Day 16

This, the penultimate update, is always my favorite and not just because I get to use that word. We finished up our 16th full day racing with about 130 miles to go. Since we rounded the mark at Atoll Mataiva this morning, we now officially got that "channel fever."

Since my last update, conditions have improved... First, of course, they got worse in the afternoon with a further 20 degree header and wind to 28 kts and seas now climbing to 8 feet (and very short and confused). We were forced to take down the reacher and put up the #3.. completely washing the foredeckmen. We were making course with about 10 degrees of leeway because of the sliding sideways down the seas. Every watch was greeted with a bucket of water when they came up and one 5 minutes before bunk time.

But as night fell, winds began to moderate, back, and the seas began to settle. So, when I came up at 10 pm, the deck was dry and I put on some rinsed clothes to enjoy the warm air. The moon is now 1/4 full and brilliant, but still the stars are able to compete. Sitting on the high side and looking west, you notice that the stars making up the exclaimation point that had the cresent moon as its dot a few nights ago, seem to have moved. One also seemed to be curiously red. I went down to check and discovered that we had previously witnessed Mars, Saturn, and Luna in alignment. (Perhaps, we should have had an astrologer aboard... might have been more use than looking at the weather models and forecasts.) We also noticed that the twinkling red/white/green star that we thought must be an airplane two days ago was still there. Deneb twinkles beautifully and strange.

Really a great night on the water. The driving had become easier and the heal angle less, all with the same speed. Occastionally, one could smell the faint scent of land on the air. Of course, just as I was moving back the hatch to go down, full 5 gallons of seawater over the head.

The morning came and the wind had continued to back, so at 0830, just before dawn, we launched the spinniker about 5 miles north of Mataiva. As the sun came up, the atoll came into view and we ate fresh cornbread and bacon as our last breakfast at sea. (Jill did an amazing job all this trip.. never ate so well at sea.)

Also, thanks Dr. McG. for the shift.. too bad it didn't come two days ago when we could still make hay with it though. So, we're on our way down to the finish. We'll be sending in our 100 miles to go report in about an hour.

Day 15

As Jim Brown summarized, "Another day, just like the last, only wetter."

After we finished the reef as mentioned in my last post (which should really be part of todays since it occured on Day 15), we came back to course and continued to "slide on down the line". Lots of big waves on the beam and lots of sliding make for about 10 degrees of leeway. Somehow, even when its blowing 25 kts, we are still making 10 kts.

The night was beautiful again, makes you sad for what we've lost since electrifing our nights. Waxing cresent moon to starboard, the milky way to port and the Southern Cross on the bow... (now with some pretty good height.)

That's it.. getting a tad monotonous. Actually, got a dictionary here, lets see. Yup.. 3rd meaning.. monotony: beam reaching in the south eastern trades in the south pacific ocean.

Our laughing so hard I can't drive joke: Call 411. "Can you connect me to Zubenelgenubi?" "Spelled the normal way." "You know: zoo ben "L" genubi".
Kills at 10S at 1am on the 38th day of beam reaching.

Equator

Just missed it by 2 seconds. Too dark out to see the line in the water.

Where are we?

Just in case.. we checked that the Sun didn't move.

Pollywog in King Neptune's Court

P

King Neptune and pollywog

Seen here in his more earhtly incarnation.

Day 14

Hmmm... seems that today was much like yesterday... Only a bit faster.

I'm going to have to make today's update another short one, and the pictures will have to wait another day. We had a great, if tiring night, on a beam reach with blaster and full main, falling down course a little. I saw the moon last night for the first time in a week... beautiful cresent with 3 bright stars in a row pointing towards it. Very cool, seen between towering stratocumulous clouds.

This morning we had some weird squalls with lifts and light winds... almost tempted to try the kite again... but soon enough that ended and the afternoon was filled with squalls with 30 kts of wind and rain hard enough to shower in (ask Dad, he did.. I just rinsed my laundry).

By the afternoon, the wind had begun to pick up even between squalls and just as Day 15 began we called Jim off his off watch to reef the main... Too late. We sat there in 28kts and a 30 degree header, running off course, while we waited for the wind to moderate so we could get the main down without ripping it out of the track.

Finally reefed, we're back on course and zooming along.. all at a 45 degree angle. (The only reason I can write this is we are currently on a "comfort course" so that important "business" can be taken care of.. you figure it out.)

Pretty exciting stuff really... but we're all beginning to talk about how soon it will be over. Probably Tuesday night.. but I'm still hoping for that 40 degree lift so we can make in before sundown... how about it Dr. McG?

Nighty night.
D.

Day 13

The thirteenth day was great. After all the misery at the end of Day 12, we put in just one more sail change (for the 7th of the day... our own version of fireworks I guess). We lifted the dreaded #2JT; we had such a time with it a few days ago, I didn't want to do it.. but, we tuned her in and off we went. (Although on a 40 degree angle.. So, its really hard to right this now with my foot on the galley sink to keep me from sliding off the navigation station seat).

