Bill
That computer I was using in the french post office, was totally weird and then I got kicked off so here I am at the boat tapping this out on the laptop.
Here in Atuona, Marquises, I'm finding it very cheap to check in (except for the 1800 dollar bond which I will forfeit if I cause any problems and am asked to leave in a hurry, or my boat is wrecked or etc etc etc, but I get it back in Bora-Bora, like I say, if I can be good that long). But everything else is very expensive. A hamburger and fries and two cold small beers cost about 8$ in the Galapagos, here it was 31$. Packet of instant noodles 1.25$ each. bottle of cheap french wine in the nice hotel bar, 40$, but some other guy bought it, so that was not half bad. Anyways for some reason, American pork and beans are cheap, so is that tasty chewy french bread, and free papayas from the roadside, and free range chickens everywhere. tomorrow I'll set the trap, it's the old box held up with a stick with a string attached, pull the string, box falls on big rooster, free chicken roast on the beach tomorrow night.
This anchorage sucks, the bottom is good though, black sand and so I have two big anchors out, one in front and one behind, but the swell is large and so I hope to be on my way soon. I haven't got no charts of the Marquises though, none available here for sale. tomorrow I hope to get that sorted out and get a good address in the next port of call, Nuku Hiva. It will be a real address, not just a post office box, but I wonder if Priority Post will send to a post office box.
I have no real internet access here neither, 'High' speed (actually medium speed) costs 30$ for 3 hours(2$ an hour in Galapagos) and you get kicked off all the time and you have to figure out why and how to get back on in french. It's at the post Office only. The phone is 1$ a minute, in Galapagos .25$ a minute. How can you figure which is cheaper, the expensive to check in and cheap to eat Galapagos or cheap to check in (if you can be good for your entire stay) and expensive to eat French Polynesia?
Anyways, I'm tapping this message out on board Prism after a busy afternoon of laundry and water tank filling. The fresh water is great here, on the beach beside Prism there is lots of water, and one really neat outdoor shower amongst the flower bushes and the water is plentiful, sweet and warm and I take half a dozen showers a day. I'll be here for a day or two at least, tomorrow I'm going around boat to boat to get some digital photos of the charts of the Marquises and maybe I'll up anchor and off to the secure anchorage downwind a couple of miles and explore around a bit.
I'll attach the journal of this last leg and can you please send the journal along to Carol and Lorraine, and Mom if you have an email address, and of course anyone else you want to send it too, no problem, it's not copywrited. I have Mom's address and I'll send her a post card, but if you call her let her know that I made it OK.
Well the old man never made it to 80, I wonder will I? His boat is standing up pretty good, never leaked a drop of ocean yet, and I seemed to have patched most of the above waterline leaks down to a dull roar. It can rain now and it's dry in here. Lots of people admire it and say it doesn't look like a homebuilt. Read the journal for now Bill and I'll get that address for you as soon as possible.
Tuesday Feb 12 0900 lcl or 1500Z.
After a night of helping with diesel re-fueling and taking my agent and his worker and the workers family out for supper, it's a bit of a slow start for my departure day. For some reason I was not charged any overnight anchoring fees, which had been rumoured to be $100 a day, but turned out to be just 20$ a day for the "Ruthie", a much bigger sailboat next door. Anyways, I was pretty happy at the clean cheap diesel, the good water, the no overnight fees, the only 35$ fine for no departure papers from San Francisco, so off to one last dinner, with the agent and his worker his family, and then at 0900 lcl, hoist the anchor and depart.
It's my departure day, it's written on the 'Zarpe', and depart I must, into head winds, head currents and head waves. That's the spanish way, I guess, No departure papers from America, big problem Senor, so when the great winds are blowing into the bay making it uncomfortable and then blowing onwards directly at the Marquises, I can't leave. Finally my papers come to the surface of El Puerto Capitan desk, stamp stamp, fine 35$, leave tomorrow or further fines.
OK, OK, why couldn't you do that last week when the great winds were blowing my way? By the way, nice uniform but I wouldn't wear it in San Francisco. Oh that's were you got it. Well, nice uniform. Bye, bye.
