Between steering and sleeping and cooking and cleaning and being on the radio and checking the weather and plotting the course, there is maybe 1-2 hours in the afternoon to get stuff done, assuming the sea is calm enough to actually do anything. Most of the time it is just too bouncy to do much of anything except climb into bed and maybe read for a little while.
Alan has solar panels to be wired, the new anchor light to be wired and the light in the galley to be fixed along with a myriad of other little jobs. This does not count all of the things that were OK but now have gone wrong and have to be fixed. The power generator that is towed behind the boat just needs to be to be attached and deployed. It should take less that an hour but in the end it takes 3 days but it is finally done. It is a blade on a shaft that looks like a propeller, attached to 100 feet of line and towed behind the boat. The other end of the rope is attached to a generator mounted on the stern rail. As we sail, the blade spins and generates power, not a lot but enough to keep the batteries full.
I had set aside a bag or ropes that need to be spliced. I thought this would be a good job for those long boring days. That either Alan would do it or that he would have time to teach me how to do it. Seemed like a very nautical thing to do and something that he enjoys and finds relaxing. As it turned out, with no auto-pilot there was no time to sit down together and he was constantly busy so the ropes just became a problem knocking around the cabin.
I had also planned on recovering the cushions in the cabin. They are completely filthy but I did not want to do it until we were away from land and all of the dirt and grease and mud that was getting brought on board from the dock. With two eight hour watches a day, I had no time for sewing, even if the sea had been calm enough to thread a needle. So 10 yards of fabric also had to be dealt with. Eventually it was pushed back into the corner of the bed where it got wet from the leak.
All of the games and books and art and craft projects I brought along never came out of the cupboard. The new jump suit and pants that I was going to sew never got cut out.
April 12, 2014
stowaways and voices.
A couple of days into the trip, Alan asks me if I hear voices when I am in the in the bunk. He says it sounds like the SSB radio was left on, or people on a playground or in a swimming pool. Continual chatter. Sometimes they are just noises but often they are clear words, names, phrases. I am hearing them too. My voices often sing, one day it was dixieland jazz all day. They also talk. We often think we hear the other calling our name when we are in bed. Several times we have gotten out of bed and gone to the hatch to see what the problem is, only to find out it is just “the voices” Of course it is only the creaks and groans of the rigging which change as the wind changes and as sails are raised and lowered. We know that but it does not stop us from hearing voices whenever we turn in to catch some sleep. We get used to it but It never goes away. Up until the last day we are still jumping out of bed because we heard the other call our name only to be told “it was just the voices”
We also are seeing stowaways. The first was a cat in the bathroom. Somehow the dirty clothes bag had transformed itself into a cat that peaked around the corner of the bathroom as the boat rocked. Both of us, independently, saw it. Even after more dirty clothes were added, to the bag it still was a cat. Even though we knew it was just dirty clothes there was always that moment when it was a cat. Then there were the faces in the rag bag, 3 of them. Clearly visible from the cockpit when on watch, with big noses and eyes. Alan saw a lady sitting backwards on the toilet. (I did not actually see this one) There was also a little mouse peaking around the propane tank on deck. Actually the end of a rope hanging down. The towing generator turns into a storm trooper in the night, although during the day it it just a round canister hanging from the rail.
The odd thing about these illusions is that they started almost as soon as we set off. It was not something that started up after we were exhausted. And even though we knew what they were, the illusions persisted. I can imagine if one were single handed and exhausted one might start to question one’s sanity.
stowaways and voices.
A couple of days into the trip, Alan asks me if I hear voices when I am in the in the bunk. He says it sounds like the SSB radio was left on, or people on a playground or in a swimming pool. Continual chatter. Sometimes they are just noises but often they are clear words, names, phrases. I am hearing them too. My voices often sing, one day it was dixieland jazz all day. They also talk. We often think we hear the other calling our name when we are in bed. Several times we have gotten out of bed and gone to the hatch to see what the problem is, only to find out it is just “the voices” Of course it is only the creaks and groans of the rigging which change as the wind changes and as sails are raised and lowered. We know that but it does not stop us from hearing voices whenever we turn in to catch some sleep. We get used to it but It never goes away. Up until the last day we are still jumping out of bed because we heard the other call our name only to be told “it was just the voices”
We also are seeing stowaways. The first was a cat in the bathroom. Somehow the dirty clothes bag had transformed itself into a cat that peaked around the corner of the bathroom as the boat rocked. Both of us, independently, saw it. Even after more dirty clothes were added, to the bag it still was a cat. Even though we knew it was just dirty clothes there was always that moment when it was a cat. Then there were the faces in the rag bag, 3 of them. Clearly visible from the cockpit when on watch, with big noses and eyes. Alan saw a lady sitting backwards on the toilet. (I did not actually see this one) There was also a little mouse peaking around the propane tank on deck. Actually the end of a rope hanging down. The towing generator turns into a storm trooper in the night, although during the day it it just a round canister hanging from the rail.
