Author: Pete
Location: 18°35.538S’ 176°30.950W’
Day 2 at sea en route to Fiji.
We got a sliver of moon early this morning and a handful of stars peeking though the overcast as dawn broke. No sunrise, just a gradual lightening of the gray.
The wind and waves evolve through the hours, holding a pattern for a while then throwing us a change up. I feel like our bodies are locked in a game of espionage with the ocean. The evil Axis of Wind and Waves alters the sea state and our bodies work feverishly to try and decipher the motion of the boat like code breakers hacking the Enigma machine. Then a couple hours after we become accustomed to the rhythm of one motion, the wind will veer slightly, or the wave period will increase, and our inner ears are back to smoking cigarettes in dimly lit rooms in the Pentagon.
This afternoon the cloud cover broke slightly and patches of blue punctuated the gray. The sun ripped through the curtains for a gorgeous sunset. Still, the wind isn’t holding back, we’re seeing gusts to 23 and seas to match. We’ve had a few of those really good ones that clip the boat on just the right angle, kick us up into the air and wash over the top of the coach roof. I’ve adopted the McGurn method of operation in uncomfortable situations, which I learned many years ago from the mastermind when we were surfing in Lake Superior. Just before Ian (the the method’s developer) nosed over the top of an icy barrel and was crushed along the stony bottom, I heard him emit a faint, “Fun gaaaame!” Later he explained that by such vocalizations in uncomfortable circumstances one can trick the mind into thinking it’s in the midst of a more pleasurable experience, like as playing a fun game, instead of being hammered into the lake bottom. I’m working on my technique now; when we get one of those really good waves that shudders the boat and bastes us from stem to stern, I’ve taken to visualizing that I’m on a log ride at one of those summer water parks and squealing, “Wheeeee!” My outbursts are more startling to Miranda than the actual wave, but I swear it’s working.
We’re making better time than calculated and all is well aboard. The water rushes by the hull, slapping and banging on the way. It’s a bit unnerving to be dressing oneself with sleep-encrusted eyes take in a nice sunset view out the window, then the next instant be staring at the bottom of the sea. All in the life of a sailing fool.