But, it was a great night. We had brilliant stars (and a moon for just a short while after sunset). Big isolated clouds, and for the first time in a long time, we could see airline traffic overhead. It was weird to realize we really had been the only ones around for hundreds of miles.

We are all counting the miles down to the finish.. (litterally.. we shame every driver who doesn't get in their 5 miles before their half hour is over.) Since there hasn't been many shamings... we are on our way to a good 24 hour run. (Of course, we are watching Ragtime and realize she is also going along well.. Good on her.)

I've been meaning to get out some pictures of our equator crossing.. but it will have to wait until tomorrow. I'm off watch now and need to get a little shuteye before the night watches come.

Day 12

Our twelth day was fantastic. We launched the chute yesterday at 0600 and sail flat and fast all day. The sun was out as we rode the lifting shift preceeding a frontal passage that was giving our closest competitor (Ragtime) a header causing them to sail off course. And of course, we met with King Neptune.

As we knew that the equator passing would be in the darkness, King Neptune made his appearence about 30 miles north at 1800. As we pollywogs bowed before his highness, we shared wine and rum, the story of Jim Nash, and lots of laughs as we rocketed down 6' swells at speeds up to 13 kts.

The night was also wonderful. Plenty of high speeds as we rode the tight reaching spinniker over unseen swells. Then at 2242 we crossed the equator at Lon 139-40.9'W and 5 new Shellbacks were born.

This all merrily continued until 0600... almost exactly 1 day since it began as the wind started building to 24 kts. We decided first to change spinnikers to our heavy 1.5 oz, allowing us to also check the spin halyard for wear. But very soon, we were headed in the wrong direction and we took it down to put up the #3 and get back on course. 10 minutes later, the wind died and the rain started and we switched headsails to the #1. Shortly thereafter, it was more appropriate to have the chute back up. When we had cleaned up the other changes, taking a couple of hours of hard work... we relaunched the 1.5 oz. The wind dropped and we couldn't fly it, so we changed again to the 0.75 oz, but immediately the wind changed direction and we were off course again. So, finally, we put the #1 back up (which we hadn't yet put away). This all cost us probably 20 miles to our competitors.. ouch. But now we're back on course (and speed). Ahh.. yacht racing.

Right now we're bombing along, on course at 10.5 kts. Good pace for us, and I think a winning one.

Ketch Rig

Yah.. we know its slow. But so is a poached relief watch. It is HOT.

Squall

When there is this much fresh water spraying around... time to get out the shampoo.

Day 11

We are winding down Day 11 with much improved moral aboard. How, you may ask, is that... you just dropped into last place! Ah, but I know something you do not. This morning at 0630, just after the morning roll call email... we started sailing to Tahiti.. "The way you're supposed to."

What way is that? With color! The wind has backed and we launched the trusty 3/4 oz spinnaker and suddenly Fortaleza was dancing. After days of doing 9 kts and getting 7 kt progress because of the "blessed" Equitorial counter current, it feels incredible to look at the GPS "speed over ground" and seeing 11 kts.
Yesterday we tried all the sail combinatons on board to get up some speed.. #3, #2jt with main, with main reefed, back with full main, with a #1. Given the sore state we're in from leaning over, I questioned... "I don't think there's enough Advil left on board to lift the #1 again." So, the chute is up and we've gone from looking at a long losing final third of the race, to being "back in the game".

Down below, Chuck has launched our "mini kite" airscoop and we can actually get some good rest. (My bunk particularly is good... the skipper has offered me $500 a night for it.)

Last night was a beautiful, starry night with almost no clouds and no moon. Looking back at Polariz, just above the horizon and then up to Cassiopia and the milky way and past Jupiter to the bow where the Southern Cross provided a great mark to steer by.

One Shellback and five Pollywogs have a date with King Neptune. I predicted yesterday for tonight at Sundown. Jim B. picked 9pm and Jim M. chose 2100. (If they get it, it will go to the even or odd minute, with Jim Brown being odd.) Jill has 2130. Al has midnight. Chuck has the lyrical 2202.

"Well, I meant to, but zubenelgenubi."
-me

Day 10

Our tenth day, usually for me the last day of Transpac, but in this saga, just the beginning of the last third of the race, was spent in recovery. We started to slowly crack off and life was much more pleasant. Messes were tidied, equipment mended, and bodies rejuvinated.

The day before we entered the ITCZ, the refridgeration quit and resisted initial attempts to jury rig a solution. Chuck and Al got right into it yesterday after a first (sufficatingly hot) sleep to save our great preprepared meals. (We do have dehydrated meals.. but only as an emergency!) In a few hours, we had the cold plate frozen over. Later on, we got the sewer cleaned up an the sails packed away. This morning, Chuck got the compass remounted and rigged a wind scoop to allow sleeping down below.

We got the watch schedule back on track last night.. and made the planned switch of Chuck and Al, so we all have new people to tell the same stories too. It was a great night with the #3 up and the main full. Stars came out in full force and we searched around looking for familiar constellations, finding few as we stared forward into the southern celestial hemisphere. There was no moon to disturb the stellar brilliance, although I could feel the heat of Jupiter on my sunburn. I searched for and found my favoritely named star... Zubenelgenubi. Tonight, we should have clear skys at sundown... when the Southern Cross should appear straight ahead as we charge down towards the Equator.

