Author: Pete

Location: 28°18.148S’,  158°37.837E’

 

Day 7 at sea.

Well, that’s one week on passage! One thing that has been surprising about this crossing is the lack of anything or anyone at all out here. Not one freighter has crossed that horizon into our bubble. We’re always on the lookout for them. Steaming at twenty knots they can sneak up on you in a hurry. Every so often I’ll fire up the radar to see if anyone is WAY out there. The radar can detect ships at almost forty miles out, the ones skimming our bubble whose masts just barely clear the horizon and can’t really be seen through binoculars. Still, nothing. The navigational equivalent of crickets. If it weren’t for the squalls showing up as fuzzy blue blobs on the scope I’d be convinced that the radar was broken.  We keep logging location, sea and wind condition, and sail configuration on every watch change.  Sometimes it’s useful.  Sometimes it just helps pass the time.

Taz is behaving himself, thankfully, though I’m not sure for how much longer. We had another gorgeous, sunny day today. Fresh winds this morning, then a lull, then renewed winds. Scooting along happily tonight despite the cloud cover that’s just come in this evening, painting out the stars. The overcast filled heavily, and now you can’t tell where sea meets sky at the horizon. The moon is rising later and later as our passage goes, and without it now I can’t see the bows from the helm. But tonight I’ll enjoy the sailing on the graveyard watch despite the pea soup visibility. Not too many things more exciting than sailing fast in the dark with nothing but empty horizon.

HAA! Spoke too soon! No sooner had I punctuated that last sentence a blip appeared on my radar scope. You can’t make this stuff up… Huzzah! Life! A boat! And another blip: a squall! I track the boat for a half hour, and lo and behold, we have a possible intersection (read: collision course). Sounds to me like zero fun in the middle of the night. Good thing I’m all juiced up on gummy sharks! The ship’s blazing lights (must be a cruise ship) are on the horizon now, but we’re about to go into a rainy patch and I might not be able to see it for long. But that’s what radar is for! Eventually, the ships contact details come up on my AIS screen and I hail Carnival Spirit (definitely a cruise ship) on the VHF to see if they have me on their scopes. Yes, they do, and yes it might be close, so I tack the boat to let them go through. Nothing more humiliating than being run over by a cruise ship. It’d be like getting hit by one of those circus fire trucks stuffed with nineteen clowns, sirens and pinwheels screaming. I sail the wrong way for a few minutes to let Barnum & Bailey bulldoze on through, then tack single-handedly back to my course. The whole rigmarole took about an hour and a half and now it’s raining! Dang! I had a great playlist picked out for a solo deck dance party too! I’m drowning my sorrows in gummy sharks.

Author: Pete

Location: 28°58.331S’,  161°09.5648E’

 

Day 6 at sea.

Spent my watch last night stargazing in the trampoline. The wind was nil and the motors were humming contentedly, pushing us along through the calm seas. The trampoline has got to be one of my favorite spots in the world. Paradoxically, it could be anywhere in the world, I suppose. No light pollution out here besides the pesky moon, makes for a good show. This morning the wind filled in slightly so we flew the chute again and eventually got to a good six-knot clip. The clouds are back too! Is it worrisome that clouds are a welcome diversion?

Another idyllic day with light winds and seas from astern, beaming sunshine and marbled ocean. The only little squall during the day was tracking right over our position but dissipated before it got to us.

We caught a mahi-mahi today too! I like the Polynesian name because mahi means ‘strong’, and to stress the significance of something it is said twice. So mahi-mahi is “strong-strong!” And beautiful too. He hit our rainbow-fab squid lure in an arc of yellow lightning and we danced for a bit trying to reel him in. Eventually we brought him along side the boat, all fight and flash. They don’t have scales, but yellow-gold skin that catches the sun in eye popping contrast with the deep blue sea. He turned silvery with indigo spots when we welcomed him properly to the boat. Probably the worst I’ve ever felt about catching a fish but we’ll be well fed for the rest of the trip. He’s a predator too with half a dozen mauled fingerlings in his stomach. But now the hunter becomes the hunted! And later the new hunter (me) will become the plumber! Salt water galley pump is acting up and isn’t going to fix itself!

Flew the spinnaker through the evening and into the night, it’s colors fading with the sunset. Really felt like ‘ghosting’ along with the billowing sail lurking through the dark seas like a pajamaed packman spook. Finally pulled it down in the dark when the winds freshened conveniently on a watch change.  Spinnaker flying under the sun all day in fair winds and following seas catching mahi mahi? Every day on passage is like that, right?

 

Author: Pete

Location: 29°50.402S’,  163°30.447E’

 

Day 5 at sea.

Looks like we’re sitting on the north end of a nice fat high pressure system. High pressure systems are great; they generally mean light winds and clear skies. Not always conducive to getting any sailing done, but very pleasant, much like a chatty, loafing co-worker. So our rip-roarin’ start to the trip fizzled out (can we do away with the phrase “Peter out”, please?) after four days of zippy sailing and left us with fair winds and flat seas. Farewell 159 mile days!  The crew busied themselves with the three S’s of flat-water life: swimming, sudoku, and showering.  Transom showers are a little precarious.  One has to make sure to soap up backside and feet separately, lest all traction between body and deck be lost and the bather go shooting into the sea!

We flew the spinnaker for a few hours and ghosted along aimlessly as the winds calmed. Sailors generally whinge about squalls and cloud lines, but they usually are associated with wind, and give the world out here some depth. Today nothing marred the view all the way out to the horizon in all directions. I felt like an owl spinning my head in circles trying to take in the unblemished panorama. With no frame of reference it feels like Tayrona is bobbing happily in one spot with the sea passing under her keels like the current in a bank-less river.

Winds abated further. Moving at three knots is infuriating so I did a little swimming off the bows, floating between the hulls as the boat sailed over. Appropriate safety measures and adult supervision were in place, I assure you. We are getting perilously close to Australia though, and the thought crossed my mind that the big sharks over there probably can swim to over here. I didn’t dally in the water.

I did run a line and float off the back to grab onto while swimming. It’s a little spooky watching the boat sail away from you, even for a short distance. Sometimes Tayrona seems like a neat toy, maybe a car or a fort. But watching it cruise away at a deceivingly fast four knots re-instilled my appreciation for her protective nature. She’s always taking care of us, fighting off waves, shrugging off wind, clutching tenaciously to some sketchy bottom in an anchorage… It’s fun pretending to be a tough sailor-man, but when things get ugly out here, she’s the one taking the brunt of the weather for us while we hide inside and eat popcorn.

Another beaming sunset lit up concentric rings of color off the bow like a navigational bullseye. “Go west young man!” Slow fade into a starry night and now a moonrise just a few minutes ago. Going to go make some popcorn. It’s not just for inclement weather anymore.