Sunday, May 28, 2006

May 28 At Sea

200 miles to go - it's almost over. Last night was intense. Lightning and thunder so close it shook the boat. Downpours that made the phosphorescence in the water glow like a halo around the boat. We sat in the cockpit in shorts and foulweather jackets with the hoods up getting soaked in the cool, fresh water. We wondered if the next one would strike the boat. And the wind. Placid one moment, fierce the next.
With dawn came some sanity. The rain subsided and the lightning abated. We had survived. We had not talked of it while it raged, only talk of essentials: what heading, how to use the engine, what the sails looked like. Reduced to the essentials - that is what this passage has become. We ate and slept and talked of nothing much. I think we realized what we gave of ourselves to the storm. The sea seems not to give up its prizes without a contest. The Marquesas are our prize and it had all been too easy. We have now earned our destination. We will drop the hook in little over 24 hours and it will be over. A great run. We pushed the boat and we pushed ourselves. A little proud? Yeah. Cocky? Not after last night.

May 24, 2006 At Sea

We are making excellent time. Even on mediocre days we pull off 170 miles. The wind came up today and we have been flying under reefed sails. Could be a big 24 hours if my nerve holds out and I don't reef too much. We try to keep the boat moving as close to 8 knots as we can without going over 8.3 which is supposed to be hull speed. In reality the boat can and does exceed hull speed for short periods of time, a few seconds. I have seen over ten knots on the log.
I think we are experiencing about 20 knots of breeze with gusts maybe 5 knots higher. Not a lot of wind but more than we have been experiencing. It becomes challenging to cook supper and sleep well, but brings our destination closer and closer. We have talked of trying for a 200 mile day which would mean sailing at very nearly hull speed for 24 hours straight. I don't know about Alec but I'm realizing I'm getting a little too tired for that kind of fun.
It was hard for me to cook meals today. I couldn't seem to stay focused and it's hot below because the hatches and ports are closed to keep out the occasional splashes from the waves. When there is so much movement that things are flying off the galley counter in the rolls, I find myself getting a little annoyed. That means I'm tired. It looks like six more days to go to reach Hiva Oa in the Marquesas, 900 miles away.

Saturday, May 20, 2006

May 19, at sea

We are almost 8 days out of the Galapagos and 12 sailing days out of Salinas. We are over half way from Salinas to Hiva Oa in the Marquesas. Since leaving the Galapagos we have been averaging 180 miles a day in winds from 8 to 20 knots and seas from 4 to 10 feet. For the most part we have accomplished that on a beam reach, a fast point of sail. We are very happy with our progress. We are going 30 miles further in a day than I had hoped when planning the passage.

Tradewind sailing is such a joy after the relatively windless waters of Mexico. The wind blows constantly here, the seas are not too high, the skies are clear with puffy cumulus clouds around to make things scenic. The sunsets are, well, tropical. The temperature is moderate. I wear shorts and no shirt during the day and put on a shirt and a sweatshirt at night.

The Milky Way is spectacular in the Southern Hemisphere with the Southern Cross stuck in the middle of the river of stars. The slightest change in what the boat sounds like brings me to complete attention. I think that sounds often are the first signs of mechanical malfunction so I use them as indicators of possible problems.

The sounds of the water are forever changing, forever the same. There is the gurgle of water at the transom, interspersed with the rushing of water past the rudder as it turns the boat in reaction to a wave. There is the roar of the bow wave when we are going fast. When going slower it becomes more of a slushing sound. There is the sound, ever variable, of the ocean waves as they crest and break into whitecaps. It is a symphony that I have time to enjoy instead of rushing past.

The sea life has been sparse. After leaving the Galapagos we have seen some dolphins who come to the boat and swim in the bow wave. There is a small bird that flits along the waves. It seems to use so much energy that I can't imagine it finding enough food to sustain it. There are a couple other larger birds as well. This afternoon I saw one perched on a two liter plastic soda bottle floating in the water.

This evening two or three small whales, pilot whales perhaps, came to inspect the boat. They circled several times rushing past the boat. That put me on edge because there are reports of pilot whales in this area attacking boats and actually sinking them. And there are flying fish. Lots and lots of flying fish. Schools light out, surprised by the boat. They fly fifty or a hundred yards at times. They land on deck, in the cockpit. We find little squid on deck in the morning too, their big eyes staring and their ink leaving a temporary stain.

Mostly, life is happy one day to the next. We are sleeping well, eating like kings, indulging in the occasional mate or beer, reading, conversing and pinching ourselves to make sure we realize how extraordinary is this adventure. Goodbye to the western hemisphere.