The odd thing about these illusions is that they started almost as soon as we set off. It was not something that started up after we were exhausted. And even though we knew what they were, the illusions persisted. I can imagine if one were single handed and exhausted one might start to question one’s sanity.
April 7. 2014, Self Steering
An integral part of long distance sailing these days is the auto-pilot. Plugged into the GPS and powered through a generator, it basically sails the boat, keeping it on course through wind shifts and rolling seas leaving the crew free to catch a nap, eat meals together, etc. Of course, being old school, Rhapsody does not have all the electronic stuff. So basically, we hand steered almost all of the 3,000 miles.
We actually do have 4 or even 5 auto-pilots
Rhapsody. When the sails are balanced just right, Rhapsody will actually steer herself. This requires someone in the cockpit to keep an eye on things but no heavy work. Of course the sails must be perfectly set with a steady wind and easy seas.
Henry and Hank. 2 lengths of rope that tie to cleats on each side of the aft deck. The other end loops through a polished and tarred piece of wood which can be slid back and forth to adjust the length. One or both of these ropes loop around the tiller, holding Rhapsody on course. This requires a period of careful adjustment to get it just right and cannot be trusted for long but comes in very handy when the helmsman needs to leave the tiller to take care of a sail, grab a cup of coffee or take a quick potty break. Also helps to take the strain off of the back and arms when fighting heavy winds. This is our heavy muscle option and is actually used a lot.
Louise (“every little breeze seems to whisper Louise”) and her big sister Lucille. This is our expensive go-to option for self steering. It is a Monitor wind vane, it includes a stainless cage contraption bolted to the stern of the boat. There is a rudder on the bottom and a plastic vane on the top and an arrangement of ropes that run through pulleys and attach to the tiller. We have use this successfully in the past and Alan was looking forward to setting it and letting it take us all the way to the South Pacific. Unfortunately we cannot get it to work reliably. I am not quite sure what the problem is. Too much wind? Following seas? A course too close to the wind? For whatever reason we only get it to work sporadically and so cannot leave it unattended. Apparently when we sail down wind there is not enough wind to keep it steady and when we are on a reach the little jib that we are using since our main jib ripped in half is not big enough to balance the mizzen. Louise and I do not get along well. Alan gets her to work but when I come on duty she either takes us off in the wrong direction or just pops loose.
Fred. This is an actual electronic auto pilot that hooks into the radar. I love Fred. He and I get along just fine. The problem is that he uses battery power which is in short supply so we don’t hook him up unless absolutely necessary.
The last version os self steering in what I call the yoga pose self steer. If I can get my arms and legs twisted and braced just so, I can balance the tiller against my hip and do not actually have to hold on.
But like I said, most of the time we just hang on and steer. After the first few days my back and arms ache and I am getting new calluses on my hands. I discover that I can balance just on the corner of the cockpit and get some pseudo yoga stretches in. This seems to help and as the course and wind changes the aches move around to different muscles and little by little go away. From time to time i remember to sit up straight and use my stomach muscles instead of my back. You would think after so many weeks of this I would have the strongest abs ever, but no, the little round belly persists.
An integral part of long distance sailing these days is the auto-pilot. Plugged into the GPS and powered through a generator, it basically sails the boat, keeping it on course through wind shifts and rolling seas leaving the crew free to catch a nap, eat meals together, etc. Of course, being old school, Rhapsody does not have all the electronic stuff. So basically, we hand steered almost all of the 3,000 miles.
We actually do have 4 or even 5 auto-pilots
Rhapsody. When the sails are balanced just right, Rhapsody will actually steer herself. This requires someone in the cockpit to keep an eye on things but no heavy work. Of course the sails must be perfectly set with a steady wind and easy seas.
Henry and Hank. 2 lengths of rope that tie to cleats on each side of the aft deck. The other end loops through a polished and tarred piece of wood which can be slid back and forth to adjust the length. One or both of these ropes loop around the tiller, holding Rhapsody on course. This requires a period of careful adjustment to get it just right and cannot be trusted for long but comes in very handy when the helmsman needs to leave the tiller to take care of a sail, grab a cup of coffee or take a quick potty break. Also helps to take the strain off of the back and arms when fighting heavy winds. This is our heavy muscle option and is actually used a lot.
Louise (“every little breeze seems to whisper Louise”) and her big sister Lucille. This is our expensive go-to option for self steering. It is a Monitor wind vane, it includes a stainless cage contraption bolted to the stern of the boat. There is a rudder on the bottom and a plastic vane on the top and an arrangement of ropes that run through pulleys and attach to the tiller. We have use this successfully in the past and Alan was looking forward to setting it and letting it take us all the way to the South Pacific. Unfortunately we cannot get it to work reliably. I am not quite sure what the problem is. Too much wind? Following seas? A course too close to the wind? For whatever reason we only get it to work sporadically and so cannot leave it unattended. Apparently when we sail down wind there is not enough wind to keep it steady and when we are on a reach the little jib that we are using since our main jib ripped in half is not big enough to balance the mizzen. Louise and I do not get along well. Alan gets her to work but when I come on duty she either takes us off in the wrong direction or just pops loose.
