Tuesday, May 24, 2011

Mexico to Hawaii - Week Three: May 3 to May 12

Day 15 at 134 degrees west and we made 133 miles. Still no rain. The outside of Ka’sala is encrusted and a patina of salt lies on everything. Our feet are dry and sore despite frequent washing and applications of cream. It’s still warm, but cloudy. The wind has become fluky and shifts back and forth 30 degrees from east to east north east and back again. Doug is going through all the possible sail configurations in his head – so many factors to consider – stability and safety, heading, wind strength and sea state. He’s done his research and he is putting all his knowledge to the test. We’re certainly doing lots of reefing and unreefing – in other words, we’re sailing the boat! Weather predictions are the strong winds generated by the large Pacific high above us will take us all the way to Hawaii.
Forecast Image
This is what a grib file looks like - taken for today and showing the the Pacific High - in white.  The colours show the wind strength, the arrows the direction.

From the journal: Everything is fine on board – spirits are generally “up”, but the whole thing is a bit wearying with the constant noise and motion – always needing to be aware of what’s going on outside and knowing how to accommodate the conditions. Doug is amazing at this and continues to navigate and do the radio work as well. We are more downwind today and that is not as comfortable, as the main fights to bring us up on the wind and the yankee to bring us down. I can barely stand to look out the stern and see the rising waves – much better at night when I can’t see anything! Last night on my watch I was able to go on deck and raise the main and unshaken the reefs by myself – so I’m not a total coward – though somewhat intimidated.

What me worry?

It’s Day 16 and we covered another 135 miles. The wind continues to be more easterly and is supposed to lower to 15 – 20. The boat seems to have an easier motion today so I will bake up a storm by making Ziploc bread and carrot muffins. Doug is pensive, a little quiet and perhaps a bit down. It’s hard to keep a stiff upper lip for weeks at a time. I’ve saved a bottle of Alaskan Amber to celebrate less than 1000 miles to go, so perhaps we will crack that today. With fresh bread, fresh muffins, a great beer and macaroni and cheese for dinner, I’m sure that will make him feel better.

We have to change time zones again. We’re not exactly sure where and when to do it, but go by the light. Hawaii is 10 minus Greenwich, so we know we have to accommodate a 5 hour time difference from Mexico before we arrive.

From my journal:  Day 17 was a perfect sailing day. Winds were 15 – 20 all day, 20 – 25 in the evening and 20 all night. The waves were well dispersed during the day, but became confused and closer during the night - making for bumpy sleeping. Randy, on the Seafarer’s Net, told us we were now “in the groove” that would take us all the way to Hawaii. The weather faxes also seem to verify his prediction meaning we have a week to go. Doug is concerned we might start to run into squalls, so we will start watching cloud patterns more closely to be prepared if one comes upon us. Certainly there is more towering cumulus around and we are starting to see rain showers in the distance. The sea continues to warm up – almost 78 degrees today and intense crystal sapphire blue.

Our provisions are more than holding out and we still have plenty of water. We are continuing to run the motor one hour each day as we sail along. Doug is frustrated because the wind generator and solar panels are putting out lots of amps, but for some reason they aren’t getting into the batteries. Regulator? Alternator? Energy monitor?

We are finding ourselves wishing for more wind as we know Ka’sala is more stable over 6 knots in these crazy, confused seas. After a couple of weeks of this you get kind of tired trying to do the simplest things such as brushing your teeth or kissing each other goodnight.

Day 18 found us at 141 degrees west – we covered 140 nautical miles. From the journal: Today we talked about what we might find in Hilo and what we might do there. We have no guide books or internet to guide us on board. However, there are jobs to do on Ka’sala – alternator, regulator, rivet the whisker pole, replace the trilight with an LED bulb and see what can be done with the leaking forward hatch. We are SO pleased with Ka’sala and her performance. Doug has prepared her well and she is withstanding the circumstances she finds herself in. The slapping and pounding of the huge waves seem totally unfair against her beautiful hull. We are also wondering what adventures might await us on the Big Island. We know we will visit the volcanoes – what else?

Last night Doug tried to analyze why we have these confused seas. According to the weather fax there is a huge ridge of high pressure extending north of us across the Pacific. It shows we should be experiencing 20 knot winds that will put us in a direct line to Hawaii. What Doug noticed is that our regular 15 knot wind comes ENE accompanied by swell and wind wave, but every 10 minutes of so, a strong gust comes from a more northerly direction, bringing Ka’sala higher into the wind and exposing our beam to the seas. When the gust expends itself, she falls back down, only to get slapped on the other side. Well , now that we’ve figured that out, what does it tell us? Basically – this is how the conditions will be, probably all the way to Hawaii. That’s okay, as long as the wind stays with us to keep us abreast of the waves.

Grumpy

Based on the conditions, I decided to move our main meal to mid day when things seem calmer. That day I went all out and made roast potatoes, tinned roast beef in mushroom gravy and carrots. Delicious! I also had my first cup of coffee in two weeks. Wow! Did it taste good!

On Day 19 Doug turned on the computer to match the B & G GPS to the electronic charts. Right on target! We woke to cloudy skies and could see light showers in the distance, but still no rain to wash off Ka’sala’s salt crust. I worried that rain would bring a disruption of our steady progress, but it didn’t turn out that way. I was still baking bread and made more pizza – one of Doug’s favourites. My fresh provisions continued to hold up well and I figured I would have to throw out quite a bit of it before we reached Hawaii to satisfy the strict agriculture laws. I hated the thought of throwing food away, but I certainly understood the desire to keep out invasive species, diseases and bugs. Only 592 miles to go!

On Day 20 we had our first rain shower, but not enough to clean off the salt. It seemed weird to realize that it was the first rain we had seen since Marina Del Rey last November! Doug said he’s missed the rain. I haven’t! In fact, I’ve noticed our Mexican tans are beginning to fade. I wondered if we would be able to top them up in Hawaii. The wind died down to 15 knots and Ka’sala was being tossed around again. We’ve noticed that if we can keep the boat above 6 knots we move smoothly and smartly along. This wasn’t always easy when the wind was directly behind us and we had to make long tacks to make distance and speed. Doug decided to pass the time constructively and over the next couple days polished all the brass aboard to a soft glow.
Polishing brass in the quarter berth

On Day 21 we needed to sail directly downwind to make our heading. We dropped the mainsail and Doug set the yankee held out with the tweaker he had attached to the boom. He then used the shortened whisker pole to hold out the staysail. It worked well, and kept us stable, but we were under speed by about a knot by using the staysail instead of the main. We missed that whisker pole! The weather continued warm – air temperature 25, water 75 and humidity 75%.

