This is what our radar often looked like at night in the ITCZ. The blotches are squalls. They didn’t bring too much rain or wind but they meant that we couldn’t use automatic guard zone alarms to alert us of ships as the squalls would set off the alarm. We really had a pretty mild ITCZ crossing as we understand it – there is often a much larger area with squalls alternating with no wind. We made it through in about 36 hours. (May 2012)
The Big Surprise (Passage to the Marquesas)
May 18, 2012
I was sound asleep and I think I was dreaming, but I don’t exactly remember. I do remember that it was a very good sleep and a fitting reward for how hard I’d worked at falling to sleep. It was about 11AM and I’d gotten off watch at 10. “Rich, Rich, there’s a helicopter, wake up!” A what? I sat up and looked out the companion way door, and there really was a helicopter – about 50 feet behind our boat and about 30 feet above the water. What the heck? I grabbed some shorts and the hand-held VHF radio and ran out into the cockpit.
I tried calling him while he circled our boat about three times. I was so busy looking at the radio and calling I didn’t really see the pilot. Cyndi did, and apparently he’d circled her once before I got out there, pausing behind the boat and waving. We weren’t able to make radio contact and after the circles, he sped off to the south.
I tried calling on the boat’s VHF… “this is the sailing vessel Legacy at position da, da de da, to the ship that launched the helicopter. Come in please.” No reply. I tried about three times, still no reply. What was it? A James Bond super yacht, a secret military settlement out at sea, a huge toy company sparing no expense to get me back to the states to design the next future recycle bin offering? Or maybe a fishing boat with a scout helicopter. Yea, that’s probably it. There are tuna boats in San Diego with helicopters on the back decks. Maybe it was one of those. About 20 minutes later, we heard a radio call but it was weak and we were never able to establish radio communications. (Aviation buffs: it looked like it might have been an R44, but somehow it looked sleeker and more bullet-shaped. It had great big things attached to the skids that I assume inflate in a water landing.)
But how strange. We’re so far from anywhere. It’s well over 2000 miles to Central America, Mexico or even Hawaii. I guess the closest place to us at this point is the Marquesas at only about 865 miles away.
We’re almost across the ITCZ tonight. We’ve only been in it about 24 hours and I expect we’ll come out of it later tonight. It hasn’t been too bad. It was rainy all day today and last night we had dozens of rain squalls. The squalls didn’t have a lot of wind. In fact, they mostly stole what little wind we had. Cyndi thought she saw one lightning flash. I didn’t see any. Sometimes there can be a lot of thunder and lightning in the ITCZ so we count ourselves lucky. Lightning? What could go wrong there with nothing sticking up in the air, save for our 65 foot tall metal mast (and oh yea, an occasional helicopter).
We have about 240 miles to the equator where by the tradition, our current status as polliwogs will change to that of shell-backs. We have an appropriate celebration planned. We’ll tell you about it in a couple of days. Cyndi reads these and I don’t want to spoil the surprise. -Rich
Cyndi’s Version: I was comfortably settled into the watch chair, the boat motoring along in these rather surreal, gray and humid ITCZ conditions. I had been on watch about an hour and was deep into my book when I heard what sounded like a gas-powered lawn mower come to life in the cockpit. To say I was alarmed would be an understatement, as I rushed to the companionway, fearing that our transmission or engine was in a state of complete self-destruction, a pieces-flying-everywhere sort of catastrophe.
I came pretty much face to face with a helicopter, which had come down to what looked like 50 feet behind our boat and about 20 or 30 feet above the water, hovering and looking almost like he might be going for a water landing. To say I was surprised would be another understatement; I don’t think I would have been any more surprised to see a Kraken. I was dumbfounded, probably standing there with my mouth open.
Possible reasons for his being here flashed through my mind: does he think we’re a boat in distress and is coming in for a rescue? Is he checking to see if we might be drug runners? Is he coming to warn us of some impending doom up ahead, a freak weather condition or natural disaster? I could see the pilot clearly now as he hovered behind us, and he waved at me. I waved back, still stunned, but realizing if he’s giving me a wave that there’s probably no emergency.