Fred. This is an actual electronic auto pilot that hooks into the radar. I love Fred. He and I get along just fine. The problem is that he uses battery power which is in short supply so we don’t hook him up unless absolutely necessary.
The last version os self steering in what I call the yoga pose self steer. If I can get my arms and legs twisted and braced just so, I can balance the tiller against my hip and do not actually have to hold on.
But like I said, most of the time we just hang on and steer. After the first few days my back and arms ache and I am getting new calluses on my hands. I discover that I can balance just on the corner of the cockpit and get some pseudo yoga stretches in. This seems to help and as the course and wind changes the aches move around to different muscles and little by little go away. From time to time i remember to sit up straight and use my stomach muscles instead of my back. You would think after so many weeks of this I would have the strongest abs ever, but no, the little round belly persists.
April 6, 2014
Sailing
When we check into the net each night we hear the other boats pulling away from us, further south and further west. I know this is not a race and, in fact, I would prefer to get there later rather than earlier since we only get 90 days once we check in, but still… Despite the fairly strong wind, Rhapsody seldom does more that 4 knots, sometimes 5 most often 3. Other boats are doing 6 and 7. Alan keeps trying different combinations of sails but nothing seems to make mush difference. I find myself wishing that we had done a lot more sailing around Banderas Bay learning how the various sail combinations work, but that is the way it is so we will learn on the way.
Despite the lumpy seas the weather has been mostly lovely, warm but not too hot. We wear overalls on deck at night to keep the water off, since the waves constantly wash over but there is no need for warm sweaters under. The moon is almost full and when it is not up the sky is bright with stars. Orion and the big dipper are still there but also lots of new constellations. Once we turn south the southern cross in just ahead of us for most of the night. It was a surprise to me that the night is almost never completely dark. Even when it is cloudy there is a faint glow. The ocean is full of phosphorous with sparkles and glow everywhere. One night a wave washes over the deck and leave a trail of light over everything. When I step in it my footsteps sparkle.
One afternoon, Alan spots what looks like a flag in the distance. Bizarre. We are at least 400 hundred miles from the closest land. As we get closer we discover that it is indeed an flag on a tall pole miles from anywhere. I assume it marks a fisherman's favorite fishing spot.
Three nights in a row, on my watch, there is a bright glow in the distance. The first night I assume it is a cruise ship that I need to avoid but it does not show up on the AIS and it does not seem to move. Turns out to be large fishing boats with enormously bright lights, harvesting the sea. Anyway they make good lights to steer by.
We see dolphins almost every afternoon. One day they are so thick around the boat it looks like a New York subway at rush hour. They appear out of no where, leaping, twisting, diving. One followed us for over an hour after all the others had left. Often some come by in the night to say “Hi” and see how we are doing. I always feel safe when the dolphins come by, for some reason. One afternoon when the dolphins have playing for some time there is s sudden series of sharp explosions. It almost sounds like machine gun fire. I look towards the sound and see a series of water jets rise into the air. A few minutes later, all the dolphins have left. I can see them racing off in the distance. Was it come kind of recall signal from the boss dolphin?
Sailing
When we check into the net each night we hear the other boats pulling away from us, further south and further west. I know this is not a race and, in fact, I would prefer to get there later rather than earlier since we only get 90 days once we check in, but still… Despite the fairly strong wind, Rhapsody seldom does more that 4 knots, sometimes 5 most often 3. Other boats are doing 6 and 7. Alan keeps trying different combinations of sails but nothing seems to make mush difference. I find myself wishing that we had done a lot more sailing around Banderas Bay learning how the various sail combinations work, but that is the way it is so we will learn on the way.
Despite the lumpy seas the weather has been mostly lovely, warm but not too hot. We wear overalls on deck at night to keep the water off, since the waves constantly wash over but there is no need for warm sweaters under. The moon is almost full and when it is not up the sky is bright with stars. Orion and the big dipper are still there but also lots of new constellations. Once we turn south the southern cross in just ahead of us for most of the night. It was a surprise to me that the night is almost never completely dark. Even when it is cloudy there is a faint glow. The ocean is full of phosphorous with sparkles and glow everywhere. One night a wave washes over the deck and leave a trail of light over everything. When I step in it my footsteps sparkle.
One afternoon, Alan spots what looks like a flag in the distance. Bizarre. We are at least 400 hundred miles from the closest land. As we get closer we discover that it is indeed an flag on a tall pole miles from anywhere. I assume it marks a fisherman's favorite fishing spot.
Three nights in a row, on my watch, there is a bright glow in the distance. The first night I assume it is a cruise ship that I need to avoid but it does not show up on the AIS and it does not seem to move. Turns out to be large fishing boats with enormously bright lights, harvesting the sea. Anyway they make good lights to steer by.
