Day 42 - Moving Along

At 2 AM I got up for the weather fax session and found us still moving south at 2 knots but dropped sail because the wind had died and the boom had been slamming for a while. I left the staysail up to help keep the boat pointed in the right direction.

The evening's grib file indicated another 24 hours of difficulty with weak and confused winds. The winds were much better below 30S, still 1.5 degrees away. As with the previous day (or any day, for that matter) I would play whatever winds that came along and try to keep moving south.

The weather fax showed that I was under a dashed line passing between two highs, which I think represented a trough. At least I didn't have an organized low chasing me around.

I woke up to see blue sky through the hatch. The boat was riding very calmly, with no spasms of ferocious rolling. Outside the sky was in two halves: above me and to the south it was relatively clear with perhaps 40% cloud cover, and to the south it looked nasty with heavy grey rain bearing overcast. There was no hope of sailing against the wind of 6 kt from the SSE. The house bank was down to 12.1 V so I ran the engine for just over an hour and did some trials where I recorded the amps and voltage at various rpms. This was a followup to work I had done the day before in regard to the problem I've been experiencing with lower than expected amperages from the alternator. I had tracked down some cabling and produced what I think was an accurate description of the boat's battery charging setup. I've been sending this information to Mark Jochems of Shoreline Marine Diesel in Port Townsend, who has been extremely supportive with analysis and advice in the quest to find a solution.

After the rpm trials I decided to take advantage of the calm and dry situation to top up the diesel fuel tanks, which would take them to a known state from which I would be able to calculate the rate of fuel consumption. The procedure was not as simple and quick as it may sound. First I had to untie one of the containers and drag it along the side deck and into the cockpit. I chose one of the big 23 liter containers because of the calm conditions. I wore my harness, but falling overboard was not a worry because in the calm conditions I would be able to swim rings around the boat then climb up the Monitor wind steering frame at the stern. Then I had to clear the cockpit sole of the chaotic looking mass of ropes. This was to avoid contaminating the ropes if I there was a major diesel spill in the cockpit. I coiled the four sheets, two runners, and the furler line around the winches. I put the three halyards, four reefing lines and the traveler lines on the front seat. Then I retrieved the Baja filter from its privileged storage location in the company of two sextants, the sail and Zodiac repair kits, etc. Then I got the brand new red bucket and scrupulously cleaned it with methylated spirits on a paper towel. I brought the bucket along with paper towels and the tool for loosening the diesel fillers into the cockpit then stripped for action, which was not a problem because of the bright sun and weak breeze. With the Baja filter in the filler I began pouring about 5 liters at a time from the jerry can, using its spout, into the bucket, then emptying the bucket into the Baja filter. This worked very well, though patience was needed for pouring from the bucket into the Baja filter in the roll of the boat without spillage. After the refueling everything had to be cleaned and put back. I then washed the back seat and back of the cockpit sole with soapy sea water, rinsed the lot, then gave myself a salt water bath because I had been sitting on diesel and it was all over my legs. This of course further cleaned the cockpit sole. I dried off, put on a clean set of underclothes, then put out the noon report.

My best estimate is that I put in 15 liters of diesel to bring the fuel level up to the brim of the tanks. The diesel tanks were full on 9 Nov at 113.3 engine hours. I had put in an estimated 42 liters to bring the tanks to full on 7 Dec at 144.0 engine hours. From this I calculated a fuel consumption of only 1.37 liters per hour, which isn't surprising because most of those hours were run at 1100 rpm.

I did a quick survey and came up with an estimate of 29 gallons (110 liters) on deck, giving me, according to my calculations, another 80 hours of engine time before I began to use the 140 liters of diesel remaining in the internal tanks.

Our noon position was 28S38, 123W33, giving us a n-n distance of 64 miles to the SW. Thanks to that unexpected bout of wind we had managed to move exactly one degree to the south.

After the noon report I attended to the boat because I had noted that the wind was rising. I lined up the boat off the wind, port tack, rolled out some headsail, then engaged Jeff. We began to move nicely to the SE at 2.0 knots. Not long after that I decided to try the mainsail and I discovered a new snag for the main halyard. There are cheek blocks on either side of the mast above the first cross tree for the lazy jack lines that are no longer there. Because the lines no longer go through the block the main halyard can pass behind the blocks and get snagged. I climbed up to the first cross tree to free it up but with the new platform above the life raft and the absence of the stack pack, climbing up the mast is now a piece of cake. I know how to fix that problem, and will do it on a calm day.

