Crossing the South Pacific

April 28

Ollie was up first this AM. A first! We spend some time deflating the dinghy, stowing it and a few other projects, making ready for sea. Around 9:30 AM we weigh anchor and cruise past Wasabi and Sea Otter. Angelique had left an hour earlier. As we have 3,000 miles to go, there is no particular point in trying to stay together. With nearly dead calm seas all day we are doing only about 3-4 knots. But, the current is contributing about 2-3 of this. Ollie provided a big lunch of potato (pronounced "taddy", in deference to his Maine childhood) salad and beans, one of his specialties.

Esther is feeling insecure today for the first time. Earlier she tried to release a shackle and must have tried to turn it the wrong way, bending my marlin spike knife. Girls are apparently taught that screwing is in and out, rather than clockwise and counter clockwise. Anyway, I'd had the shackle apart earlier than day and we were trying to get the anchor chain stored in the chain locker, which was inadequate in size. Normally she is totally without fear or apprehension about the unknown. We have cruised perhaps 20,000 miles together so far on our own boat , and it's the first time I can remember her being insecure. But, were are headed farther and farther away from  shore, and there is, in fact, 3,000 miles with no options in front of us. If the truth be known I'm more than a little insecure myself.

I got sunburned for the second day in a row today. I tought I was immune to this, but the tropical sun is amazing. Later, I find my left ear to be sunburned regularly as we proceed west-south west day after day. With the crew smaller it's easier to be more of a nudist without worrying about offending anyone's sensibilities. We set watch schedules with every one allowed their choice. I took 12-4 AM and  PM, Esther 4-8 AM  and PM, Ollie was happy to be left with 8-12 AM and PM. Interestingly, everyone thought they had the best watch schedule given their temperaments, habits, and interests.

Jimmy Cornell's book on Ocean Passages suggests the average time for our passage is 30 days. We head south to try to escape the southern equatorial doldrums zone as fast as possible.

April 29 Day two of passage. 02 17 60 S lat.  x 91 21 55 W Long.

Wind continues SW at 0-5 mph. Its clear and almost calm, and we are as alone as I  have ever been. We are sailing southerly, mostly to keep some wind in the sails. Already we are 50 miles off the rhumb line, or a straight line from our departure to our destination. But, we are moving well. As we ease off to more toward our preferred course of 240-270 degrees the wind is almost abaft and preventing a broach requires much more constant monitoring  of the steering vane. We rig a whisker pole on the head sail and it works well, as does the preventer on the main, doing much of the day wing  on wing, or directly down the wind, with one sail to port and one to starboard.

Five other boats left the Galapagos at about the same time. All of them are headed more directly south than we, as we hear from the evening net broadcast. Their objective was to gain southerly as fast as possible to escape the Equatorial Doldrums. Ollie thought sailing the rhumb line would be better, as it enjoys the Humboldt current for longer. Also, our Ocean Currents chart shows a counter current or west to east current in the latitudes of the Marquesas, and the faster we go south the faster we would encounter it.

Shipboard life is settling into an easy pattern with plenty of personal time for each crew member, with a four on, eight off schedule. Usually the crew member on watch can find another to help with any chore needing more than two hands, without the need to wake a sleeping crew member. Showers are taken in the cockpit, during the day, and are definitely of the sea variety.  On the passage to the Galapagos, with a crew of five we were not too worried about water consumption as we had only a ten to twelve day crossing and knew water was available at our destination, although more of a hassle to obtain than we might have realized.

Now, we have just about 100 gallons total on board, in tank storage as well as jerry cans on deck. With an average of thirty days for the passage and three crew, this works out to a gallon or so per person per day in total, for drinking as well as personal hygiene. I'm not sure about Esther, but I certainly had not thought of it in those terms when we signed on!  We have lived for extended periods on Sadie B and felt like we were rationing water all the time. But, there was seldom a day passed when we could not have pulled into any marina and refilled water tanks with no charge. So, we do dishes in salt water, use sea water for cooking, shower and shave (or not, both men grew beards) and use only a pint or so of fresh water for rinsing off after the sea shower. We use a solar heater for the fresh water shower, a heavy polyethylene bag, black on the bottom and clear on top to warm the fresh water. It has the advantage of being fed by gravity via a small tube, so it has a slow discharge rate, limiting use. Dish towels are left to dry in the open air after drying dishes; within a day or two they are saturated with salt and feel tacky all the time. We mostly air dry our bodies after a daily shower. Everyone is comfortable with the casual nudity of shipboard life, so that makes things much easier than having to deal with modesty and clothing.

Night watches are incredibly easy. Usually enough of a moon is present that night vision is adequate. Tonight however, we sailed into a thick bank of fog with a new moon and it was about as dark as is possible. We are far away from any shipping lanes and do not expect to see any commercial shipping, and seldom do. We have a hammock rigged on the starboard side of the boat, along side the cockpit, hung from the boom gallows above the dog house forward, and from the radar arch aft. This is a very comfortable place to spend  both watch and off watch time. The hammock eases the easy motion of the ship as we feel the effects of the slow rolls approaching us from behind. With the wind off our port stern, the hammock is on the high side  of the boat. Also, hung from the radar arch right over the helmsman's head is a large stalk of Galapagos bananas. On or off watch, is it easy to reach up and pick one as they ripen from one end of the stalk to the other.

I usually spend about half of my watch in the hammock at night, often with a small flashlight and a book of stars and constellations, trying to learn to recognize individual stars by their names, as well as the major constellations of the southern hemisphere. About half way through the midnight watch I usually take a break and brew a pot of coffee below. As there is so little traffic we don't even have navigation lights on at night, saving dc or battery power. As we are sailing down wind, and the breeze is only perhaps 3-5 miles per hour, we are not getting any activity from our wind electric generator. Generally, Ollie tells us it works best at 15-20 mph winds, particularly on a beat or into the wind where the boat speed is added to the wind speed. So far we have seen only the occasional lazy turn of the blades. In fact we have the system locked down much of the time.