Oh well, Prism steers herself into wind nicely, and I got chores to do, like stow the anchor in the cockpit, and its chain too. Flush the holding tanks and bilge, stow some stuff, and by nightfall we are about 20 miles towards the Marquises. The wind died so put away the genoa, put a reef in the main so it becomes a steady sail, on the BUKH at 2600 RPM, autopilot for 180 Magnetic and we're off into the night.
Jimmy Corrnell has a warning in his book that there is an extension of the doldrums southwest of the Galapagos. He recommends that I motor due west to avoid this area and then set a course for Marquises. I have watched the weather fax this week and the strong SE trades are due south at around 8 degrees. Also the Pilot Chart says that the winds will be south, in addition the Pilot Chart calls for a percentage of calms southwest of Galapagos. So instead of following Jimmy, I'm going due south for 8 degrees to get the southeast trades.
I revised my fuel burn estimates to 3/8 of a gallon (US) an hour, or 10 gallons a day. I hope to get 120 miles a day, or 2 degrees, so here's hoping that I'll be just 96 hours of motoring to pick up those trades.
Wednesday morn.
A great night, not a ship in sight, and dawn sees the big Island of the Galapagos small on the horizon. Calms all around, except for the odd squall, but I managed to miss them all and a pretty boring day of motoring on a course of 180 magnetic. There must be a great West current since the GPS course is consistently 20 degrees more. Another day of minor chores and cleaning, reading and generally slouching around being lazy.
Thursday morn.
Last night the seas were so calm as to give perfect reflections of clouds lit by the half moon. I saw one vessel last night, away behind me, and I think it was another fishing vessel since we are very close to the 200 mile limit. I heard that the Japanese fish right up to the limit. This would agree with what we saw coming into the Galapagos, we saw two fishboats right at the 200 mile limit on the north. At dawn the wind is from the West, happens only 3% of the time according to the Pilot Charts and I am at 3 degrees 30 minutes south by 92 degrees West. I'm in that zone that Jimmie and the Pilot Charts warned of, and sure enough it's calm except for this west wind in this rainstorm. I can't complain, 6.7 knots at 186 Magnetic with 2600 RPM, full main and full genoa. Just had a lovely tropical shower before breakfast, woke me up right proper and we are steaming off to the rodeo, that is the Southeast trades which I hope to pick up at 5 degrees south. But I'm prepared to wait until 8 degrees before I shut the engine off and drift and sail with whatever winds the good lord hands me at 8 degrees south, 94 degrees west.
Friday morn, Feb 15th.
Rain again this morning, and a strong WNW wind so no problem holding a course of 180M. Is this the beginning of the trades at 5 degrees 42 minutes?
Saturday morn, Feb 16th.
Yes to the above, it was the beginning of the trades and I've just finished 24 hours of fast sailing in light seas and light winds. Overnight I had to reef the main and genoa to keep the hammering down, but with the new weight and balance Prism is stern heavy and seems to like it that way. I've also been studying sail trim and I think I'm getting the main trimmed better and so less weather helm. The winds are not yet strong from the SE, but have a SW tendency and so I've been close hauled and getting 275 or 290 at 5 or 6 knots. I'm loosing a bit of South and getting pushed towards the Doldrums a bit, but making lots of west and that's the most of the direction that I have to travel to get to Hiva Oa.
Saturday PM, Feb 16.
Rather poor two days noon to noon distance run, only 110 miles average for the past two days, but I got a lot of Southeast miles those two days and so I should be safely in the Trades now, and should simply be sailing downwind, generally to Hiva Oa. I had to replace the genoa roller furling line, it has been nothing but trouble since I noticed the chafe in Galapagos and had to replace it with a nylon line, not as satisfactory and bad for chafe. Now I have to lock the genoa in the reef position manually at the drum, necessitating a trip forward to reef or un-reef, not as convenient as before.