We see dolphins almost every afternoon. One day they are so thick around the boat it looks like a New York subway at rush hour. They appear out of no where, leaping, twisting, diving. One followed us for over an hour after all the others had left. Often some come by in the night to say “Hi” and see how we are doing. I always feel safe when the dolphins come by, for some reason. One afternoon when the dolphins have playing for some time there is s sudden series of sharp explosions. It almost sounds like machine gun fire. I look towards the sound and see a series of water jets rise into the air. A few minutes later, all the dolphins have left. I can see them racing off in the distance. Was it come kind of recall signal from the boss dolphin?
Tuesday, May 13, 2014
April 5, 2014
schedules
Our first 3-4 days are a cascade of wild weather and sleepless nights. Seas seem to come from all directions. All the not quite finished projects that I had not quite put away roll around the cabin. Waves crash and spray flies over the boat and soaks everything. There is a small leak, really just a drip, somewhere at the food of the bed and everything is damp. And this is not really bad weather. Or at least I don’t think so. Without a wind speed gage it is hard to know how bad it really is vs. how bad it seems. Thinking “south seas” I had packed away our waterproof overalls and jackets. Eventually I dig them out and we wear them almost non-stop until we arrive in the Marquesas. Winds vary from too much for me to handle to so little that we give up and heave to. The bell on the mast will ring if we heel over suddenly more than 45 degrees. It rings a lot these first few days. Sitting in the cockpit I often find myself looking straight down into the water. Keep to the course, keep the sails from jibing and try to quarter the waves all at once. Surprisingly nothing ever gets washed overboard and only once or twice does water actually come into the cockpit. I spent a fair amount of time last summer using baking soda and vinegar and blasts of water from a hose to get the drains clean so it was actually nice to see how quickly the water ran out when we needed it to.
The schedule is shot all to heck. First, Alan was trying to finish up projects during the day so he did not take naps when he should have. This meant that he was too tired to wake up and relieve me when my watch should have been over. Unless I was in trouble I let him sleep rather than go to all the trouble of getting him up. When the weather is really bad he needs to be on duty so I need to have his well rested. Eventually I learn to handle most of it but not now. Plus he just needs more sleep than I do. I can manage on 2-3 hours twice a day for a long time. He needs at least 6 hours uninterrupted every night. I am not really surprised by this, since I have lived with him for 40+ years. I actually expected it. The surprise is that he did not expect it. I am not quite sure why he thought he could suddenly get by on 3-4 hours of sleep. since most of his life he has slept 8-9 hours every night and usually had an afternoon nap too.
By default, we end up with me doing 8 hours on watch with 4 hours off. At least this way I can be sure he is rested when there is a crisis and I need him to take over. I go to bed right after dinner, about 8 pm and take over around midnight. I stay on the helm until Alan gets up about 8:00. He makes coffee and oatmeal and we get the sails set for the day and then I turn in and sleep for a few hours. I make lunch and try to straighten up a little when I wake up. There are wet clothes everywhere. Then I take over the helm again so he can get a nap. Dinner and the 2 radio nets take up the rest of the day and it is finally my turn to fall into bed again. With some variations due to weather, this is our routine for the next 5 weeks. I figure by the time we get there I will have been on watch 600 hours. There must be a trophy for that.
schedules
Our first 3-4 days are a cascade of wild weather and sleepless nights. Seas seem to come from all directions. All the not quite finished projects that I had not quite put away roll around the cabin. Waves crash and spray flies over the boat and soaks everything. There is a small leak, really just a drip, somewhere at the food of the bed and everything is damp. And this is not really bad weather. Or at least I don’t think so. Without a wind speed gage it is hard to know how bad it really is vs. how bad it seems. Thinking “south seas” I had packed away our waterproof overalls and jackets. Eventually I dig them out and we wear them almost non-stop until we arrive in the Marquesas. Winds vary from too much for me to handle to so little that we give up and heave to. The bell on the mast will ring if we heel over suddenly more than 45 degrees. It rings a lot these first few days. Sitting in the cockpit I often find myself looking straight down into the water. Keep to the course, keep the sails from jibing and try to quarter the waves all at once. Surprisingly nothing ever gets washed overboard and only once or twice does water actually come into the cockpit. I spent a fair amount of time last summer using baking soda and vinegar and blasts of water from a hose to get the drains clean so it was actually nice to see how quickly the water ran out when we needed it to.
The schedule is shot all to heck. First, Alan was trying to finish up projects during the day so he did not take naps when he should have. This meant that he was too tired to wake up and relieve me when my watch should have been over. Unless I was in trouble I let him sleep rather than go to all the trouble of getting him up. When the weather is really bad he needs to be on duty so I need to have his well rested. Eventually I learn to handle most of it but not now. Plus he just needs more sleep than I do. I can manage on 2-3 hours twice a day for a long time. He needs at least 6 hours uninterrupted every night. I am not really surprised by this, since I have lived with him for 40+ years. I actually expected it. The surprise is that he did not expect it. I am not quite sure why he thought he could suddenly get by on 3-4 hours of sleep. since most of his life he has slept 8-9 hours every night and usually had an afternoon nap too.