I had stayed in the companionway, not wanting to run out in the cockpit as I was only in underwear and a tank top (it’s warm here and we’re not wearing a lot). I decided the next thing to do was to get Rich up, and I was surprised when he sprang out of bed, believing me about the helicopter right away. I was relieved he was up fast enough to see it for himself as I’m not sure he would have believed this otherwise, thinking I’d been at sea too long and was starting to hallucinate. As he tried to radio the helicopter or the ship it came from, I recovered from the shock and thought about the moral of this story: don’t assume people can’t drop in on you out here. Also, when taking showers in the cockpit, keep your ears perked for approaching aircraft and a towel close at hand.
One final note: I’m not very happy to hear about a surprise for the equator crossing. Those kinds of surprises are along the lines of the surprises involved in fraternity hazing rituals. I was hoping to enjoy my rum in peace, without being subjected to an involuntary King Neptune shaving cream beard application or some other indignity. Sigh. -Cyndi
Sailing Stuff (Passage to the Marquesas)
May 16, 2012
Today is the third day in a row where the conditions have been identical. There’s usually 17 knots of wind from the north-northeast with gusts to about 20 and lulls to about 15 knots. (Though there is some question as to the accuracy of my anemometer. Dean isn’t far away and he’s consistently reading 5 knots more. It also seems to us that the wind is stronger than 17 knots.)
We’ve been sailing a broad reach with a single reefed main sail and just a little bit of head sail unrolled. We’ve had to work to keep the boat from being overpowered in these conditions. We surf down the big swells coming mainly from behind. Once we get to the bottom of the swell, we kind of crash into the back of the next swell and the boat rolls uncontrollably and uncomfortably. We could be going a little faster, but we’re choosing comfort over speed. It’s also easier on the boat.
(It just started raining. Not much – just a sprinkle, but nice.)
Even powered down as we are, it’s a rough ride. It wouldn’t be so bad if it was just a swell from behind but there’s also a big swell from the east as well. Sometimes these combine just right and we really get knocked around.
We usually count on having to run the engine an hour or two each day when the wind dies out as it often does at night. These conditions have been so consistent that we haven’t need to propulsion. We do need the electricity though so we’ve been running the engine in neutral. Running in gear would again over power the boat and make for a rough ride. We’re doing great on fuel as when we do run the engine, even when it’s in gear, we run it very slowly. It only uses about a half a gallon of diesel fuel an hour at those slow speeds. We’re trying to save most of our fuel in case have to motor through the ITCZ.
We should hit the ITCZ on Friday or so. It’s a moving target, sometimes at 2 degrees north latitude and sometimes as high as 10 degrees. Right now, it’s at about 3 degrees and we’re now at about 7-1/2 degrees north latitude. We’re hoping to be at the equator sometime Sunday. After that, it’s only 625 miles to Hiva Oa. So far, this has been a very fast passage.
Have I bored you to death? Sorry. Here’s the summary: Fast, sloppy, rolly, warm, noisy, long, fun, peaceful, rewarding.
Definitions: (If you’re a sailor, don’t bother with these)
Knot: about 1.1 miles per hour. Sailors use knots as a nautical mile goes into the earths circumference at the equator exactly 24000 times. A nautical mile is 6000 feet, again, about 10% more than a regular mile.
Broad Reach: sailing with the wind coming over the back of the boat at about a 30 degree angle. Sailing directly down wind (running) is difficult on a sail boat, especially when there’s a big swell coming from behind. The sails want to flap around and gybe (switch sides of the boat). A broad reach is both more comfortable and faster.
ITCZ: I think I described this before, but here it is again. It’s an area of unsettled weather between the prevailing northeast trade winds in the North Pacific and the southeast trades in the South Pacific. There are often thunder storms there that can get pretty violent. It can be a very narrow zone, maybe 100 miles, or 600 miles wide. Right now, it seems pretty narrow and we’re hoping that holds up. By the way, if you’re interested in seeing our weather, there’s a great web site called passage weather (www.passageweather.com) that will show it to you. We get similar weather reporting on our boat via email through the HAM radio. -Rich
Random Thoughts (Passage to the Marquesas)
May 14, 2012
Ice Limit: for centuries, sailors have been concerned about the “ice limit.” This is the line beyond which icebergs are very unlikely to be seen. “Wait a minute Betty, he’s gone mad… he’s in the tropics and he’s talking about the ice limit!” No, this is actually a different kind of ice limit that we crossed today. It’s the point at which the air outside and the water in our tank are both warm enough to take a shower outside in the cockpit. We just barely crossed it today! It was cool and very refreshing but only just warm enough. Yesterday would have definitely been on the wrong side of the ice limit.
