This marks the longest we’ve ever been at sea so far and the half-way point of our passage! Our Panama to Galapagos passage was our longest to date at 9 days land to land. Pretty exciting. We’re some 1500 miles of the 3000 miles along. Had some rum and peaches to celebrate! I guess we’re the farthest from land that we’ll (hopefully) ever be on a boat. Celebrated with a little tasty (albeit weak) adult beverage.
The boat makes a wobbly fishtail motion when the bigger rollers come through from port aft (back left). The stern lifts to port, our bow swings slightly to starboard, we surf a touch with the wave as it passes under us, the autohelm kicks our rudders 5 degrees to port and our bow pulls back left and pitches up as the wave exits out from under our nose. When the waves are oncoming just right it’s graceful, like an airplane gently banking back and forth. When it’s not right there’s a lot of slapping and bucking. Story of my life.
No connection possible in the last couple of days. I think there has been heavy weather between Tayrona and the mainland. Having difficulty connecting.
It’s Easter Sunday and one full week on the water! We had home made granola for breakfast and followed it up with an Easter basket: five pounds of Jelly Bellies smuggled aboard by a castaway! Thanks Mom! We’ve been trying to ration them, as dialysis clinics are few and far between ’round these parts. We’ve only eaten about a half pound so far. It’s a good boat snack because they all have different flavors and you can’t mow handfuls at a time like popcorn, puppy chow, peanuts, M&M’s, pretzels, Chex Mix… am I giving the impression that we go through a lot of snacks aboard?
Weather continues to be good for sailing, if not for comfort. 13-16 knot winds, making 6.5 knots on a beam reach. Had another PR day with 157 miles covered. The waves on the beam still make for a rowdy ride, but we’re getting used to it.
It’s funny because topside on watch at night is gorgeous. There’s always some light noise of the wind generator whirring, the sheets creaking, and the water rushing by, splashing. But down below it sounds like the boat is coming apart. The wavelets slap on the underside of the bridge deck, and bounce off of the hulls, reflecting off one, smacking into the other. It’s like being in a bass drum sometimes. The bulkhead joints groan. You get used to it, but you can even feel the impacts through the fiberglass. Once you pop up topside, it’s whisper quiet though, and out on deck the boat shrugs off all but the biggest waves that come in broadside to us. When it sounds and feels scary down below, go up top!
The other boats in the Tangaroa Trans-Pacific Fleet (cool name, eh? The Scots came up with it!) are doing well. There are two or three 60 footers that can really cut through the chop. They’re averaging 7 or 8 knots. In calm seas with wind we’d be able to give them a run for their money, but not out in the big waves. So we’re hanging in there with the normal boats. Nice to hear everyone on radio every day, see where they are and hear some yarns about fish caught.
No fish today for us. Trolled the waters with a very unhappy flying fish who ended up on our deck. No bites though. We made up for it with pizzas for lunch, and Greek chicken, potatoes, and our last surviving broccoli for dinner.
Other than my poor fishing skills, all is well on Tayrona.
Our fastest sail on record Saturday! 155 miles in the last 24 hours, averaging 6.5 knots. Doesn’t sound blazing fast, but that’s an average. In the morning when the winds were strongest we saw one 12 knot ride down a wave. It’s like a 32-ton skateboard. Very exciting. Good winds scoot us along, but choppy seas also.
We’re pushing plantains! Get ’em while they’re yellow and not brown! Yesterday was plantain bread, today was plantain pancakes, hot off the griddle with butter and syrup. Couldn’t tell them from bananacakes.
My night’s sleep is broken up into two pieces, 9pm-2am, and 5am-10am. I sat up awake in the middle of my second ‘sleep’ of the night and realized the towing generator wasn’t wired with a fuse. All the wiring is conveniently tucked under Liza and Felix’s bunk, so I was up fretting about that until they were up and I could do some wiring under deck on a bucking boat.
Our fleet is doing well. we’re holding pace with the pack for the most part, although the two 60 footers are screaming faster than us mere mortals. One back stay and another’s reefing lines damaged in the past days’ squalls. They cruise on though. It’s odd to have some 10 boats now all cutting the waves, all between 20 and 150 miles away, fairly close in the 3000 mile crossing we’re on, but we can neither see them, sense them on radar, nor hear them on VHF. Alone in our snow globe. That’s the way I like it, I suppose.
The two nights that we could see a masthead light on the horizon it became the focal point. Are they gaining on us? What’s their heading? Should we be bearing more south to take advantage of the conditions there? Bah! Who cares! It’s nice to have the quiet support of safety in numbers without being encumbered someone sailing right next to you.