Anyway, I put up the mainsail with only one reef and soon we were moving nicely to the SW at 4.2 knots. I surveyed the whole scene and thought to myself that putting anxieties about the future wind and Horn schedule aside, it was a splendid day for sailing, with the calm blue sea, moderate breeze with just a hint of coolness in it, under a bright sun with friendly puffy clouds scattered here and there. Dare I say it? I was having fun sailing.

In the afternoon I became re acquainted with my Sony DCR-SX41 "Handycam" video recorder. I needed help so I loaded the manual into the laptop and had a quick read of it. The recorder was so dead that I had to set the date, time, and language. I made a couple of recordings from the cockpit and other than the wind noise affecting the microphone they came out OK. I downloaded the recordings to the laptop and deleted everything from the Sony recorder to have it ready at full capacity.

At 7 PM we were still moving SSW at 4 knots as we crossed latitude 29S. It had been a very pleasant day of sailing. The wind had behaved itself with a steady 9-11 knots taking us between S and SSE and the sky had remained generally clear. The boat had ambled along peacefully and the solar panels had been active all day, making a big difference in this night's house bank voltage.

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Day 41 - Poor Expectations The On The Move

This is the third day of dealing with the slack wind and drizzle under this band of weather that I'm having trouble escaping. It has actually been worse than the doldrums because the doldrums were less consistently bad - I would get long periods of good wind for sailing, even though it was to the SW and WSW. This morning I woke up to the same: totally overcast sky, drizzle bearing clouds as far as the eye could see, 7-8 kt wind not quite good enough for sailing, more drizzle ahead guaranteed to disrupt any sail plan that I might be able to put together. The drizzle is the worst of both worlds: enough to force me to wear wet weather gear (It is now to chilly to sail starkers.), but not enough to deliver a usable amount of potable water. And how I miss the contribution of the solar panels and wind charger. I've found that under these conditions running the engine one hour per day is not enough sustain my battery voltages. I've described this situation because it is a factual part of this experience and may be of assistance to anyone who follows. As far as my morale, stoicism is the word. That's sailing and one must take the bad with the good.

The wind dropped off again after dark yesterday so I was forced to drop the mainsail. I rolled in the headsail but left the staysail up because I had discovered that even with a very feeble wind and the sail flapping left and right with the roll of the boat, Jeff would somehow manage to keep the boat pointed beam on to the wind and making some way. So all night the boat dawdled to the SW at 1-2 kts, possibly aided by a current.

After breakfast I rolled out some headsail then brought up the mainsail to only the second reef. My battery bank was down to 12.1V so I immediately started the engine and I hand steered SSW at about 4 kts for a while, making sure that the sails stayed full. I am fortunate in that Jeff can steer the boat into a feeble wind when the boat is under engine power, so I set him up and left the boat to it. I ran the engine for 1.7 hours to gain ground as well as charge the batteries.

I reexamined the latest grib file and it indicates no relief for the next 24 hours. The system seems to be following me south. Had I been one more degree to the south I would have escaped it. Unfortunately I had an incomplete picture of the situation because I had missed the night's weather fax due to the alarm clock needing a fresh battery.

I've been getting good information on Matt's position from Brenda and yesterday Mark. Yesterday at my noon he was about 130 miles almost exactly due south of me. If I have plotted his positions correctly he made an impressive 230 miles to the SE in 2 days. Given my situation I expect our separation to increase over the next few days.

At noon (1800 GMT) our position was 27S38, 123W09. Somehow we had manage to make a n-n distance of 55 miles and had moved south 0.9 of a degree. It must must be due to a combination of motoring (maybe 5 miles), current, and the sailing in fits and starts. I noted that I was now south of Easter Island, which was 750 miles to the east. From the literature that I'd read about these passages Easter Island had become in my mind the gateway to the Horn, and something that I would celebrate as I passed by. But being so far to the west of it took the edge out of the event for me. Nevertheless I was south of it and that much closer to the westerlies and the final run to the Horn. The dream had become that little bit more real.