Wing on wing and wing on wing

I made a big tomato sauce from as many of the last vegetables as I could fit in my large wok. From that I made pasta sauce and chili. I made the last loaf of Ziploc bread for the passage. I was wearier that day than most – probably because of the constant motion, but still reading and enjoying the eclectic selection of books I have brought with me – the bunk was incredibly comfortable. From the journal: Unfortunately, the movement of the boat did not get any better as the day progressed. We had afternoon rain showers and, as they came toward us from behind, we got a little push, but then the wind dropped off again. Unfortunately, the seas did not and seemed to develop a nasty cross fetch that made it almost impossible to sleep. In the lighter winds the sails started to slap and heave – a dreadful sound that shakes the whole boat. It’s also disheartening to know that slowing down increases the time to our destination. By this time, I just wanted it to be over and I had to work hard to keep my patience and not get cranky. Nonetheless, we made 118 miles that day.

On Day 22 we had been three weeks at sea, the time seemed endless and Mexico seemed a very long time ago. We were still flying wing on wing, staysail and yankee. The winds continued light, but the seas were also lying down. We decided if we dropped below 3 knots of speed, as we had during the previous night, we would motor. We slept like babies during the day in the calmer conditions.

Day 23 at 152 degrees and only 134 miles to go! Conditions were still light so we decided to fly the drifter for a few hours. It gave us about 4 knots, but we were so close to our destination we wanted to fly into port a lot faster! It seemed unbearably slow.

Flying the drifter

From the journal:  We started to hear the Coast guard reports on the VHF and knew we were near. It felt strange to realize today would likely be our last day at sea. Doug is a little worried as he sees the potential for towering “Q’s” all around us which might bring squally conditions with thunder and lightning. I hope not. Based on the conditions and our position we expect to arrive tomorrow around lunch time – perfect for getting ourselves into the harbour and securely tucked away with enough time to check into customs. The thought of a potential pub dinner is highly motivating.

I cleaned out all the rest of the fresh provisions and threw out jicama, cabbage and limes, as well as three potatoes, six onions and a head of garlic. We will have the last two tomatoes and the last apple for lunch today.

Last sunrise at sea - potential rain in the distance

On the morning of Day 24 we were frustrated by how light the winds were, though the sea state remained reasonably calm. We could only manage four knots and spent most of the night tweaking the most out of the sails. We kept a close watch – concerned we might encounter boats as we came closer to the coast, but didn’t see one. By 9am we could see the coastline of Hawaii in the distance, but most of it was enshrouded by cloud.

Hawaii emerges out of the mist

Not what we would have expected as the biggest volcano is almost 14,000 feet. We thought we might see it looming in the distance. Both of us were primed to yell: Land Ho!, but instead, the island just slowly emerged out of the clouds.

The winds were so light we dropped the yankee and with the main motor-sailed into Hilo. Using the electronic Autohelm ST4000, we followed the electronic chart and sat back to enjoy the scenery unfolding before us. To the north we could see, beneath the clouds, the long slope of land leading to the sea. It was covered with vegetation in the most startling colour of lime green and framed with long steaks of dark stuff we later discovered was hardened lava, all displayed through shafts of sunlight playing hide and seek across it. The view was so vast I could not get a picture of it and we found it a little disconcerting and SO different from the Mexican landscape we had grown used to. As we came closer to shore we could make out large buildings, then houses, then cars on the road that snaked its way along the coast.

Hilo - you can just make out the breakwater in front of the coast line

As we approached the harbour, we had to navigate around a long, low breakwater that juts out into the bay and were immediately in flat calm. The sensation of stillness seemed very odd as we raised the yellow quarantine flag, lowered the main and pulled out the fenders and docklines.

Raising the quarantine flag

It seemed impossible that in a few minutes we would be attached to shore again and we would be using our legs to walk rather than to balance. I didn’t feel particularly excited about it – just an incredible sense of accomplishment sprinkled with my usual anxiety about docking in a new place and, this time, in a new way, as we would have to med-moor here.

The flat, calm waters of Hilo Harbour

We followed the bouys, navigated around a cargo ship in the port and through a 100 foot gap at the end of a dock into Radio Bay. Tied to the jetty at the end of were Midnight Blue, Sequoia and Touch Rain, as well as two other boats I didn’t recognize. We had plenty of room to check out the situation and prepare the anchor, lines and anchor float. We could see people on the jetty waiting to help us tie off. Doug smartly brought the boat up, I dropped the anchor, and we backed on to the jetty. I stood on the rail and hefted the lines to waiting hands while Doug manipulated the anchor winch with the foot controls in the cockpit. Before we could even comprehend it, the motor was off and we were secured to the jetty. I had moved forward to untie the dinghy and prepare it for going over the side. Even though we were tied to the jetty, we were still 10 feet from the wall – too far to hop across, yet far enough away to protect the stern of Ka’sala. We would need the dinghy to traverse those few feet.

View from cockpit, dinghy ferry to jetty

Shortly, we were ashore and the crews from the surrounding boats were congratulating us and clapping us on the back. It was about 3:30 and we were in an all fired rush to get to customs so we could clear into customs and agriculture. We knew we had to do it before we would be allowed ashore for our much desired steak dinner. Unfortunately, the office had closed at 2pm and we were to remain in limbo until the next morning.

Radio Bay, looking from the bow of Ka'sala to the breakwater, sloping north coast in the background

Radio Bay is a marine industrial area and port with all kinds of things going on. As an outcome of 9/11 and the concerns of Homeland Security, crews of visiting sailboats must be escorted by security guards through the area. Bryoner picked us up in his truck and drove us to the main gate through stacked containers, parked cars, large warehouses, gantries and a confusing pattern of roadways, where we checked into the harbour. Because we are under 40 feet, we were charged $9.00 a day to tie to the jetty. (Over 40 feet is $12.00). Fresh water is available, but only two power accesses could be found which were metered at a cost 25 cents for an hour. Luckily, we were able to plug into one of them which enabled us to fully charge our batteries over the next 24 hours. We had to put a $50.00 deposit on a key to the washrooms placed nearby the jetty. We paid for a week, then were returned to Ka’sala. No steak dinner that night!

Facilities at Radio Bay - washrooms (no doors on cubicles!!!) & showers, gathering area and book exchange

To make amends, I dug around in the food locker and was able to produce “Stack” – one of our favourite left over roast beef meals – from tinned roast beef and mushrooms, packaged gravy mix, a box of mixed vegetables and a huge heap of reconstituted dried mashed potatoes. It was surprisingly good and so was the wine we drank to celebrate! A large tin of fruit cocktail finished the meal – gee – not bad!

Stack!

Soon after dinner we were in the bunk, fast asleep, still not caught up with the fact we had arrived. We had travelled 2860 miles in 23 days and six hours, had crossed 5 time zones.  The next day would begin a new chapter in our year-long cruise.

