Rocking & Rolling.

Tuesday, March 12th, 2024, 9 AM
N 06 53 208 W119 45 640

A week has passed and our high-performance downwind sails – the Parasailor and Code Zero- are still down due to the snapped suspension. To fix what is broken, My Captain needs to be hoisted to the top of the 20+ meter mast. By me and the electrical winch. Mid-ocean. To execute this maneuver without hazard to life – his life- we are waiting for a windless lull and an almost absent ocean swell. Which is not going to happen any time soon. 

But all it took to be back in the game was a slight shift in wind direction and an increase in true wind speed. With the reefed in standard sails alternating between a broad reach position and a downwind run, we keep accumulating miles at an acceptable pace. The extra push of that 20 knot true wind – up from 15 – works like magic.

At times, splashes and leaps from beneath in combination with dive-bombing birds from above prove us wrong: the emptiness of the ocean is nothing but an illusion. It’s teeming with life here. The swiftly moving bow of O2 startles the flying fish. They collectively shoot out of the way and launch themselves out of the water, flying for several meters before splashing down again. That’s when the seabirds come swooping in to snatch them up either midair or just beneath the surface. “Sorry about that, fish. You are most welcome, birds. Thanks for the show.” And when a shoal of rather smallish tuna-like silver fish join in the hunt, the ocean surface is bubbling with commotion. Those “tuna” are called “false albacore” and are absolutely disgusting to eat, according to Google. So, we’ll wait a bit longer before putting out that fishing lure. There’s still no room in the freezer anyway.

At 1620 nautical miles, we are past the halfway point now and we are about to enter “the zone”. Chris Parker, our weather router guy, has been preparing our entrance and exit from “the zone” as if we were a space rocket entering earth’s stratosphere. He truly has our backs, and it sure feels good. 

Wednesday, March 13th, 2024 ,01:00 AM
Just like that, the stars have disappeared, and the wind starts howling in the rigging. In seconds, the rain comes pouring down. It has been pouring down for over an hour now and a 27 knot wind is blasting us along. No need for motor sailing now.

Wednesday, March 13^th, 2024, 10:30 AM.
N 05 15 068 W 121 00 596
We haven’t caught fire when entering the “North Boundary of the Zone” but our port side 12-volt batteries do feel the heat. When we motor sail – as is the case now- our Integrel system automatically tops up the batteries. That’s when yet another boat part decided to throw in the towel: the fan that forces air over the batteries to keep the heat within boundaries while charging, stopped functioning. So, we keep the lid of the engine room wide open for the outside air to have free play whenever we have the engine running. The only problem: that outside air is of equatorial origin. A good thing we can switch engines when the system gets orange in the face and starts yelling at us to help it cool down. Our bodies are showing fewer issues and seem to have already adapted well to the change in latitude. At the age of 67, we appreciate to have the warm wind in our hair. The rain less so.