By default, we end up with me doing 8 hours on watch with 4 hours off. At least this way I can be sure he is rested when there is a crisis and I need him to take over. I go to bed right after dinner, about 8 pm and take over around midnight. I stay on the helm until Alan gets up about 8:00. He makes coffee and oatmeal and we get the sails set for the day and then I turn in and sleep for a few hours. I make lunch and try to straighten up a little when I wake up. There are wet clothes everywhere. Then I take over the helm again so he can get a nap. Dinner and the 2 radio nets take up the rest of the day and it is finally my turn to fall into bed again. With some variations due to weather, this is our routine for the next 5 weeks. I figure by the time we get there I will have been on watch 600 hours. There must be a trophy for that.
April 3, 2014
Old School Boat
Rhapsody is an “old school “ boat. She has classic, elegant lines and is almost always the most beautiful boat in the bay. She was designed by L. Frances Herrieshoff in the late ‘40s and the plans were published over a 12 month period in Rudder Magazine so that anyone who had the time and the desire could build on. Ours was built by a couple in San Diego in the 80’s They made 3 changes. The hull is fiberglass not wood and there is a huge engine room instead of a quarter berth. They also moved the main bed back from the bow so that it is more in the middle to the boat. This makes for a very quiet, restful ride when sleeping under way. We finally have decided that it is designed as the perfect cruising boat for the Chesapeake Bay. The original cabin layout included another berth so that 2 couples could go out for a long weekend or even several weeks, anchoring in a different cove each night but not doing any really long distance sailing. She is solid and steady but not fast.
Little by little I am realizing that she is not really the best long distance cruising boat by today’s standards. There is no automatic or electric anything. All sails have to be raised and lowered by hand and every time we change sails the lines have to be rerun through the pulleys along the deck. One person has to go up onto the bow and wrestle with the sails while the other holds the tiller. While this is not too bad during a day sail, it is a major production in heavy wind. This is always a 2 man job and we often wish we had another couple of people on board. Reefing is also a major production since one person has to balance on the top of the cabin, holding on with one hand while attempting to get the sail partway down and tied with the other hand as the other person mans the tiller. Of course this often happens at night, in the dark. We have heard repeatedly that we should always reef before dark but there is such a temptation to get just a few more knots out of her and the hope that the weather will not change for the worse during the night.
Since she was designed before all the electronic gizmos there is no place to put those. Consequently, everything is sort of jury rigged and has to be taken out and put together each time we want to use it. This includes the sat phone, weather fax, solar panels, computer charging stations, etc. There is of course no TV, no DVD player. We have our laptops and iPads and I have loaded them with books but their primary function is for navigation. Since battery charging power is limited we do without electronic entertainment. Luckily the previous owner installed what was then state of the art SSB radio and radar. The placement is sort of awkward but they work well, so far. There is no Nav station, or even a chart table. There is no refrigerator let alone freezer. No shower, no hair dryer. A 2 burner propane stove with an oven that does not work. Definitely no microwave, blender or trash compactor like some of the more modern cruising boats. There is however, lots and lots of storage room. Beautifully varnished woodwork and hand holds everywhere inside. No matter where I am or what I am doing inside, I have only to put out a hand and find a secure hold when she starts rocking and rolling. And there is that much less to go wrong without all of the electronic stuff
And then there is the cockpit. Unlike todays cruising boats which are all fitted out with canvas enclosures and plastic windows that open and close and with gages and dials at their fingertips, Rhapsody has an open cockpit. When it is my turn on watch I must first put on my life jacket over whatever clothes I have decided are needed outside. The life jacket hooks to a tether and the other end of the tether clips to a safety line that runs from the back of the boat to the bow, one line on each side of the cabin. Life jackets are worn and tethers attached any time someone is on deck, even if we are becalmed on a sunny day and are wearing nothing else but a swim suit, if that. And there have been a number of times that we have been really glad. So, I stand at the ladder and clip on, then climb out and cross 2 feet of deck, over a little ledge which diverts most of the water back over the side, another foot or so of deck, dodging cushion, lines, propane tanks, etc until I come to the actual cockpit. In a calm sea this is an easy stroll. At night, in a rough sea, I often crawl the whole way.