A bit of a couple of lazy days for me, laying about reading novels and other stuff, sleeping lots, but there is very little to do right now, just read the GPS for navigation, watch for ships, haven't seen one, watch for whales, only saw one, a bit of cleaning, a bunch of eating as well. I've almost got the fresh stores ate up, there's just potatoes and onions left. great pineapple, ate it all in one sitting. Lips are still sore from that.
This is the area where Jimmy Cornell warns about whales, apparently small sailing vessels have been damaged and sunk by whales, the whales in this part of the ocean are angry and mean. Why would any whale want me to get out of my boat and into the water? I just saw some sort of small whale behind me a couple of hours ago, not too sure what kind it was, but in case it was a lost baby with an angry mother around, I just sailed away, westwards. Presently at 6 degrees 12 minutes South by 95 degrees 02 minutes West heading 270 M at 5.7 knots with a full genoa, full main and Cap Horn windvane doing a very good job. About 10 degrees of heel to port, I'm on a starboard tack. I seem to have a current behind me of about half or three quarters of a knot. I expect the wind to back to the South soon, and then I'll get back on my course of 235M. I want to get south towards 8 degrees, to be further from the doldrums and in the area of the Pilot Chart where the winds blow all the time from the South, Southeast or East, all good directions to take me from here to Hiva Oa. I've still got 39 degrees of West Longitudes to go to Hiva Oa, and less than 4 degrees of latitude to go.
Wednesday Feb 20th.
Now for sure I am in the trades, at 8 south and 101 West and the wind is definitely from the SE, not very strong, and with a confused sea to keep the sails from staying filled and steady. And as a consequence of the sails flapping, the wind vane gets confused and then the ship wobbles through the sea on a bit of an erratic course. Yesterday I was studying the swells and there is most definitely a large swell from the south, I'm sure I'm not imagining waves born in Antarctica and making all the way here. And yet there seemed to be some big swells from the North as well. Last night on the weatherfax from Honolulu, which I am just now starting to get at sunset, it showed two swells for this area, one from the south and the other from the Northeast, and on top of those swells, I have the local wind waves. They aren't very big yet since the wind is consistently below 10 knots.
I had a difficult night two nights ago, the wind died and both the main and Genaker were slapping and wearing with chafe so I downed both and then the rock and roll set up. Prism like all good boats, lays broadside to whatever swell and waves exist, and did the swell ever give an unpleasant night. threw me from the bunk a couple of times, I almost got the leecloth out to strap into the bunk. Everything in any locker that wasn't in the least bit confined slapped this way then that way, some I recognized like the bicycle pump or a wine bottle or a particular piece of rigging, others I searched for after they got me up. Whenever I got up I carefully searched the cockpit for any signs of wind that I could use to get me going again, nothing until dawn. But after that another good day under Genaker and Main headed SW. I'm firmly convinced that the good solid winds are at 10 south and that's were I'm generally headed.
The sun gets very hot here, lots of sun these past few days. I've got the front hatch open and the Genaker seems to put some breeze down it so I stay down below most of the day. Evenings, mornings and at night when the full moon is out in full light are the times for me. yesterday morn I thought I would be going right into a rain shower, so I had a salt water shower and only waited for the fresh rinse in a fresh tropical rain shower, alas it evaporated before I got to it.
Not a ship to report, not a plane overhead, one whale, one boobie, some other little birds and the odd flying fish, but other than that this is a lonely spot.
Thursday Feb 21st.
Last night was most definitely the trades, beyond any shadow of my doubts. Yesterday the winds were light and the wind waves were more than should be expected and from the SE. Before too long the wind came up a bit and so up with the Genaker and a reefed main, since there was still not enough wind to keep the sails full over each wave. A wave would slap the hull forward, and knock the wind out of the sail, and then it would rebound and SNAP full when the wind caught it. So to cut down the chafe and the violence of that, the main had a reef in it. The winds filled in and the genaker and reefed main had us at 6 knots throughout the evening and into the early morning. But then at around 2 AM, the genaker was very full and very powerful, the ship was hitting 8 knots on the steam gauge and it was obviously time to get that big genaker down. So I did, and unlike the day before, my knee was not severely bruised and no lines were tangled. It was a smooth easy takedown, solo, at night, in big winds.
