Day 23

After an easy night watch, with wave-tops painted silver by the half-moon, I woke up in a slightly blue-ish mood. Was I tired? Dehydrated? Seasick? Then I saw the chart screen and discovered our next way-point is….wait for it…Iles du Desappointement.

That’s right, we are sailing right for the Disappointment Islands. Of course the coconut crème brûlée sail of yesterday has melted away to be replaced with a Brussels sprouts sea (and no, I still won’t like them if I just try yours).

But then I take a breath, look around and say, OK. I am in the South Pacific on Leona with this happy crew. I can deal with Brussels sprouts.

There is a very good reason for our new way-point, this small group of coral atolls to the north-west of the main Tuamotu Archipelago, and it is not to rescue the spurned contestants from Love Island. On Saturday morning we are expecting stronger winds on the beam, so this heading gives us space to bear away (see previous note about “falling off,” and don’t forget the fact that there is never just one way to refer to something in sailing) and arrive at Makemo on schedule.

Speaking of vegetables and tropical desserts, forgive all my provisioning talk, kind reader, as food takes up a lot of my focus. What do we have on board? What needs to be eaten first? Where did we store it? Can we prep it while standing at an angle? Like a classic episode of Chopped, what can you make with a half a cabbage, a couple of pamplemousse, and a tin of tuna? If you’re Georgie, we’re in luck. She will come up with not one, but multiple different fabulous Citrus Slaws to brighten our noons.

The bag of green papayas and pamplemousse from Monette’s garden.
And yes, it is fun to say pamplemousse.

We have learned how to create meals with a minimum of fuss. Last night is a case in point: we had spicy fried potatoes, ginger-honey chicken, and some unidentified island greens (a type of kale, I believe) steamed with garlic and lemon, all cooked in one pan and served in one bowl. Certainly makes those on jankers happy.

Linguistic tidbit:

“Jankers” is the term David’s family used to refer to washing up, and if you cook, you are never on jankers. Given that it is the British Army term for a minor disciplinary action, one might understand his attitude to that particular job. However,  in good British fashion, he puts on his stiff upper lip and apron and uncomplainingly gets to work.

Last night’s dinner tasted better than it looks

For my technically minded readers, a status report on all the little challenges Leona has tossed our way:

  • The fans in the engine room need to be replaced. We are managing the situation by using the engine as little as possible.

  • The toilet is fixed. I leave it at that.

  • The naughty dinghy is a work in progress but resting comfortably, with fuel line reattached, davits secured, and wheel installation on pause till further notice. She has earned the name Joker.

I do wonder if there is a gremlin among us, the kind that hides the littlest kitchen knife or wrenches the handle off a galley hatch. Leona is not a huge space, so where do those random little objects hide themselves?

On open water once again, we have fallen back into our daily routine of snatched naps, quick mealtime gatherings, and nightly watches. The tropical air can lead to inertia, but there is always time later….

…and the seas are sweet once more.