Day 8
It’s been a week since we left Santa Barbara under grey skies. We still have grey skies, although it is considerably warmer, allowing us to stow our wet weather gear and break out t-shirts and shorts. Yesterday’s jibe nudged our heading further south, with the wind now on our port quarter. (See Day 5 for “wind on the quarter”). With Leona now heeling to starboard, I can safely handle cabbages without a harness, making the Chinese Chicken Salad prep last night a tad bit easier.
A sailing tidbit:
heeling is the correct term for the boat leaning to one side.
Some details:
1. we have sailed 1145 miles from Santa Barbara.
2. we have averaged 7 knots for the past 24 hours.
3. the windspeed has dropped to 10-12 knots.
4. the seas have dropped to 4-5 feet.
5. we have about 800 miles until we hit the Inter Tropical Convergence Zone, AKA the Doldrums.
A relatively quiet ocean means less chance of flying ingredients. Or knives.
David concluded his night watch by making us all breakfast burritos: a wonderful way to start the day.
Note to self: next time we sail across the Pacific, double up on the flour tortillas. They pack easily, last a long time, and eliminate the need for a plate. David may have professed a deep dislike for wraps when on land; on the ocean he sings their praises.
The cleanest camper I know gave me the Scrubba bag, a portable washing machine. Everyone on board thanks you, Liz!
A week on board necessitated a flurry of activity this morning. Georgie got crazy with the vacuum. I broke out the e-cloths for some targeted non-chemical cleaning. The Scrubba bag went to work on dish towels and undies.
And then the fun really started. With light winds and a downwind heading, it was time to break out the Downwind Runner: the double-sized diamond-shaped sail that sits on the very front of the bow, replacing jib and genoa. Lines were strung; poles were lowered, raised, lowered, raised; more lines were strung. And then, despite Jeff’s attempt to furl David in with the genoa, we unleashed the beauty and have returned to our 8 knot average.
The Downwind Runner spreads her wings.
David back up the mast for another repair job.
But we weren’t done there. David discovered a broken flood light by the radar and had to go back up the mast for another repair job, this time holding Gorilla glue and electrical tape. Without gluing himself to the mast, he efficiently executed his task and returned to deck, where a cup of tea and slice of fresh banana bread (courtesy of Georgie and Krusteaz) awaited. All bananas have now been frozen or eaten, and a family of onion squatters has moved into the banana hammock.
And all this before noon.
Just a slight starboard list to Georgie’s beautiful banana loaf
What is it about dolphins?
Books, poetry, songs, myths, art going back to the Greeks and before try to capture that ineffable magic, that tingle of joyful recognition when we spot their unmistakable selves leaping and speeding to the bow of a boat. I still own a souvenir urn my parents gave me as a child with the depiction of a Minoan fresco on the side, and seeing dolphins sends me right back to my 6-year-old self, entranced with these creatures that seem so familiar and yet so other-worldly. Weren’t dolphins the ones who escaped Earth’s destruction in Douglas Adam’s Hitchhiker’s Guide series?
And here they are today: deep in the Pacific, a huge pod found us and worked their magic once again. Kneeling up at the very bow of the boat, Georgie and I squeal and laugh like 6-year-olds.