The total eclipse of the moon was last night, and I saw it perfectly. It even happened at the exact time that the almanac said it would happen. Very neat, the last one I saw was in Iqaluit, this one was a lot warmer. I thought of Tracy of course, she always goes a little crazy at the full moon and I wonder if she did anything crazy at this full moon when it got totally eclipsed.
Can't really be any confusion about the trades right here and now, blowing around 18 knots, and I got a full main and a well reefed genoa and we are steaming along at 6 knots. The Cap Horn windvane handles the main and genoa a lot better than it handles a genaker flown as a spinnaker and a main. Our course is very steady maybe plus and minus 10 degrees, neither sail gets backwinded and we are steady at 6 on the steam gauge and 6.5 to 7 on the GPS. The course is almost 270 so the west longitudes are just going up very steady and the distance to Hiva Oa is steadily going down. Give me these winds for some time, for enough time to get to Hiva Oa, for another 2 weeks, wouldn't that be great??
I had to replace my Harken Unit 1.5 MKIII furling line, and couldn't get a very good replacement line. On page 33 of the operation manual it describes a " "locking" device. "Use of the lock removes tension from the furling line and prevents accidental release of the line...". I thought this would work well for me, since the replacement furling line available in the Galapagos Islands looked more like a nylon string than a proper dacron furling line. Well, after just one night of use of the locking device, the lower line guard assembly, fastened with 2 internal hex bolts, had fallen off and the lock was only locking because it was tied to the forward pulpit. I want to draw to your attention that any sailor thinking that putting shackle or clip into the hole will be a "locking" device should be advised, it will not be. It will force the lower line guard assembly off the unit, both mylar guard clamp shims will be lost, the furling line will get quite tangled, your idea of a locking device does not work.
I'm definitely out of that 'doldrum zone' that Jimmy Cornell and the Pilot Charts warned of. I have my own humble opinion, it is the place in the South Pacific Ocean where the strong South winds from the western coast of South America have to decide which way to blow. Some will blow off to the left and become the SouthEast Trades. Others winds, closer to South America, will follow the curve of the Andes and coast and turn right into the Gulf of Panama. The middle winds will blow straight, because they have a lot of momentum and a little further into the 'doldrum zone' they too will have to decide, bear left or bear right. In this 'doldrum zone' of wind direction change, any winds and no winds are possible. Similarly, the strong, north setting Humbolt Current must also make essentially the same decision, leaving the waters available for swell and current from all directions. I'm glad I'm through with that piece of ocean, between 90 and 100 degrees West, the equator and 10 degrees South.
Another walk about on the deck, checking for loose lines, chafing lines or sails, improvements to course and speed. All is shipshape, nothing amiss, some lines coiled up, but mostly a time to think in the sun. I still can't believe how lonely it is out here. I look at the horizon and some of the clouds almost look like faraway islands, but on closer examination, no, not once, they are only clouds and the flat, flat, flat horizon is totally devoid of anything. Not an island, not a ship, not anything but waves and whitecaps. But I don't feel alone at all, I'm less alone than two days ago when the wind wasn't taking me anywhere and I was stranded in the ocean, going nowhere. Today, I'm speeding, well speeding for a sailboat, towards islands of people.
I can't feel alone anyways, I have so much of people around me. I'm sitting in this lovely boat, can't see the flat flat horizon from here, I can only see the solid structure of this boat built by my dad and beautifully finished by my mom. I am writing this on a computer, somebody is going to read this someday. A book written by a sailor about the Island people right ahead, other books given to me by friends and family, now I remember reading that book the first time in a rainy BC cove and next morning going hunting with my son Peter. I'm speeding effortlessly through this lonely flat piece of ocean only because so many people have worked on this boat, or built spaceage ropes and sailcloths that don't fall apart in water and sunlight, or maintain a GPS system so I know where I am if I can read a boat symbol on a map. This is not lonely, I bend the wind to take me to people, even people did the research to know that the winds blow here, and blow this way, at this time of year, people say don't go south, or north, the winds don't blow there, those places are really lonely.