About 4 feet square, the cockpit it is set down into the deck behind the mizzen mast. I sit down on the deck which has been painted with non-skid paint making it very rough and put my feet in the cockpit. In front of me is a classic old compass. In a waterproof box at my feet somewhere is a handheld GPS, the log book, flashlight, pencils and possibly a powerbar. Sitting in the cockpit, I cannot see into or be heard in the cabin. However, there is a ships bell mounted on the mast just above the compass and ringing this wildly will eventually summon Alan from the berth. The size of the cockpit is just a little bit off so that I cannot lean back but must just sit up holding onto the tiller for the duration of watch. However, if I sit just on the edge my feet can reach the other side of the cockpit. This helps me brace myself when the wind is really strong. The tiller runs from the stern almost the full length of the cockpit so that if I need to move from one side to the other I have to stand and carefully squeeze between the end of it and the edge of the cockpit and the mast while ducking under the mizzen boom.. There is no awning or cover, either from the wind and rain or from the mid-day sun. On the other hand, there is nothing to block my view of the stars and moon at night or flying fish and leaping dolphins during the day or the ocean in all it’s various tempers by my side.
The mizzen sheet comes into the cockpit via a pulley on the stern railing. It is unfortunately just a little bit too high for me to cleat it without standing up (while not letting go of the tiller). Behind me on each side are winches where the jib sheets are handled. In order to tighten these I need to turn sideways, use the winch handle, or brace my feet against the ledge and pull with 2 hands (without letting go of the tiller). The main sheet cleats off on the top of the cabin. This requires leaving the cockpit all together so it is almost never adjusted unless we are doing a major sail change. If we are doing a major sail change I need to manage the tiller, mizzen and main sheet all at once. Not forgetting to untie the preventer line that fastens to another cleat behind me and keeps the sail from swinging wildly from side to side. There is also another short set of ropes which are used to hold the tiller briefly when things get too crazy.
Of course all of this maneuvering has to take place while tethered to the life line. Inevitably the tether is on the wrong side for what I need to do, or over or under another rope when it should not be. When one person arrives to relieve the other, lines have to be sorted so that person leaving can get all of the way to the cabin steps without dragging the other person along. Alan and I prefer different configurations of pillows so every time the watch changes the pillows need to be changed too. There are no cup holders but a thermos of coffee can be wedged into the floorboards of the cockpit. If one person stands in the cabin and leans and stretches as far as possible the person in the cockpit can just barely reach whatever is being passed out, coffee, sandwich, warm jacket, etc.
So it is a challenge. I wish we had spent more time doing long distance sailing before we took off so that I would have been better prepared for what I was getting into. But still, Rhapsody is solid and strong and as long as we do not do anything stupid she will sail through anything that the seas can dish out. And, she is the most beautiful boat on the bay, with lines that just won’t stop.
Old School Boat
Rhapsody is an “old school “ boat. She has classic, elegant lines and is almost always the most beautiful boat in the bay. She was designed by L. Frances Herrieshoff in the late ‘40s and the plans were published over a 12 month period in Rudder Magazine so that anyone who had the time and the desire could build on. Ours was built by a couple in San Diego in the 80’s They made 3 changes. The hull is fiberglass not wood and there is a huge engine room instead of a quarter berth. They also moved the main bed back from the bow so that it is more in the middle to the boat. This makes for a very quiet, restful ride when sleeping under way. We finally have decided that it is designed as the perfect cruising boat for the Chesapeake Bay. The original cabin layout included another berth so that 2 couples could go out for a long weekend or even several weeks, anchoring in a different cove each night but not doing any really long distance sailing. She is solid and steady but not fast.
Little by little I am realizing that she is not really the best long distance cruising boat by today’s standards. There is no automatic or electric anything. All sails have to be raised and lowered by hand and every time we change sails the lines have to be rerun through the pulleys along the deck. One person has to go up onto the bow and wrestle with the sails while the other holds the tiller. While this is not too bad during a day sail, it is a major production in heavy wind. This is always a 2 man job and we often wish we had another couple of people on board. Reefing is also a major production since one person has to balance on the top of the cabin, holding on with one hand while attempting to get the sail partway down and tied with the other hand as the other person mans the tiller. Of course this often happens at night, in the dark. We have heard repeatedly that we should always reef before dark but there is such a temptation to get just a few more knots out of her and the hope that the weather will not change for the worse during the night.
Since she was designed before all the electronic gizmos there is no place to put those. Consequently, everything is sort of jury rigged and has to be taken out and put together each time we want to use it. This includes the sat phone, weather fax, solar panels, computer charging stations, etc. There is of course no TV, no DVD player. We have our laptops and iPads and I have loaded them with books but their primary function is for navigation. Since battery charging power is limited we do without electronic entertainment. Luckily the previous owner installed what was then state of the art SSB radio and radar. The placement is sort of awkward but they work well, so far. There is no Nav station, or even a chart table. There is no refrigerator let alone freezer. No shower, no hair dryer. A 2 burner propane stove with an oven that does not work. Definitely no microwave, blender or trash compactor like some of the more modern cruising boats. There is however, lots and lots of storage room. Beautifully varnished woodwork and hand holds everywhere inside. No matter where I am or what I am doing inside, I have only to put out a hand and find a secure hold when she starts rocking and rolling. And there is that much less to go wrong without all of the electronic stuff
And then there is the cockpit. Unlike todays cruising boats which are all fitted out with canvas enclosures and plastic windows that open and close and with gages and dials at their fingertips, Rhapsody has an open cockpit. When it is my turn on watch I must first put on my life jacket over whatever clothes I have decided are needed outside. The life jacket hooks to a tether and the other end of the tether clips to a safety line that runs from the back of the boat to the bow, one line on each side of the cabin. Life jackets are worn and tethers attached any time someone is on deck, even if we are becalmed on a sunny day and are wearing nothing else but a swim suit, if that. And there have been a number of times that we have been really glad. So, I stand at the ladder and clip on, then climb out and cross 2 feet of deck, over a little ledge which diverts most of the water back over the side, another foot or so of deck, dodging cushion, lines, propane tanks, etc until I come to the actual cockpit. In a calm sea this is an easy stroll. At night, in a rough sea, I often crawl the whole way.