First evening in the calm waters of  Radio Bay, Hilo

Saturday, May 21, 2011

Puerto Vallarta, Mexico to Hawaii Week Two: April 27 to May 2

On Day 8 I discovered the nets I was using to hold the fruit were not working well. They swung back and forth so much in the increased motion that they started bashing against the portlights. I transferred the fruit to the bins I had set up in the forepeak. I could see the oranges were starting to go so began an orgy of juice making. (You might try that with a hand held squisher juicer in a pitching boat – just think of the anaerobic exercise, not to mention the clean-up!)


My juicer, bought at a Mexican market, looks like this, but is metal.  The problem is the orange is often too big for the cup making it an experience at the best of times!

We hadn’t had any rain at all and, as a result, Ka’sala was becoming very salt encrusted on the outside and sticky on the inside – especially around the companionway and the cabin sole. Our feet were also looking salty and dry. I hated to use the fresh water, but I ended up wiping down all the interior surfaces with Mr. Clean and using the left over water in the cockpit. It made a difference for our comfort. I had bought Huggies Baby Wipes and, using one of them to wipe down arms and legs, kept the dry salt at bay and saved water.

From my journal on Day 8: Most of the time we are below either in the berth or at the nav station, reading ,listening to books and music, talking together, or sleeping. I’m trying to make a point of doing at least one special thing a day and before I get out of the berth after my last watch, I visualize what I will do to bide the time and keep myself sane until the night watches begin again. I try to think of things in 24 hour segments and refuse to contemplate anything negative. It’s a very good way to have uninterrupted thinking time.

In addition to all this I am becoming a better sailor. When on watch I watch the digital GPS at the nav station – it shows COG (course over ground) and SOG (speed over ground). By this instrument alone I can pretty well figure out what needs to be done to trim sails or adjust the Monitor.


I keep my eye on the AIS and every 10 – 15 minutes I pop my head up and scan the horizon for other craft. Ka’sala is an amazing boat and takes everything that comes her way. All three of us are working as a team.

 



Doug has figured if we can keep to 6 knots we will be in Hawaii in 14 more days. We probably won’t stick to that today, but according to the weather forecasts we got this morning, more wind is coming our way by Thursday and we can expect 20+ knots. Doug thinks it will be more comfortable, though, because as we move farther west, the winds come more from the east – making the ride smoother.

In fact, over the next few weeks, this is how it worked out. We noticed that the ride was much smoother over 6 knots, it was quieter and the Monitor was able to hold its heading easier. It was only when I popped my head out of the companionway and saw the mountainous waves that I had a true feeling of the circumstances we found ourselves in. Better to stay below!

However, at the beginning of the second week, as the wind veered from the north to the north-north east and eventually the east, we were transitioning from a beam reach to the beam quarter and finally a run to continue to make our heading of 260 degrees. Unfortunately, the seas didn’t follow the wind at the same time and, as a result, there were periods where our sails were trimmed to the wind, but the seas would push us off. This caused unexpected lurches and pitches below, which in turn caused us to stagger and fall into things. We had to hold on all the time. Preparing and dishing up meals became a real challenge and I blessed my gimbaled stove. I learned the hard way that even Scootguard would not hold a bowl in place. On Day 8, as I was dishing up a one pot meal of pork and beans we were hit by what I affectionately called a “flipper wave” and dinner tossed out of the pot and bowls and spewed all over the galley. One bowl – made of unbreakable Corelle – crashed into the other and split in two. We really wanted to keep our heading, but figured this was way too much bashing, so came off the wind 30 degrees to try to even things out more. We were partially successful, but eventually, things calmed down again and we were able to come back to our 260 degree heading. Nonetheless, we did make 125 nautical miles that day in the right direction.

As the wind came more from the stern and the sea state increased, we found we needed to brace the headsail and the mainsail. Doug had improved our preventer system in Mexico and this worked well to hold the boom in place. Unfortunately, soon after we employed our whisker pole on the headsail it broke again. This time it became impossible for it to articulate fully and we were left with a pole that would only work on the staysail. However, necessity is the mother of invention, and Doug set up a tweaker system through a system of blocks and pulleys which attached the clew of the yankee to the end of the boom. This worked well as long as we were on a broad reach. If we needed to go wing on wing and run, which eventually happened, we would not be able to use the main. Instead, we would have to pole out the staysail with what remained of the whisker pole and use the boom to sheet out the headsail.


                       Tidying up the nettles on the reef

By Day 9 we were really beginning to feel we were out of the influence of the Mexican land mass. We were well beyond the Baja at 120 degrees longitude and looking forward to the fabled tradewinds which we were told blew consistently in an easterly direction all the way to Hawaii. We had an uneventful day in reasonable winds and seas and so enjoyed grooving to the music of Stan Rogers, the Ecclestones and Bruce Springsteen. It was a spectacularly warm, sunny day and I made orange bread to help with the night passages, while Doug took videos from the cockpit. We made 124 miles.

Happy times in the cockpit

On Day 10 we turned our clocks back another hour. We figured out Hawaii was 5 hours behind Puerto Vallarta time and didn’t use daylight savings. We adjusted according to the light. This day was the first time we ran our engine since we had been becalmed near the Socorros. We learned that this was a mistake. We should have been running the engine every day for an hour regardless, because Doug discovered our batteries were not charging the way they should be. Even though he had gone over all the electrics in Mexico and we had replaced our batteries with new deep cycles, they were not charging. Doug couldn’t help but think this was due to the alternator, the regulator or both. He knew we were using a lot of power to run our trilight at night (the light at the top of the mast that indicates a sailboat underway in the darkness). Originally we had an LED light there, but it interfered too much with the radios, so Doug replaced it. Another huge draw on the batteries was the refrigerator. We knew our computers took a lot of current but hadn’t been using them. Otherwise, we only needed power to run reading lights and the radio. Needless to say, this was very frustrating. The good news was we had used very little fuel since our last fill-up in La Cruz and still held over 400 litres.

That day we also had a warm water shampoo and bath. We abandoned the shower bag and the salt water for the comfort of the galley sink which made the whole experience a lot easier and more pleasant. There is nothing like the feeling of being clean!

The wind did not pick up that day as we expected, though the passage remained bumpy. I was fast becoming an expert at holding my balance and cooking reasonable meals, though on this day I managed to spill an entire jug of water all over the galley. Finding the silver lining in the cloud, I just took the opportunity to give it a good wipe down. My journal starts showing I’m estimating the time for the journey to be over based on the winds and our mileage. It also begins to show my frustration when the winds die down, because that means sloppy seas and difficulty for the Monitor to hold our heading. It means we are constantly adjusting and tweaking sails and vane to get the most out of what we have. This can be exhausting and frustrating work – especially at night. However, although it seemed like we were slowing down, we were consistently clocking 125 miles a day.


          Holding on in the galley


                   You'd think we'd eaten pizza all the way across! 