Friday 22 Feb.
A fast day yesterday, it was a beam reaching day and I put the Genoa out the same side as the main and put the pole out between the forward lower shroud and the upper shroud and did it ever give a lot of speed and power to that genoa, and we made 7 knots lots of the time. But the wind died down in the night, and so I had to lower the main, it flogs really bad when the seas are lumpy and the wind light. We still carried on around 270T, maybe 285T later on, and the speed was reduced. So the noon to noon only came in around 125 miles, but that's still better than the first 10 degrees of longitude when I was trying for south latitude and dealing with very frequent calms. These trades are great for sailing, and today I'm sailing on a close reach at 5.5 to 6 knots and 235T. I have a feeling that the winds will be strongest and steadiest at 10 degrees South, so I'm taking advantage of whatever South I can easily get, and that is easy today with a full press of sail and a close reach. I've never been so far south, 8 degrees 26.5 minutes, and it's getting souther every minute.
Sunday 24 Feb.
A bad morning, I was too late getting the Genaker down as a squall approached from behind. As I was getting ready Prism broached to windward and the genaker was doomed from there. I should have done this and that, lots of second guessing now, but the genaker bag is full of nylon shreds, a couple of days of sewing project in there now. I've been lucky since then, the wind has been strong from the SE and so with a reefed genoa poled to windward and a full main to lee, I've had a good easy ride at 6 or 6.5 knots all day. As I explained to the wind after lunch, you must remain strong and from this compass point, I cannot use weak winds any more. I've been thinking that perhaps Tracy and I can find a nice little anchorage, with a nice village church on the seashore, and we can get a sewing machine and spend a week re-building my genaker and sight seeing, and doing some other boat projects, maybe we can just idly work and swim and relax at some tropical anchorage.
Anyways a bit bummed out this day, that was an expensive sail. I was complacent though, figuring nothing was going to happen, even though even an idiot beginner would be scared of flying a genaker as a spinnaker, solo, with a black squall approaching. Well, lucky me, I got all the pieces, I never got hurt, and I got good wind blowing hard right at my destination. Now it's time to buckle down and make sure that I don't get complacent again. And research how to sew a broken genaker back together again.
Wednesday 27 Feb.
Up early this morning since the wind has died, but the waves haven't and so the sails flog and flap and chafe like crazy. These are expensive sails and I've already reduced my sail count by one. I dropped the main and put the genoa out on a better tack, hoping to keep it filled and not flogging. The engine is on at 1400 RPM in forward and that gives me 4.5 knots on course. I certainly hope the wind comes back like it was since Sunday morning when the genaker blew up. The wind was 12 to 18 knots from the SE, Prism was doing 6 or 6.5 knots on course with a full main and the 2/3 genoa poled out to windward. I can't pole the entire genoa out because I have a short pole and so some of the genoa stays furled to give a good shape and a shape that will stay to windward on a short pole.
Ah, that was glorious the full wind behind me pushing me steadily onwards. It's almost impossible to tell that you are going forwards, all around there is nothing to see but flat horizon. Some puffy clouds, the sun or moon, but no islands or capes that come into view and then fade away behind you. Just a bit of wake, you can see it in the waves behind for a hundred feet or so, otherwise you think you are floating a million miles from land. The distance traveled really shows on the GPS. Longitude is just getting bigger and bigger and the daily noon-to-noon runs are 130 or even 145. Very big mileage for this boat.
These winds are just like the summer winds that blow down the Strait of Georgia, except the waves have a thousand miles or more to build. The waves becomes longer and sometimes can get steep. The occasional steep wave, 6 feet tall is no big deal, especially since I'm going the same way, but it does throw the self steering windvane off a bit. Whilst the windvane is trying to recover, the sails are getting backwinded and might flog a bit if the wind is down in strength. The big main gives a lot of power and stability, the genoa by itself rolls the boat around every wave. But every time the wind gets behind the main, when that big sail straightens out, it gives the whole boat a solid smack. Sounds very expensive.