To my surprise the wind that had shown weak signs of life just before the noon report gained strength and soon it was up to 13 knots and we were making a handsome 4.5 knots to the SW. By 3.30 PM it had backed and strengthened and we were making 5.5 kts to the SSW. This was all contrary to the grib file prediction but I was not asking any questions. I rolled in a bit of headsail to protect it and quiet down the boat for a loss of half a knot in speed. At 5 PM the wind had picked up to more than 22 knots and we were moving along at 6-6.5 knots. I rolled reduced the headsail several times until it was completely rolled up in and the even stronger wind that had backed 30 degrees. But that was all part of the disruptions associated with squalls. The wind soon veered and settled down to 13 kts and I rolled out some headsail. I didn't mind dealing with variable winds as long as we had winds. We had just crossed latitude 28S and I was hopeful that we would be able to keep moving south throughout the night.

At 6 PM I prepared the last pressure cooker beef stew while listening to a Dan Fogelberg album and the boat ambled along at 4 knots. I was anxious to finish off the red meat because I had been cutting corners on running the refrigerator and I didn't want to risk spoiling the meat. In the stew I threw in 3 onions, a half a packet of lentils, and a packet of dried peas purchased at Coles Supermarket in Australia probably in 2008. After cleaning up I checked on the latest batch of yogurt keeping warm on the engine cover and under a beanie. While doing this I looked up and saw through the hatch the first patch of blue sky in 2 days. Things were looking better.

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Day 40 - Difficult Winds

The 2.30 AM weather fax indicated that I would soon be passing through a cold front that would take the wind from N to W to eventually SW. However, I would miss the centre of the 995 hPa low which lay to the SSE.

After the ABC news at 3 AM I returned to bed and made a valiant effort to sleep but I was too concerned about the coming wind change, and rightly so. I rose at 4 AM to find the boat headed ESE, which meant that the wind had backed to the west as predicted. I put the boat into the wind then rolled up most of the headsail. Then it was time to put up the staysail. I didn't need to go to the foredeck because I had not lashed the sail down to the deck but had simply laid it along the rail netting in a twist. It was very dark because the moon was down and the sky was cloudy, so I decided to try to hoist the sail blind hoping that it would all work out. And what an easy sail it was to hoist! It reminded me of my early days of sailing in small boats. I pulled up the sail by hand then gave the halyard a half a turn on the winch then did similar with the sheet, and that was that. I set Jeff to steer us into the wind and we wound up doing 2 kts to the south against a 9 kt wind. I would not be able to raise the mainsail until dawn but that would give me time to let the cold front pass over and to see what would happen with the wind. If it stayed strong and clocked back to the SW then we'd simply sail to the SE until dawn. If the wind dropped off too much for sailing the sails were small enough for me to simply allow the boat to heave itself to. This was all just as well because I had a radio session with Jim at dawn and I wouldn't have time to tend to the boat.

I was surprised to see the house battery voltage down to 12.1V. I knew that I would need a lot of power for the radio session so I ran the engine for about 40 minutes and unfortunately had to hand steer during the session. I found out later that I had inadvertently left the refrigeration on all night (grrr!). I am looking forward to the day when I can turn the refrigerator off permanently. From what I've seen, I'm pretty sure that this boat is very close to self sustaining in electrical power when the fridge is not running. It was all of no avail because Jim and I were not able to establish radio contact. I'm sure that he was as disappointed as I was, but if we did it once we can do it again and we'll keep working on it.

At about 7 AM the wind died and I dropped all sail. We were drifting under a grey sky surrounded by drizzly clouds. The grib file did not promise relief for 24 hours. There was nothing else to do but relax and wait. It was difficult to relax through the bouts of heavy rolling that made every loose thing in the boat slide and clink and clatter and bang.

At noon we were dead in the water at position 26S45, 122W50, giving us a n-n distance of 81 miles. We had moved 1.3 degrees to the south.

