Pacific Crossing - Week 1

 

Day 1. (Sunday 19 March)

The sun is shining, the wind, for now just a pleasant breeze. Today’s the day: We’re off. We buzzed around getting the boat ready to depart, and just shy of 10am we up anchor and leave. Away we go from the Las Brisas anchorage in Panama City, heading out towards the Marquesas for a month (or so) of adventure on the high seas. The new VHF radio and the repaired autopilot seem to be behaving themselves for now, the iPad (used for navigation) is however struggling to find the boat’s GPS location. Not a show stopper by any means, but a little frustrating for day 1.

Sails up by noon, dolphins shortly there after. They’re far too busy to stop and play, heading directly for an area of ocean being dive bombed by pelicans, boobies and frigate birds. Not a good place to be a fish. That said - in the flat calm of the afternoon we saw large shoals of bait fish breaking the surface in long rippling waves. This gives an idea of quite how calm the water is, that ripple is the only sound, other than an occasional flap of wings as a bird flies close enough to be heard.

After a necessary nap (yes.. necessary! I’m on night shift later) I woke to gentle wind behind us, perfect for a wing on wing setup which at time of writing is pushing us along at just over 5knots. Land is no longer visible.

For now - nothing else to report.

Home made chilli and strengthening winds as the sun sets on our first day.

I’d like to say the nightshift was uneventful. I’d like to say that Chez slept soundly until her shift (3am) and didn’t need to be woken, I’d also like to say that we didn’t have an accidental jibe, the preventer and traveller lines didn’t snap, and both ends of the traveller weren’t completely smashed off. Sadly though - I can’t say any of that.

In a far from uneventful period before midnight, I had an absolute shocker. A couple of strong gusts out of nowhere kicked us off course. I took the helm (the hydrovane had been steering us up until then). In the moonless confusion of waves and swell, my lack of glasses and inept steering changed the wind angle sufficiently to have the boom whipping violently from side to side. This snapped both the preventer (so called as it is supposed to prevent this exact situation) and the traveller lines. Chez, fresh from bed came up and took over steering as I put the sail away and lashed the boom safe. The traveller mechanism had taken a hell of a beating as the boom whipped back and forth unrestrained, the metal end stops were smashed from both sides. I’ll need to make a temporary repair in daylight tomorrow to allow it to continue to function. Not the best start to the trip - but definitely qualifies as ‘adventure on the high seas’

Day 2. (Monday 20 March)

Overcast, 1.5m following seas, 10-15 knots of wind pushing us in the right direction.

Woke to boatkill on deck - that’s the nautical equivalent of roadkill. A dead squid (size of a large man’s shoe) …and all it’s associated inky squirts staining the deck. Not exactly feeling like calamari first thing in the morning, he was sent overboard. I then repaired (timber and lashed) the damaged traveller while Chez headed down to try and get some more sleep - both of us struggling in that department during the eventful night we’ve just had. When she resurfaced, I followed her below - fixing a couple of the annoying squeaks along the way, then slept soundly until around lunchtime.

We’re still making good miles under sail alone, not sure how long that will last, but for now, quite happily gliding along without the diesel drone of the engine to accompany us. Close to sunset another sail appears on the horizon behind us - that is the big news of the day.

As forecast, the wind did drop off in the early evening: engine on…and turned back off again at 1am as the breeze returned.

Day 3 (Tuesday 21 March)

Light breeze astern, clear blue sky, heading South Westish, 1-2m seas following.

Chez reports our Canadian line handling friends Grahame and Julie are 14 miles away to Port on SV Salty Ginger. It’s reassuring to have someone close ish and in contact via the Iridium Go. Wind for sailing stayed with us throughout the day. A pleasant day if perhaps a little boring.

However… 5pm is time for the Dolphin Spectacular at Pacific Sea World. What a show they put on! In the cooling afternoon, as the sun began sinking in front of us, a pod of perhaps 20-30 spent a delightful 10 minutes leaping high from the water. Sometimes in pairs, they’d jump high then slam back down onto the surface to see who could make the biggest splash (thinking about this later, they’re possibly rounding up fish under the surface). I’m writing this half an hour after that first sighting, they’re now further away, but there’s still an occasional jump or two as they head off. Suspect they knew I didn’t have much to say for day 3 and obliged with a show.

My night watches remain moonless for now. It’s a new moon today, and what little sliver of moon there has been up there, currently sets at sun set. That’s fine - this journey is long enough that we’ll have all phases of the moon along the way.