What a pleasure to be sailing these winds. At home I was always thinking, sailing downwind is great fun and easy and you cover a lot of ground, but you have to beat your way back to home, and work, and responsibilities. Here, I can set the sails and windvane, and watch the longitudes build on the GPS. Sometimes I read a lot, or eat a lot, I do have a "to do" list, one thing has been done to date. Just riding these winds that get the boat going top speed with a full press of sail, not worrying about trying to return to home. What a joy to sail when your journey is so long as to come home after you have been blown as far downwind as you possibly can.
29 Feb Noon Local.
A motor vessel came onto the horizon aft and south. Soon it became apparent it was on course for me, and about 2 or 3 miles away I started the radio calls on channels 13 and 16 VHF. No reply, and that was not very reassuring, the only vessel I've seen this trip shows up heading right for me in radio silence. The first thought that kept coming to mind over and over again was piracy. Well it wasn't, else you wouldn't be reading this, would you. I was on deck planning my evasive tactics to start in a few minutes when the motor vessel altered course to starboard and passed behind me about one mile. Well, it became obvious that the vessel was fishing by the lines it was dragging. Shortly thereafter a Japanese fisherman came on advising that there were many other draggers between here and Marquises.
Damn, just when I was getting lulled to sleep every night figuring that I was in the loneliest stretch of ocean on this planet, along comes a fleet of draggers to snag a sleeping yachtie. It's often written that fishing boats are unattended at the helm. I think the dragger bridge was empty and the autopilot drove the boat whilst everyone was busy doing fishing things, after all that's why they are out here. Somebody heard me on the radio or saw me, and then the autopilot was altered to pass behind me.
Conventional wisdom has it that a freighter cruising at 15 knots, and me cruising at 5 knots, there will be a head-on collision in 20 minutes after that freighter shows up on the horizon. Not that the freighter would know there had been a head-on. So every 20 minutes some one on this little yacht has to scan the horizon for freighters. Not so hard with two souls on board, somebody is always assigned a watch.
I feel that the most experienced hand should stand the late night early morning watch. The most experienced hand has heard many bumps in the night, and he has solved at least almost all of them. A bump in the night fills the inexperienced hand with panic, fear and inexperience. So I always take those 'dogwatches'.
I also feel that most bridges are well manned and alert when the Captain is up and about.
"Captain up for breakfast, all hands look lively."
"Captain on the bridge, all hands look lively."
"Look sir, on the horizon, a sailing vessel you can see it's big white sails with the binoculars."
"Good eyes, Mate."
"Captain making his last rounds, all hands look lively."
And after he enters the nights orders in the logbook and retires, what can happen on the bridge? Perhaps there are two bridge officers, one in a comfy chair supervising the autopilot and one in a nicer comfy chair supervising the helmsperson supervising the autopilot. Around 3 AM when the whole ship is asleep, one says, join me on the bridgewing for a smoke? Hey, this is 'wild' tobacco, and the fresh breeze takes the incriminating smell astern. Women are just as likely to be bridge officers nowadays and colleagues can be lovers nowadays too. Later she might say, I'm going to the ladies room, the autopilot has control. This might just be the code he was waiting for and tonight he joins her there, privately, to enjoy what their colleagues are only dreaming. Whatever, as if, in my dreams, maybe it was as simple as they both fell asleep, only their lawyers will ever know for sure. But that lack of attention might be just enough to run smack dab into Gil Island, or worse yet, Island Prism.
So here I am, in the seemingly loneliest stretch of ocean on the planet, awake at night counting stars and watching the horizon, same as the trip down the coast of North America, but unlike the past two weeks.