After lunch I noticed a weak SE wind. According to the grib file the wind would eventually settle down to SE so I thought that sailing was worth a shot. At first the 6-7 kt wind could barely sustain the staysail. I left it up, flapping a bit, and somehow Jeff manage to keep steering with only 1.2 kt boat speed. Thirty minutes later the wind looked stronger so I rolled out some headsail. Thirty minutes after that the wind was 9-10 kts so I took a chance and hoisted the mainsail to the first reef. That held OK and soon we were steering SSE at 3.5 kts off a port tack. I wasn't sure how long the wind would last but with sailing you've got to use wind when it is there, no matter how much trouble it may be to get the sails up. I felt more cheerful: not only were we moving again, the infernal rolling had stopped. Unfortunately it all died down an hour later. I spent 30 minutes hanging on to the main sheet dampening the impacts of the swinging boom in the hopes that the wind would pick up but after 30 minutes I gave up and dropped all sails. 5 and 6 knot winds are not quite enough to support the sails in the rolling sea.

The wind came up again an hour before sunset. I ran with headsails for a while to see if it would last. I took opportunity while there was still light to raise the mainsail again. That left us doing about 4 knots SSW off of a 10 knot wind. There were more rain clouds ahead at the horizon so I wasn't sure what the night would bring. Never mind. I was getting better at raising the mainsail. It was no longer the drama that it was before.

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Day 39 - Night Operations

The alarm woke me at 2 AM for the fax session. I got a very good image and was able to see quite clearly the cause of the rotating wind predicted by the grib file: there was a weak low very near by wedged between two highs and I was getting caught in the clockwise (in the southern hemisphere) rotation of its winds. The boat was headed SE which was a pleasant surprise because the wind was supposed to have backed to the north by then. I went to bed just after 3 AM but couldn't sleep, thinking about the boat's heading. I then felt a subtle change in the motion of the boat and got up to have a look. We were now headed due east at 3.5 knots. I could see no point in sailing due east and besides, before dawn we would probably be sailing to the NE. The half moon had disappeared but the sky was clear and I could see amazingly well by starlight. With the calm sea and light wind I figured that it would be a good time to experiment with the sails and learn something.

I rolled in the headsail and tried running downwind in the 9 kt breeze with the mainsail. It didn't work. It didn't come even close to working. The problem was the constant slamming of the boom as it swung from side to side with the roll of the boat. The preventer wasn't doing much to stop that. The only other option was to use a foresail so I dropped the mainsail. I then raised the boom a bit with the topping life, tied the end of the boom to the cockpit frame, then put in a lot of time tying down the sail neatly along the boom.

Then I tried running downwind with the staysail. It didn't work because we were making only 1.5 kt and Jeff could not steer the boat in the light conditions. I could see no justification in staying up the rest of the night to hand steer a sluggish helm for such little speed so I hove to, back winding the staysail and tying the wheel to weather. We were now pointing west and making .6 kt. This was a time for learning so I decided to heave to on the other tack to see if we could forereach to the east, a better direction. After sorting out a problem with the routing of the port sheet I wore ship and put us on the starboard tack (i.e. wind from starboard). The wind had perked up a knot or two and was now coming from the NNW so I decided to have a go at sailing downwind before heaving to. Somehow Jeff managed to hold course this time, and after 30 minutes we were still headed due south at 2 knots (a current may have been helping me) with an apparent wind of less than 10 knots. I resisted the temptation to roll out the headsail and get more speed. I had learned years earlier that a small foresail is best when running in these light conditions because a higher boat speed will decrease the speed of the apparent wind and cause the sail to collapse regularly. With the staysail we were getting a nice and steady pull.

After listening to the BBC news at 6 AM I went back to bed.

I woke up at 9.30 AM from a deep sleep. Before I opened my eyes I could tell from the motion of the boat that it was still moving downwind. I could hear from the hum of the wind charger that the wind speed had increased slightly. I opened my eyes and through the cabin hatch could see the staysail against the brilliant blue sky drawing nicely and doing its thing. I went to the chart plotter I saw that at that moment we were still tracking due south at an increased speed of 2.7 knots. Jeff had done a magnificent job of steering. All of this was very pleasing. The night's work had not only provided lessons and experience in working the sails at night but had also produced good practical results. Maybe we had not set any speed record but we had managed to move more than one degree to the south since the previous noon. While munching on my toast I thought about the preventer and concluded that to make it effective I would have to change the angle of the line by turning it off a block on the toe rail, forward of the shrouds. Unfortunately the plastic jerry can deck cargo would be in the way ... ah, unless I ran the line outside of the gunwale to the end of the boom. I would have to experiment with that.