Tuesday, May 16, 2006

To The Galapagos, May 6 -13

May 6 2006: After several frantic days preparing, my nephew Alec and I are ready to say goodbye to the western hemisphere. He flew into Guayaquil the evening of May 3rd. I met him there since I had to buy fenders for the boat in that city. No, not chrome ones, inflatable plastic tubes that protect the sides of the boat from dock sides. I bought what we needed and took the three hour bus ride to Salinas where the boat was ready to put in the water. George Stewart and his crew did a fine job of preparing the boat while Ellen and I were traveling inland. Unfortunately for future voyagers coming this way, George and his wife are headed to Panama to set up a boat yard and marina on the Caribbean end of the canal.
The first day out we remain under power making water and charging batteries, getting the feel of open water once more. The second and third days of our passage to the Galapagos Islands we sail smartly in moderate breeze and comfortable seas. The fourth day we motor sail through the afternoon and night to time our arrival in the Islands while it is daylight.
On May 10 we arrive in Puerto Ayura on the Galapagos Island of Santa Cruz, dropping the hook in the early afternoon among other cruising boats and many tour boats of different sizes and shapes. Some are quite posh while others are a bit more pedestrian. Some are sailboats, another has a helicopter on top. One big power boat I recognize from La Paz, Mexico, another from San Diego.
The town of Pto. Ayura is the center of tourist activity in the Galapagos. The town boasts 15,000 residents, with 40,000 living on all the islands. While we are there a supply ship is unloading supplies for the island. It is anchored about a mile from shore and the cargo is transferred to lighters, small barges and boats that can navigate the shallow water at the landing. Many men are employed moving the grain sacks, cement sacks, bottled water, all the stuff they don't grow or raise on the island.
Because Alec has a limited amount of time we can only spend a couple of days in the Islands. One day is taken up getting acquainted with our surroundings, buying fuel, provisions, restaurant meals of fish, shrimp in coconut sauce, ceviche to die for and a few drinks. Fortunately we don't have to violate the three D's rule ("Dink, Dark, and Drunk. You can have two of the D's but not all three") because there are water taxis running people out to boats for fifty cents a ride. We avoided having to worry about the "Dink" because we didn't have the dinghy in the water.
One afternoon we hired a guide to drive us up into the hills inside the National Park to see some of the flora, fauna and geological sites. Our first stop was to see a couple of sink holes about 400 feet deep and half a mile across. The ground drops I guess because there is nothing under it due to the way volcanic activity has left the subterranean geography. We forgot to stipulate an English speaking guide, you see, so some of the explanations went over our heads.
We did stipulate that we wanted to hike, however, so our guide drove the pickup along the road in front of us while we and a couple who joined the outing walked along looking at trees, birds, ferns. We then entered a land tortoise preserve where we walked along a trail on the lookout for these monsters. Throughout the underbrush were obvious trails made by the turtles, a type of game trail I haven't encountered before. These trails were wide and low. We saw several turtles on our walk. They weigh a couple hundred pounds, are about two to three feet across and move slowly and deliberately through the fields eating grass, fruit that has fallen from trees, and various seeds, as evidenced by their scat which we examined with the help of our guide.
As I walk along it occurs to me that the Galapagos Islands are a temple to science and reason. People come here because Darwin figured out something important here and they want to pay homage to the idea, to explore its meaning, to stand in awe. It is in the Galapagos where science and religion meld into one expression of wonder at the mysteries that surround us.
The couple who came along with us were great additions to our outing. The man is an Ecuadorian pediatrician married to a German woman. He grew up in Loja, Ecuador and they live in Germany. Our conversations were in Spanish. He was very helpful in conversation, speaking clearly and helping with my sentence structure. It turned out that the guide is an Evangelist and not too happy with the Catholic Church's attitude toward contraception. The doctor was in total agreement. Both said that one of the most intractable problems in Ecuador was 12 and 13 year-old girls having babies by multiple fathers who do not support them.
I noticed that there was a bearded moss growing on trees and bushes in many places. I noted that it looked just like rain forest Spanish moss that grows in forests in Washington. Our guide pointed out that it seldom rains in the Galapagos and this moss filters its water from the air which is humid. He went on to say that the moss filters contaminants from the air as well and the lack of pollution in the islands affords the population with excellent health.
May 12: We weigh anchor at first light and motor out of the harbor to head west. West to the nearest landfall, 3000 miles distant: the Marquesas of French Polynesia. By nightfall we see the last of the archipelago and see nothing but blue ocean ahead. I will miss speaking Spanish. It has always been a challenge but one full of happy memories of kind and happy people who have time for a little conversation with someone who has time for them.
May 13, today: The sea water here is a deep teal color. Dolphins meet the boat and swim at the bow for half an hour, sometimes turning sideways to look up at me, checking me out. I hear their high-pitched squeals. Conversations? Are they wondering why I don't talk back? We think we have finally found the trade winds. All afternoon we have sailed under spinnaker in steady moderate breeze making good speed. We are smiling broadly and are very calm and satisfied.