In the darkness, I hear some splashing over the normal sound of the waves coming from the water behind us. I put a head torch on to investigate, and find a shoal of tuna just below the surface darting around, following the boat. Not an opportunity to be missed - I already have my life jacket on and I’m tethered to the boat. I dip the lure in the water just off the stern (the lure, which incidentally has been dragged behind the boat in daylight hours for the last three days to no effect) within seconds: Snap! The rod bends, the line squeals and I pull up a three meal sized tuna. Quickly dispatch it, clean it and pop it in the fridge to fillet in the morning.

Wind dropped at 11pm and we’re back to motoring for a few hours.

Day 4 (Wednesday 22 March)

Just a whisper of wind, sunny, flattish seas, no swell to speak of.

Woke to a sad faced Chez and the words ‘it’s looking bleak’

Are we sinking? Are hungry sharks circling?

Thankfully no.. only a forecast lack of wind.

On the good news front, both sails are up, we’re heading in the right direction - albeit at a very very slow pace - and the upcoming lull is possibly the perfect weather for spinnaker sailing. Just need to keep the Captain cheerful until the wind returns.

Before I tell you the next exciting instalment, I need to explain what can be seen out here: nothing. There are clear skies above and flat blue sea to the horizon on all sides. Now I’ve set the scene, onto the big news of the morning: a toilet seat floated past. That is all.

Had a nice afternoon nap, and woke to a cheerful Captain and an email from Charlie - both of which brighten the heart. The wind has picked up enough to cease the incessant sail flapping which had jarred the nerves this morning.

In our current position we have:

To the North: Costa Rica

To the South: Antarctica

To the East: Colombia

To the West: Borneo

As the sun sets today - Chez downloads an updated weather forecast. The area of ‘lull’ that had been concerning her this morning has grown again. This could mean a few things:

1. Yet more motoring - but we only have finite diesel reserves.. that brings us on to:

2. Stopping in the Galapagos to either top up diesel and/or wait for the weather to improve. This would potentially be a very costly option.

3. Bobbing around waiting for the weather to change - as they would have done in the olden days… fishing, hands to bathe, making up shanties, splicing ropes etc.

Having mentioned option 3 to the Captain, it didn’t merit a reply.. she simply turned toward the ocean thinking Captainy thoughts, a look of disdain on her face.

A little later, we hear from our friends on Salty Ginger - they’re in the same situation as us (no wind), but have the added bonus of an expert remote weather router (‘MetBob’). They’ve decided to head SSE to try and find some more wind. Before hearing from them, we’d come to roughly the same conclusion. We are now motoring due South (towards Antarctica!) to hopefully pick up sufficient wind in the next 24hrs to have us sailing for the majority of the next few days. It remains to be seen if the forecast will be accurate. For now at least, it seems we’ve made the right decision based on the information available, and it’s one we’re both comfortable with.

Very dark again tonight - we’ve turned off the stern navigation light, and can now see the twinkling phosphorescent trail we leave in the water behind us: a truely magical phenomenon.

Treated myself to a film on the laptop to while away some of the night watch: ‘Tomorrow War’ (8/10.. I enjoyed it). I paused every 20mins for a look around - no traffic seen all night.

Day 5. (Thursday 23 March)

Sunny, very hot, mirror flat water, not even a whisper of wind - pretty to look at, but no good for sailing.

In the stiflingly hot conditions, we decided to try out the spinnaker. There’s possibly not enough wind for even that light sail, but the alternatives (motoring or bobbing) aren’t overly appealing.

In hindsight, I should have:

A: Had a little more sleep

B: Had some breakfast first

C: Kept my fluid intake up

D: Put a T-shirt on

E: Worn a hat.

…but I didn’t do any of those things and instead threw myself into the setup of the spinnaker sail as the sun baked down on my head up at the bow. We did manage to get it up, and it flew for a few moments here and there, but there really isn’t enough wind, so after it collapsed for the umpteenth time, we decided it was time to take it down again. I then started regretting all my A to E decisions. The upshot was, I was up on the bow tugging on a line to try and snuff the sail, got a bit light headed, legs started to go, and I had to physically plonk down on deck before I fainted. Chez went into nurse mode - got me back into the cockpit, laid me down and started applying cold towels to bring my temperature back down. Soon felt a lot better. I asked her if I looked pale.. “No love, you look like a beetroot!”

During this nursing period, Chez let out an excited gasp - a massive striped marlin (~2m) did a series of jumps in front of, and across our bow. What a magnificent creature! Seeing it up close, I realise my rods and reels are really not up to the task. Truth be told, I don’t think I’d particularly like to catch one anyway - I struggle with my conscience enough with bashing the dinner sized tunas I pull up.

The wind remained elsewhere throughout the afternoon - a frustrating situation, but nothing to be done about it.

