As I sit and write this we are sailing at 6.5 knots in exactly the right direction. The seas are flat, the sky clear, and the temperature perfectly comfortable for shorts and a t-shirt. Today is another beautiful day in the long string of warm, clear, gentle days that we have enjoyed on this passage. I will be sure to keep this passage in mind the next time I am freezing my butt off, beating against an uncomfortable chop, and wondering why I go cruising at all. At least for me, those days are much more numerous than the nice ones when I look back at the days that I have spent on the water in my lifetime. In fact, this entire passage has been made up of “ten percent” days–those really nice ones that convince me that it isn’t completely crazy to keep going back out to sea. I am pretty sure at this point that a full ninety percent of the time that I am sailing the weather is contrary, dreary, or uncomfortable for one reason or another, including flat calms and wilting heat. This is probably not everyone’s experience, but I have spent a lot of time sailing out of season, on the shoulders of the good seasons, and in places where the weather just isn’t going to be ideal the majority of the time. Why do I do that? I am not quite sure myself. It ensures plenty of room in the anchorages that I visit, at least. I guess if I were seeking comfort I would have kept my full-time job and cushy sofa rather than trading them for uncertain income and a thin piece of foam set on plywood sheltered by a leaky deck. Even on the best of days out here I can’t leave my cup of tea unsupervised if I h ave set it on a on a flat surface and I probably have not enjoyed the luxury of a shower in recent memory. Back to how things are out here on S/V Starlight, currently two hundred miles from Nuku Hiva, I am very happy with the speed that we have made on this leg so far. We have done as well as I could have expected for this boat, especially loaded the way she is. Nobody has been seasick, and everyone has enjoyed the freedom from frequent sail trimming and reefing. Except for rolling in a little of the genoa a couple of times to keep it from slatting, and occasionally making a small tweak here and there, we haven’t made any sail changes since leaving the Galapagos.
Well, don’t pull out the “Mission Accomplished” banner yet. I just mean that we are down to only a thousand miles between us and our next intended port of call. That is still quite a few miles to go, but it doesn’t feel like all that much after just a couple of weeks ago looking out at three thousand miles of water separating us from our next stop. Things have been going very well so far. The strategy of staying at this low latitude has kept the wind at a good angle for the most part, and we have been making pretty good time as well. The boat is holding together too, with no real problems to report at this time. Several days ago, while checking the rig over, I discovered a long pan-head machine screw in the mainsail cover. It never gives me a warm feeling to find bits of hardware that have fallen off the boat, but I could immediately rule it out as one of the more critical parts of the rig. I dropped it in my pocket and figured the solution to this little puzzle would eventually come to me. A while later, I was looking up at the main, checking for chafe, when I noticed three batten tension adjusting screws had backed themselves halfway out of the end fittings. Aha. Mystery solved. Ido and I took the main down, replaced the screw from my pocket that had luckily dropped neatly into the mainsail cover from forty feet up, and tightened the other adjusting screws. We also found that one of the bolts holding one of the universal joint together on one of the batten cars had disappeared, leaving the batten free f rom the car that holds it to the mast. We replaced the missing bolt with a cotter pin and checked all the others for tightness. All else in order, we re-hoisted the main and were again on our way. The wind has been almost always between 10 and 20 knots on his leg, the weather mostly fine, and temperatures warm, but comfortable. We couldn’t have asked for better conditions and I think that everyone aboard knows that the comfortable ease of the past couple thousand miles will be remembered fondly for years to come. Here’s hoping the last third of the passage is even close to being as nice as things have been to this point.
By tomorrow morning, if all continues to go well, we will cross the halfway point of our passage to the Marquesas. We are 10 days and almost 1,500 miles out from our last port. We have been sailing a route closer to the equator than the rhumb line, or shortest distance between ports, to take advantage of the slightly stronger favorable current here and also the fact that the wind is closer to abeam. The last detail is important because this boat has only working sails and does not even carry a whisker or spinnaker pole for downwind work, which makes sailing on any course deeper than a broad reach a slow, noisy proposition as the sails slat and bang with each passing wave. We have the mainsail cranked down tight with a preventer, but there is little to be done for the genoa once it is blanketed by the mainsail, save for furling it. The engine mounts are still holding together. The cause of the extra vibration that I had mentioned in my last post was due to the boat owner starting and running the engine in reverse when charging the batteries. Because of friction in the shift cable, he was having a difficult time finding neutral, an easy mistake to make. I showed him how to double-check for neutral before starting, so hopefully the problem is solved. We caught a nice mahi mahi several days ago, so everyone has been eating plenty of fish. We just finished up the last of it yesterday, so the fishing lines can go back in again. I don’t like to risk catching more than we can eat, to avoid needless waste. Hopefully we will get a quick strike again when we want one. When I threw the lure in the last time, the fish was on before I could let out ten meters of line. That certainly made it easier reeling him in, which I especially appreciated due to the fact that we have only hand lines aboard. Landing the fish on the swim platform was very easy and made me think about how much more difficult it would be to haul a fish up onto my own boat. I have no alternative but to land fish in the cockpit or on the side deck. It is encouraging to see the little string of “X”‘s, our noon positions, keep stretching farther westward across the chart…
A rough day in the harbor in Puerto Ayora, Santa Cruz Island in the Galapagos. You can see how close our neighbor is to the surf. Just after I had put the camera away, a wave broke completely over this boat!
