Another Day in the Middle of Nowhere

Distance: 100/2008 Day: 17

The kids have resorted to making paper fortune tellers. Those are the little hand-folded things that open and close and you pick colors or words and then have your fortune told. It's about as intellectually stimulating as a Magic 8 Ball and provides some clue as to how flippin' bored we are getting. DrC, of course, is engaged in upgrading the boat. In this case, he installed new backing plates for the stern cleats. These will come in handy if we ever find enough wind that our drogue becomes necessary. The more likely use case is to strengthen those cleats for all the stern anchoring we will no doubt be required to do in the islands.

If we ever get there.

We've run out of everything fresh except onions, cabbage, oranges, apples, and limons. There are some frozen meats and vegies left, but I am parceling them out like little bits of gold. I am now at the phase where I am trying to think of clever ways to make pasta different and exciting. Homemade bread is also now a substantial component of the menu. For example, lunch today is a loaf of Italian bread fresh out of the oven served with olive oil, sun dried tomatoes, anchovies, walnuts, balsamic vinegar and grated cheese. If everyone is very well behaved, I may be talked into finding three apples which I will slice thinly and serve on a silver platter with much ceremony.

Now fear not that the Conger clan will starve. Even were we stuck out here for another month, we wouldn't starve. The provisioning lockers are chock o'block full of food. It's just that the food is all dried, canned, or preserved. Jaime won't shut up about a green salad. Mera wants ice cream. Aeron wants soda pop? I'm raising that one wrong. DrC wants gazpacho soup and ceviche. I've pointed out to him that we are simply awash in limons just waiting for him to catch a damn fish. He's not happy with that one. I want tacos on the street complete with the sliced cucumbers, marinated onion/carrots, and five kinds of salsa. And the cold cold beer.

Actually, the beer is an interesting issue. We haven't been drinking since we left San Jose del Cabo. In fact, in 17 days, DrC and I have split two beers, and DrC drank most of the second last night since it didn't taste good to me. There isn't much sacrifice in this. The heat and movement combined with dehydration make any diuretic sound completely unappealing. We haven't had coffee or caffinated tea either. Our celebratory Fresca on the equator crossing made everyone slightly sick from the sugar rush. Arguably, a crossing is a good way to break some bad eating and drinking habits.

PPJ Note #11: PERSONAL WATER BOTTLES. Dehydration is a serious problem out here. Make sure everyone on board has a wide mouthed plastic bottle with a lid which can be carried everywhere. Keep it handy and full of water at all times. We are using PowerAid bottles. They have fantastic lids which only release beverage when you suck on them. You want the bottles to be slightly wide-mouthed so you can get a bottle brush inside and clean them periodically. Our bottles appear to be well nigh indestructible which is a good property in a water bottle as they get thrown, tossed, and ejected from one part of the boat to another on a routine basis.

The cat went crazy this morning. She weighs about half what she did when she arrived. Most of this is due no doubt to hair loss. She's coming back into her kitten, un-slothful self now. When she sleeps, she sleeps. When she is awake, she tears around the boat like her tail is on fire. This morning she did laps in the salon until I got up and yelled at her. In all fairness, she was using my left shoulder blade as a launching pad. I had good reason.

~ Toast
May 4, 18:00 UTC

Another Day in the Middle of Nowhere

Distance: 100/2008 Day: 17

The kids have resorted to making paper fortune tellers. Those are the little hand-folded things that open and close and you pick colors or words and then have your fortune told. It's about as intellectually stimulating as a Magic 8 Ball and provides some clue as to how flippin' bored we are getting. DrC, of course, is engaged in upgrading the boat. In this case, he installed new backing plates for the stern cleats. These will come in handy if we ever find enough wind that our drogue becomes necessary. The more likely use case is to strengthen those cleats for all the stern anchoring we will no doubt be required to do in the islands.

If we ever get there.

We've run out of everything fresh except onions, cabbage, oranges, apples, and limons. There are some frozen meats and vegies left, but I am parceling them out like little bits of gold. I am now at the phase where I am trying to think of clever ways to make pasta different and exciting. Homemade bread is also now a substantial component of the menu. For example, lunch today is a loaf of Italian bread fresh out of the oven served with olive oil, sun dried tomatoes, anchovies, walnuts, balsamic vinegar and grated cheese. If everyone is very well behaved, I may be talked into finding three apples which I will slice thinly and serve on a silver platter with much ceremony.

Now fear not that the Conger clan will starve. Even were we stuck out here for another month, we wouldn't starve. The provisioning lockers are chock o'block full of food. It's just that the food is all dried, canned, or preserved. Jaime won't shut up about a green salad. Mera wants ice cream. Aeron wants soda pop? I'm raising that one wrong. DrC wants gazpacho soup and ceviche. I've pointed out to him that we are simply awash in limons just waiting for him to catch a damn fish. He's not happy with that one. I want tacos on the street complete with the sliced cucumbers, marinated onion/carrots, and five kinds of salsa. And the cold cold beer.

Actually, the beer is an interesting issue. We haven't been drinking since we left San Jose del Cabo. In fact, in 17 days, DrC and I have split two beers, and DrC drank most of the second last night since it didn't taste good to me. There isn't much sacrifice in this. The heat and movement combined with dehydration make any diuretic sound completely unappealing. We haven't had coffee or caffinated tea either. Our celebratory Fresca on the equator crossing made everyone slightly sick from the sugar rush. Arguably, a crossing is a good way to break some bad eating and drinking habits.