Seven Seas Core Fitness Program: A new late-night infomercial product. Act now and we’ll put you on a boat in the middle of the Pacific and let you try to sit up straight and type while the boat pitches and rolls. The next 7 callers will also get as an added bonus the “confused seas” package, normally a $129.99 value, absolutely free. As you may gather, it’s been a rough ride for a couple of days. The wind’s been around 17 knots but there are swells coming from at least three or four different directions that account for this discomfort.
Birds: One of the things on our to-do list was to remove our bird and fish identification books and try to get them on the kindle to save weight and space. Well, we did the first part, the removal part, but didn’t quite get to the second part. Because of that, I’m only 60% sure the fish we caught was a skipjack and I have no idea what these incredible birds around us are. I used to know but I used that bit of brain storage to hold the Bank of America customer service phone number.
These birds are wonderful. They’ve been flying around the boat for about three or four days now. They are about the size of a small, slender seagull but very pointy and streamlined. And what incredible pilots! We thought the swallows we had in Fallbrook were good but these guys take it to a whole new level. The are both maneuverable and fast. Though with all the flying around we’ve seen them do, presumably in search of food, we’ve never seen them eat anything.
Fish that Fly: We are at times pelted with flying fish. Legacy will sail through a school of them and they’ll all take to the air at once. The school becomes a flock for about 100 feet or so and then back to a school. Some unlucky ones end up on our deck. We try to catch them in time and return them to the water, but we don’t always make it. Sometimes we find a little petrified one in some hidden corner of the deck. We are also getting some small squid on deck. We’ve gone from the rust stains of Wilmington to the ink stains of the Pacific.
Statistics: We’ve been out here 11 days so far, I think (kind of losing track). We’re now 1430 miles from Catalina. We have 780 miles to go to get to the equator and then 625 miles after that to get to Hiva Oa. We’re making about 120 miles a day on average and that’s about what we expected. We’re now about at the half way point as it’s 2865 miles from Avalon to Hiva Oa. -Rich
First Fish! (Passage to the Marquesas)
May 2012
We caught our first fish today – a skipjack over 30cm long! (Sorry, but it sounds so much better in centimeters. If you must know how long it was in feet, type this into your Google search box, without the quotes: “30cm in feet”.) OK, so now you’re not so impressed, are you? Yea, it was small, but it was good. We had fish and eggs for breakfast. It all went in one meal.
It didn’t take long to catch. Today was our first serious attempt at fishing on this passage. I put the lines out this morning after the sun came up and had a fish within a half an hour. Not bad. We caught this on a bare cedar plug. I’m really starting to like those.
It’s been a little down hill the rest of the day. There is a swell from several directions and light winds again today. The combination is making for an uncomfortable ride. It’s been overcast all day but it’s a really nice temperature. Not too hot, not too cold. (You know me, I’ll whine about the temperature given the slightest cause.)
We’re making slower progress the past few days. Yesterday we made 100 miles and the day before that just 114 miles. We’d like to average 120 miles a day. We have 1185 miles to go right now to get to the equator or about 10 days at 120 miles a day. We may slow down quite a bit when we hit the unsettled winds around the equator, called the inter-tropical convergence zone or ITCZ. It’s an area where the northeast trade winds in the northern hemisphere meet the southeast trade winds of the southern hemisphere. Their conflict can bring thunder storms and light winds and squalls. It’ll be interesting.
In general, all’s well aboard Legacy, with the boat and with her crew. We’re having a nice time out here. The days are starting to pass magically and we’re settling into life at sea. We hope all’s well with our shoreside family.