Day 11 was cooler and overcast. We sailed most of the day wing on wing at 5 – 6 knots in 20 – 25 knot winds. The only wild life we saw were dead – one day a little brown bird in the cockpit, other days little fishes on the side deck and on another a squid in the cockpit – not the 40 pounder I had been told was out there! No birds flying in the sky, no dolphins playing on our bow, no fish under our keel - just miles and miles of endless deep blue sea capped with foam.

By now we were in a routine that seemed to keep us comfortable and positive. I was avidly reading novels – a pleasure I thought I would not experience on this trip – and by the time I’d reached Hawaii I’d read quite a few - from thrillers to historical fiction to literature. I found myself doing a great deal of thinking about what we would find and do in Hawaii, our next long passage to BC, returning to work, our home and our friends, my family, and imagining life without my pets (who have since died). I thought a lot about the meaning of time and life, of getting old and, oh yeah, the meaning of life! I tried very hard to believe that everything is worthwhile, trying to stay positive, but the huge expanse of space around me continued to make me and my life seem pretty insignificant in the grand scheme of things and I had to catch myself when I wondered: What does it all matter? What is the point?

Beautiful Bella

Amazing Abby

Day 15 at 134 degrees west and we made 133 miles.  Still no rain.  The outside of Ka’sala is encrusted and a patina of salt lies on everything.  Our feet are dry and sore despite frequent washing and applications of cream.  It’s still warm, but cloudy.  The wind has become fluky and shifts back and forth 30 degrees from east to east north east and back again.  Doug is going through all the possible sail configurations in his head – so many factors to consider – stability and safety, heading, wind strength and sea state. He’s done his research and he is putting all his knowledge to the test.  We’re certainly doing lots of reefing and unreefing – in other words, we’re sailing the boat!  Weather predictions are the strong winds generated by the large Pacific high above us will take us all the way to Hawaii. 
From the journal:  “Everything is fine on board – spirits are generally “up”, but the whole thing is a bit wearying with the constant noise and motion – always needing to be aware of what’s going on outside and knowing how to accommodate the conditions.  Doug is amazing at this and continues to navigate and do the radio work as well.  We are more downwind today and that is not as comfortable, as the main fights to bring us up on the wind and the yankee to bring us down.  I can barely stand to look out the stern and see the rising waves – much better at night when I can’t see anything!  Last night on my watch I was able to go on deck and raise the main and unshaken the reefs by myself – so I’m not a total coward – though somewhat intimidated.” 
It’s Day 16 and we covered another 135 miles.  The wind continues to be more easterly and is supposed to lower to 15 – 20.  The boat seems to have an easier motion today so I will bake up a storm by making Ziploc bread and carrot muffins.  Doug is pensive, a little quiet and perhaps a bit down.  It’s hard to keep a stiff upper lip for weeks at a time.  I’ve saved a bottle of Alaskan Amber to celebrate less than 1000 miles to go, so perhaps we will crack that today.  With fresh bread, fresh muffins, a great beer and macaroni and cheese for dinner, I’m sure that will make him feel better. 
We have to change time zones again.  We’re not exactly sure where and when to do it, but go by the light.  Hawaii is 10 minus Greenwich, so we know we have to accommodate a 5 hour time difference from Mexico before we arrive. 
From my journal:  Day 17 was a perfect sailing day.  Winds were 15 – 20 all day, 20 – 25 in the evening and 20 all night.  The waves were well dispersed during the day, but became confused and closer during the night - making for bumpy sleeping.  Randy, on the Seafarer’s Net, told us we were now “in the groove” that would take us all the way to Hawaii.  The weather faxes also seem to verify his prediction meaning we have a week to go.  Doug is concerned we might start to run into squalls, so we will start watching cloud patterns more closely to be prepared if one comes upon us.  Certainly there is more towering cumulus around and we are starting to see rain showers in the distance.  The sea continues to warm up – almost 78 degrees today and intense crystal sapphire blue.
Our provisions are more than holding out and we still have plenty of water.  We are continuing to run the motor one hour each day as we sail along.  Doug is frustrated because the wind generator and solar panels are putting out lots of amps, but for some reason they aren’t getting into the batteries. Regulator?  Alternator? Energy monitor? 
We are finding ourselves wishing for more wind as we know Ka’sala is more stable over 6 knots in these crazy, confused seas.  After a couple of weeks of this you get kind of tired trying to do the simplest things such as brushing your teeth or kissing each other goodnight. 
Day 18 found us at 141 degrees west – we covered 140 nautical miles.  From the journal:  Today we talked about what we might find in Hilo and what we might do there.  We have no guide books or internet to guide us on board.  However, there are jobs to do on Ka’sala – alternator, regulator, rivet the whisker pole, replace the trilight with an LED bulb and see what can be done with the leaking forward hatch.  We are SO pleased with Ka’sala and her performance.  Doug has prepared her well and she is withstanding the circumstances she finds herself in.  The slapping and pounding of the huge waves seem totally unfair against her beautiful hull.  We are also wondering what adventures might await us on the Big Island.  We know we will visit the volcanoes – what else?
Last night Doug tried to analyze why we have these confused seas.  According to the weather fax there is a huge ridge of high pressure extending north of us across the Pacific.  It shows we should be experiencing 20 knot winds that will put us in a direct line to Hawaii.  What Doug noticed is that our regular 15 knot wind comes ENE accompanied by swell and wind wave, but every 10 minutes of so, a strong gust comes from a more northerly direction, bringing Ka’sala higher into the wind and exposing our beam to the seas.  When the gust expends itself, she falls back down, only to get slapped on the other side.  Well , now that we’ve figured that out, what does it tell us?  Basically – this is how the conditions will be, probably all the way to Hawaii.  That’s okay, as long as the wind stays with us to keep us abreast of the waves. 
Based on the conditions, I decided to move our main meal to mid day when things seem calmer.  That day I went all out and made roast potatoes, tinned roast beef in mushroom gravy and carrots.  Delicious!  I also had my first cup of coffee in two weeks.  Wow! Did it taste good!
On Day 19 Doug turned on the computer to match the B & G GPS to the electronic charts.  Right on target!  We woke to cloudy skies and could see light showers in the distance, but still no rain to wash off Ka’sala’s salt crust.  I worried that rain would bring a disruption of our steady progress, but it didn’t turn out that way.  I’m still baking bread and made more pizza – one of Doug’s favourites.  My fresh provisions continue to hold up well and I figured I would have to throw out quite a bit of it before we reached Hawaii to satisfy their strict agriculture laws.  I hate the thought of throwing food away, but I certainly understand the desire to keep out invasive species, diseases and bugs.  Only 592 miles to go!
On Day 20 we had our first rain shower, but not enough to clean off the salt.  It seemed weird to realize that it was the first rain we had seen since Marina Del Rey last November!  Doug says he’s missed the rain.  I haven’t!  In fact, I’ve noticed our Mexican tans are beginning to fade.  I wonder if we will be able to top them up in Hawaii.  The wind has died down to 15 knots and Ka’sala is being tossed around again.  We’ve noticed that if we can keep the boat above 6 knots we move smoothly and smartly along.  This isn’t always easy when the wind is directly behind us and we have to make long tacks to make distance and speed.  Doug decided to pass the time constructively and over the next couple days polished all the brass aboard to a soft glow.