About 4 feet square, the cockpit it is set down into the deck behind the mizzen mast. I sit down on the deck which has been painted with non-skid paint making it very rough and put my feet in the cockpit. In front of me is a classic old compass. In a waterproof box at my feet somewhere is a handheld GPS, the log book, flashlight, pencils and possibly a powerbar. Sitting in the cockpit, I cannot see into or be heard in the cabin. However, there is a ships bell mounted on the mast just above the compass and ringing this wildly will eventually summon Alan from the berth. The size of the cockpit is just a little bit off so that I cannot lean back but must just sit up holding onto the tiller for the duration of watch. However, if I sit just on the edge my feet can reach the other side of the cockpit. This helps me brace myself when the wind is really strong. The tiller runs from the stern almost the full length of the cockpit so that if I need to move from one side to the other I have to stand and carefully squeeze between the end of it and the edge of the cockpit and the mast while ducking under the mizzen boom.. There is no awning or cover, either from the wind and rain or from the mid-day sun. On the other hand, there is nothing to block my view of the stars and moon at night or flying fish and leaping dolphins during the day or the ocean in all it’s various tempers by my side.
The mizzen sheet comes into the cockpit via a pulley on the stern railing. It is unfortunately just a little bit too high for me to cleat it without standing up (while not letting go of the tiller). Behind me on each side are winches where the jib sheets are handled. In order to tighten these I need to turn sideways, use the winch handle, or brace my feet against the ledge and pull with 2 hands (without letting go of the tiller). The main sheet cleats off on the top of the cabin. This requires leaving the cockpit all together so it is almost never adjusted unless we are doing a major sail change. If we are doing a major sail change I need to manage the tiller, mizzen and main sheet all at once. Not forgetting to untie the preventer line that fastens to another cleat behind me and keeps the sail from swinging wildly from side to side. There is also another short set of ropes which are used to hold the tiller briefly when things get too crazy.
Of course all of this maneuvering has to take place while tethered to the life line. Inevitably the tether is on the wrong side for what I need to do, or over or under another rope when it should not be. When one person arrives to relieve the other, lines have to be sorted so that person leaving can get all of the way to the cabin steps without dragging the other person along. Alan and I prefer different configurations of pillows so every time the watch changes the pillows need to be changed too. There are no cup holders but a thermos of coffee can be wedged into the floorboards of the cockpit. If one person stands in the cabin and leans and stretches as far as possible the person in the cockpit can just barely reach whatever is being passed out, coffee, sandwich, warm jacket, etc.
So it is a challenge. I wish we had spent more time doing long distance sailing before we took off so that I would have been better prepared for what I was getting into. But still, Rhapsody is solid and strong and as long as we do not do anything stupid she will sail through anything that the seas can dish out. And, she is the most beautiful boat on the bay, with lines that just won’t stop.
April 1, 2014
The voyage begins
It is just finally time to go. Lots of things are not done, but it is time. So, off we go. A final chat with the fishing boat next door yields a wonderful, exotic looking fishing lure, guaranteed to catch all the fish we want. Interestingly, they have no concept of where we are going. Even though they are out into the ocean fishing on a regular basis, they do not have any idea that there are islands way out there and eventually another side to the ocean. We have actually encountered this lack of geography a number of times among the locals.
Early afternoon we cast off and head down the channel of Paradise Village Marina for the last time. Against all protocol, I get on the radio and broadcast to the fleet at large, “This is Rhapsody, heading out for the South Pacific. See you in 5 years” As a result, there are cheers and waves all the way down the channel and out the breakwater.
It is a short ride across the bay to La Cruz where we will spend the night. We need to fill up with fuel, diesel for the engine and gas for the generator, buy fresh produce and buy some rope at Todo Vela. At the last minute before we left the marina, Alan discovered that the topping lift on the main sail was ready to break. So we launch the dingy and spend a last afternoon in La Cruz. I had planned on getting a block of ice for the ice box. La Cruz is the only place that I have discovered that has block ice but when we stop at the little store, all she has is cubes. We got a bag, but it won’t last very long. We have the last cold beer with dinner and get to bed early. Someone had said that it was a good idea to start night watch shifts a couple of days before you actually head out, to get your body used to the routine but we opted for a last long sleep instead. A better idea, as it turned out.