As a result we are having to run the engine 1 to 2 hours daily to generate electricity, which is stored in our batteries. House lights at night, and the CD player are the major consumers of electricity. Other than that, the only power we use is a small amount for pumping of sea water showers, and operating our GPS electronic navigation instrument. Also, when we motor, we often engage an electric powered autopilot. Under sail alone, the Monitor wind vane steering system takes over.  A large, light paddle like air foil sticks up behind the lazarette, off the stern. Through a complicated system of ropes and pulleys, the effect of the wind blowing by the vane is transferred to another smaller rudder like foil in the water. As this foil in the water is pushed from side to side, a counter force is transferred up to the helm steering wheel by an even more complicated system of pulleys. As the boat is forced by the wind in one direction, the rudder foil resists, and the helm wheel driven in the opposite direction. Both a light air foil and heavy air foil are available. When rigged right, and tweaked a bit, it is a marvelous system. With the action of the passing seas, the boat is naturally drifting off course, both to starboard and port, by as much as perhaps 30 degrees to each side, less in calmer seas. The vane steering just eases the wheel in the opposite direction slowly, seems to anticipate the yaw in the other direction and begins to counteract that. The only adjustment usually needed is a small turn of the shaft holding the air foil. The trick is to learn which way to turn it to result in the desired course correction. We are sailing more in response to wind direction than  actual compass heading, so in fact, we do almost no wheel steering by hand.

The seas continue benign. Four to five foot swells are perhaps 12 seconds apart, and the water is otherwise flat calm. We have seen absolutely no sea life for two days except for birds, mostly small Galapagos petrels.

May 1. Day four of passage  

So little wind and current for the past two days that we are all getting bored and a little discouraged with the lack of forward progress. 2750 miles still to the Marquesas. We are still going wing on wing, with the slight breeze directly behind us. The water seems considerable warmer though, meaning we are exiting the Humboldt Current and its effects of a beneficial push in our direction. It is this current which is responsible for much of the peculiar ecology of the Galapagos Islands.  The cold Humboldt comes from Antarctica, and heads north up the South American continent, not far from shore. As it nears the equator it meets the equatorial countercurrent and is turned west, just below the equator. With  its polar origin it is cold and stays relatively cold due to its density all the way to the equator which it meets at the Galapagos. Thus, the water there is seldom ever warmer than 60 degrees except in bays protected from the current. So, one finds polar birds there, like penguins, as well as more tropical species like boobies.

Much of the remarkable ecology of the Galapagos is the result of this current. For example, it is thought that animals like the sea iguanas, formerly land animals, traveled on flotsam from the South American continent on the current to the newly formed volcanic Galapagos chain, then evolved  rapidly to their new marine environment. Darwin's assigned work was as a botanist aboard the Beagle, a British ship. His viewpoint was toward the interaction of plants, animals and their surroundings. On these remote islands he found slight variations in the sizes and shapes of bills of small local birds, depending on the local plants and insects they foraged upon. The islands were sufficiently remote that little interchange or interbreeding between islands took place, and remote enough from the mainland that new breeding stock introduction was very limited. He thus used his observations on the bills of small wrens as the foundation for his developing theories of evolution, then a major break from the popular existing belief of Creationism as according to the Bible.

In any event, we are happier for the warmer sea water for shower water. It is the only time we can really use all the water we want. With the bottom 6,000 feet down there is no worry about running out! This evening we listened to the Pacific Area weather and news net again. The boats below us, but slightly behind are catching up with more favorable winds. We decide to head more directly south south west (220 degrees). So, at 8 PM we drop the sails, fire up the iron jib and power south. Power being a relative word, the Perkins engine drives the boat at around 6.5 miles per hour. With the engine directly under the cabin sole, accessed by liftable floorboards, the noise in the main saloon is considerable. Plus, the floorboards vibrate considerably adding to the din. In the past we were running only for power generation and could do it any time, usually mid afternoon, so no one had to try sleeping through it.

We ran SSW from 8 PM until 6 AM, ten hours and made around 65 miles to about 4 degrees S latitude. Of course, since our destination was really more like 265 degrees, the distance made good was about half that, or 30 miles. Plus we burned a ton of fuel (figuratively). As none of the fuel gauges work, it's been up to Ollie to keep track of hours of engine run time and thus calculate how much fuel we have used, how much remains, and in which tank. When we run out of fuel the first time I begin to wonder about the wisdom of this. A diesel engine does not like to run out of fuel and expresses its displeasure by being especially reluctant to restart even when presented with a source of new clean fuel. Air which has entered the system must be purged, and depending upon the engine, this may be very much easier said than done. One needs to open several bleed ports, one at a time, in a very specific order and  crank the engine as each port is opened, until clear fuel flows out rather than air bubbles. Especially on a hot engine, lying on your belly on the cabin sole being careful not to drop a wrench or screwdriver, as it will never be seen again without removing the engine; this can be a challenge. 

I really am not so concerned about fuel, in fact. Water is more way more essential and we absolutely need it to survive. Fuel we could do without for a considerable time. The worst I can imagine if we were to run out of fuel would be be not having the CD player going all day, and perhaps having to call for a tow into a port when we finally make landfall.

To make matters worse about motoring, for some reason the electric driven auto pilot has stopped working, and since the Monitor only works when sailing,  we have had to hand steer constantly. Around 9 AM after thinking about the similarities between this pilot and mine on Sadie B I remember a tweak solution to the problem and it works again. It had somehow forgotten how to tell port from starboard and needed to be reinitialized; electronics- bah humbug!

May 2

By around 11 AM we are at  4. 01 S latitude and slowly escaping the inter- tropic convergence zone and entering the southeasterly trade winds, the cause of  the boats below us speeding up. Winds at 10-15 from the southeast gently push us at about  6 miles per hour. Finally sailing again! The first really nice winds since shortly after leaving Panama, as we had spent nearly a month in the inter tropic convergence zone where even if the winds are favorable one day, they may well switch or die the next.

We are on a nice beam reach, the vane steering working perfectly, and even two heavy showers getting us wet do not dampen our spirits.  We try to collect some rain water but are not very well equipped for that. For the next showers, Esther will have engineered a rain catching system using a nylon tarp. Esther produces a great vegetarian pizza for dinner. She is doing much of the cooking now, as Ollie's idea of cooking is opening two different cans of vegetables and heating them separately, and serving them with along with an open loaf of bread; followed by  gummy bears  for dessert. We refer to this system as "Can to a Pan Cooking".  Esther is also making bread every other day. We may run out of propane long before we get to the Marquesas, but we are going to eat well on the way until then.