The things that make a story more interesting are usually not pleasant to live through. We were supposed to leave almost a week ago, but I became ill with the common traveler’s curse the day before we planned to go, possibly because of something that I ate, but more likely from the local water source. The effect on my system was bad enough to make me seek medical attention for the first time that I can remember in my adult life (outside of problems that required stitches or repairing broken bones). After two injections, a course of 2 different medications, choking down 3 days of a re-hydrating mineral solution, and several days on a strong probiotic prescribed by the hospital, I feel much better now. A follow-up visit has pronounced me still a little dehydrated, but fit enough to sail. Fantastic. We’ll be leaving as soon as we get our new clearance papers.
Look carefully at the boats and you’ll see there is quite a chop in the harbor. The sailboat on the left is Starlight, and the one on the right is a Swan 46. Click on the picture to enlarge.
We’re all ready to be underway again. This has been a wonderful stop, but we’ve explored the area to our content. Also, the anchorage here can be uncomfortable when the wind kicks up from the southeast, which is the direction it has blown from every day since we arrived. Any swell rolls right into the harbor from relatively deep water, keeping things lively for those of us on monohulls. When the wind kicks up and a chop gets added to the mix, things get even worse. Most of the time that we’ve been here Starlight rolls and bounces around enough to make it feel like we’re still at sea. You can see that we have been rolling a lot because we’ve accumulated bottom growth at least a foot above the waterline on the topsides of the hull.
On the very bad days, the swell will kick up and break in the harbor. At the top of this post is a picture of the boat that is moored next to us. When the swell is large, the waves break awfully close to this boat, and on one rough day the biggest waves were breaking where the boat was moored. Where we are anchored with Starlight, the waves were standing up and getting steep, but not quite enough to threaten breaking. Several boats have ended up on the rocks in this port in the past 6 months, including at least one of the supply ships, according to the owner of the mast-less boat. I never forget that we’re not far from a lee shore when the wind kicks up here.
Enough of a break in the clouds to almost see a sunset…
At least getting back and forth to the boat is pretty easy, thanks to the excellent water taxi service in the harbor. The taxis run 24/7 and the price is fixed at $.80/per person per trip during the day and $1 per person at night. This can still add up, but when I think about some yacht clubs I’ve been to that charge $3-4 per person per trip plus expect a tip on top of that, it seems downright cheap. I also don’t think that we’ve ever really waited more than about 5 minutes for a taxi, which is a nice contrast to days that I remember baking in the sun for a half an hour or more on a moored boat in harbors in New England in the summer waiting for the launch driver to finally decide that I was going to be lucky enough to get a ride to shore.
Before getting sick, Idoia and I got out to explore a few more of the surrounding sights, including the rock formations and Las Grietas, Tortuga Bay, a private ranch in the interior of the island, and some lava tunnels left over from when the island was formed 5 million years ago.
Marine iguanas sunning in Puerto AyoraCactus forest near Tortuga BayInside a lava tunnel on Rancho El Chato
Rock formations at Las GrietasLas Grietas are a series of what are described locally as “fjords”, crevices in the volcanic rock with clear fresh water at the bottom. They are a great, protected place to swim and snorkel.
Pools of water in the volcanic rock create an otherworldly landscape. This is near the trail to Las Grietas.More rock pools on the trail to Las Grietas
One of Darwin’s finches at Las GrietasUnidentified bird on the beach at Tortuga Bay
Pelican at Tortuga BayDunlin on the beach at Tortuga Bay
Entry to Rancho El Chato. The uplands of Santa Cruz are rich and green, with many farms.The giant land tortoises really are impressively huge. It was great to see them roaming free in the high interior of Santa Cruz.You might have to share the gangway to the water taxi with a sea lion in Puerto AyoraThe local market in Puerto Ayora. There is a good selection of fresh fruit, vegetables, and meat. The prices on fresh food are reasonable.Everyone is turtle crazy here, including this guy. There’s not much headroom in there…There’s even turtle graffiti on construction sites here.This is as close to a sunset as we have seen here. A break in the clouds at least let a little color through this evening.
USS Apache at dusk, with the small fishing boat just barely visible as a dark smudge forward of, and to the right of the ship.
Today at 0700 I spotted an open fishing boat with three men aboard about a half mile off our port bow. They soon began motoring towards us, and the usual thoughts went through my head–maybe they had something to trade, or they wanted cigarettes or fuel. Soon, though, they began waving clothing on an oar. Hmm… We were just over a hundred miles off the Columbian coast, so I began to wonder if they had any bad intentions. They were close enough at that point that I could see that they didn’t have any fishing gear in the boat. Maybe they were waving us away from a net they had out. I started the engine and roused the off-watch. We go a few more bodies on deck, and the boat was soon alongside, where they stayed, asking for water and food and waving their almost-empty fuel can.
