here's a map of the entire journey from hawaii to the bay area -- generated from our noontime GPS positions each day.
if you'd like to see ALL the photos taken on this crossing, not just the ones blogged here, please visit my Flickr site:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/lawatt/sets/72157600319536162/
and thanks for visiting this blog and reading the whole story!
Tuesday, July 10
day 15 - siderno at RYC
after 14.5 days at sea, Siderno is once again tied up to shore, this time at the Richmond Yacht Club -- and we've successfully crossed over 2000 miles over the pacific ocean from hawaii. so good to be home!!!
day 15 - cell phone frenzy
this photo was snapped by Mouse as we motored past Sausalito, heading to Raccoon Strait and then across to Richmond -- it's just hilarious, we were finally within cell phone range and so of course we all had to call someone!! (I'm either talking to my mom or leaving a message for Cissie, not sure which)
day 15 - going under!!!
Siderno's mast, sailing underneath the Golden Gate -- hooray, we're officially home!!!
I can't express how happy we all felt at this point -- it had been a wonderful trip, but also a long time to be at sea, and we were all ready to toss out docklines and be connected to land again.
I can't express how happy we all felt at this point -- it had been a wonderful trip, but also a long time to be at sea, and we were all ready to toss out docklines and be connected to land again.
Friday, July 6
day 15 - LFH!!!!
at precisely 12:14pm on day 15, as we approached the Farallones Islands, Tim suddenly pointed and hollered, "land fucking ho!!!" we could just barely make out the western slopes of Mount Tamalpias through the haze, but it was there.
hooray, we're nearly home! we'd not seen land for two weeks, so it was a real treat to see those familiar hills...
hooray, we're nearly home! we'd not seen land for two weeks, so it was a real treat to see those familiar hills...
day 15 - a real sunrise!
day 15 (thursday june 21, the summer solstice and my half-birthday) brought a surprise -- an actual sunrise! it'd been so overcast for days and days, this was almost startling to see... the fog layer soon returned for the rest of the morning, but oddly burned off as we got closer and closer to the california coast -- sort of the opposite of what we might have expected.
our cooking gas ran out in the middle of david's preparation of some delicious hash browns, but a reserve tank of gas saved the day... and the wind picked up again, up to about 20 knots, but we kept the motor on anyway, so eager to get home! and later in the morning coastal birds began to appear again -- i recorded the first seagull sighting at 11:30am.
noontime position: 37° 33' N, 123° 32' 5" W, and only 52 miles to go to Richmond Yacht Club, our final destination -- and we'd covered 171 nautical miles in the past 24 hours, despite very little wind -- running the engine at higher RPMs in hopes that we'd reach the bay before dark, so Mouse could see the Golden Gate as we sailed under it...
our cooking gas ran out in the middle of david's preparation of some delicious hash browns, but a reserve tank of gas saved the day... and the wind picked up again, up to about 20 knots, but we kept the motor on anyway, so eager to get home! and later in the morning coastal birds began to appear again -- i recorded the first seagull sighting at 11:30am.
noontime position: 37° 33' N, 123° 32' 5" W, and only 52 miles to go to Richmond Yacht Club, our final destination -- and we'd covered 171 nautical miles in the past 24 hours, despite very little wind -- running the engine at higher RPMs in hopes that we'd reach the bay before dark, so Mouse could see the Golden Gate as we sailed under it...
Thursday, July 5
day 14 - narrow sunset
another day of complete overcast, rather like the classic "june gloom" of southern calif -- wind was "gusting" to 6 knots on our morning watch, so Auto did the steering all day. there was a light misty grey rain in the morning, david made biscuits again PLUS polenta and scrambled eggs -- way too much food, all delicious
from my journal, just after noon:
"the ocean looks empty, but closer inspection reveals a multitude of Vela vela, the small jellyfish called 'by-the-wind sailors' -- the ones i've seen washed up on the beach are usually a few inches across, but these are all TINY, many no bigger than a fingernail -- like someone shook a saltshaker over the sea, leaving a generous sprinkling... Engine off briefly for a maintenance check -- it's SO quiet, just a gentle sloshing as the velas drift by on their proud little sails, and our own slatting sails in the barely-there breeze. a blue and grey world surrounds and envelopes... and now the rumble of the engine returns, and we keep churning our way toward the golden gate and home, only 218 miles to go."
noontime position: 36° 40' N, 126° 56' W, 156 nautical miles in the past 24 hours...