Speaking of propane, we have to do our first on-the-fly refill of the small propane cylinders today.  Back in the Galapagos, it sounded easy as the mechanic explained to us how to use the hose and fittings he provided to connect the large cylinder to the smaller ones, open the valves, lift the larger cylinder and pour the fuel just as one would pour  liquid out of a pail. Of course standing there on land talking about it, and doing it in a small cockpit, in a seaway, handling a highly explosive gas/ liquid combination were two completely different things. Needless to say it was a hair raising experience, but accomplished with no untoward events, then and several times later.

The danger with propane on boats is that the fumes are heavier than air, and can sink to low spots, like the bilge in our boat, where the engine is located, and accumulate there until a spark occurs. As we are sailing well now, we leave the engine room covers off for 24 hours to well ventilate the bilge prior to restarting the engine to generate electricity. The wind generator is starting to look like it might be able to make some contribution to our energy budget soon. Rather than being still, or the odd lazy turn, it's often moving slowly now. As we are proceeding with the wind, the relative speed of the wind to our boat is less than the actual wind speed though.

Generally propane is safe on boats. We have a solenoid valve in the galley adjacent to the gimbaled stove and oven. This allows us to remotely turn off the supply out at the tanks aft, over the water in a container open at the bottom to let any leak escape safely. This valve only lets gas into the piping system while the stove is being used. Another potential danger though is the accumulation of CO2, a silent but deadly killer. A CO2 detector is located in the main cabin with an alarm calculated to wake the dead.

May 3

Another more or less perfect day. Almost cloudless, SE wind 10-15 and we are 486 statute miles from Floriana, our most recent departure. We have been at sea 7 full days. At this rate, the Marquesas begin to look even farther away. On the other hand, we are now churning along, headed straight towards our destination  and doing about 6 mph or 150 miles per 24 hour period.

A squall in late afternoon blew by and another in the evening. No problems for us except for a brief near knock down. Again, Panacea is a very stiff boat. With heavy puffs, she just turns up into the wind, spills the wind from the sails, and continues back on course. Tonight for the first time we had to use lee cloths to sleep in the settee berths. These are heavy canvas sheets, fixed to the inboard side of the berth and the overhead (the ceiling on a boat), thus preventing rolling out of bed in the night when a heavy heel occurs. If you are fortunate enough to know the wind and course expected, pick the lee side of the boat for  your berth! The heel of the boat will throw you deeper into the bed. I had taken the windward berth, and was constantly being rolled out of the berth toward the saloon sole rather than against the settee upright cushion.

The days are seeming to run together now. A routine has been established and only a little change in the weather seems to disrupt things such as  when the odd squall passes us. We usually collect a bit of rain during squalls, but the quantity is negligible generally. It is nice to rinse with after a salt water shower, as it is incredibly soft compared to the desalinated water we took on at the Galapagos. While the desalinated water  may be safe to drink it seems to have lots of minerals left in it and is very hard. The sea water is also strange to shower in. About the only thing that seems to work up any suds at all is dishwashing liquid. Any other soap seems just to make you slightly slippery, and is slow to rinse off. But, at least the water temperature is comfortable enough to run over your body for a considerable time. I  estimate the sea water temperature to be around 80 degrees now.

Nights continue to be incredibly clear and the stars seem to extend even beyond the horizon in all directions. The complete absence of any extraneous night light  makes the stars seem even brighter. Much of each of my night watch is spent in the hammock studying and learning the names and locations of stars and constellations. With a coffee break at mid-watch, of course. Could there be a better way to spend the time between midnight and 4 AM?

The usual night  watch attire is a light sweat shirt and nylon exercise pants. The usual temperature is around 75 degrees but feels cooler on the water. I am finally not uncomfortable by my liking to go to sleep early and wake up earlier than most folks. I can easily get drowsy around 7-8 PM, and awake automatically just before midnight in time for my four hour watch. With a pot of coffee at the middle of the watch I am usually not particularly tired at the end, at 4 AM, and often let Esther sleep another hour or so and  I can enjoy the dawn at sea alone. An hour or two nap in early to mid morning and I am set  as far as sleep goes. Similarly, I often continue my afternoon watch past Esther's usual scheduled coming on duty at 4 PM to give her a little more time to prepare an evening meal. The watch is generally very undemanding duty, mostly a question of staying alert to possible changes in conditions, or ships passing, a rarity. Interestingly, the only person on board who regularly goes to sleep on watch is the Skipper, Ollie. When this occurs, and it happens with frequency, we generally don't bother to wake him, but just take a quick look around for potential problems, and let him sleep. Interestingly, he never sleeps through a watch change however. 

May 5

Several wind shifts and squalls passed by in the night. Around 11 PM we decide to reef the main. The jib with roller furling is easy to reef single handed, except for the whisker pole. Esther and DB are called  on deck by Ollie  around 10 PM to strike the pole so the jib can be reefed. We don foul weather gear, douse the pole and reef the jib. Shortly, we go forward to reset the pole, then later douse the pole, then reset, for a  total of  three times of getting wet and lots of practice on the foredeck in the dark. Each time as I settle back into the cabin after drying off I wonder why we should be in such a hurry to add sail in the middle of the night. Is this a drill?  Back to sleep, but up at 12 for my watch. I?m happy sailing reefed, albeit slowly, but see no need to change anything till daylight.

With the long night I let Esther sleep until 5:30 AM rather than waking her at 4. I had been watching a passing ship for several hours and did not want to leave her with the responsibility of dealing with it. This is the second ship we have passed in the previous three nights. Looking really busy out here.

The afternoon was lovely with clear skies and great wind at 150 degrees. Ollie calls home on the single sideband radio and finds out May business at his (and assumedly my) Nursery is lousy as a result of May?s bad weather. It all seems so far away from where we are that I can?t seem to worry about how the bills will get paid. Not much I can do about it from here anyway.

May 6

Excellent weather and visibility continue. We talked last evening with several other boats slightly to our south, perhaps 150-200 miles away, one ahead and one behind us. They are all experiencing the doldrums now, with very slow going for the past two day. Andrew on Wasabi particularly sounds discouraged. It is very much easier for us with three crew working, rather than just a couple as on several of the boats in our network. The threeof us never feel sleep deprived, but they feel it most of the time. A common problem with short crewed boats is the fact that no one ever gets a really good nights sleep. A common rule among couples sailing short handed is that no one ever leaves the cockpit unless their spouse and crew mate is on deck, thus eliminating the possibility of a crew overboard alone with no one to take control and come about for a rescue. It is not unheard of for a crew member to come topside and never see their crew mate again. The southern ocean is a vast place to be swimming alone.

