It has been a bit squally recently.

Tuesday, March 19th, 04:45 PM

The sun makes its theatrical exit as the wind gloriously takes center stage. OMG, this feels sooo good: the rhythmic swoosh of water rushing past our hulls on an ocean as flat as canvas, the steady 15-knot push in sails taut and stable on a close-hauled portside tack, the engines quiet at last. If only Billy was still here. He took off this morning after being our ‘compagnon de route’ for 6 whole days. He’s dearly missed. (The guano not much so). Especially the way he used to return from his fishing trips, swooping in like a plane landing on an aircraft carrier.

Wednesday, March 20th, 11:00 PM

So far, we have managed to stay clear of major thunder & lightning shows. Occasionally, far away in the distance, lightning does flash across the night sky. But there’s nothing to fear, and there’s certainly no need for starting cables in the water. It is simply beautiful to behold.

This is what the radarscreen looked like just before it came pouring down. As long as the blob doesn’t turn purple, we’re good.

This evening, however, My Captain had to power through a veritable squall train. It’s a good thing he was a warned man, thanks to the first heavy downpour I endured the night before. We won’t easily forget that one. It has taught us both a vital lesson: outdoor unprotected navigational touchscreens don’t do well when pounded by rain.

O2 made a sudden 180-degree turn with a wildly flapping Genoa sail in a 25-knot wind and I was at a loss. I couldn’t figure out what was going on. It’s the only time on this passage that I got My Captain out of bed to stand by me and to help me understand so that we could rectify the situation. He did, and now we know: the raindrops were messing with the autopilot’s commands. Now, before the rain starts coming down in buckets, we use the hard top to cover up the outdoor touchscreen before it can go berserk. Simply disabling the touchscreen didn’t work.

The epic cloud formations keep us mesmerized.

Thursday, March 21st, 07:26 AM
S 07 14 163 W 129 02 233

This is the moment of truth: will we be out of the boondocks? We are! We have caught the Southeast Tradewinds and shifted our course from due South to straight West. We are zooming toward Atuona on Hiva Oa, one of the 12 main islands of the Marquesas group in French Polynesia. It’s hard to believe we’ve made it this far already. Twenty-two days on the ocean and another 600 nautical miles of the 3270 to go. We’re speeding under sail on a white-capped ocean, the swell is wild, and O2 is pitching and rolling like a mustang. Still 23% of the initial 660-liter diesel left. O2 has never been too fuel-hungry, and we’ve always cut the engines whenever the doldrums allowed us to do so. It wasn’t often, but it has clearly paid off.

It’s a vast playing field.
Westward bound, into the sunset. French Poly will be our playground for the upcoming season. First the wild and volcanic Marquesas, then the dreamy atolls of the Tuamotus and last but not least the main tourist draw of the Society Islands.
Into the sunset.

Friday, March 22nd, 08:07 AM
S 07 41 973 W131 05 014

According to Chris Parker & team, our ETA (Estimated Time of Arrival) is this Tuesday.
Now we are talking ! Hail the SE Tradewinds.

Hail the SE Tradewinds! They are propelling us towards Hiva Oa at an average speed of 6.5 knots. The exhilaration we’re feeling now is what the sailors of old must have felt doubly strong when they had finally escaped the deadly stillness of powerless bobbing on an ocean of no return. We’ve just received Chris Parker’s final update: we’re sailing “right on target, so direct” that we can already taste the “Pamplemousses”. But for now, some coconut chicken curry first.

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