On Day 21 we needed to sail directly downwind to make our heading.  We dropped the mainsail and Doug set the yankee held out with the tweaker he had attached to the boom.  He then used the shortened whisker pole to hold out the staysail.  It worked well, and kept us stable, but we were under speed by about a knot by using the staysail instead of the main.  We missed that whisker pole! The weather continues warm – air temperature 25, water 75 and humidity 75%.
I made a big tomato sauce from as many of the last vegetables as I could fit in my large wok.  From that I made pasta sauce and chili.  I made the last loaf of Ziploc bread for the passage.  I was wearier that day than most – probably because of the constant motion, but still reading and enjoying the eclectic selection of books I have brought with me – the bunk was incredibly comfortable.  From the journal:  Unfortunately, the movement of the boat did not get any better as the day progressed.  We had afternoon rain showers and, as they came toward us from behind, we got a little push, but then the wind dropped off again.  Unfortunately, the seas did not and seemed to develop a nasty cross fetch that made it almost impossible to sleep.  In the lighter winds the sails started to slap and heave – a dreadful sound that shakes the whole boat.  It’s also disheartening to know that slowing down increases the time to our destination.  By this time, I just wanted it to be over and I had to work hard to keep my patience and not get cranky.  Nonetheless, we made 118 miles that day.
On Day 22 we had been three weeks at sea, the time seemed endless and Mexico seemed a very long time ago.  We were still flying wing on wing, staysail and yankee.  The winds continued light, but the seas were also lying down.  We decided if we dropped below 3 knots of speed, as we had during the previous night, we would motor.  As we neared our destination I thought about garbage – all along we had been throwing paper, food scraps, cans, glass bottles and jars overboard.  All plastic and juice boxes had been cleaned and carefully compressed for disposal in Hilo.  We’ve been told to expect the agriculture officials to inspect our garbage and I wanted to be ready for that.  We slept like babies during the day in the calmer conditions.
Day 23 at 152 degrees and only 134 miles to go!  Conditions were still light so we decided to fly the drifter for a few hours.  It gave us about 4 knots, but we were so close to our destination we wanted to fly into port a lot faster!  It seemed unbearably slow. We started to hear the Coast guard reports on the VHF and knew we were near.  It felt strange to realize today would likely be our last day at sea.    From the journal:  Doug is a little worried as he sees the potential for towering “Q’s” all around us which might bring squally conditions with thunder and lightning.  I hope not.  Based on the conditions and our position we expect to arrive tomorrow around lunch time – perfect for getting ourselves into the harbour and securely tucked away with enough time to check into customs.  The thought of a potential pub dinner is highly motivating. 
I cleaned out all the rest of the fresh provisions and threw out jicama, cabbage and limes, as well as three potatoes, six onions and a head of garlic.  We will have the last two tomatoes and the last apple for lunch today. 
On the morning of Day 24 we were frustrated by how light the winds were, though the sea state remained reasonably calm.  We could only manage four knots and spent most of the night tweaking the most out of the sails.  We kept a close watch – concerned we might encounter boats as we came closer to the coast, but didn’t see one.  By 9am we could see the coastline of Hawaii in the distance, but most of it was enshrouded by cloud.  Not what we would have expected as the biggest volcano is almost 14,000 feet.  We thought we might see it looming in the distance.  Both of us were primed to yell: “Land Ho!”, but  instead, the island just slowly evolved out of the clouds.
The winds were so light we dropped the yankee and with the main motor-sailed into Hilo.   Using the electronic Autohelm ST4000, we followed the electronic chart and sat back to enjoy the scenery unfolding before us.  To the north we could see, beneath the clouds, the long slope of land leading to the sea.  It was covered with vegetation in the most startling colour of lime green and framed with long steaks of dark stuff we later discovered was hardened lava, all displayed through shafts of sunlight playing hide and seek across it.  We found it a little disconcerting and SO different from the Mexican landscape we had grown used to.  As we came closer to shore we could make out large buildings, then houses, then cars on the road that snaked its way along the coast.
As we approached the harbour, we had to navigate around a long, low breakwater that juts out into the bay and were immediately in flat calm.  The sensation of stillness seemed very odd as we raised the yellow quarantine flag, lowered the main and pulled out the fenders and docklines.  It seemed impossible that in a few minutes we would be attached to shore again and we would be using our legs to walk rather than balance.  I didn’t feel particularly excited about it – just an incredible sense of accomplishment sprinkled with my usual anxiety about docking in a new place and, this time, in a new way, as we would have to med-moor here.   
We followed the bouys, navigated around a cargo ship in the port and through a 100 foot gap at the end of a dock into Radio Bay.  Tied to the jetty at the end of were Midnight Blue, Sequoia and Touch Rain, as well as two other boats I didn’t recognize.  We had plenty of room to check out the situation and prepare the anchor, lines and anchor float.  We could see people on the jetty waiting to help us tie off.  Doug smartly brought the boat up, I dropped the anchor and we backed on to the jetty.  I stood on the rail and hefted the lines to waiting hands while Doug manipulated the anchor winch with the foot controls in the cockpit.  Before we could even comprehend it, the motor was off and we were secured to the jetty.  I had moved forward to untie the dinghy and prepare it for going over the side.  Even though we were tied to the jetty, we were still 10 feet from the wall – too far to hop across, yet far enough away to protect the stern of Ka’sala.  We would need the dinghy to traverse those few feet.
Shortly, we were ashore and the crews from the surrounding boats were congratulating us and clapping us on the back.  It was about 3:30 and we were in an all fired rush to get to customs so we could clear into customs and agriculture.  We knew we had to do it before we would be allowed ashore for our much desired steak dinner.  Unfortunately, the office had closed at 2pm and we were to remain in limbo until the next morning. 
Radio Bay is a marine industrial area and port with all kinds of things going on.  As an outcome of 9/11 and the concerns of Homeland Security, crews of visiting sailboats must be escorted by security guards through the area.  Bryoner picked us up in his truck and drove us to the main gate through stacked containers, parked cars, large warehouses, gantries and a confusing pattern of roadways, where we checked into the harbour.  Because we are under 40 feet, we were charged $9.00 a day to tie to the jetty.  (Over 40 feet is $12.00).  Fresh water is available, but only two power accesses could be found which were metered at a cost 25 cents for an hour.  Luckily, we were able to plug into one of them which enabled us to fully charge our batteries over the next 24 hours.  We had to put a $50.00 deposit on a key to the washrooms placed nearby the jetty.  We paid for a week, then were returned to Ka’sala.  No steak dinner that night!
To make amends, I dug around in the food locker and was able to produce “stack” – one of our favourite left over roast beef meals – from tinned roast beef and mushrooms, packaged gravy mix, a box of mixed vegetables and a huge heap of reconstituted dried mashed potatoes.  It was surprisingly good and so was the wine we drank to celebrate!  A large tin of fruit cocktail finished the meal – gee – not bad!
Soon after dinner we were in the bunk, fast asleep, still not caught up with the fact we had arrived.  The next day would begin a new chapter in our year-long cruise.
 











