I'm not actually sure this is day 19. We switched the boat to UTC a few weeks ago which makes everything a bit weird. We did this for several reasons, but the most important was that we kept missing the nets because we couldn't do the math to get from local to UTC. Pathetic, but there you have it. So as I sit here typing at the end of Aeron's morning shift, the sun is rising, the bread is baking and it is 15:38 on Friday, May 6. We've changed local time zones twice, the Marquesas are apparently at UTC -9:30 and the rest of Polynesia is at -10:00. To make matters more confusing, I know sometime in the coming months we'll cross the date line as well. Before we get there, I'm hoping I'll figure out whether that makes it tomorrow or yesterday.
Last night was spent dodging thunderstorms. At one point, we hove to rather than run smack into a storm front. Heaving to is not nearly as satisfying as I had hoped since the wind was blowing a steady 22 and pushing us bass akwards towards the storm at 2.5 knots. It's like backing your butt into a meat grinder. Fortunately, we were slower than the storm and after about 30 minutes, we could turn back downwind and head towards the western edge of the storm.
Despite this pause, we appear to be once again making reasonably good time. Our friends Loose Pointer are going to make landfall in two days, we will hopefully be no more than two days behind them. A sign that we are nearing our destination is that we have dramatically increased the resolution on our chart plotter. We're also on the last major way point between San Jose Del Cabo and Hiva Oa, about 4 miles off the coast. It is incredibly satisfying watching it clock down. It is also encouraging that the ETA number is gradually resolving around a date and time. Before, a very slight change in speed over ground would change our arrival time by several days.
Due to the considerable swell, we have been unable to make water for a few days. We are also out of our washing bucket stock on the deck. As a result, it is officially true: Don Quixote stinks. We stink individually. Our clothes stink. Our towels are sour. The sheets are disgusting, the cushions damp and sticky, and the floors simply soul. There is not one item of clean clothing on this entire boat fit for summer weather (though incongruously, I have several glorious smelling, clean and fresh fleece pullovers). All the boats in Hiva Oa will know when we have arrived by the miasma which proceeds us. While the girls dream of ice cream and treats, the visions that dance in my head are of clean sheets, dry clothes, and a completely pristine wash cloth.
Children are incapable of even the most simple of tasks. Assigned the responsibility of their own head, you would think they could handle the most basic job of taking the toilet paper and throwing it overboard on a semi-regular basis. However, glancing below as the door swings back and forth I notice fouled TP overflowing their little basket, spilling across the floor of the head, and bouncing in brown stained puff balls down the companionway. Add another stench to the mix. Never mind the cat, I'm going to pitch the children overboard.
May 6, 16:00 UTC