bits of sunshine appeared occasionally in the afternoon, but then the clouds closed back in again -- but left the slimmest edge free, right at the horizon, making for an incredibly narrow sunset -- I sat in the cockpit watching it progress (while david made amazing macaroni and cheese for dinner) for what seemed like ages, getting brighter and brighter as the sun got lower behind the clouds, looking like an edge of flames rising up out of the sea...
and once the sun got to that skinny gap, I made david come up to the cockpit to watch it, and we both saw a green flash as it finally sank into the ocean -- which neither of us had ever seen before! I only wish my camera could have caught it -- a brilliant green burst, lasting only part of a second as the sun made its departure. such an incredible treat, it felt like a wonderful gift...
night watch brought two ships passing us, and a crescent moon-set through that same small gap in the clouds on the horizon, turning the moon a dark orange -- i almost didn't recognize it as the moon at first!
from my journal, just after noon:
"the ocean looks empty, but closer inspection reveals a multitude of Vela vela, the small jellyfish called 'by-the-wind sailors' -- the ones i've seen washed up on the beach are usually a few inches across, but these are all TINY, many no bigger than a fingernail -- like someone shook a saltshaker over the sea, leaving a generous sprinkling... Engine off briefly for a maintenance check -- it's SO quiet, just a gentle sloshing as the velas drift by on their proud little sails, and our own slatting sails in the barely-there breeze. a blue and grey world surrounds and envelopes... and now the rumble of the engine returns, and we keep churning our way toward the golden gate and home, only 218 miles to go."
noontime position: 36° 40' N, 126° 56' W, 156 nautical miles in the past 24 hours...
bits of sunshine appeared occasionally in the afternoon, but then the clouds closed back in again -- but left the slimmest edge free, right at the horizon, making for an incredibly narrow sunset -- I sat in the cockpit watching it progress (while david made amazing macaroni and cheese for dinner) for what seemed like ages, getting brighter and brighter as the sun got lower behind the clouds, looking like an edge of flames rising up out of the sea...
and once the sun got to that skinny gap, I made david come up to the cockpit to watch it, and we both saw a green flash as it finally sank into the ocean -- which neither of us had ever seen before! I only wish my camera could have caught it -- a brilliant green burst, lasting only part of a second as the sun made its departure. such an incredible treat, it felt like a wonderful gift...
night watch brought two ships passing us, and a crescent moon-set through that same small gap in the clouds on the horizon, turning the moon a dark orange -- i almost didn't recognize it as the moon at first!
day 13 - albacore extravaganza
the weather lightened up again on day 13, and we went back to engine & autopilot after shaking the second reef out of the main -- david made everyone biscuits and eggs for breakfast, and we generally had a quiet day...
...until our 6-9pm watch, david put his trolling lines out again (first time since we caught the ahi tunas) around sundown, and within a half-hour at most we had a beautiful albacore on the line -- but no sooner had david reeled him in & ended his swimming days, ANOTHER one was on the line! in this photo you can see the second one trashing around in the cockpit, magnificently splattering the first one's blood everywhere. and the filleting knife snapped off in the first one's head, which was our only gear failure of the entire trip -- thankfully, david brought a lot of knives.
so somehow we managed to get them killed and cleaned and and then tidied up the double-murder scene (tuna blood is much darker than the mahis was, much more like human blood -- ick) without waking either tim or mouse up -- and david then set about turning a big chunk of one of the albacores into a plate of hamachi AND an incredibly delicious bowl of ceviche -- my favorite meal of the trip!! absolutely scrumptious -- and weren't mouse and tim surprised when they woke up to such an amazing albacore feast!
noontime position on tuesday june 19: 35° 47' 2" N, 130° 2' 5" W -- our 24-hour progress was 132 nautical miles, and only 382 n.m. left to go -- we're nearly home!
...until our 6-9pm watch, david put his trolling lines out again (first time since we caught the ahi tunas) around sundown, and within a half-hour at most we had a beautiful albacore on the line -- but no sooner had david reeled him in & ended his swimming days, ANOTHER one was on the line! in this photo you can see the second one trashing around in the cockpit, magnificently splattering the first one's blood everywhere. and the filleting knife snapped off in the first one's head, which was our only gear failure of the entire trip -- thankfully, david brought a lot of knives.
so somehow we managed to get them killed and cleaned and and then tidied up the double-murder scene (tuna blood is much darker than the mahis was, much more like human blood -- ick) without waking either tim or mouse up -- and david then set about turning a big chunk of one of the albacores into a plate of hamachi AND an incredibly delicious bowl of ceviche -- my favorite meal of the trip!! absolutely scrumptious -- and weren't mouse and tim surprised when they woke up to such an amazing albacore feast!
noontime position on tuesday june 19: 35° 47' 2" N, 130° 2' 5" W -- our 24-hour progress was 132 nautical miles, and only 382 n.m. left to go -- we're nearly home!
