Better not jinx it.

Tuesday, March 5th, 2024, 11AM.

Sure enough, we jinxed it. Our steering cable snapped just the way it happened during our passage from Mexico to Hawaii two years ago. Luckily, this time we have a brand new one in stock and there is no need for a makeshift DIY fix as was the case then. Also, by now we’ve gained experience in pulling cables, haven’t we Peter? We now call ourselves the Cable Pullers of the Pacific.

So, I clear out the locker where the cables run, dive headfirst into that super cramped crawl space with my feet hanging out and pull the new cable through with quite a bit of effort. I hand it over to My Captain who stands contorted in various angles above in our bedroom to receive it. Only to realize that the new cable is half a meter too short. The steering cable setup consists of two halves: a shorter one and a longer one. This time, it was the longer one that snapped, and we were trying to replace it with the shorter one.

On to Plan B: pulling the damaged steel wire from the sheath of the longer broken cable and replace it with super-strong Dyneema rope. Unfortunately, we can’t get any movement in that heavy-duty stainless-steel wire. It won’t budge. My Captain, always the resourceful problem solver, constructs a contraption with a small wooden board clamping the frayed end of the steel wire which protrudes from the sheath of the cable. He mounts this board with the frayed wire behind a cleat and starts pulling it with a line over the winch. Holding the wooden board against the cleat, I say my prayers. The tension on that wire!!!! But the winch wins in the end. With that wire finally out we try to guide the Dyneema rope through: it immediately jams. Inside, the sheath is totally ruined, and nothing can slide through anymore.
In the meantime, several hours have gone by and it is getting dark. Thank god for the hydraulic system of the autopilot which dutifully keeps O2 on her course..

On to Plan C: after some thought, My Captain suggests using the previous broken cable from Hawaii to temporarily extend the new, too-short cable so we will be able to make it to Hiva Oa in time to hug our friend visiting from Belgium. My Captain walks back to the foredeck to fetch that old discarded cable from his tool locker and he returns with a sheepish grin on his face… and with yet another brand-new cable, the correct length this time. So, we actually brought two spare steering cables, one of each size. In the heat of the moment, it had slipped his mind.
My first impulse was to push him overboard, then I decided he deserved a hug after all.

Friday, March 8th, 2024, 11:30 AM
N 13 28 127 – W 115 53 566
Typically, on these passages, the ocean feels vast and empty, in sharp contrast to the abundant sea life that kept showing off all around us while we were sailing down the West Coast from Alaska to Mexico. Not many sea birds around either, but we do need to watch out for squids and flying fish dropping in. It’s wise to keep the hatches slightly ajar, not wide open. Yes indeed! We have reached the southern threshold of wide open hatches, “marcellekes “ and flip-flop sailing. During the day that is, the nights are still a bit chilly. Shedding the fleeces, jackets and boots during the day is a sheer delight. After two sailing seasons in the higher latitudes, our heart is set on the tropics. 

But In order to get there, we must first confront “the zone”. Aka “the doldrums” aka the ITCZ (Inter Tropical Convergence Zone) The zone is notorious for a good reason. It’s the belt around the equator where the Tradewinds meet to die and where the sun heats the air to the point that the whole sky explodes “into an almost perpetual series of thunderstorms.” Amidst these “perpetual series of thunderstorms,” sailors of old got sometimes stuck for weeks on end, driving some of them stark raving mad. Doldrums, I’ll be damned. Fortunately, as part of our 21st-century arsenal, we have two robust 50-horsepower Volvo Penta engines on stand-by. That significantly changes the game. As long as we steer clear of lightning, all will be fine.

At 5:30 AM this morning, I am in between shifts in a deep dreamless sleep when I am startled awake by a loud snap followed by My Captain’s shout. He’s hollering my name. I grab my life vest, bump into the wall and hurry on deck in my lingerie -thank God for the mild weather of the lower latitudes- only to see the code zero sail down and dragging sideways into the ocean. But no worries, we’ve regained control of the situation. It’s just another tale to tell. Which we will do in the next post. Because now it is time for some serious comfort good.