Next morning we replace the frayed line, take care of some other last minute stuff and we are ready to go. Alan and I gather at the bow to say good-bye to Mexico and ask the blessings of any and all gods and spirits on our voyage. So many projects not completed and so much of Mexico not visited. If all goes well, we will be back here is 5 years to take another stab at cruising Mexico. We raise the anchor and at 12:35 we are off. It is a glorious day. Bright sun, a few clouds, good wind. We pass rays and dolphins as we head across Banderas Bay. The sail plan is to head west until we pass the Socorros Islands and then turn south. Weather guru Mike said to go north of the islands at this point, so that is the course we set. Alan takes a nap once we get going, in preparation for the first watch. We have decided on a watch schedule of 4 on and 4 off, starting after dinner, I sleep from 8-midnight and then relieve Alan so he can sleep for 4 hours while I drive, and so on all night and all day for the next 4-6 weeks.
This is our first night to check in with the radio nets as a “vessel underway” The first check in is our own informal group of about 20 boats leaving from Banderas Bay for the Marquesas We know almost all of them. As each one checks in we log their position so we can see how they are and what kind of weather they are having. The second radio net is a ham radio group called Pacific Seafarers. They have people all around the Pacific. Once you are signed up with them, they track your progress and post it to their website for anyone to check. They are also a great resource in an emergence since they are on the air 24 hours. I also have my Spot which should post the position to my Facebook page and Alan sends our position to Audrey and Chris via sat phone internet once a day. So we feel really well connected.
The wind drops about sunset, just as we are passing the Marianas islands. Luckily it is also just as Alan is coming on watch, so he starts the engine and I go to bed
Thus endeth the first day
The voyage begins
It is just finally time to go. Lots of things are not done, but it is time. So, off we go. A final chat with the fishing boat next door yields a wonderful, exotic looking fishing lure, guaranteed to catch all the fish we want. Interestingly, they have no concept of where we are going. Even though they are out into the ocean fishing on a regular basis, they do not have any idea that there are islands way out there and eventually another side to the ocean. We have actually encountered this lack of geography a number of times among the locals.
Early afternoon we cast off and head down the channel of Paradise Village Marina for the last time. Against all protocol, I get on the radio and broadcast to the fleet at large, “This is Rhapsody, heading out for the South Pacific. See you in 5 years” As a result, there are cheers and waves all the way down the channel and out the breakwater.
It is a short ride across the bay to La Cruz where we will spend the night. We need to fill up with fuel, diesel for the engine and gas for the generator, buy fresh produce and buy some rope at Todo Vela. At the last minute before we left the marina, Alan discovered that the topping lift on the main sail was ready to break. So we launch the dingy and spend a last afternoon in La Cruz. I had planned on getting a block of ice for the ice box. La Cruz is the only place that I have discovered that has block ice but when we stop at the little store, all she has is cubes. We got a bag, but it won’t last very long. We have the last cold beer with dinner and get to bed early. Someone had said that it was a good idea to start night watch shifts a couple of days before you actually head out, to get your body used to the routine but we opted for a last long sleep instead. A better idea, as it turned out.
Next morning we replace the frayed line, take care of some other last minute stuff and we are ready to go. Alan and I gather at the bow to say good-bye to Mexico and ask the blessings of any and all gods and spirits on our voyage. So many projects not completed and so much of Mexico not visited. If all goes well, we will be back here is 5 years to take another stab at cruising Mexico. We raise the anchor and at 12:35 we are off. It is a glorious day. Bright sun, a few clouds, good wind. We pass rays and dolphins as we head across Banderas Bay. The sail plan is to head west until we pass the Socorros Islands and then turn south. Weather guru Mike said to go north of the islands at this point, so that is the course we set. Alan takes a nap once we get going, in preparation for the first watch. We have decided on a watch schedule of 4 on and 4 off, starting after dinner, I sleep from 8-midnight and then relieve Alan so he can sleep for 4 hours while I drive, and so on all night and all day for the next 4-6 weeks.
This is our first night to check in with the radio nets as a “vessel underway” The first check in is our own informal group of about 20 boats leaving from Banderas Bay for the Marquesas We know almost all of them. As each one checks in we log their position so we can see how they are and what kind of weather they are having. The second radio net is a ham radio group called Pacific Seafarers. They have people all around the Pacific. Once you are signed up with them, they track your progress and post it to their website for anyone to check. They are also a great resource in an emergence since they are on the air 24 hours. I also have my Spot which should post the position to my Facebook page and Alan sends our position to Audrey and Chris via sat phone internet once a day. So we feel really well connected.
The wind drops about sunset, just as we are passing the Marianas islands. Luckily it is also just as Alan is coming on watch, so he starts the engine and I go to bed
Thus endeth the first day
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