As for the race, we are disappointed with our progress again today. Still with the current, and we just can't seem to fully dial the boat in for this point of sail. We switched to the #2JT blast reacher, but it hasn't lifted us up into the 10 kt range. But, for us at least, its still a long race, and we may yet find our sweet spot.

We're taking bets on the Equator crossing. I've picked tommorrow at sundown.

Data

Kahoola Kahoola bird

Our young friend needs a name... you'll meet him someday as he gets up to the temperate zone.

Day 8 and 9

Apologies for missed posting yesterday. It was a challenging day and night. Anyway, we are now through the ITCZ and beating towards Tahiti.

Going back to my last post, while we were entering the ITCZ at the beginning of our second week, we were making pretty good time in light winds. The day was sunny and we watched birds swoop around the boat as they pick off flying fish who are trying to escape preditors below. One decided it wanted a rest and landed (after about 14 attempts) on the bow pulpit. It then proceeded to "balance" on the pulpit, as the waves took it up and down. Turns out, wet web feet don't make a very good grip on a polished stainless rail. And one point, it hung on by its neck. This entertainment went on for a good ten minutes. Just one more channel on Transpac TV.

As most of us had never seen such a thing, our resident graduate of the California School of Nautical Knowledge informed us that it was a specimen of the rare Kahoola Kahoola bird:

Born in the equatorial zone
destined to fly in an easterly direction around the world
with each rotation, climbing one degree of latitude
until it finally reaches the north pole
and flys up its own bunghole.

Having met our young and tired friend at Latitude 10, we're thinking he might not make it.

That night we had more "Calistenics on the Lido Deck", as we changed to the .6oz "Carrot" spinniker. At 10pm, the wind started to veer (anti-clockwise shift) surprisingly since I predicted the exact opposite. We did our first night time rusty jibe and just completed it when we realized the veering had continued and it was time to put up a headsail. The spinniker was doused and just as a squall hit, we lifted the #1 and prepared ourselves for the long reach to Tahiiti.

It was a beautiful, if a bit slow, night. Stars and pleasant zephyr to pull the boat forward. That began to end at 0800. The wind rapidly began climbing from 8kts, to 15. We shortened sail, dropping the #1 and raising the smaller #3 headsail, and reefed the main. We went from port tack, going straight south to get through as fast as possible, to starbord, but still going straight south. Still not too bad. Jim got out the sextant and took a couple of sun sights.

At noon, we considered putting the #1 back up, but just then the first real squall hit. It began to rain in the "tropical rain" way you've all heard about when picking out shower heads. Actually, it was harder than this, so having missed a shower the night before, Al and myself got out the shampoo and lathered up. (Big mistake on my part.. apparently, even during thunderstorms in the tropics, one can get a pretty bad sunburn in 20 minutes.)

After that, things got unpleasant. The wind shifted to due south, the direction we wanted to go, and climbed to 25kts. Unfortunately, we don't have a way of further shortening sail, without getting out our storm sails... which aren't meant to get you anywhere, just away. As it turned out, looking at the satellite wind data, there was only one way to go to take us out of our predicament... upwind. Oh, and none of this wind was predicted on the grib models, nor mentioned in the analysis.

So, we spent a long, trying, and tiring night on the rail. Moral on the boat wained, as we could see our newly installed lead postion slip away and we jumped off incoming waves with rig shaking crashes, or we slow the boat with rig shaking main sail flogging. On one crash, the compass jumped off the binnacle. On another, the stove jumped off its gimbles, and a third cause the refridgerator cold plate to break loose. On top of this, we wondered into a 2 kt opposing current.

You may have heard that, "Gentlemen never sail to weather." I think thats because when you sail to weather, it makes you ornery enough to make any man a knave. (Jill, on the other hand, was a great sport had provided some good laughs up in the "spash zone".)

There were some opportunities for levity. We took to laying on the rail body to body to get some sleep while keeping the water from filling our foulies... hah!. At one point, I took the "breakwater" position. I was actually sleeping (uncomfortably) when a wave rolled over the bow. That woke me, but I was even more surprised when I started to lift of the deck. My automatic personal floatation device had triggered. I sat up, barely able to move, and mentioned to Jill I had a "problem". At first, while looking at the ocean, she gave a little sympathy for my wet state. "No, look at the BIG picture"... I looked pretty riduclous in my "Mae West" costume.

Also, if you could keep you're mind off the crashing (and what an equipment failure means 1500 miles from the nearest marine store), it was an exciting sail. 8 kts (boatspeed.. not progress), jumping through waves.. even had some dolphin escort for a few minutes as bioluminescent torpedos dancing on the bow wave.

Some of you have asked, what is it like down below. Well, today wasn't the best night to ask. Loud, yah, like sleeping in a rifle range. Hot. Sometimes you got to get on deck to cool off, and sometimes just to be able to breathe.

So, that's the update. Things are improving here as the wind has backed a little. Based on Ragtime's acceleration, we expect more improvement soon.

Data