Now that I was south of 20 degrees I had moved out of the range of the tropical faxes out of California and into the sphere of the polar projection faxes out of Australia. Today's fax showed me on the NW side of a large bimodal high, no doubt the stationary high that produces the SE trade winds and helps power the Peru current. Another sign of my progress was that for the first time I got Sailmail service out of Chile, and excellent service at that. The bulk my messaging last night went through Manihi but fortunately I found out that my blog had not gone out (It had somehow wound up in the "trash" - maybe the Airmail 6 software was trying to tell me something.), so I needed another Sailmail session. I decided to try Chile and got throughput about 3 times faster than I had been getting from Manihi - not that I'm complaining because Manihi had been very valuable in covering the gap between the Panama and Chile stations.
Bob Carrol sent me a message expressing surprise that there was a Sailmail station at Mahini atoll. He doesn't think that there were 50 people living there during his month-long stay. I immediately had visions of a disgruntled Americano trying to work a crystal set with a native next to him peddling the generator like mad, but of course the equipment must be modern and reliable. I'm sure that there is a win-win situation where a generator produces power for the residents as well as the radio station. (Who knows Bob, there may be a McDonald's there now.)
I woke up at 2 AM for my fax session and dose of Radio Australia then went back to bed just after 3 AM. At 5.30 AM I woke up to a banging boom. The wind speed had dropped to the point (about 7 kts) that the sails were fretting. This was the sag in wind speed that had been predicted and it was important that I keep the boat moving until stronger winds returned in 12 hours. The dropping of sails represents more than loss of travel, it represents loss of momentum where hours may be wasted before advantage is taken of the next sustainable wind. I saw that in the light wind Jeff had allowed the boat to go just beyond a beam reach. I took the helm, headed close to the wind, and hauled in the sails in close. The idea was to get a slight increase in the apparent wind and with the tightened mainsheet provide the boom with less swinging travel. That seemed to work. I engaged Jeff after adjusting the air vane for closer sailing and everything held up. I returned to bed hoping that the wind would not sag any more.
At 8.30 AM I woke up to the gentle lapping and hum of the boat under sail. The wind had held up. At the nav station I could see that the boat was doing over 3.5 kts against a 9 kt apparent wind. It got better: we were tracking to the SSE at 165T and were about to cross longitude 124W for the sixth time. I then stuck my head out to find a clear sky. Conditions outside were so pleasant that I had my coffee and toast at the steering station, enjoying the sight of the three sails drawing and the boat ambling through the calm sea, as well as the feel of the cool morning breeze in the rising sun. After finishing the coffee I didn't want to get up and for 30 minutes I was like some .sort of aquatic reptile warming his vital juices in the sun. Life at this moment was good. Very good.
When I returned to the cabin I gave the yogurt which I had prepared 14 hours earlier a good stir with the fork then put it in the refrigerator. It had curdled nicely and tasted good when I licked the fork. I then switched on the refrigerator, which had been off for 12 hours. The refrigerator is only half full and to maintain what I call thermal ballast I keep three 1-liter bottles of water in the freezer. So far the red meat has held up well, without the slightest sign of deterioration. I am working my way through the latest pressure cooker stew. The next stew will see out the last of the red meat.
I need to bake another loaf of bread today. I will coordinate it with the engine run. The long lasting residual warmth of the engine cover after an engine run has been outstanding for the rising of bread dough as well as the incubation of a yogurt mix. I simply put the container on the back corner of the engine cover with a sweater over it if it is the bread pan, and a wool beanie over it if it is the yogurt container.
I visited the foredeck with a bag of tools and spent an hour doing maintenance work, mostly with shackles. A day earlier I had trouble shaking out a reef because the pin to the shackle holding a turning block to the ring at the base of the mast had come free. It was one of the many small shackles on the boat that does not provide a mousing hole on the pin. I replaced the shackle with one that I could mouse with stainless steel wire and I spent time tightening and mousing the shackles on the port side of that ring. Today I visited the pulpit and first took my time to check out the Profurl roller as best as I could. I put a screw driver to a grub screw that had once tried to back out but it was tight. Otherwise the roller looked good. The headsail looked good too, half rolled out and effortlessly playing its role. With the large adjustable spanner I tightened the pins of two large galvanized shackles at the stem fitting and moused them. I then tightened the line that I use to strap down the chain locker cover. A movie shot of the situation would have been interesting: boat plunging through the water with Buddha sitting cross legged at the pulpit wearing nothing but a harness. I then went along the starboard side of the boat and attended to the shackles on that side of the base of the mast. Just as well, because I found that the one holding the block of the staysail halyard was loose. I tightened and moused it. Then I made sure that the pins to the shackles holding both ends of my lifelines were tight. The work was very basic, but very satisfying. There are too many small shackles that cannot be moused on this boat to replace now, but I plan to do that either in Cape Town or Fremantle.
Our noon position was 22S44, 123W58, representing a n-n distance of 107 miles, almost directly to the south at 179T. We had moved another 1.8 degrees to the south. Better yet, we were still east of longitude 124W. Ducie Island was 120 miles ahead at 202T, longitude 140W44 and I was getting more confident about passing the island to its east.
In the afternoon the boat was in a nice groove where it was pointing well into the wind and thereby maximizing the apparent wind speed to about 9 knots and easing smoothly through the calm sea at about 4 knots. I rolled out the headsail to about 2/3 to improve our speed. While the boat tended to itself I occupied myself with baking another loaf of bread and doing more research on the winds, currents, and gales in the approaches to Drake Passage. The bread was my best yet. I baked it for 40 minutes at maximum temperature and got a nice thick brown crust on top. Unfortunately I haven't figured out how to get a brown bottom to the bread, given the layout of the oven. I also put out my pillows to freshen them up in the sun. The pillows look great but their slips look positively evil. I put on clean pillow slips and will include the soiled ones in the next washing.
At about 6 PM we sailed under a band of dark clouds into some very light drizzle. The wind picked up to 15 knots and soon we were beating again into a rising sea. The idyllic sailing was over for a while, but I hand enjoyed it while it lasted. The wind kept building up and at sunset I rolled in the headsail and slowed the boat down from over 5 knots to 3.5 knots in order to avoid slamming of the hull. We were headed slightly east of south, which suited me fine.
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