Our winds build over the next 24 or so hours until we are  enjoying 15-20 mile per hour winds. The only downside is that the seas are building, perhaps to 10-15 feet. On Tuesday we experience a record 24 hour passage distance for Panacea, 160 nautical miles. The previous best was 140 nm. While the seas are large, they are following, and perhaps 12-15 seconds apart. They roll up to us, gently lift the transom and we slide to port, then the whole boat rises, we glide down the back, and slide to starboard. All the while twisting and rolling in time with the wave?s passage. The result is having to have a hand hold every time you want to move about the boat both above deck and below. While the stove is gimbaled, it is much more work preparing meals, and dangerous as well, with the potential for a serious burn always present.

With the twisting and bending, the boat constantly speaks to us. Minor squeaks and major squeals of wood minutely moving, seas passing the hull only an inch away through the fiberglass hull, sails slating, and sheets slapping the cabin roof, wind whistling in the rigging, the wind vane growling, the wind generator howling as it ramps up to maximum speed, is braked by an automatic brake mechanism, then speeds up again. And if we are really lucky and need to generate electricity, the Perkins diesel engine and rattling floorboards sets up its own symphony. Is it ship?s music or a constant din? What ever, we are going like hell, and the speed is exhilarating.

With the constant noise and motion, as well as the increased pressure since we are sailing so fast, Esther slept badly and is grouchy. Plus, she is beginning to feel a suspicious itch on her skin about which she is particularly anxious, having watched Ollie?s discomfort for the past month or so. Ollie?s condition, while it marginally looks better, is still very itchy, with large red areas of skin, particularly on his back, which look really sore and painful. But, as with  most things, he has an incredible ability to exist in discomfort without comment. His nature is always pleasant and life always seems great to him. In night squalls for example, he can endure sitting with a wet butt for hours, something which I can stand for about ten minutes. The usual dinghy ride always involves getting your fanny wet. For myself and Esther, a few minutes of walking, and we are dry again, albeit a little sticky with salt. For Ollie, he gets to sit in his wheel chair all afternoon with a wet pants. But, I never hear a negative word out of him for the whole cruise, and later things certainly got even more uncomfortable for him.

In the night things calm considerably, with the winds dropping back to around 10-15. After a good blow it may take the seas 24 hours or more to settle down unless there is a major wind shift associated with the change in intensity. But at least there is less noise. For our evening sideband net broadcast Ollie has written a script which he has not told anyone about. We listen to him, the self proclaimed emotional advisor/confessor  invent imaginary complaints, mostly sexual, from each of the girls in the group of boats and counsel their mates on how to react to these imaginary complaints. Writing this does not sound so funny, but each scenario had at least a bit of truth to it, and all of us were in stitches for more than an hour.

Another benefit of the single side band radio is the availability of international news. Each evening we listen raptly to the BBC news on the radio, our only touch with the reality of the world surrounding us, but so remote. I swear I never will understand cricket?s attraction to the British!

May 8

A bad night. Called out at 11 PM for a  reef and to douse head sail. Heavy gusts to perhaps 30-40 making control difficult. Tropical rain falling almost sideways. Over  period of an hour or so the wind shifted about 360 degrees, that is, went all the way around the boat. Foredeck work in the dark is always exciting. The footing is very insecure feeling with the boat rising and falling rapidly, sometimes burying the bow in blue water, although this is way less of a problem sailing down the wind than into the weather.

All the foredeck work involves clipping onto a jackline. A 10 foot  piece of  inch nylon rope or strap is clipped to your life harness, which is always worn on watch at night, and the other end is clipped to the tether or jackline which extends from aft in the cockpit forward to the anchor point of the jib sail on both sides of the boat. The harness we all wear is a nylon strap device over both shoulders, under the arm pits, and around the back, with a D-ring firmly sewed into the front at chest level to snap into. A crew member going overboard at night is almost certainly a disaster, particularly if that crew member is the only one on deck at the time. On the other hand falling overboard and being dragged at 7 knots along side the boat at the end of a ten foot line does not sound so attractive either.

We practiced coming about for a man over board drill a few times, and it was impressive how long it took to come about, resume a reciprocal course, and get back to the place where the crew member went over. All GPS's now have a MOB (man over board) function key which will allow navigation back to the vicinity the boat was located in when the button was keyed. Of course this will not correct for current or wind drift of a floating crew member. In theory, any foredeck work was done only with another crew member in the cockpit ready to deal with an emergency if one occurred. Ollie's condition pretty much precluded his doing foredeck work in any but the lightest airs. He always held the helm and directed things from there.

With the sails reefed, the winds and seas continue to build overnight. At 4 AM it is way too rough for Esther to take over her watch, but she comes up to keep me company in the squalls which seem to come every hour or so, but at least the winds hold steady from the south east now. Around dawn it is so dark that is seems like the middle of the night. By noon the winds have kept up and we have done another new record day's passage, 166 nm for the day, and two record days in a row. By now the seas are immense, and seem to be as high as the spreaders on the mast, perhaps 20 feet or more. But the action of the boat is still fairly easy as the waves are so far apart. We fall down into the troughs between seas and the horizon completely disappears, then slowly climb back out, top the next, and dive again. As we slide down the waves we feel the hull speed rise rapidly as we are sliding downhill for several seconds, then bottom out, then slow as we climb the next. Over, and over, and over, etc. The same favorable winds continue all night. We are now at about 7 degrees south latitude. Supposedly the real SE trades don't start until around 10 degrees. What are we sailing into if this is still the edge of the doldrums?

May 9

Continuing at a good pace. The main has been reefed for two and a half days  and the roller furled genoa is about 1/3 deployed, the rest furled. We have made 484 nautical miles in three days for a 161 per day average. This is wild sailing! Skies are clear, and winds have dropped to around 15-20. This afternoon we caught a 20 pound tuna right behind the boat on a red plastic squid like lure. It was really exciting hauling in, dispatching it, but cleaning it in the small cockpit was a considerable mess. We sliced it up into thick steaks and cooked the whole thing as we don't have any refrigeration.