Tuesday, July 3
day 12/day 13 - the mysteries of night watch
this photo was of course taken during our 6-9pm watch on day 12, but a few oddities to note from night watch: David and I were nearly done with our midnight-3am watch, under still-overcast skies, shifty winds, and david occasionally falling asleep at the helm -- when suddenly there was a completely random and unexpected lightning flash, turning the whole sky a brilliant pale blue -- if I'd been alone I'd have been certain I'd imagined it, as we never heard any thunder, and the conditions didn't seem to warrant lightning at all -- but we both saw it, and it completely shook us up.
(and FYI, check out the Adventures of Ute, Cora and Allen have been cruising for over a year now, and just recently their boat Ute was hit directly by lightning in Florida -- terrifying! but a fantastic story of their repair of the transmission)
Tim and Mouse's 3-6am watch was less eventful, although they did see the third ship of our entire trip, & it passed only about a mile in front of our boat, heading west -- and the next morning, we discovered a mysterious blotch of squid-ink in the cockpit, somehow one must have jumped onto the boat withour being noticed? the mysteries of night watch...
(and FYI, check out the Adventures of Ute, Cora and Allen have been cruising for over a year now, and just recently their boat Ute was hit directly by lightning in Florida -- terrifying! but a fantastic story of their repair of the transmission)
Tim and Mouse's 3-6am watch was less eventful, although they did see the third ship of our entire trip, & it passed only about a mile in front of our boat, heading west -- and the next morning, we discovered a mysterious blotch of squid-ink in the cockpit, somehow one must have jumped onto the boat withour being noticed? the mysteries of night watch...
day 12 - can you get a hangover from sleep deprivation?
the weather started to improve on day 12, although still not smooth -- here's what I wrote in my journal around 5pm:
"sleep levels felt good last night but crashed this morning. I feel like I've been sleepwalking all day. everything feels damp, even when it isn't. wind got light and fluky for a while today, and the sun even came out a little, but now it's back to grey swells and wind."
noontime posiition on june 18: 35° 19' N, 132° 42' W -- 24-hour log at 131 nautical miles, so we were getting our speed back slowly -- 514 n.m. to go til we get home.
after writing the above in my journal, I went up to the cockpit and announced that I felt exactly like I had a hangover, even though we'd hardly drunk any alcohol for two weeks -- the tiredness from our rough weather days produced exactly the same feeling. and Mouse decided that we needed the hair of the invisi-dog to recover, so she and David and I each had a Tecate & chewed some beef jerky -- that was dinner for monday, but oddly, the combination left me feeling much better again, and ready for nightwatch.
"sleep levels felt good last night but crashed this morning. I feel like I've been sleepwalking all day. everything feels damp, even when it isn't. wind got light and fluky for a while today, and the sun even came out a little, but now it's back to grey swells and wind."
noontime posiition on june 18: 35° 19' N, 132° 42' W -- 24-hour log at 131 nautical miles, so we were getting our speed back slowly -- 514 n.m. to go til we get home.
after writing the above in my journal, I went up to the cockpit and announced that I felt exactly like I had a hangover, even though we'd hardly drunk any alcohol for two weeks -- the tiredness from our rough weather days produced exactly the same feeling. and Mouse decided that we needed the hair of the invisi-dog to recover, so she and David and I each had a Tecate & chewed some beef jerky -- that was dinner for monday, but oddly, the combination left me feeling much better again, and ready for nightwatch.
Monday, July 2
day 11 - still rough...