At this point, I put out the first of many VHF calls trying to alert others in our area of our situation. The men in the boat said that they had been blown off of the coast 4 days prior and had no water or other supplies besides what was left of a the very ripe stalk of bananas that I could see in the front of their open boat. Their 70 hp outboard was now running on fumes. I passed up 3 gallons of water while Idoia passed them a dock line as a tow rope because they were shaking their empty gas can. We wanted to keep them at a little distance while we considered their situation and tried to raise help from passing ships, because at this point nobody had answered our calls, so we were feeling a bit alone out there.
We tried getting a radio relay to the coast guard from a couple of ships, but did not receive any confirmation though we managed to raise a reply from one ship. Luckily, we were able to message friends through our Iridium GO, and through the help of Jackie Mahan in the U.S. and Juan in Spain we were able to get through to the U.S. and Panamanian coast guards. We passed some food to the fishermen and settled in to wait. After a few hours of standing by with the boat in tow, we received word that a U.S. ship was on its way from Panama, as we were too far offshore for any of the Panamanian boats to render assistance.
By this time, a squall had set down on us with heavy rain, wind, and lighting, so we took the fishermen aboard Starlight, as by this time it was apparent that they really were in distress, and also help was on the way in the form of the U.S.S. Apache. We had been slowly reaching along, trying to stay more or less in the same area where we had first picked up the fishing boat, but the Apache was coming out of Balboa, so we changed course to head back to Panama to help close the distance between us and the responding ship. The wind and current were coming from their direction, which made for slow going.
It was almost dark when the Apache finally hove within sight. We put the fishermen back in their boat, gave them our contact information and a letter of introduction, and cast them off. The Apache quickly maneuvered into position and soon had the three men aboard. A short while later, their boat was hoisted on deck as well. I know that there are three very grateful men aboard the Apache tonight. I hope that we hear of their safe return home. 12 hours after first taking the fishermen alongside, we resumed our course towards Galapagos and are currently making good miles again. Our thanks to everyone involved in the rescue of those fishermen today!
Looking towards the Bridge of the Americas from Flamenco Hill
We are just getting ready to get underway for the Galapagos Islands. First, we will stop and fill our water tanks, but that is our last chore before heading to sea. The trip will cover about 960 miles and probably take 6-10 days, depending on the wind. Check the “Current Position” page for a map showing where we are, updated every hour.
We stopped for lunch with Bernard from the Contessa 26 “Little Minute”. The weather couldn’t have been better for a swim all almost out of sight of all land…
Idle Queen is back in Oriental, NC, for a visit and to get some maintenance done. I will get a trip log up soon. The last few days served up an interesting mix of weather, places, and people…
I am writing from a coffee shop in Portsmouth, VA. I can just see Idle Queen‘s mast from where I am sitting. It is wonderful not to have 6 layers of clothing on for the moment. Temperatures have moderated from the unseasonable cold that we experienced from the time we left Cape Cod until just a couple of days ago. Today’s high approached 60, and the low stayed way above freezing. It finally feels like we have made good progress south. Of course, it can get down into the teens here this time of year, but that is unusual. A week ago, we actually had temps that low.
The trip down the Chesapeake was slow, cold, and at times, rough. From Annapolis, we motored to Solomons, MD, where we spent Thanksgiving waiting out a gale. I decided to ride the tail end of that wind down to Little Creek, to visit with friends. The forecast called for light NW winds, so I figured that we would have to motor part of the way. We set out with 20 knots. OK. I thought it would taper off. Actually, it ended up staying up there, and then some. By the time we were nearing the southern end of the Chesapeake Bay, it was blowing 25 knots and gusting higher. The only sail up was a double-reefed main and the staysail, but we were cranking along at 6.5 knots and more. It was obvious that we would arrive in Little Creek much earlier than I wanted to. I was cold and tired, as the temps were in the high 20’s, so I decided to heave-to rather than enter the harbor at 0300. I found enough room and hove-to under just a double-reefed main. The next few hours were spent getting bounced around in a steep Chesapeake chop, but I could rest. Michele kept a lookout for traffic while we waited for first light.
As soon as 0600 rolled around, I unlashed the tiller and pointed us for Little Creek. With steep waves standing up in the entrance, the channel provided a bit of a challenge for the 35-foot sportfishing boat that I watched crashing out of the harbor in great white plumes of spray, but Idle Queen rode in on top of the waves without shipping even a few drops on deck. I needn’t have worried about entering this port in the dark. Little Creek has a huge, well-marked channel and I easily found a spot to anchor between the first two marinas. Sleep came quickly once the boat was secure.
In Little Creek, we had a marvelous visit with friends who also own a Dreadnought 32. They are a couple in their 30’s, which is a pretty small demographic among the cruising community. They have done a beautiful job renovating their boat, and I enjoyed soaking in ideas for improvements to make on Idle Queen.
As tempted as I was to stay in Little Creek for the winter, it was decided that we should push a little farther south before hauling Idle Queen for some much-needed maintenance. The current plan is to go at least as far as Oriental. We will be taking the Dismal Swamp Canal route, and will be making an early start tomorrow morning to catch a fair current. I am looking forward to a couple days on sheltered water…