This evening's net broadcast was an encore for Ollie, after the previous advice to the "Love Worn" was received so well. This evening it was  "Ten ways to relieve boredom in the South Pacific". Sadly, I can't remember any of the suggestions, but they were mostly all sexual and had everyone in tears. One thing we have been doing for several days is meticulously cleaning coconut hulls, polishing them with a Dremel tool, varnishing them and using them as mugs and holders. Each crew member has his own specific drinking cup, a Vermont Coffee Roasters mug, and we felt a need to express a bit of individuality. Then Esther taught Ollie and I how to (actually tried to teach us) make  macrame hangers for our personal mugs. With a hook on the top, these could be suspended from a lifeline while on watch or otherwise occupied in the cockpit. With the motion of the boat it is virtually impossible to set down anything resembling a cup or drink holder and have it stay upright. Soon the boat was festooned with macrame hangers for everything in sight which might be liable to tip over.

One particular use French Polynesian ladies make of half coconut hulls, is as a sort of decorative bra, connected by a short piece of hand woven rope, with a strap around the back. I have a strong feeling Ollie's obsessive sanding, polishing, feeling, varnishing, feeling, polishing, feeling, etc. of the coconut hulls has a not too subtle sexual innuendo.

Back to the Vermont Coffee Roasters mugs. These were used for any liquid beverage; tea, coffee, reconstituted milk, gin and tonic, rum and coke, water (ugh, the desalinated water always had a strange taste) and on occasion, with a spoon for things like chili, or soup.

May 10 

We are now exactly one half the way from the Galapagos Islands to the Marquesas. We decide to make a change in the GPS destination waypoint. The evening net has reported that most of the boats are headed to Hiva Oha island. Previously we had been headed a little farther north to another major island in this chain of around six major islands and several smaller ones.  With about 1500 miles to go this change of aiming point results in about two degrees change southerly in our course, not a big deal. I have been reading a classic book in the ship's library.  "Landfalls in Paradise" has a chapter or more about each of the major island chains in the South Pacific. As we get closer they begin to have a reality I did not feel a month or so ago. Now I am reading each landfall over and over again trying to imagine how we will spend our time when we get there, what the natives are like, the local crafts, produce, customs, and such.

Today is a spectacularly clear day with almost cloudless skies. To add interest, the moon rises full around three in the afternoon. Our progress for the passage so far is an average of 144 nm per day for twelve days. Today Esther seems moody again. I suppose there is a possibility I am as well. The excellent ship's library is saving me. I am reading everything I can get my hands on almost every minute I am not on watch. Afternoon watches I spend reading as well. Mostly at night I am studying stars and constellations. Today's  handwritten notes from which I am now transcribing include a rather amateurish drawing of the big dipper, right on the northern horizon, with the stars pointing to the north star just barely visible. Also, the Southern Cross and False Southern Cross on the far horizon to the left. Above is Scorpio, with the body almost straight up and down, and the tail at the bottom.

Constellations and stars identified in my notes from this night are as follows; Southern Cross- Regil Ketaurus, Hadar, Gacrux, Acrux, Mimusa, Miaplacidus, and Avoir. The major stars of Ursa major, the north pole, are identified as Dubhe, Alioth,Alkaid, Arcturus, Spica, and Regulus. Scorpio is made up of Graffias, Dschubbe, Al Niyat, Antares, Shaula, Lesadh, Sargas, Nunko, and Kaus Australis. There are a few more constellations, but that makes the point.

The point? Not that I am a particularly enthusiastic star gazer certainly! On land, mostly I have a hard time staying up late enough to see any stars. And, if I do, I am probably not outside. The point is how much one searches for something intellectual to occupy one's mind when making long ocean passages. After a few days the vacuum of news of the outside world, or even when we hear the BBC as we do once daily, it all seems so remote and far away. The mind searches for something to challenge it. For me it was studying constellations and stars and their locations.

I awake around 5 AM to hear Ollie and Esther discussing  course options as Esther had sighted what seemed to be a large freighter on the horizon. I must have been fast asleep not to have heard her call to Ollie. His berth is right below the companionway up to the cockpit and he is always happy to be alerted to any change in the normal situation. In the night I had seen lights of what I thought were several fishing vessels very highly illuminated, but nothing was in sight when I went off duty at 4 AM. Around 3 PM another sailboat is sighted, flying a blue spinnaker. We tried repeatedly but unsuccessfully to raise him on the VHF radio. It is hard to imagine that someone out here in sight of another vessel would not turn on his VHF or sail past us to say hello. In fact he made no effort to pass us by closely, but passed us slowly about a half mile off our starboard side. But I guess sailing is sort of antisocial behavior by definition.

About night boat sightings and collision avoidance. The rules of the road are always in mind, but in a small sailboat going slowly the best advise is to always act evasively, and stay  out of everyone else's way. They may not see you, maybe don't care if they do and well may not try to avoid you. If the bearing to a target, particularly  at night, does not change in a few minutes, it is best to turn and to pass behind it. Alter your course sufficiently to make the bearing to the target change fairly fast. Only when sure to pass safely alter course back toward your destination. Even in the daylight we have  been extraordinarily surprised at how fast a large freighter can move up on your stern when you are doing just six miles per hour. At night it is very hard to judge distance as one has no reference to size of the approaching ship.

We have on board a new CARD system; Collision Avoidance Radar Detection. We have yet to hear a beep out of it, although it is supposed to emit an alarm when it senses the radar of another ship. As we did the Panama Canal and the shipping lanes near Panama City without hearing from this cigarette box sized bit of expensive electronics, I don't have much faith in it. In fact the only time it ever went off was a month or so later in the Marquesas, when Esther and I were making love in the cockpit early one morning after my watch.

Remember we have been sleeping on opposite sides of the dinette, eight feet from the Captain, in his double bunk. Anyway, we were in the middle of enjoying some connubial bliss shortly after the end of my watch at 4 AM, with foul weather gear around our knees, when the CARD system sounds off. Needless to say Ollie is quickly up the companionway steps, hollering  "What?s up"?, sees us, and says,  "Itmust be good to set off the alarm". About this time a spectacular shooting star was seen. This was a common occurrence in the crystal clear sky, but this one was particularly powerful.