I actually didn't take any photos on day 11, this one was from day 10 -- but day 11 (sunday june 17) was more of the same, everyone very short of rest and food, moving like zombies from sleep to steering to sleep to steering again... we finally put a second reef in the main, which helped tame the boat's motion down a bit -- not sure why we didn't think of that sooner?
night watch between days 10 & 11 had been incredibly bizarre, as it was completely overast, couldn't see a thing -- just utter blackness, and the wind kept shifting in both speed and direction so dramatically, all we could do was steer by the instruments, like pilots do when the lose visual contact with the world below. it took ENORMOUS concentration, and verged on surreal in the darkness. and when I did finally get back below & crashed to sleep, I had incredibly vivid dreams again -- not nightmares, but more like sweet & incredibly lifelike images of a life I can't possibly have -- making it hard to sort out, when i woke up again, where I was and what was actually real or not. very confusing couple of days.
noontime position on day 11: 35° 17' 2" N, 135° 30' W -- our 24-hour run between blustery days was only 111 nautical miles, which is the slowest day we had all trip -- ironic, when the wind was blowing the hardest! but the rough seas just kept slowing us down, making progress far more difficult than in smoother water...
sometime in the late afternooon Tim decided we weren't eating enough, and pulled the emergency easy-to-make dinners out: cooked us up some Rice-A-Roni, made with double the usual butter -- simple and hot and good, we all wolfed it down. and I actually got into a good groove on my 6-9pm watch, listening to Catherine Wheel (a rather cinematic-sounding band) in my earphones -- I suddenly felt completely in tune and immersed in the wild sea, steering us over walls of water moving past and under and threading the boat through them, standing at the wheel with my face in the wind and belting out songs as loud as I could -- it just felt so fantastic, so wild and thrilling, and made up for some of the discomfort of the past two days.
I think Tim got an email from the boat's owner that night, predicting a possible continuation of this weather all the way home -- leaving us wondering if we'd ever manage a sponge bath again, much less a shower? feeling a bit of trepidation as we went to sleep that night...
night watch between days 10 & 11 had been incredibly bizarre, as it was completely overast, couldn't see a thing -- just utter blackness, and the wind kept shifting in both speed and direction so dramatically, all we could do was steer by the instruments, like pilots do when the lose visual contact with the world below. it took ENORMOUS concentration, and verged on surreal in the darkness. and when I did finally get back below & crashed to sleep, I had incredibly vivid dreams again -- not nightmares, but more like sweet & incredibly lifelike images of a life I can't possibly have -- making it hard to sort out, when i woke up again, where I was and what was actually real or not. very confusing couple of days.
noontime position on day 11: 35° 17' 2" N, 135° 30' W -- our 24-hour run between blustery days was only 111 nautical miles, which is the slowest day we had all trip -- ironic, when the wind was blowing the hardest! but the rough seas just kept slowing us down, making progress far more difficult than in smoother water...
sometime in the late afternooon Tim decided we weren't eating enough, and pulled the emergency easy-to-make dinners out: cooked us up some Rice-A-Roni, made with double the usual butter -- simple and hot and good, we all wolfed it down. and I actually got into a good groove on my 6-9pm watch, listening to Catherine Wheel (a rather cinematic-sounding band) in my earphones -- I suddenly felt completely in tune and immersed in the wild sea, steering us over walls of water moving past and under and threading the boat through them, standing at the wheel with my face in the wind and belting out songs as loud as I could -- it just felt so fantastic, so wild and thrilling, and made up for some of the discomfort of the past two days.
I think Tim got an email from the boat's owner that night, predicting a possible continuation of this weather all the way home -- leaving us wondering if we'd ever manage a sponge bath again, much less a shower? feeling a bit of trepidation as we went to sleep that night...
day 10 - conditions change...
amazing how fast conditions can change at sea! following one of the best days on our trip, Day 10 came in looking ugly and mean, one the hardest days physically on all of us. everyone dressed in foulies any time we were up on deck, and mouse and I put our seaboots on, first shoes we've worn all trip!
from my journal:
"well, we've gone from sheer delight to a serious grind -- nothing but big wind & big waves & weird wind shifts & miserable conditions -- even sleeping ALL of our off-watch time doesn't produce enough rest -- everyone glassy-eyed and crabby -- even the boat's creaks and crashes seem louder and more ominous. this is the not-fun side of ocean-crossing -- not quite a gale, but might as well be, for how it's got us all feeling."
video clip from our afternoon watch, when the seas were actually a bit smaller:
www.vimeo.com/228741
down below, we discovered that the bigger waves crashing across the decks could force open the hatches if they hit at just the right angle -- this happened twice, once dumping a huge wave of water on my feet as I was getting ready for sleep, then about a half-hour later over the galley, just barely missing my sleeping head.
