Almost There

Distance: 130/2420 Day: 21

Our friends and buddy boats are settled into Hiva Oa either sleeping or scraping the gunk off themselves and their vessels. Jealous. Our next boat is definitely going to be faster. *sigh* Maybe. I'm beginning to think that Don Quixote is as slow as her owners. We reef. A lot. We don't like it when she goes super fast. And we hand steer. A lot. The former is perhaps timidity? Maybe if we were more confident or bolder, we'd leave the sails up in higher winds. Course, we haven't broken a lot of stuff on this trip (pause to knock on wood until knuckles get sore). I'd like to add a wind vane to the boat. There really needs to be a solution for a mechanical wind vane that will work on a catamaran. Must research. Alternatively, we should just add several back up auto-pilots and motors.

Of course, we're getting better at steering. Jaime is arguably the best. She drives the boat like a teenager, of course, with a combination of pre-natural accuracy and a touch of recklessness. We always ALWAYS go faster when she is at the helm. DrC also tends to gallop along, surfing the waves like a pro. Mera turns up the Glee, sings under her breath, and goes exactly where you tell her. She's not particularly innovative, but she is highly competent. Aeron is the only one who can stand at the helm. She plants her legs apart braced against the swell, steering the wheel which is nearly her height with a cheerful sawing motion which involves her entire body swinging port and starboard against the swell. What I can say about my steering is that when we need to do something dodgy like send Jaime up the mast to reset the location of the radar in 15 knots in a 10' swell, I'm the one at the helm minimizing the jostle.

The kids are munching grapefruit and arguing about chemistry. What is carbon monoxide? How about oxone? Pop quiz: Do we expire oxygen, nitrogen, or carbon dioxide? How does oxygen naturally occur in nature? Plants? NO! What? Come on... Oh! Two atoms together. Right. Now define an electron...

After dragging a lure from Vancouver Island to Zihau, up into the Sea of Cortez, and now halfway around the world, we finally caught something other than a skip jack. In fact, I figure we caught enough swordfish to pay for the fishing gear. The fish on our line was 64" long, and DrC gauges it was about 35 pounds. We have 4 stuffed large zip lock bags of steaks freezing down in the Norcold while we munch our way through the rest. Last night, dinner was absolutely astonishing. Swordfish steaks pan-seared in olive oil in their own juice with a bit of ocean water. We served it with multi-grain rice, wasabi aoli and teriyaki dips, and a coleslaw. We topped the entire thing off with cinnamon rolls.

Yes, in addition to the amazing Victory Over Fish, we also managed to produce a batch of really tasty, homemade cinnamon rolls. I feel this to be a major victory. The only downside to my recipe is that it takes 24 hours. Not a particularly spontaneous recipe, I'll grant you.

One more night. We should get to our way point about 5 miles off the coast of Hiva Oa sometime mid-day tomorrow. This will give us all afternoon to make our way down the south side of the island to the anchorage. Fingers crossed, we'll be in well before dark. Everyone is very excited to be nearly done with this first leg of the Puddle Jump.

Happy Mother's Day! to our mothers out there.

~ Toast
May 8, 17:30 UTC
S08 10.5 W136 56.8 225T 6.25 kts

Hotter and Sticker

Distance: 143/2390 Day: 20

We are on the final days of this journey so -- masochist that I am -- I looked at our future island hops. Ugh. That was a mistake. Several days to the Tuamutos. Another several from there to Tahiti. At least a week, more like 10 days to Roratonga. The same to Niue. Five to Tonga from Niue and nearly two weeks on the last leg. Big mistake. The thought of weeks more at sea like this is daunting. Of course, it won't be the same. Future legs will have fresh produce and fresh water buckets from beginning to end. I'll also have more clean panties and bras since I'm going shopping in Tahiti, and no one can stop me.

Having fixed the spinnaker, we have no occasion to use it. The winds are now the consistent east southeast trades in the 15 to 20 knot range of which we have heard so much. Just abaft of beam, it makes for a bumpy but steady, speedy ride. Yesterday, we clocked our second longest mileage. I won't say we're making up all the time in light winds, but we're certainly inching back towards making this trip in the ~5ish/hour range which I planned for. Given the short days, we've pulled all the fruit out of the bilge. We are gorging on grapefruit. Did I mention how effective it is to wrap your citrus in aluminum foil. All the citrus survived plump and juicy. I might have to make apple pie out of the last of the apples, however, as their crispness isn't. The sour dough is working well. The cinnamon bread is a complete bust. I think the dough recipe must be different. However, I left my Joy of Cooking in New Zealand, so I'm at a complete loss. What I've got now is the prospect of feeding the family cinnamon bread and butter for dinner. Maybe. Aeron made an excellent paste for the swirl and is super eager to make the icing. All we need is active, happy yeast.