May 12

Mother s Day . Ollie calls his Mother-in-law and finds out it's snowing in Vermont. What else is new in May in Vermont? Any thoughts of a great spring business seem now to be dashed by the weather 15,000 miles away.  We also called my Mom in South Hero, Vermont that night to wish her a happy Mother's Day.

The weather here continues great, winds behind us, about 10-20 most of the time. Highs in the low 80's and lows in the mid 60's. The humidity is very low, although we are surrounded by water. We are dragging a lure behind us all the time now, but have only caught a few fish. A more common occurrence is to wake up the smell of fish, and find a dead flying fish in a corner someplace topsides. They are common sights during daylight,  12-15 inches long, seeming to glide 50-75 yards. We wonder if they do it for the fun of it, and because they can, or is some larger denizen of the deep chasing them?

A very comfortable shipboard life has settled upon us, with a continuum of watches, lounging, chores, meals, fun, BBC news hour and net broadcast, and sleep. We are north of all the other boats in the net, but in the middle of the pack relative to east and west position.  It?s not like we are in a race, but we don?t want to be last to arrive in the Marquesasr. I've been writing a lot of letters to friends, many from Vermont, trying to explain why I  would want to leave a house, supermarkets, cars, central heat and air conditioning, cable TV,  daily newspapers, loved ones, a successful business, fresh vegetables, interstate highways, ice cream, regular pay check, and all the other pleasures of civilization to spend seemingly endless days sailing across the southern ocean. Damned if I know! But it certainly is an adventure. As Mark Twain said,  "Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you
didn't do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover." Great words I?ve tried the past several years to live by. Another great quote I use all the time in TrawlerFest presentations is from Lyn Pardee, circumnavigator, ?The whole idea is freedom, go small, go simple, go now?

I must be thinking of life after Panacea as today?s handwritten notes are full of ideas we have gleaned from Panacea and other boats we have visited on this trip. I have a page full of ideas we generated there, many of  which  have now been incorporated onto Sadie B, our own small trawle.

 May 13

Ollie plotted several ?what if? scenarios this AM looking into the possibility of sailing off the wind more and gybing the rest of  the 1,000 +/- miles left. The wind has eased to 5-10 and is directly behind our course. We are sailing mostly with the boom in the gallows, and the jib poled out, still doing 120 nm per day, but our daily average is dropping. At noon we heard from Southern Cross that they are more or less becalmed as is everyone else. Lynn on Southern Cross is usually referred to by Ollie as Aunt Bea for her solicitous manner. Mike, on Sea Otter, is about 300 miles ahead of us but similarly stalled by lack of wind. He is a young enthusiastic racing sailor, often deploying a spinnaker in light air. They have been reporting on the evening net that they often do three to four sail changes per night. We are going slow in the afternoon, at 3.5 miles per hour, but who has a schedule? Panacea is more of a grande dame, no spinnaker flying for her;  she will arrive in her own time,  probably in the evening, well after cocktail hour, or at least traditionally, in the dark.

May 14

Well, perhaps we are not in the southern trades yet after all. The whole fleet, five boats, is spread across about 400 miles and more or less becalmed, with winds of 5-7 mph at most, doing 2-3 mph. The net forecast has no change predicted for the next several days. In the boredom, I?m spending more and more time in the dark studying the stars. The only problem is limited study resources, only two small books and a couple of sheets of star charts pulled from magazines are available. The bigger problem is they are from the perspective of the mid northern hemisphere, and I have to lay on my side  looking at them to get an idea of what things should look like here.

Winds are well under five mph, seas flat and glassy, and the forecast is the same for several days. The whole fleet could smell the Marquesas, and now we could swim faster than we are sailing toward them. We ran the engine five or six hours today to put a good charge into the batteries and to feel like we are making some progress forward. At times like this Ollie likes to watch old VCR tapes which have been sent to us by his wife. It?s a hoot to watch Sharon Myer, Burlington, Vermont?s WCAX weather girl, and not so secret fantasy paramour of Ollie?s, describe in intimate detail the weather pattern about to descend on Burlington three or four months ago. Whenever I poke fun at Sharon, Ollie wildly shouts ?Be quiet, this is important?, as if the weather had anything to do with us. Worse yet, Sharon appears to be pregnant, but we are confident Ollie is not guilty, based on  timing exclusively. Can such things be exchanged via single sideband radio?  As things get calmer, the CD player gets to be more important, seldom stopping except for changing the cd after very fifth or twentieth replay.  Interested in the lyrics of any popular music?  I can recite them verbatim.

May 15

Still in the calms. Our daily progress has slowed from a very fast 160 nm per day to only about half of that, 82 miles per day. This works out to about 10-12 miles per four hour shift, or a very slow walking speed. Last night was the first cloudy night in a while so that star gazing was not good. On such nights, a small flashlight allows for reading what ever happens to be on hand. I am still working my way through the ships library. We have a choice of cruising guides for areas we may get to, historical accounts of early voyagers and explorers,  general sailing guides and encyclopedias, heavy weather sailing techniques, accounts of long term survival after shipwreck or capsizing,ocean passages of the world, etc., etc. It?s a really great collection.

We listen daily with rapt attention to Herb?s weather on the sideband radio. Herb is a Canadian little known outside the sailing community. An amateur meteorologist, he is located in eastern Canada, and daily puts out a general  forecast for cruisers all around the world, with very specific details for particular areas. Herb tells us the best winds are likely to be below 10 degrees south and east of 130 longitude. Since we are abound 100 miles north of this it?s not really very welcome information.  Herb broadcasts this information daily via both single sideband radio and ham radio. Also, for a fee, Herb offers a customized weather tracking and forecast service specific to a particular voyage. His forecasts are based on both computer models and on the scene reports he gets from cruising boats.

We enjoy a real downpour around 3 PM, the first really heavy deluge we have had in more than a month. This one poured buckets of water down and gave us a chance to try our new rainwater collection system as the conditions were very calm at the time. Often recently when it did rain, it was in squalls, and no one had time to direct the water collection efforts as we were busy minding the ship. Anyway, we  collected several gallons of nice soft warm rainwater for showering before it cleared in an hour or so.