PPJ Note #11: PERSONAL WATER BOTTLES. Dehydration is a serious problem out here. Make sure everyone on board has a wide mouthed plastic bottle with a lid which can be carried everywhere. Keep it handy and full of water at all times. We are using PowerAid bottles. They have fantastic lids which only release beverage when you suck on them. You want the bottles to be slightly wide-mouthed so you can get a bottle brush inside and clean them periodically. Our bottles appear to be well nigh indestructible which is a good property in a water bottle as they get thrown, tossed, and ejected from one part of the boat to another on a routine basis.

The cat went crazy this morning. She weighs about half what she did when she arrived. Most of this is due no doubt to hair loss. She's coming back into her kitten, un-slothful self now. When she sleeps, she sleeps. When she is awake, she tears around the boat like her tail is on fire. This morning she did laps in the salon until I got up and yelled at her. In all fairness, she was using my left shoulder blade as a launching pad. I had good reason.

~ Toast
May 4, 18:00 UTC

That Won't Work

Distance: 84/1908 Day: 16

At one point, we calculated that at our going rate of roughly 1.5 kts, it would take us 32 days to get to Hiva Oa. While reassured that we would arrive eventually, it's not particularly joyful news. Either because of the angle we selected or simply a roll of the weather dice, we seem to be experiencing light winds throughout most of the journey. Light winds make for any easier trip in many ways. They make for a much longer journey, however. At this point, with extreme lucky we might make landfall by May 9. More likely, it will be the 10th or 11th.

Landfall is another issue. Loose Pointer is headed down to Fatu Oa. The entire Puddle Jump fleet is up in Nuka Hiva. So of course, DrC wants to go to Hiva Oa. The anchorage there is not the greatest in the world. However, it is a valid port of entry, and it has facilities for en plien aire showers and laundry washing, bank, markets, and other amenities. The plan would be to make landfall, check in, buy what provisions are available (including propane we hope) and then a few days later go around the corner to more pleasant and remote anchorages on the northern side of the island. From there, we would island hope up to Nuka Hiva. There we would prepare and provision for the Tuamotos. All in all, I don't know how long we'll stay in the Marquesas. A few weeks? A month? Hard to say. We're very late in the season with a hard target of Tonga in time to make the passage south in Sept/Oct. Hard to say what will make sense.

I am so sticky. Everything is sticky. Absolutely EVERYTHING is sticky. We put the pillows and blankets and cushions out on the foredeck yesterday when the air was super hot and the sun shining and the wind non-existent. It was lovely, dry and pleasant when we brought it back in. Now it's all damp, sticky and sandy again. Twelve hours later. I wonder if this is a product of passage making or some unpleasantness we are going to have to live with until we journey south to New Zealand. I am ready, however, to switch from sand kitty litter to real kitty litter. It surely can not be worse.

Yesterday, we crossed the equator. I took pictures while DrC and the girls dragged their feet through the equator. I assure you that there is a very large, dashed line that splits the horizon from end to end. I took pictures and will post them when I get to the Internet again. Loose Pointer missed the line, but we suspect that the light may have been wrong, and their boats passed between the dashes. You have to look sharp. We celebrated with Fresca Toranja (last bottle) and a pineapple upside cake. We also cast a bottle into the ocean with messages of our crossing. So it wasn't the traditional Neptune shellback pollywog ceremony -- leave it to the Congers to go all pagan and different -- but it was an enjoyable and memorable event celebrated by the entire family.

PPJ Note #10: FOIL WRAPPED CITRUS. It works. This is not a myth. Wrap your citrus in aluminum foil before you leave. We're three weeks out and just had a really tasty breakfast of grapefruit, yogurt and granola. I'm looking forward to making landfall and having a rum cocktail complete with limon juice.

~ Toast
00 54 52S 129 50W
May 3, 18:00 UTC

Are We There Yet

Distance: 103/1737 Day: 15

Don Quixote has taken over net control responsibilities for the Pacific Puddle Jump Net. This will come as no surprise to those who have cruised with us in the past. We're a bit chatty on radio. What might come as a surprise is that it was DrC who has been doing much of the work, and DrC was the one who stepped up and volunteered to take net control. Yeah. We were shocked too. Due to watch schedules, he usually manages the abbreviated morning net, while I take the evening roll call.

The Puddle Jump Net is reassuring on a number of fronts. First, it gives structure to the day and provides a welcome relief from boredom. Second, it is nice to talk to other boats that are out here. We are so very very alone in this big blue space. Hearing voices, knowing there are others experiencing the same exhaustion and effort, it reduces that sense of being overwhelmed. There is also the practical aspect of the net in that we are able to share positions, weather conditions, and weather information. We track each other and there is an option for participants whereby if they miss two roll calls in a row, net control will contact international maritime authorities with a Health and Welfare. Finally, it's super nice knowing we're not the last boat out here. For awhile, it felt like we were 'riding sweep' on the fleet. However, in the past week, we've picked up another five boats who are north and east of us.

Tomorrow, we will winds willing cross the equator. I know it's just a line on a map, but it feels significant. Even though there will be another full week before we make landfall, it feels like crossing the 0 line means you are on the last leg of a long journey.

PPJ Note #9: PRETTY PANTIES. Unless you are a very straight-laced and conservative crew or traveling with strangers, it takes only a few days before the entire boat is stripped down to nothing but panties and bras 24/7. It's hot. It's humid. It's sticky. And there isn't much extra water to wash with. It seems rather pointless to put on clothes. Therefore, it is imperative that you leave port with a somewhat excessive load of clean, attractive underwear. No smears, no spots, dark colors, and perky bras that don't make your boobs like a million years old.

~ Toast
00 49.57N 128 18.81W
April 30, 12:30 UTC