Day 31
I see a full moon arising over Fakarava
Our final open-water passage is about as ideal as you could wish.
Current conditions:
Wind is from the east at 14 knots on our port quarter.
Seas are on the quarter with a 2-3 foot swell.
Speed over ground averages 7.5 knots.
The sun was shining, with scattered thunderheads creating a dramatic skyline, but slowly the clouds have taken over.
It all feels so normal, even the tiredness that comes after the first night at sea after two nights at an anchorage. The gentle movement helps. It means that the breakfast oatmeal is easy to make, showers aren’t a struggle, and everyone feels fairly relaxed.
Yesterday afternoon we had a moment that was anything but as the downwind runner completed its fall from grace. Once David’s beloved new toy, he shoved it back into the sail bag after another attempt to get it flying, vowing to give it to the first poor sucker who asked. The idea of the sail sounds good, but the practicalities involve too many lines, poles, winches, and general faff.
Not worth it.
David taking stock of all the faff.
Language tidbit:
Faff (noun, verb) any bit of time-sucking nonsense or the action thereof. Related to ‘fuss’ or ‘bother,’ but generally more inconsequential and ergo more annoying. Often heard issuing from a parent’s mouth to an offending offspring ten minutes after the scheduled departure time: “Stop faffing around and get in the car!” Or “What a load of faff. Get in the car.”
Special usage: any item left on a counter, bench or other flat surface on Leona, be it book, sunglasses, iPhone or mug. “Wind is shifting; batten down the faff!”
Throughout that particular bout of faff, Captain Georgie remained calmly at the helm, the rest of us scrambling on the foredeck as smooth and steady a ride as possible. Once the thing was stowed, she took us through the Northern Pass with ease and grace.
For our final morning, we may be relaxed but not faffing. Laundry, inventory, minor repairs, everyone is on task. Wilfred will make his papa proud as he has rigged up a fishing line, hoping for a yellowfin or even a mahi-mahi bite. A cold glass of Sauvignon Blanc and some fresh grilled fish would make a fabulous final dinner in the slack line.
Speaking of fishing, despite encouragement from afar, we resisted any temptation to fish in the Tuamotus lagoons. There is a nasty bug prevalent in the reefs that works its way through the food chain. Once it gets to humans, Ciguatera poisoning causes all sorts of weird and nasty symptoms, from digestive to neurological, occasionally including the big D. It has been around since before Captain Cook’s adventures, and no one has quite figured out what causes an outbreak or how to control it. The bug is officially called Gambierdiscus and is a benthic dinoflagellate. Say that five times quickly.
Luckily pelagic fish don't seem to be affected, so this far out we should be fine.
Other tasks for the day include cracking the lovely bunch of coconuts we acquired in Nuku Hiva. They have been happily hanging out in the galley, occasionally rolling across the floor when the seas got a tad hairy, awaiting that perfect moment. Like today.
A drill released the water (to be used later in rum drinks), and a saw and screwdriver finished the task. Despite dire warnings about knives, waves and Georgie’s over-enthusiastic approach to extracting the meat, she and Wilf managed to avoid (mostly) any bloodshed and fill the bowl. Now we just need to figure out how to use the meat. Maybe we weren’t really prepared for this moment after all.
With roughly 90 miles left, we should be approaching Mo’orea around 3am. Not sure what to think about that….