May 17

Dull night with boom in the gallows and the main down as there is little to no wind. We have the genoa poled out to hold it. Around 1 PM a slight breeze came up so I raised the main to catch as much of it as we could. By around 8 AM the breeze had shifted and lifted to perhaps 5 mph from the SE. Today?s 24 hour distance traveled is a new record low for Panacea, 46 miles. Humbug!

As the wind and our boat speed picks up a pod of Dolphins cruise along with us for several miles. These playful animals are incredibly sleek, fast, agile, and reputed to be highly intelligent. They seem to be highly attracted to the bow of boats cruising at the typical speed of 5-8 miles per hour. When nearby such a boat they will often follow for hours seeming to take turns buzzing the bow area, the way children might play dodge-um with other kids on bicycles. They regularly come within inches of the bow from underneath and behind the boat, cruise by and disappear forward. In an instant another takes his turn, then another and so on for hours at times. One can sit on the bow, looking down, and be within just a few feet away from these highly social animals. A fear was always that one would take the lure we always had trolling behind us but it never happened, nor did we ever hear of an accidental hooking of one. We see dolphins commonly, but little else in the way of fish except for the flying fish. Petrels are common, as are frigate birds. This far at sea, gulls are not seen.

By late afternoon the winds are up to 8-10 and we are doing around 6 miles per hour under full sail. By the end of my midnight watch they have continued to build and my four hour watch puts 28 miles behind us. At the navigation desk we have a chart of  this part of the South Pacific. Daily at 12 noon, we locate our position on the chart using the latitude and longitude provided by the GPS. A small X is placed on the chart at our observed location at noon, along with the days date. A straight edge is used to connect that X with the previous days X and its straight line back to the day before that. After a few days the progress across this vast space, in this case 3,000 miles, is represented by perhaps 40 inches of chart. The X?s and lines of course are not perfectly straight but wander a bit as the wind has changed or we alter our course  for whatever reason. Its easy to spot the good days from the not so good ones by the density of the X?s in some places, and their comparative distance in others, as well as the overall straightness of the line connecting the X?s. Would that one?s life progress be so readily chartable.

Our global positioning system, or GPS is a relatively new development which has revolutionized ocean sailing as well as other activities involving locating one?s position on or above the globe. It was developed by the military about 25 years ago and as recently as 15 years ago became available to the general public. Twenty five or so satellites are located around the world, in geosynchronous orbit with the earth.  At any given time anywhere on the earth  surface as many as six to eight satellites are located above the small receiver on our boat.

Signals are sent by the satellites constantly, analyzed, and the distance from the satellite to the receiver calculated instantly. At the same time, the same calculations are being done by the receiver for each of the satellites. Imagine these satellites above the globe, each in a known position, and our boat someplace on the earth surface, or  perhaps an airplane flying above the surface.
The receiver can calculate the distance from each satellite to the receiver. If we  think of that distance as a piece of rope or cable, and extend that piece out toward the earth, where all the cables meet has to be the position of the receiver, on or above the earth. This information is constantly being received and analyzed and is displayed on the receiver screen as a constantly changing units of latitude and longitude, showing our position on the earth to within a few meters generally. 

Latitude and longitude simply are arbitrary assignments of meridians around the globe, east to west, and north to south. From the equator, latitude meridians circle the earth horizontally from 0 degrees at the equator to 90 degrees north at the north pole, and 90 degrees south at the south pole. From Greenwich, England, the prime meridian selected centuries ago as longitude 0, the earth is divided into 180 meridians extending up and down east and west of Greenwich. These degrees are further divided into minutes, with 60 minutes per degree, and seconds, with 60 seconds per minute. Thus today at 12 noon we were located at  8 degrees 51 minutes south latitude, and 128 degrees 37 minutes west longitude. The earth was divided into 180 equal meridians because the diameter of the earth determined that this would result in 60 nautical miles per degree of both latitude and longitude. Thus we are almost 540 miles south of the equator, and about 7710 miles west of Greenwich, England.

Earlier voyagers had to use very complicated instruments and mathematical formulae to calculate their position on the earth. Trigonometry  and handbooks of nautical almanacs were aboard every vessel. Sextant shots of the sun at noon, and stars at night were made, the observations entered into the calculations, and an approximate position plotted. Over a period of several days the approximate position evolved by the averaging of successive errors. Today a small receiver, available for less than $100 constantly reads our position to within a few meters anyplace on earth at no cost beyond the original cost of the receiver.

And, the modern GPS does much more. One can enter a waypoint or destination, or even several waypoints or places to turn, into the instrument to lay out a route from its origin to the ultimate destination. The instrument keeps track of where we are constantly, plus is able to display our speed, distance to destination, time to the destination at the present speed, bearing or direction to destination, direction to turn to when arriving at a waypoint, and much more. The significance for the cruiser is tremendous. We know exactly where we are at all times. When sailing in the broad South Pacific this is not so important. But, in many areas of the world, the land masses are very much more closely located. Lighthouses and other aids to navigation are common in the US and are used to point out areas of danger along coasts and are easy to find on charts to locate one?s position. In the less developed areas of the world, such aids to navigation are few and far between. It was very easy only 25 years ago to sail up on an unmarked unlighted shore in the night, and many shipwrecks occurred. In fact, it is safe to say that the vast majority of shipwrecks are caused by inaccurate position determination. Today this simply does not happen without serious operator errors.

As an aside, today in the US, the Coast Guard has been phasing out the operation of lighthouses in all but the most highly traveled waterways. Lighthouses have become an endangered species, while the lighthouse operators of the past are, in fact, extinct, as all the presently operating structures are automated.

It gets even better with GPS?s though. Now, one can purchase digitally formatted charts of the entire world; enter the chart into your GPS, and show on your laptop computer or dedicated chart plotter screen a small boat shaped icon, representing your vessel, shown on the water surface, along with any aids to navigation present, water depths, and other significant navigation information as might be on a conventional paper chart. Want to spend even a little more?  Incorporate a radar set and see your boat and other boats in relation to each other,  surrounding land masses, as well as approaching weather systems such as rainstorms as far as 20 miles away.

The point of all this is that it is very comforting to know exactly where you are at any time. We do use a radar set on board Panacea, mostly for landfall in the dark and in dense fog, and also to show the distance and bearing to other ships as we encounter them, particularly in the dark. The radar is only used when necessary, as it is quite power consumptive. The GPS uses a very low amount of power, so it is on all the time.

