This blog began in late 2006 with the planning and preparation for a circumnavigation of the world in my 39-foot sail boat Pachuca. It then covered a successful 5-year circumnavigation that ended in April 2013. The blog now covers life with Pachuca back home in Australia.

Pachuca

Pachuca
Pachuca in Port Angeles, WA USA

Saturday, December 10, 2011

Day 45 - Good Progress

I had the quiet and uneventful night that I had hoped for. Just before retiring I hardened the boat 20 degrees to the wind. The wind had sagged a bit and every 15 minutes or so the boom would thrash. Sailing closer to the wind had the effect of increasing the apparent wind (and boat speed)and would give me a better chance for a quiet night. And so it was. The 2 AM brought me out of a deep sleep and during the 45 minute fax session I set the timer for 45 minutes and went back to sleep. At 2.45 AM I got up, shut down the fax process, then listened to ABC new at 3 AM. After that after one more look topside that all was well it was back to the bunk where I slept until 7.30 AM. The previous day's repair effort had apparently left me more tired than I had thought. The wind had strengthened but our heading was still 115, ESE. Before coffee I adjusted Jeff to take us back on a reach on course 135T, directly SE. During coffee I heard the BBC news at 8 AM. We had made good time during the night, probably averaging over 4 knots. I expected a n-n distance of more than 100 miles. The morning had a light overcast but there were promising patches of blue and a possibility that things would clear somewhat when the sun was well up. The cabin of the boat looked like a drying room (which it was) with washed clothes hanging all along the port side. (The line to support of the shower curtain that protects the nav station had proven to be an excellent clothes line.)

The clothes hang on the port side because I sleep on the starboard side, predominately the lee (down) side of the boat. The bunk is always ready with its custom fitted sheet, two large pillows and one small one, a heavy sheet, and the lee cloth up or down depending on what I am doing. The port side bunk usually has its lee cloth up and I use it as a handy dumping ground for items that I use frequently, e.g. clothes, key books, and even the sextant which I don't use very often. I do all of my daily living in the confines of the main cabin, which contains the bunks, food stores, books shelves, sound system, etc forward, and the galley (starboard) and navigation station (port) aft. The engine is in the main cabin too, under a sliding cover between the galley and the navigation station. The spaces forward of the front cabin bulkhead just in front of the mast and aft of rear cabin bulkhead behind the galley, nav station, and engine, are strictly for storage, and I venture into these areas only when I need something. The boat is blessed with a large and strong table with leaves that fold out along the lubber line of the boat. I generally run with the port leaf open, folding it down only when I need access to the food store behind the bunk. On this surface I do my paper chart work and have my meals. In the evening I fold out the starboard leaf and set my Acer laptop and Seagate external disc drive on a large non-skid pad to listen to music or watch movies. I open the second leaf so that its fiddle (lip) will catch the computer if it happens to slide across the table during an unusually large roll of the boat. (It hasn't slipped so far.) On a small panel at the forward end of the table next to the mast is the sound system from which I take 12V power for the Acer and plug in to the boat's sound system. I throw any wet sailing garments either on the engine cover or in the walk space to the quarter berths just aft of the nav station. I brush my teeth at the galley sink and attend to my bodily functions in the cockpit (at least while the weather is reasonable).

This has all worked very well for me. For me. "For us" would be a different matter. Surveying my modus operandi, with my personal quirks, the questionable galley hygiene, the inevitable B.O., clothes and other articles lying around, not to mention the limited space available, I have concluded that two-up sailing over such a long distance in a boat this size is strictly for either very young people (who are more flexible, tolerant, less demanding), or an older pair who know, accept, and harmonize with each other very very well - a rarity among older people, even married couples. Sailing alone has its drawbacks (Let's face it, it could cost your boat or your life.), but there is a dimension beyond the creature comforts that is very attractive - the self reliance, solitude for contemplation, absence of social imperatives, etc. I have found that for me, any other person in this boat, be they young or old, male or female, friend or foe, incurs a demand for a certain amount of psychological energy and drain, undoubtedly because each party must allocate mental resources for awareness and interaction with the other person. We are all social animals and I'm sure that for many people the need to be around someone trumps any of the drawbacks of sailing with company, and I respect that. For me, fortunately (?) I like my own company and I don't mind extended periods of solitude. Were it not thus I wouldn't be out here doing this.

Our noon position was 31S52, 121W08, giving us a n-n distance of 104 miles to the SE. We had moved south exactly one degree, which wasn't bad considering that we had been moving to the SE. The sun was occasionally peeping through the partly clouded sky, and I could see rain clouds on the horizon to the N and NE.

At mid afternoon I got another mean sea level pressure (MSLP) weather fax for the SW Pacific. The South Pacific High is at about 35S, 109W with 1030 hPa. This is about where it is to be expected at this time of year, according to Ocean Passages. To the W is a low of 1003 hPa centered at about 32S, 135W. I am passing between the two nicely, catching the northerly winds from the squeeze zone. While looking through the Ocean Passages charts I saw that I was inside the narrow band of the recommended sailing route from N America to the Horn. That's been due more to the fortunes of the wind than by design.

Then I decided to do some engine work. I started off by sampling the fuel from the bowls at the bottom of the diesel tanks. The first 50 ml from the port tank was cloudy, with tiny particles of the same color as the fuel. I emptied the sampling container and drew out another 50 ml and this time it was clear. However, I wasn't too happy with the small amount of fuel dribbling out so I completely removed the access nut and poked mousing wire into the bowl. The fuel then started to gush out. The starboard tank had a negligible amount of clouding in the first sample, but the second sample was as clear as that cold amber fluid that I drink in Western Australia on a hot summer day. There was no evidence of water in either tank. Afterwards I emptied out the quarter berth passage area, lifted the floor board, and cleaned out the spilled diesel that I knew would collect at the stringer.

Then I checked out the engine. The crank case, coolant, and transmission levels were OK. Belt tension was OK. The Racor fuel filter bowl was clear and free of water. I tried to sample the fuel from the Racor bowl but the plastic nut at the bottom would not give to firm hand pressure and I was not about to put a tool to it.

I had enjoyed immensely the previous 24 hours where the boat sailed itself swiftly to the SE with little intervention from me. However, at 5 PM it was time to get active and change the sail configuration. The wind had backed to the north, as expected, and we were headed on a course of 113T which would have put us in the middle of Chile, just north of Puerto Montt. I dropped the mainsail then altered course to the SE, on a broad reach just enough on the wind to allow both headsails to work. This put us on a very acceptable course of 140T. Our speed dropped - to 3.5 kt - as to be expected when going to that point of sail. And as expected we got more spasms of rolling. But this mattered little. What really mattered was to keep heading SE to S looking for the westerlies, which according to Ocean Passages I could expect at about 35S. Once in the westerlies the instruction was to make directly for the Horn.

At 9 PM we the wind had dropped and we were creeping along at 2.7 knots still to the SE.

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