2 March, 1800 Zulu, 1000 local.
what a glorious past couple of days of sailing, and seemingly no end in sight. The wind is coming out of the SE, as per the weather charts that I have been getting from Honolulu and New Zealand. Now the GPS is saying just 720 nautical miles to Hiva Oa, so it's most definitely starting to feel like time to prepare for port. Yesterday was a cleaning day, and today is getting the e-mails and dispatches in order. Tomorrow should be spent getting the anchors ready and perhaps even doing some laundry. Don't count your chickens before they are hatched, Jimmie, often said me grandma, but the wind is forecast to blow the right way for another 2 days, and I only need another 4 after that. Landfall well ahead of schedule due to a great amount of luck with strong following winds. At least that's what I hope to be writing in 6 days.
2 March 2200 Zulu, 1400 local. Now that was a coincidence that has my sister Carol written all over it. she has all sorts of coincidental things happen to her, the one I remember is that she never looks at a digital clock that it doesn't say 11:11. Oh Carol, that's because you never remember or choose to never remember looking at the clock when it says 10:32 or 11:54. But since she has told me her problem, I've had it too.
This new computer had lost the entry for 29th of Feb (what a strange day to loose from memory) and so I had to re-enter the entire day, from memory. It took some time, and in between I had some lunch, and then after pounding the Save Key a dozen times I had a look outside. There, right smack dab in front of me was a huge freighter, bearing right down on me. All the theory as just pontificated in jest was right in front of me, and the freighter wasn't really making any evasive manoeuvre, just bearing down on me. Quick onto the radio, no answer of course, then into the cockpit to plan my evasive tactics when the freighter came on the radio, talking to a sailing vessel. The coincidences were amazing, there was a sailboat right beside the freighter, just a couple of miles ahead of me. Three of us, in the loneliest stretch of ocean on the planet, two on a collision course, 2 minutes after a computer finally saved a story of coincidences. Thank you, Carol, daughter of Les Shortreed. This story has a simple ending, the freighter changed course and passed me well to starboard as I sailed onwards to the Marquises, wing on wing, wind vane steering, me carefully watching the universe unfold by coincidence.
3 March 2130Z, 1230 Local.
Last time change, overnight I crossed 127 degrees 30 minutes West and entered the Marquises time zone, that is Z minus 9. And talk about coincidences. Last night, right about midnight, there was a bump in the night and then the sails were flapping in the breeze. Up onto deck and there's the wind vane hard over and the rudder flopping around like a chicken with it's head cut off and the sails flapping like the ship was stalled into wind. a broken windvane steering rope, and the ship turned up into wind and stalled. That took an hour to replace, but no big problems and then the wind was up a bit so I put up the staysail and spent the rest of the night on a fast broad reach with full main. Today has been slow though, hot sun and low winds, so up with all available canvas and suffer a bit of flapping of sails since the big seas from the past week of good wind are still here.
6 March 0700Z, 5 march 2200 local.
Last two nights have been busy, the winds have been squally, fluctuating as well as on and off. So every night it's been reef, change genoa pole side to side, un-reef, set staysail, down all sail and on the engine, on and on and on. Tonight has been pretty simple so far, the evening was lovely and a gentle breeze blowing me on course at 4 knots, but soon the wind died even more and the waves flogged the sails like crazy. And the batteries need a charge so it's onto autopilot and set a course for Hiva Oa, just 264 nautical miles away.
Today the wind died in the afternoon so I put the engine on and happened to motor through a flock of feeding birds. So I put a lure out on my heaviest salmon rod, loaded with 80 lb test. In just a couple of minutes a big fin came for a look, and I grabbed the rod and gave it a bit of action, and bang, it hit. It ran a bit like a big salmon so I thought this could work, maybe I got a 10 pound tuna or such. I even had time to turn the engine to idle and neutral as the rod gave a few jerks and tugs, and then it jumped. A great big, I bet it was every inch of 4 feet, a lovely silver fish, I don't think it was a sailfish but what a beauty. Then it did a tail walk and then it simply took off. The reel just sang, I burnt my hand but not much because I knew it was a lost cause. The end of the line came off the reel with a jerk, the rod dug into my groin area, not the sensitive parts of the groin, but down there nonetheless. The rod then broke at the reel and it was all over. Took about 3 minutes to attract the fish, and about 15 seconds to lose it. Then it did another tailwalk, maybe it thought it was still attached to my rod, but it was only attached to a hundred yards of 80 lb test. There were no barbs so probably the lure was spit out in time. What a beautiful big fish, those are the type that you sit in big chairs with the huge rod and reel properly inserted into a leather groin apparatus. I'm going to get one of those big rods someday, that was the third or fourth flock of feeding birds I've seen.