May 18

One hundred forty two miles in the past 24 hours. Cloudless skies and all the crew's happy to be churning along again. The wind is about 10-15 from around 150 degrees or more. Since we altered course several days ago, we have consistently been going slightly more northerly simply following the light wind we have had. Now are now making up some of that distance south toward the  rhumb  line, a direct line from the location where we changed course to Hiva Oha. We are now only 17 miles from the desired path, the straight line to our destination. Obviously the rhumb line could change every day as we have a new starting point, but we regard it as a challenge to follow the original line as closely as possible. Remember, we don't have a lot of important things to worry about, so we find small ones to make big.

We had two big hits on the fishing tackle today, but no fish resulted. We are now  meat fishing , using a hand held spool of very high strength line secured to a cleat with a bungee strap to give some stretch to the line as its only ten or so feet behind the boat. We have lost several lures due to broken lines, and I am sure the ocean is filled with fish with sore jaws.

May 19

Three weeks out today. It was squally early last night. We thought Ollie would call us out for sail reefing as it was very noisy for a while. By the time my watch started at midnight it had calmed down again to a comfortable level. Perhaps he was sleeping through the din earlier. We made 150 miles over the previous 24 hours with just about 100% possible sunshine and very comfortable temperature. On the evening net we hear that Sea Otter was within 50 miles of the Marquesas at noon. It's looking like this might actually happen.

May 20

Winds moderated somewhat in the past 24 hours. Speed has slowed to about 130 nautical miles for the day. We passed a very large ship last night on my watch. Lots of very bright lights were visible, but they would not answer my VHF hail. The ship was going very slowly, in fact we advanced on it and passed it, a rarity for us. I suspect it was some sort of fish processing factory ship. We are running mostly with reefed main and poled genoa sail, doing a little under 6 with the wind almost straight behind us.

May 21

Heard on the evening net broadcast that Sea Otter and Southern Cross are both anchored in Hiva Oha, French Marquesas. Angelique will make landfall in only a few hours. Wasabi is only 18 miles in front of us and on the same latitude. We go to wing on wing around 7 PM as the wind continues from directly behind us. We continue wing on wing for the next 24 as well, and get to within 50 miles or so. Clouds are visible on the horizon showing the location of the island chain ahead.

May 23

Land ho at 6 PM! We get to within 2-3 miles around 1 AM using radar to locate the distance to shore. The shoreline is black as can be, with not one shore side light or any vessel lights visible. Wasabi is three or four hours behind us due to some rigging problems they had to sort out under way. We sail back and forth under bare poles, with just enough way to steer, and sail into the anchorage at dawn. Just after dawn Wasabi comes along and joins us in the anchorage.

It?s truly spectacular with very rugged cliffs of perhaps 2000 feet on one side, a volcanic valley on two sides, and the ocean on the other. Large swells but no surf roll into the bay. A small village of perhaps 20 houses is partially visible, along with what looks like a school, and several copra (coconut meat) drying sheds. Lots of coconut trees line the shores, cattle graze in the lowlands and wild goats are visible in the high cliffs. The book title I'been reading, "Landfalls in Paradise" describes it perfectly.

The hillsides are fairly lush looking, but as your gaze extends up in height it gets very dry very quickly. This island is Hiva Oha. The settlement we see is a minor one on the easterly most side, the main settlement is on the farther side of the island, perhaps a 30 mile sail. We understand the settlements are connected by a narrow primitive dirt road.

May 24

We spend the day anchored off Paumau,  Hiva Oha. As there is no customs office here, we are not supposed to land. We launched the dinghy, and explored a bit from the water. Andrew and Dennis do some skin diving in the delightfully warm water. It's like swimming a tropical fish tank with vast schools of small tropical fish everywhere. Lets hope they are all small!

We try to re-anchor this afternoon to get into a location with less sea swell, but can't get the mechanical windlass to work. It  was on a list of things to get done but never happened. One very noticeable thing about it is that if one happens to be touching the stainless steel life rail when one depresses the toe switch on the bow to activate the windlass, one gets a hell of a shock. Rather than move, we decide to set a stern anchor to hold the transom toward the shore and the bow into the swells. Ollie makes a big deal of demonstrating the tying of an anchor hitch, a new knot for me. It looks impressive though.

So, we set the stern anchor, the nice big Fortress we recovered in the Galapagos, an aluminum Danforth type, very expensive, but with one life already used up. All is well and we have a great dinner of fresh tuna steaks on Wasabi and get to know Andrew and Patti better. First, Andrew is a better fisherman than we, they have been eating fresh tuna all the way to the Marquesas, and we caught only three or so. They are Canadians, having dropped out of professional life early, bought a sailboat in Fort Lauderdale, FL, two years ago, and, they say, learned to sail on their way to the Caribbean. They are in the second year of a planned 5-7 year circumnavigation. They will prove to be great friends and lots of help in the next few months. We have a great time, drinking lots of Panamanian beer, as they brought 25 cases, as the price was right, and telling stories of the passage and reliving all the excitement as well as the doldrums. Back to Panacea well after dark.

The early night was calm and comfortable with the bow facing the rollers coming into the harbor. Sometime in the middle of the night we become aware of much more rolling and pitching. I take a look from the cockpit, and see that we are still in place, but sideways to the seas, so I went back to sleep. On waking finally early in the morning, I go topside to tighten up  the aft anchor to pull the bow back into the swells. No resistance on the rode! Pull, pull, pull, then finally the bitter end of the rode comes into the boat with no anchor. Let's get the Skipper to demonstrate this anchor hitch one more time please! He is speechless and thinks we have tried to trick him, but in fact the expensive Fortress is gone, lost to Davy Jones's locker. This time no one is around to dive for the anchor. Plus it could be located anywhere in several acres of sea bottom, 30 feet deep.

Ollie is talking like he is planning to stay here for several days. We have just finished a 26 day sea passage and he is perfectly happy to sit here in the boonies, unable to land becasue there is no Customs Station here, and work on some boat projects. I am feeling like I've got to get to shore to get some real exercise, walking, talk with someone other than the three of us, and see some things up close, rather than from an anchorage half a mile off shore. We address these considerations with Ollie, and in the face of an incipient mutiny, he agrees it might be a good idea to sail tomorrow to the opposite side of the island, where there is a Customs Ctation, and we can declare and go ashore.