the boat's motion was too difficult to manage to cook anything -- so david and I had gingersnaps and Hawaiian Sun juice for breakfast/lunch, and finger-fulls of pre-grated cheese along with crackers for dinner -- just couldn't manage anything more elaborate.
noontime postion on june 16 (saturday): 35° 39' 8" N, 137° 58' 5" W, giving us a 24-hour run of 138 nautical miles (pretty slow the previosu day, when we'd mostly been motoring), and 756 miles to go 'til home...
from my journal:
"well, we've gone from sheer delight to a serious grind -- nothing but big wind & big waves & weird wind shifts & miserable conditions -- even sleeping ALL of our off-watch time doesn't produce enough rest -- everyone glassy-eyed and crabby -- even the boat's creaks and crashes seem louder and more ominous. this is the not-fun side of ocean-crossing -- not quite a gale, but might as well be, for how it's got us all feeling."
video clip from our afternoon watch, when the seas were actually a bit smaller:
www.vimeo.com/228741
down below, we discovered that the bigger waves crashing across the decks could force open the hatches if they hit at just the right angle -- this happened twice, once dumping a huge wave of water on my feet as I was getting ready for sleep, then about a half-hour later over the galley, just barely missing my sleeping head.
the boat's motion was too difficult to manage to cook anything -- so david and I had gingersnaps and Hawaiian Sun juice for breakfast/lunch, and finger-fulls of pre-grated cheese along with crackers for dinner -- just couldn't manage anything more elaborate.
noontime postion on june 16 (saturday): 35° 39' 8" N, 137° 58' 5" W, giving us a 24-hour run of 138 nautical miles (pretty slow the previosu day, when we'd mostly been motoring), and 756 miles to go 'til home...
day 9 -- fish on -- again!!!
of course, go figure, while we are gorging ourselves on the utterly beautiful ahi sushi, I looked back and literally watched as a silvery shape floated up to the day-glo octopus lure and... fish on!! in this photo you can see me trying to steer the boat straight while David reels the thing in, and Tim guards the remaining sushi from any harm...
it was another ahi, just as gorgeous as the first -- so strange to see it flopping around in the same cockpit as its buddy who'd already become a plate of sushi! so he went straight into the freezer after being cleaned -- we'd eaten enough fresh fish for one night already!
I think day 9 was my favorite day of the whole trip, everything just felt so easy and right -- as I said in my journal, it was an unqualified Good Day.
it was another ahi, just as gorgeous as the first -- so strange to see it flopping around in the same cockpit as its buddy who'd already become a plate of sushi! so he went straight into the freezer after being cleaned -- we'd eaten enough fresh fish for one night already!
I think day 9 was my favorite day of the whole trip, everything just felt so easy and right -- as I said in my journal, it was an unqualified Good Day.
Sunday, July 1
day 9 - fresh as can be
can you believe it?!! we're hundreds/thousands of miles (depending on which direction you look) from the nearest sushi place, and yet a half-hour or so (long enough to cook the rice) after landing mr. ahi, we had two gorgeous plates of fresh-as-can-be sushi and sashimi. let me tell you, it tasted amazing
mouse's photo has a bit more flair, and includes the soy, wasabi, and pickled ginger...
mouse's photo has a bit more flair, and includes the soy, wasabi, and pickled ginger...
day 9 -- ahi
i did my usual sleep from 3-6pm, between watches, after sending an email or two via our precious sailmail account (very short emails could be send via a single sideband connection) to family and friends -- felt unusually well-rested -- and woke again to discover we were moving out of the pacific high pressure system, and into a soft grey drizzle -- we all clustered under the dodger in the companionway for a while, munching pretzels and talking -- then the rain eased and the wind picked up enough for us to sail instead of motor, first time in two days!
and david decided to make mac & cheese for dinner, and was instructing mouse and i below on how to make a roux to start, when Tim called from the cockpit, fish on!!
we're getting into cooler waters than before, so no more mahi, now we've got ahi (tuna, big eyes, always look surprised) -- nice of this guy to show up at dinnertime! (more to follow...)
and david decided to make mac & cheese for dinner, and was instructing mouse and i below on how to make a roux to start, when Tim called from the cockpit, fish on!!
we're getting into cooler waters than before, so no more mahi, now we've got ahi (tuna, big eyes, always look surprised) -- nice of this guy to show up at dinnertime! (more to follow...)