After a snooze and a good headshake I made baked chicken casserole for dinner with a little wine and felt a little better. Soon after the meal, though, the winds and seas picked up, as a consequence of gales off the coast of California, pushing in a clockwise direction off the land. Gradually we put two reefs in the main and yankee, the seas ran up to 14 feet with 25 knot winds and gusts to 30. It was an uncomfortable night on a variety of levels, but morning came and we were fine. I wondered what the family and friends, who were following our passage on Yotreps, thought, as they watched our little emblem on Google maps progress across the Pacific. We made 124 miles that day.


                                   Sensory deprivation in the bunk

On that day I thought about Comox, which is located at 124 degrees west and 49 degrees north, and realized that if we were to sprout wings and fly straight north we would get there sooner than if we were to do the same thing and head toward Hilo. All of a sudden, Hawaii seemed way out of our way and I had to fight the feeling of homesickness that overcame me.

Day 12 was April 30 and my brother, Wes’ s 44th birthday.

Happy Birthday, Wes!

I wondered how he was and how he was celebrating. We were at 126 degrees – almost 30 more to Hawaii. Little did I know at the time we were over halfway there in terms of time at sea. The conditions continued as the day before and we were flying along. Doug was totally in his element and as happy as a clam. I focused on the fact that I was doing fine; I could manage and, if we could keep going like in the same way, we would arrive sooner, rather than later. We’d been hearing “scratchy bits” on Channel 16 on the VHF radio and wondered if there were other vessels close by, but we saw nothing and nothing showed up on the AIS. We had our fastest day and covered 150 miles.


                                     Doug is in his element!

On day 13 we made 135 miles and I wrote in my journal: Later this morning we will hit the half way point and will celebrate with an oversized Port Townsend IPA. We’ll give a bit to Neptune, even though we know we don’t need to do that until we cross the equator. Nonetheless, he’s been pretty good to us and I want it to continue!


                                  First IPA since California!

We went through the night at 6.5 to 7 knots and this morning, when we had daylight, we could see the seas. HUGE! Ka’sala seems to glide through them and the ride isn’t too bad. It feels precarious, though. On my watch last night I saw the SOG go to 8 knots and it was so calm it felt like we were in the air (well, maybe we were, but there was no crash landing!) The water hisses by the hull and occasionally we get knocked off a crest to pound and slither before we are back in the saddle again. I can barely stand to look.

I’m trying to learn to be patient and relaxed and take each day as it comes and do everything I can to minimize any stress or panic I might feel. Ironically, sometimes I feel claustrophobic – a weird feeling in such a great expanse. When I get a little hysterical I say “Beam me up, Scottie”, then just laugh. We are such tiny creatures – so vulnerable and completely insignificant in this vast landscape. I feel very blessed to be experiencing this, but it is overwhelming and hard to come to terms with. Let’s put it this way – a little house in suburbia with its defined boundaries seems a very safe and manageable place right now!

Our watches continue to work well and we both try to get a reasonable nap during the day. We don’t actually DO that much, but everything we do takes planning and careful execution. To date I have spilled a jug of orange juice, a pitcher of water, a dinner of pork and beans, a beer and a glass of wine. We literally can’t set a thing down unless we are fine with seeing it fly across the cabin when the next cross wave hits us!

Today I will try to make a curry to celebrate the ½ way point and the fact that we are healthy and happy. So far, so good. I hope it takes us all the way to Hawaii. Thank you powers that be! Doug continues to take fine care of Ka’sala and her crew – monitoring systems and making sure everything runs smoothly. He is in his element!


                                       Halfway to Hawaii!

Day 14 from my journal: We are now at 132 degrees – over half way. The wind continued 20 – 25 knots right through until midnight when it lowered to 15 – 20. We let out the reef in the foresail and flew along at 6 knots under full yankee and double reefed main. The boat is nicely balanced on a deep beam reach and the Monitor keeps her steady on course give or take 10 degrees. The sea state is high with a 4 – 6ft wind chop and a large underlying swell. Every couple of minutes we encounter a combined wave which pitches poor Ka’sala sometimes burying a rail, sometimes setting her askew and sometimes causing an up and down pumping action. We never seem to know how we are going to get it so are always skittering around trying to keep our balance or from falling into things. When we were on a starboard tack, everything stayed on one side of the boat and we could pretty well count on it. With the wind at the back, there is more rocking and rolling, side to side movement. After all, Ka’sala is but a very tiny boat in this vast sea of turquoise blue.

Still mostly cloudy each day, sea temperatures hover around 70 degrees and we are managing to hold our course at 19 degrees north latitude. Weather fax reports say these conditions will continue for the next couple days, then we may get higher winds again. I hope not. Keeping 6 knots of speed means we will be in Hilo in 10 days. Everything is great on board – not too tired, bored or cranky. The days have a certain rhythm and the 3 hour watch pattern is helpful. We are always challenged – just. We keep up our awareness and are constantly in tune to the sound and feel of any changes.

Today we washed our hair – so lovely to do it! The state of hygiene is adequate and certainly not as bad as I thought it might be. We wear T shirts and shorts and bare feet. At night an extra sweater and rain gear helps to keep out the salt and splashes. Inside the boat is dry and comfortable.

The food is lasting well and I’m able make prepare at least one hot meal a day, though it’s served in a bowl. My first meal ashore will be fussy – lots of this and that on a plate!

That night the wind came up to 30 knots and we lowered sail until we were under reefed yankee alone and we slewed back and forth in very big seas. However, soon after dark, things calmed down and, by midnight, we had the main up again.   We made 133 miles that day and by the end of week two had about 1100 miles to go to Hilo.

Friday, May 20, 2011

Puerto Vallarta, Mexico to Hilo, Hawaii: April 19 to May 12

We were told before we even left that when you go on an offshore passage, no matter how long it takes, it would seem like you hadn’t journeyed at all. We were told that time compresses and the days turn into weeks without you really being aware of the passage of time. In that wonderful way that memory works, we would remember the good things and what seemed scary, or unpleasant, would not seem so bad from the perspective of reflection. All correct. It’s been a week since we arrived in Hawaii after our 23 day passage and all ready I feel like it didn’t happen at all – like it may have been an overnight passage to some bay further down the Mexican coast. Yet as I start to unpack the passage, I can see that it was a lot longer than that!