There was more to learn. At 11 AM I went out to change from the staysail the headsail. I didn't want to lose boat speed during the change so I decided to do a "peel" - rolling out the headsail while the staysail was up, then dropping the staysail so that it would not blanket the headsail. The headsail was remarkable stable during the rollout, with some collapsing that was not very violent. I let out the full headsail for the first time since I bent it on north of the equator then dropped the staysail. One great thing about hanked sails is that when you let the halyard fly the sail drops like a rock. The headsail filled with still a bit of fretting because its sheet was too lose but I first made haste to the foredeck to tidy up the staysail inside of the rail netting. Back at the cockpit I brought on the headsail sheet and it steadied down nicely. We had gained more than a knot in speed to 3.8-4.1 knots. The headsail did not appear to be under much stress: always filled and pulling steadily.

This was all basic work because I had never worked with a staysail before, and the lessons learned in the previous 12 hours about what to do and how things would behave provided a valuable template for the coming downwind work in the westerlies. ... By the way, Ocean Passages states that I can expect to encounter the Westerlies at about latitude 35S. That means another 10 degrees of southing to go. This could take anything from 7 to 10 days, depending not only on the wind but also on the direction of my movement - tracking SE would attenuate my movement to the south by 30%.

Brenda sent me information on the position of Matt, the other solo sailor in the area doing it tough with equipment problems. On 3 December, 0901 GMT, he was 250 miles SE of Pitcairn Island. That put him approximately 270 miles to my southwest and ahead of me at the time, so it is likely that we will get closer to each other. However, I heard that he's been having trouble with his satellite telephone so I am not certain that he will be able to continue issuing position reports. If we could get updates on each other's positions there would be a chance of fudging our speed and headings to come within sight of each other. It is likely that he has a VHF radio, which would make things easier, but I can't be sure of that.

At noon we were at 25S26, 123W07, giving us a n-n distance of 77 miles in the direction 160T. We had moved 1.2 degrees to the south. I could not complain because it could have been much worse.

In the afternoon I tended to the torn right side of the spray dodger. I had not been able to deal with it because I had been sailing almost exclusively on a port tank with the resultant boat heel making the work difficult and somewhat dangerous. Today everything was right: good weather and gentle wind abaft meaning that the boat was more or less level, though rolling. I began by trimming the jagged pieces of the shattered plastic window. To my surprise the hole had not expanded since the initial damage, though I figured that one good gale would change that. Anyway, I trimmed any loose and jagged material that might catch the wind and cause more tearing. I then lined the open edges of the plastic with electrical tape. Then I looked at a 2" tear in the canvas material. It was very vulnerable and the slightest stress would result in the tear zipping along. My attempt at sewing failed. I could not overlap the material and the edges to be joined were badly frayed. I had no patching material on hand. After an hour of fruitless effort I gave up and dug out the sail repair kit from the V berth storage compartment. I cut lengths of sail repair tape and taped both sides of the torn material. The result wasn't pretty but may prevent lengthening of the tear. I then had a closer look at the sail repair kit. It is a very good one. There is plenty of material for the replacement and repair of webbing using the excellent sewing kit which includes a leather palm, beeswax, strong needles and thread. There are several widths of sail repair tape. I wouldn't risk further damaging a sail by sewing it, but I'll certainly try the sail tape if I am forced to. I still haven't clipped on the sun shade to the damaged window. I haven't needed to because so far the weather has been coming from the port side. However, I expect to be beating into the wind on a starboard tack before long and I will be putting up the sunshade.

At 5 PM we were headed SSW at 4.5 knots with the headsail and the wind still off the starboard quarter. During the hour that I ran the engine we were making 5 knots. According to the grib file I would be running into the centre of the weak low with its associated rain and variable winds before dawn, so I knew that we would not be able to continue this pace.

I was looking forward to a radio communication session with Jim in Fremantle starting at 6.05 AM (12.05 GMT) and was naturally hoping for success.