Getting close now, it's just 264 miles to go. The wind is supposed to be here right now, strong from the NE, perfect wind for me right now, but no, there is no wind at all. What's up with that weather forecaster, should I report the anomaly?
07 Mar 2130 Z, 1230 local.
Getting very close now, this is the spot where the calculations indicate that the tip of the peak of the highest mountain on Hiva Oa should be visible. But I don't think there is 74 nautical miles of visibility today, the horizon ahead looks a little obscured in haze. I expect to make landfall tonight close to dark. The western tip of Hiva Oa and the little Island to the south, Montane, are not lit and there is no moon tonight. So I intend to heave to or just drift outside all hazards until I can see at dawn. Then it's about 3 hours to get to the Bay that I'll be anchored in. What a plan, hey!
Not too much to report over the past few days. I saw a whale again, it was a minke and did nothing of interest but come up for one breath close to the stern of Prism. No more fishing birds, no more fishing boats. The wind, instead of being strong and NE as the weather thought might happen a couple of days ago has been nothing but East winds, rather light and they die off all together at night. If that happens tonight, it will work for me.
I've gotten really good at sailing this boat downwind. First of all, the autopilot is set with a course that heads the boat with the wind coming from behind and just a bit to one side or the other. The main sail is set out on the leeward, that is, the side away from the wind and then the boom secured down with a tackle to the toerail. A gybe preventer is then tightened and locked at the cockpit. This means that the main cannot come swinging across the cockpit if the wind does by mistake get behind it. The gybe preventer holds the main forward. Then the hard work of setting up the whisker pole starts. The whisker pole fits onto the mast and goes out the other side of the boat and going forward a bit. It has 3 lines at the far end over the water, a topping lift, an afterguy and a foreguy, so it is securely locked in position. That's a bit of work, but after it's done the genoa or front sail is ready to be unfurled and set flying from the whisker pole. Next, I adjust the windvane so that it is pointing into the wind behind us and just a bit off to the side opposite the main, that is, towards the wind. Then I lock the windvane steering ropes onto the rudder, and voila, she should be sailing twenty degrees or so to one side or the other of straight downwind.
Well, after 2900 miles and three weeks practice, today, the drill went just like above for the first time without any problems. Rest of the world, here I come.
10Mar 2008.
Yes indeed the landfall was right on, an hour before dusk the Island of Motane became visible and shortly after that Cape Belaguie on the main island of Hiva Oa. The night was very dark however, and the wind rather than dying, increased and so I spent a rather bumpy night, first laying ahull, that is without any sails and Prism, like any good boat, turns broadside to wind and waves and rocks and rolls like a barroom bronco set on bust. Then I raised the main, with 2 reefs in it and the staysail and hove to. Prism, like any good boat, turned into the wind and waves for a steadier but wetter ride. It was getting towards dawn anyways, and I had another three hours to go before Atuona, so off I went, downwind again along the coast of Hiva Oa and soon enough to the harbour of Atuona, setting the anchour at 0915 Local or 1815Z on 8 March 2008.
Statistics of interest:
25 days and 3 hours to sail 2963 nautical miles as the GPS plots (or as the crow flyes). If the 3 hours are discounted, the average is 118.5 miles a day, and I'm happy with that. There were a couple of days at the beginning and end of slow sailing, but in the middle I got many days of 130 miles and some days of 145. Cost::: A few gallons of diesel and one genaker.
Jimsh
PS Bill,
I'm looking into an address in Nuku Hiva, the next big island en route, so I'll get back to ya soon about that one.
Tks Jimsh