At the start of my night watch (7ish) I try turning the engine off to see how we fare in the lightest of breezes. Slowly is the answer to that question (averaged 1.8knots in the last 1/2 hour) - at time of writing, I’m persisting with it, if Chez can sleep, and I can put up with the occasional flap of the sails, we may as well save some diesel while we can, and hope for a change in the weather tomorrow. By 10pm despite my persistence, there is no getting away from the fact that there is absolutely no wind whatsoever - engine back on.

Having enjoyed the film last night, I try another one I haven’t seen before: ‘The Green Knight’ (2/10 utter crap).. it did however fill 2 hours of boring night watch.

Day 6. (Friday 24 March)

Grey skies and fast blowing squall related wind (..at least to start with)

Woke at 7ish to wind coming through the front cabin’s hatches above my head, and the sound of Chez up on deck winding winches. There’s an ugly looking wall of grey storm clouds to Starboard. This has brought with it some monotony breaking wind. There followed an exhilarating hour (just the one) of reefed, well filled sails and a nice tilting heel as we cut through the water at around 7knots.

What do storms do? They pass, and sadly (that’s a first) this one did as well. By 9am, the wind is gone again and the engine is back on.

Coffee, pancakes and the last of the fresh pineapple for breakfast.

All in all, not a bad start to the day.

We are now about 120nms North of the equator. This being the case, I’ve spent a large part of yesterday and today refining the traditional ‘Equatorial Baptism’ ceremony - more to follow in the next few days on that.

Another stiflingly hot day today.. not really all that surprising though given our location. Other than this mornings short spell of useable wind, it’s another day without a whisper.

Digging through some old notes on my phone, I came across this excerpt from Homer’s “The Odyssey”. I’d shared it with Martin and Debbie after one of their boat visits to us in the Med. It well described the conditions during their stay.

"Neptune gathered his clouds together, grasped his trident, stirred it round in the sea, and roused the rage of every wind that blows till earth, sea, and sky were hidden in cloud. Night sprang forth out of the heavens. Winds from East, South, North, and West fell upon the boat all at the same time, and a tremendous sea got up”

I thought I’d try and describe the current conditions in the same style:

“Neptune continued his extended nap. His trident, for yet another day remained inert at his side. The sea all around as flat as polished glass. The only wind that blew was the barest of whispers as he gently snored in his sleep.”

- Richy King 2023

Late afternoon. After receiving another benign weather forecast we reach the conclusion that we may well need to make an unscheduled stop in the Galápagos Islands for diesel. On the face of it, a chance of a lifetime. However the hoops to be jumped through for the local customs and immigration mean it’s really not our preferred option. I suspect if Charles Darwin had had sufficient diesel, he too may have given it a miss!

At the night watch cinema tonight we have a double bill:

‘Once upon a time in Mexico’

(6/10, Not great, entertaining all the same)

‘The Escapist’

(7/10, Prison break, standard stuff)

…and the usual: 20 minute look around into complete darkness: no ships, no wind.

Day 7. (Saturday 25 March)

Light winds - sunny, flattish seas

We needed to top up the engine oil this morning (the engine has had a slow leak since Greece). This gave us a nice period of peace with the engine off. Surprisingly, there was sufficient wind to keep us moving forward in roughly the right direction. So for now at least - it remains off - yay!

Having come to the conclusion about a possible Galápagos fuel stopover last night, this morning we drafted an email to a couple of agents to find out what the process is and the feasibility of doing so. We wait and see.

…didn’t need to wait too long: Javier from Yacht Agents Galápagos emailed back and confirmed we can stop for a fuel top up without checking in and be back on our way within a few hours. That’s still 2 or 3 days away, but nice to have that setup.

Slow day with the engine off, but we’re drift/sailing in the right direction regardless.

Home made curry for dinner (…as opposed to a takeaway: we’re out of the delivery area) which was excellent.

Briefly joined by jumping dolphins after dinner, Chez scared them off by raising her phone and uttering the line: ‘They always disappear when I start videoing’… sure enough, that was the last we saw of them!

In a classic case of ‘be careful what you wish for’ - come sunset there are some ominous looking browny/purple clouds rapidly building on the horizon directly in front of us…. Maybe Neptunes awoken from his slumber… we’ll see.

Thankfully, at time of writing, they seem to have come to nothing.

Tonight’s film delights:

‘Fury’ (7/10 well made but grim)

‘Hacker’ (…not sure, I’m only half way through). The clouds which had promised an interesting night earlier in the evening turned into a good sailable wind by midnight creating a film intermission. Both sails up and engine off - fingers crossed that this non-forecast blow keeps us going for a good few hours. - it did: until 10am the next morning.

That’s the end of week 1.