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Day 38 - South of Tropic of Capricorn and Ducie Island

I stayed up late last night keeping an eye on the somewhat variable wind. Early in the night I rolled out some headsail to cope with the falling wind then several hours later had to roll most of it back in. A couple of hours after that I wasn't satisfied with our boat speed of 2.5 kts so I rolled out more headsail and like magic we picked up 1.5 kts of speed and 15 degrees more to the east, from S to SSE. At one point we went through a squall and the wind strengthened but the sea was so calm that the boat raced along quite smoothly. I went to bed at 1 AM with the boat heading SSE at about 3 knots. At 3.30 AM I was up again and found that all was well

Just before 7 AM I got up to find the boat headed at 140T at only 2.5 knots. I adjusted Jeff, eased the sheets, and put the boat on a beam reach with more headsail rolled out. That put us more SSE at 3.5 kts but the boom was slamming occasionally because of the weak (9 kt) wind. By now I felt comfortably clear of Ducie Island, which was 70 miles away on bearing 230T.

I had another look at the latest grib file and the way the winds would be backing to the N then NE coupled with a black line traversing the grid in one of the frames suggested that I was passing through a front. The sky was mostly overcast with dark moisture laden clouds.

After breakfast I tuned in to the "Pacific Seafarer's Net" at 0200 GMT on 14.3 MHz and it was not what I had expected. The first 25 minutes were scheduled as "warmup" and I heard contacts from all over the continental USA and one from Mexico City, but none from boats at sea. At 0225 GMT the "roll call" was supposed to begin, but I didn't hear a roll call. I switched off with the controller speaking ham talk with somebody about his dipole antenna. At least I tried. By the time I switched off the radio the boat had settled down and was making 4.2 kts on a heading of 165T.

Our noon position was 24S15, 123W39, giving us a n-n distance of 93 miles. We had moved 1.5 degrees to the south. I had just rolled in some headsail to slow the boat down to 5 kt against the rising sea.

After lunch and a short nap I put on my harness for a deck check. Before going to the foredeck I went to the steering station to put some WD40 on some sticky hinges and there below the wheel was a broken universal clamp. I knew where that had come from. The spindle that takes the ropes of the Monitor wind steering is clamped onto three spokes of the wheel with universal clamps. So against the wheel is a metal plate. At three of the six spokes a clamp goes around the back up the spoke, forward through slot in the plate, then out through another slot and back up to the back of the spoke. It was tricky replacing the clamp. The first task was to find a suitable clamp. Fortunately I carry a big supply of spare clamps and eventually I found one just the right size. Then I disengaged the self steering, freeing the wheel. Fortunately the boat steers itself to weather so I didn't have to worry about that. Then I loosened the two other clamps so that the metal plate could move 5mm back into position so that the spokes were centered between the slots, held the wheel against the movement of the rudder while holding the plate in position and feeding in the end of the clamp in and out of the slots, then feeding the end into the screw mechanism of the clamp while turning the screw driver. It was a real easy job - for somebody with 4 hands. It is at times like this that I miss that extra crew. Fortunately it all worked out and I managed to finish the job just before the boat gybed while I was tightening the three clamps.

I then went to the foredeck for a look around. I've learned that the best way to deck check is to stop and visit for a while rather than having a quick walk up and down. I noticed that one of the shackles holding the tack of the staysail was not moused, so I fetched my tools moused it. The other shackle could not be moused so I gave the screw another half turn to make it very tight. I then paid a visit to the mast. Oops, the pin on the expensive shackle on the trysail halyard was very loose. I tightened it right up then kept looking around. Then I heard a distinctive "tick" like the one that has been haunting me for weeks. After several days out at sea I had started hearing a new sound in the cabin: whenever the boat pitched forward violently I heard a "tick" sound as though two pieces of wood were sliding against each other. That sound was one of the reasons why I moved the position of the staysail's tack turning block from the top of the cabin to the sheet car track. After searching for days I concluded that the sound was coming from the mast area. Perhaps something had changed structurally and the movement of the mast was sliding against the coach roof. Or maybe my novel use of the running back stay had brought out a sound that would always have been there. Well, if I'm really, really lucky the sound may have simply been the trysail shackle clanging against the ring - a new sound because I recently installed the halyard in La Paz. I tightened the halyard and I expect to know within 24 hours if that mystery has been solved.