I had hoped to keep a running journal on my computer as we went along - so all I had to do was cut and paste into the blog when we arrived. Unfortunately, we were power challenged and I had to resort to pen and paper, meaning it will take me a little longer to post the details of our journey. I hope I can describe it for you so it satisfies your various interests. If you followed our trip on YotReps you will know the day to day details of our passage. We were very thankful for the support of the Pacific Seafarer’s Net and Pangolin (YotReps) for keeping us connected when we were so far away from everything and everyone. Having a HAM license is really a must for staying in touch at sea.

In order to make the reading easier, I will post our trip in three parts.

WEEK ONE:  April 19 to April 26

Sunrise at Paradise Village, April 19

We left Paradise Village at 9am. There was a gorgeous sunrise and no one to see us off. We quietly slipped the lines and were motoring out into Bandaras Bay before anyone noticed we were gone.


Coiling the lines

Leaving "Paradise"

We immediately changed time zones by setting our clock back an hour. As we watched the land disappear in the haze, a couple of humpback whales rose up as if to say farewell. Blue-footed boobies buzzed by regarding us closely – as if to see if we were sea worthy enough for them to hitch a ride.

A blue-hatted boobie

Lowering the Mexican flag - seems like yesterday we put it up!

Just past Punta de Mita, we raised our sails and hand steered, closehauled, into winds of 15 knots and seas of four to six feet. It was a bouncy, slap-happy ride and, by evening, we engaged the Monitor Windvane to self steer. It held our course beautifully through these conditions. We made 90 miles that day.


First sunset at sea

The first day of sailing seemed like any other, but by evening I was starting to feel queasy. I was under the influence of Stugeron, but to no avail. By morning I was feeding the fishes or lying on my back trying to sleep it off as we beat into the waves.

We're close hauled and the water is warm! (74.5)

Doug, who was in charge of communications for the passage, checked into the South Bound Net and Seafarer’s Net in the evening, and the Amigo Net in the morning. These calls would establish, within the first 24 hours, we were under way and allow ourselves to be tracked by Yotreps, family and friends.


VE7 KSL checking in

We were happy to hear good wishes from several of our cruising friends heading up into the Sea of Cortez for the summer and appreciated the weather reports and advice from Don Anderson.


                              Don Anderson - The voice of maritime weather - Thank you, Don!

For the next two days I did not feel well, but was able to hold all my watches. Ironically, as soon as I discontinued using Stugeron, I started to feel better. Doug felt a little lethargic and had a bit of a headache, but the dreaded mal de mar did not affect him and he was able to keep us on course and steady. Luckily I had snacks such as granola bars, fresh fruit, nuts, juice, hotdogs, crackers and cheese close at hand. Figuring I might be ill, I had made two pizzas from scratch before we left which were easy to heat up. Hunger was not an issue for either of us the first couple days.


                                                        Moody sunrise on the second day

On the morning of the second day there was little wind, but the seas remained confused. We motored for three hours and then the diurnal winds kicked in. By dinner we had a reef in the main and the yankee. We clocked 95 miles on the second day moving between a close reach and a beat at about 5 knots in confused seas. The skies remained sunny and clear and the temperatures warm.

As we moved out of the influence of coastal Mexico, the water became clearer and more turquoise in colour. It also got warmer and went over 78 degrees! The wind continued from the northwest, but became more constant. We saw freighters in the distance on a regular basis and also picked them up on our AIS. Most of them were heading to or from the Panama Canal. We had our first flying fish death on the deck on the second day and a few boobies decided to play tag with our wind indicator on the top of the mast, but that was all the wild life we saw. On the third day we clocked 107 miles.

By Day Four I was actually starting to feel like myself again. I woke up hungry and was able to make and eat scrambled eggs, toast and juice. Coffee, however, was not to be a feature on my morning menu for another 2 weeks. I didn’t want it. My stomach curdled at the thought of it and I figured I didn’t need the heightened anxiety that caffeine seems to cause. I was also able to work in the journal. The previous 2 days just seemed like a blur and I was very grateful to Doug and Ka’sala for taking such good care of us.

Beautiful conditions nearing the Socorro Islands

Day Four saw us entering the Socorro Island group. The wind and seas calmed right down and we were only able to make 40 miles in this 24 hour period. Man, did we work hard to keep Ka’sala going – disengaging the Windvane (which couldn’t hold our course in such light winds) and trying to hand steer as the flukey winds changed and shifted direction. At one point we were totally becalmed and did not like the sound of the sails slatting and the feeling of the boat aimlessly rocking. We thought we might try lying ahull for the night, but could only stand it for a couple hours before firing up the engine. I had expected we would drift calmly along. Uh-uh! Although we had a quiet dinner in the cockpit and enjoyed a bit of wine as we watched the sun go down, it was quite discouraging to see the islands again in the morning. It finally occurred to me (duh-uh) you need good wind if you are ever going to get to Hawaii!!

Pizza at sea

In addition to checking in to the HAM and SSB nets we were also in regular contact with Jan, a Dutchman aboard Witte Raaf, who would be following us on the same journey in a few weeks. He very kindly passed on weather grib files from the internet and was very encouraging.

We also listened to Tao, who would also be making the passage to Hawaii mid May. Touch Rain had already arrived in Hilo, but Jane, on Midnight Blue, kept contact as they completed the final stage of their passage. After a few days, Craig and Barbara on Sequoia joined us on the passage from Mexico and Skip on Dolphin followed from Punta de Mita. The three of us ended up arriving in Hilo within a few days of each other. (We were pleased about this as we are just 29 feet on the waterline and both the other boats are 44 feet with considerably longer hull on water.) Each day we would all talk to each other at one time or another to touch base and compare notes. Although many miles apart from each other, it was nice to know there were others out there in that great expanse of blue.

On Day Five the winds and seas continued light – 15 knots. Passage weather was reporting that the winds would stay light for the next couple days but might start to move more to the North. We were still close reaching along and now that I wasn’t feeling sea sick, I was actually enjoying the stability of being on a starboard tack. The galley is on the port side, as well as our sea berth and the head. I could brace myself in a certain way and be able to cook, sleep or, well, go to the bathroom, without too much discomfort. We decided that if we went below 3 knots we would motor as it might be days before we were away from the influence of North American and reached the regularity of the tradewinds.

A bit messy - we used the port berth for sleeping

We didn’t need to worry as the wind remained at 15 knots and the seas calmed down to a regular 8 foot swell over a long period of time making for a very comfortable ride. We had full main and yankee up, coasting along at 5 to 6 knots under sunny skies, skin temperature and violet/blue seas and exactly on our course of 270 degrees. I felt like I could sail forever. THIS was what everyone dreams about. It’s real. It happens. It’s not all confused seas and terror. Doug called it “birthday and Christmas all rolled into one”!