One aspect of the journey that is proving difficult is to maintain vigilence. During our first week out, DrC and I did a chafe check twice a day. We looked in our lockers regularly to spot things moving. We swept, rinsed, wiped, yelled at the children, and were generally on top of everything. Now we still do this, but I for one lack enthusiasm for all these tasks. It might be habituation or it could be simple exhaustion. As usual, my husband is considerably better than I at maintaining his focus on all the sundry tasks necessary to keeping us afloat. Thank all the gods of the sea I am traveling with this man rather than any other. He's a marvel. Yet, even he is getting tired of the routine.

They say that there are two types of sailors: those that love passage making and feel regret on making landfall and those that simply endure the passages. I am in the later camp. I want to be done.

In up news, my flute practice is coming along. Our first monthly family concert went well. We all played our best pieces. And even though we'd heard each other rehearse a million times, it was still fun and different to perform. Mera played a new composition, a little jig, which we are trying to get her to put down on paper. We might be able to write flute and guitar accompaniments and play ensemble. Good stuff. I'm taking Jaime's technical drawing class as well. Except for the entire chapter on computer technology which I not only skipped I told Jaime to skip as well, the book is excellent. Drawing, however, in rocky rolly seas is proving challenging. My first attempts are inspired crap. I'll call this series: At Sea.

PPJ Note: ENTERTAINMENT. It is really important to bring things to do that do not require fixated concentration. Also, reserve some of the items and pull them out as you go along. Every few days, I unearth another game or puzzle for the kids. For example, to celebrate week 2 I pulled out Travel Blockus. Next passage I need to find our newly minted set of Flux. Should be good!

~ Toast
May 7, 18:30 UTC
S06 44 W135 22 225T 6.5kts

Truly Skank

Distance: 135/2252 Day: 19

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.

~ Toast
May 6, 16:00 UTC

The Slow Slog

Distance: 109/2117 Day: 18

Even I'm not buying the "slow days are good days for the boat and crew" line any more. The first half of the trip -- despite one day of being becalmed -- we averaged 5 knots/day. Now we're averaging more like 4... when we are lucky. Our landfall target date slipped today into May 10 soonest. This wind needs to hold or freshen a bit, or we are seriously going to run out of patience.

Food, water, and fuel in good supply.

Spinnaker busted yesterday. Actually, it was a fitting way up at the top in the sock. Two swivels separated by a 10" stainless steel bolt. The bolt was showing signs of rust and bent. Yesterday, it simply snapped. DrC and I agree that the thing was clearly under-powered, a much stronger fitting is required. We may eventually purchase a replacement, but obviously that it not possible in the middle of the Pacific. So DrC built us a replacement out of spectra line. Here's the thing about boats... if this line works and does not case chafe or cause other problems, we may never replace the stainless. Sometimes the fix is better than the original. Almost inevitably when you replace stainless with spectra, that turns out to be the case.

Last night was for me one of the hardest nights on helm. The winds varied between 10 to 28 as we passed under and through squall after squall after squall. None of them lasted particularly long, but the cumulative total of steering and worry took its toll. You can not be complacent passing through these squalls. At any time the wind can do some insane thing and pop up to 35 and even considerably higher. We haven't seen it *knock on wood* but that does not mean we don't believe that it can happen. Each time the wind starts to rise, you have to reef. When the wind drops, you shake out the reef. Now most of the night we were able to actually lumber along with a single reef, but there was a memorable squall where I was pulling in the jib, taking a second reef, and untangling a reefing line from the wind generator while perched precariously on a stanchion all the while we bounded over and around wind waves in 27 knots. Of course, literally the moment I had all this in place, the wind dropped to 11. *sigh* It took nearly a half hour for the adrenaline to clear my system. Yes, Mom, I had on a safety harness. It made me seriously reconsider my passage drinking policy.

I made sour dough yesterday. Now, let's be clear. I've had sour dough starter and made bread from it for years. The bread was delicious and tasted faintly sour. This, however, was the first loaf I have ever made that looked and tasted like real sour dough bread. Real Sour Dough Bread for a western American is SOUR. It comes from San Francisco or Seattle, the tang is evident in both the aroma and the taste, and has a crisp crunchy crust. We think the trick was that I made it the night before and let it rise incredibly slowly all night. Then I proofed it and let it rise for another 5 or 6 hours. It smelled divine. It tasted great. The family inhaled it. It's gone. Now I need to figure out how to recreate it. I'll give that a try tonight. I really have nothing else to do.

~ Toast
May 5, 18:00 UTC