Then it was time for a cup of tea. I had no more Twinning's tea bags left (very hard to find in La Paz) so I went into "Box W" on the port side to get the Dilmah tea bags. In the bottom of the box I saw hundreds of tiny weevils moving around. Out came the box, out came its contents, then I washed the box out by holding it over the side in the stream of rushing sea. After drying out the box I examined its contents. Most of the items were in good plastic packaging that had not been breached. However, a bag of split peas dating back to Australia had been breached and I could see the little critters inside. The split peas went over the side and the plastic bags that had held it were double washed in sea water and will be put into the garbage bag when they dry. I then put the remaining items back into the box and threw in several bay leaves that Bob Carrol had given to me. I checked the other boxes (X, Y, and Z) and they were clean. I have modern packaging to thank for the containment of that infestation.

We had a splendid afternoon of sailing. The sky had cleared and once again we were on a blue sea and under a blue sky. No longer were there local rain systems to wreak havoc with the wind. For hours the boat sailed quietly on a beam reach (i.e. wind coming from the side) at 4.5 knots with a moderate wind of 11 or 12 knots from the ENE.

I had my second cup of tea in the cockpit where I spent an hour enjoying the sun and the scenery. While I was out there it occurred to me that we had crossed the Tropic of Capricorn (23S27) about 12 hours earlier. I saw no birds during that hour. About two days earlier I had seen a pair of large birds with light feathers and long angular wings that could have been shearwaters. Two days before that I happened to catch sight of a small bird landing on the water - petrel, maybe. I probably spend a total of 2 hours a day topside doing various things and I have been keeping an eye out for birds without much luck. I've had no sightings of sea creatures other than the many tiny flying fish that meet their doom on the deck.

At 6.37 PM local time (23.37 GMT) we crossed the latitude of Ducie Island, 24S40. We were at longitude 123W33, putting us 63 miles to the east of the island. Easter Island was 770 miles to the ESE on bearing 104T. We were the same distance from Cabo San Lucas as we were from Drake Passage, 2950 miles.

The grib file predicted that during the night the wind would back to the NE, then the N, then eventually the NW. Normally I run downwind with the headsail only. It provides a steady and comfortable pull on the boat and there are none of the dangers of accidental gybes when using the mainsail. However, given that I was trying to protect the headsail I decided to try running downwind with no headsail and the mainsail boomed out. To that end I rigged up a preventer (to prevent accidental gybes) from the end of the boom to a snap block on the cabin and back to the cockpit while there was still daylight.

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Day 37 - Progress Through the Wind Sag

I woke up at 2 AM to find the boat moving well, doing 5.5 knots to the south. It was my good fortune that the wind strength had been stronger than predicted. The headsail was rolled out half way, the most since I started using it. I was worried about the wind speed increasing and straining the sail so I rolled in a third of it to protect it, losing about a half a knot in speed. Such is the price of caution.

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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Day 36 - Difficult Night

At 8 PM I went out to adjust the headsail and I saw bright lights of the starboard quarter. It appeared to be a ship but it was not putting out an AIS signal. Radar showed him to be 14 miles away. I wasn't too worried because I was pretty sure that I was seeing the ship in profile, not head on. Nevertheless I hailed it on VHF 16 ("Ship near latitude 20 south longitude 124 west do you copy?") and did eventually get a response, sort of. The person was laconic to say the least, probably because his English wasn't too good. Anyway, twice I told him that I was a sail boat 15 miles south of him on course 180 and speed 4 knots. He acknowledged, I think. I asked him if he could see me. The reply sounded more like a yes than a no. At least he knew that somebody was out there. I watched the boat to confirm that it was really passing across my stern from west to east. I could not see the standard leading lights on big ships but eventually I picked up a hint of green in the lighting that suggested that I was indeed looking at his starboard side. It must have been a large fishing boat doing night work.

The night began rough. The wind had backed which was good, but the boat was beating into short and steep waves. With the headsail rolled in we slowed to 4 knots and the boat was still having a tough time. I wasn't interested in increasing sail until the sea calmed down.