We were so stable I went below and made banana bread with the last of the spotty bananas. I felt good enough to sort out provisions and tidy up below.

Banana Bread!  Yum!

The wildlife also came to visit. A little bird with feathers of various shades of grey and rose with a black necklace and intelligent eyes perched on the boom, the deck and the dodger, before finally finding a home under the dinghy which was stored on the foredeck.

We regarded each other for quite a while

At sunset, we were joined by a school of tiny, border-collie sized, black and speckled grey dolphins who cavorted and played around our bow. We were able to enjoy another wonderful sunset dinner in the cockpit and ate a crispy green salad with lettuce we were able to keep because of the vegetable bags Fran, from Gosling, had given us. We clocked 90 miles that day.

Day Six was Easter Sunday and we gave thanks for all our good fortune and thought of our family and friends enjoying their Easter dinners and wishing us well. I thought a lot about the people I know and love while we were at sea. The incredible expanse and depth of the ocean and sky, and the knowledge that I am just one little iota of existence on that huge canvas, got me thinking of my connections. To have none in this environment, must be one of the loneliest experiences ever.

It was another quiet day, but the weather reports indicated that the wind would be picking up in the next 24 hours. We took advantage of the continuing stability to wash our hair and bodies. I was extremely mindful of our freshwater, imagining the gruesome results of running out, so I had us down to survival rations. Dishes were washed in salt water, retrieved with a bucket, in the cockpit. Water for personal washing was measured. Sponge baths in 2 cups of water was the order of the day. I figured when we were half way across we would see how much we had left and then, perhaps, increase our usage. We had filled our solar shower bag, so we rigged it up behind the helm in the cockpit. We washed our hair in a bucket of warm salt water and rinsed with the bag of colder fresh water. It was awkward and uncomfortable, not easy to do and not very cleansing, but it was better than nothing. I thought an itchy scalp was a small price to pay in order to keep from being thirsty. In retrospect, I was being silly. I knew, from experience, we had three weeks of water without even thinking about our usage. I only needed to modify our habits slightly in order to accommodate the possibility of a month long passage. As time went on, we did increase our usage to more sensible proportions and ended the passage with almost two thirds of it left!! The funny thing was that neither of us felt particularly deprived. Yes, I admit. It was wonderful to have a real shower with water thundering on top of my head, but it was also extremely possible to live with an incredible amount less. When I think of fresh water consumption on a global level and the amount we use when we live on shore, I am ashamed of the wastage.

We could see the change in the weather coming that evening as the clouds started to cover the sky. I had expected we would see a great canopy of stars as we left land farther behind, but because of the full phase of the moon, it didn’t seem astonishing. In fact, lying on my back on the end of the dock at our family cottage near Algonquin Park in Ontario, provides a much more stunning starscape. I hoped that when there was no moon we might see more.

Evening at the cottage

That night we began a strict 3 hour night watch pattern and maintained it throughout the rest of our voyage. I was responsible from 11 – 2 and 5 – 8. Doug from 8-11 and 2 – 5. This schedule worked very well for us and we were able to make up our lost sleep with naps during the day. The only downside for me was that I was supposed to be asleep when the various nets were on. I wanted to hear what was going on, but needed to get my sleep. In the end, Doug just had to put up with my incessant questions afterwards. It worked out all right.

Trying to sleep in daytime off-watch - note the Cathay Pacific First Class eye wear!

As the journey progressed, I sorted through my fresh provisions – most were fine, but the cabbages were yellowing and showing mold. The carrots were also sporting some black spots. I removed the rotting bits from the cabbage and wiped them down with vinegar. This was another mistake. Neither of us like cabbage much, it stinks as it goes off and, in the end, I tossed them all overboard. After peeling the carrots, I put them in the fridge where they did very well for the rest of the voyage. I also put the peppers in the fridge. They had no rot or discolouration, but had lost some of their firmness. I tossed the avocados overboard. What a disaster! They all went black to the first ½ inch under the skin, then were rock hard to the pit. Horrible! Everything else was fine in the first week.

On Day Six we really began to notice a pattern in the winds and seas. In the morning, they were relatively calm. They built in the afternoon and by the cocktail hour could be really going strong. We would reef as the afternoon progressed and into the evening. When I came on watch at 11 pm the wind would start to die and I would be shaking out the reefs we had put in during the evening. That night, however, as dawn streaked across the sky, the winds picked up to 20 knots straight from the north. We opened our sails to accommodate a beam reach and we flew along at 6.5 knots under double reefed mail and full headsail – a configuration we would keep all through the second week. We covered 120 miles that day.

Day Seven was all about accommodating the new motion and speed. We could feel the boat surging and pitching and occasionally landing between a large swell with a loud thump and roll. We were now on a steady beam reach and we could hear the water swishing along the sides and the fresh water, in the stainless tank under our lee berth, sloshing around. The water temperature lowered to 71 degrees. As the day progressed the wind and seas picked up even more and we crashed, lurched and heaved our way through at 6 – 7 knots. We were trying to decide whether the extreme motion was a result of our hull shape, our weight, our size or the sea state. We wondered if the larger boats had more stability. Even at the end of the trip the jury is still out on this one. We started to take a little salt water through one of the main hatches when waves came over our bow and over the deck. Luckily, there was little below for the water to affect and it was easy to clean up. Nevertheless, when things calmed down a bit, Doug went on to the foredeck and duct taped all around the outside and this fix kept the water out for the rest of the passage.

Duct taping the forward hatch - note the safety harness and line

While I was on my off watch, Doug said he saw hundreds of dolphins leaping and sparkling in the seas. I wish I could have seen them. Jan let us know that the winds were due to increase over the next few days and I spent some time trying to convince myself that would be okay because we would get to Hawaii sooner. I found I had to have regular talks with myself to keep my anxiety levels down. When it got too much I would just go below, lie in the berth, listen to music or read. I knew there was no going back and allowing myself to become scared would only make the journey unpleasant. We made 136 miles that day.

WEEK TWO: April 27 to May 2

In our first week we covered less than 800 nautical miles. We would need to cover a lot more ground if we were going to make Hawaii within a month’s time. We weren’t to be disappointed.  (will post more in a day or two - please check back!)




Friday, May 13, 2011

We've arrived at Hilo!

Aloha!  We arrived at Hilo on Thursday, May 12 at 3:30 PM Hawaii time.  It took us 23 days and 6 hours to get here.  It was a fabulous, fast passage.  We're both fine - Ka'sala was amazing.  Will write more when we have decent internet coverage.  Thank you for all your prayers and best wishes.  I know that was a big part of getting us here safely.