At 3 AM I woke up to more sound and fury. The boat was doing 5.5 knots in the howling wind, with just its single reef and staysail. After watching things for a while I gloved up and was ready to drop the second slab of mainsail when things steadied a bit. Although the boat was moving fast, it wasn't slamming into waves or heeling excessively. I eased the mainsheet to reduce the heel a bit more and left it at that. Thirty minutes later the wind was back to 15 kts and all was well. Very well. The sailing divas had sent a NE wind and all night we had been on badly needed SE track. We had moved from longitude 124W06 to 123W54 in just a few hours. Two sets of spot wind and wave predictions that Stephen had sent to me indicated a lot of ENE and NE winds in the next few days and I had been surprised and delighted. Being in the SE trade winds I had expected SE and E winds exclusively. These northern components to the wind, if they eventuate, will help me work my way further east.

I made a cup of Milo and went over yet again the notes that I had taken from Dan of Pt Townsend Rigging's advice on managing my sails: 1st reef in winds of 18-24 kts, 2nd reef in 24-30 kts, go to the trysail at 30 kts. The numbers from the wind indicator jump around a lot so I have to do mental averaging, but I'd say that the maximum apparent wind that I had seen was 22 kts.

Then we went into a long bout of drizzle and the wind died. I spent about 30 minutes collecting 12 liters of water from the mainsail which I would use for bathing and washing clothes. It took so long because it was only a light drizzle. At the end of that the mainsail was flogging so hard as the boat rolled that I dropped it rather than risk damaging it. This exposed the downside of removing the lazy jacks: the sail wound up sprawled on one side of the deck. I decided to leave the staysail up. By this time I was pretty wet so I had a deluxe cockpit fresh water bath complete with hair and beard shampoo. Then I went to the drawer and pulled out a fresh set of underclothes. At 6 AM the wind was still weak and erratic so I decided to go back to bed for a couple of hours and assess the situation in daylight. The boat was drifting south at 1 knot.

After a shallow sleep of 1 hour I got up again. Dawn was breaking and I wanted to see if there was any wind for sailing. After toast and coffee I suited up properly in my foul weather gear. I had had enough of exposure to the drizzle and breeze. The wind looked just good enough so I started the engine in case it might be useful. Besides, an early engine run would suit me because it would help warm and dry the cabin. The engine did help because it provided enough forward motion to enable Jeff to take over the steering, slightly off the wind. This left me free to concentrate on the sail. I encountered a few snags in hoisting the mainsail and I was very glad that I was doing it in daylight. By the time the mainsail was up the engine had run for one hour so I turned it off and was relieved to see that there was enough wind to support the sail. I then rolled out some jib and at 9 AM we were on the move again, to the south. An hour later the wind had strengthened and we were doing just over 5 knots which satisfied me, particularly since the course was slightly east of south.

At noon our position was 20S57, 123W59, giving us a n-n distance of 81 miles. We had moved 1.4 degrees to the south. Given the difficulties of the night I wa happy with this progress.

After lunch I had a very relaxing and restful sleep. When I woke up at 2 PM the boat seemed quiet as a mouse, happily ambling along at just over 4 knots. Unfortunately I have an obligation to make reasonable haste so I upset the tranquility by shaking out the 2nd reef and taking the boat speed to above 5 knots. Then the wind veered and picked up speed and by 2.30 PM we were doing 5.8-6 knots on course 210.

After a cup of tea I felt energetic enough to visit the contents of my life vest/harness (PFD). On each side of the PFD is a fold of material held closed by velcro. When the PFD inflates the velcro gives way and the PFD inflates. Inside right fold is the inflation cartridge, a whistle, and a strobe light that I put in there in New Zealand. The strobe light was still working. Inside the left fold is a tube for inflating the life jacket by mouth and a "Fast Find" Personal Location Beacon (PLB) Model 210 that I purchased in Hawaii. It will not float but is submersible to 10 meters for 5 minutes and has a built in GPS and other features. The 6V lithium battery is good for 5 years and expires in January 2015. The self test went fine. These measures would be a long shot if I find myself in the water, particularly in cold water. However, it is better to have them than not to have them, and even better yet not to ever have to use them.

At 8 PM we were headed south at 5 kt in a calm sea with a moderate 12 kt breeze. Ahead the horizon seemed clear so just maybe I had outrun the rain. The sailing was very pleasant and I was hoping for an easy night.

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