day 9 - far away from everything
from my journal, day 9 (june 15):
"D. is making me tea below, the others are asleep -- light wind, flat seas, and the same overcast greeting us as the sky gets lighter. for some reason this morning I'm really feeling the distance from land -- the sea stretches so far in every direction, it feels like being in the middle of a wide desert -- and moving so slowly across it somehow magnifies that vastness -- but in a good way... [it] brings the pureness and intensity of the ocean's size, and its indifference, into clear view, gently undulating silvery blue going on and on and on as far as my mind can imagine."
perhaps ironically, this is the only day we saw any marine mammals on the whole trip -- David and i saw two whales (probably humpbacks) on our morning watch, passing our starboard side about 50 yards off (too far to capture on camera) & heading west -- and right at dusk a group of about 5 or six small dolphins swam by the boat, then disappeared.
and during morning watch, after sending David below to get some extra sleep (we were just motoring with the autopilot on & the jib rolled up, so no need for both of us to stay awake on watch), I took note of another visit from an albatross:
"wings so broad and dark, crossing our bow's path, wheeling around once, and then heading off south -- almost seeming like a sea crreature, it flies so close to the surface. made me catch my breath."
verrrrrry briefly that morning the wind turned momentarily behind us, and we got about a half-hour of downwind sailing (much more comfortable than upwind) -- but that was it for the entire trip. still, the wind was light enough, and the seas flat, that we all took showers around noon, and I washed my hair -- such a treat! from my journal, "I keep wiggling my toes with the goodness of it all." and noted the following from the book I was re-reading, Blue Hightways by William Least Heat-Moon (p. 189, while driving through Nevada):
"The immensity of sky and desert, their vast absences, reduced me. It was as if I was evaporating, and it was calming and cleansing to be absorbed by that vacancy." seemed pretty appropriate for day 9 on the pacific.
position at noon: 35° 29' 5" N, 140° 49' 8" W -- 24 hour run was 134 nautical miles, and 894 n.m. left to go
"D. is making me tea below, the others are asleep -- light wind, flat seas, and the same overcast greeting us as the sky gets lighter. for some reason this morning I'm really feeling the distance from land -- the sea stretches so far in every direction, it feels like being in the middle of a wide desert -- and moving so slowly across it somehow magnifies that vastness -- but in a good way... [it] brings the pureness and intensity of the ocean's size, and its indifference, into clear view, gently undulating silvery blue going on and on and on as far as my mind can imagine."
perhaps ironically, this is the only day we saw any marine mammals on the whole trip -- David and i saw two whales (probably humpbacks) on our morning watch, passing our starboard side about 50 yards off (too far to capture on camera) & heading west -- and right at dusk a group of about 5 or six small dolphins swam by the boat, then disappeared.
and during morning watch, after sending David below to get some extra sleep (we were just motoring with the autopilot on & the jib rolled up, so no need for both of us to stay awake on watch), I took note of another visit from an albatross:
"wings so broad and dark, crossing our bow's path, wheeling around once, and then heading off south -- almost seeming like a sea crreature, it flies so close to the surface. made me catch my breath."
verrrrrry briefly that morning the wind turned momentarily behind us, and we got about a half-hour of downwind sailing (much more comfortable than upwind) -- but that was it for the entire trip. still, the wind was light enough, and the seas flat, that we all took showers around noon, and I washed my hair -- such a treat! from my journal, "I keep wiggling my toes with the goodness of it all." and noted the following from the book I was re-reading, Blue Hightways by William Least Heat-Moon (p. 189, while driving through Nevada):
"The immensity of sky and desert, their vast absences, reduced me. It was as if I was evaporating, and it was calming and cleansing to be absorbed by that vacancy." seemed pretty appropriate for day 9 on the pacific.
position at noon: 35° 29' 5" N, 140° 49' 8" W -- 24 hour run was 134 nautical miles, and 894 n.m. left to go
day 8 - sunset
the sunset on this super-still day was truly amazing -- and Tim turned the engine off for a few minutes for an engine check, & so it was beautifully quiet, just drifting on the silent sea... until the boat's endless creaky noises and sails slatting got annoying, so we turned the engine back on
Saturday, June 30
day 8 - silversea
n late afternoon on day 8, the sea and sky simply morphed into liquid silver -- this photo is almost straight out of the camera, no tweaks except for sharpening -- it was the most mesmerizing scene imaginable, watching the water pass took on an almost hallucinatory quality
I made a little video clip, which doesn't quite capture it, but still:
www.vimeo.com/226519
we all just sat in the cockpit watching this amazing scene all afternoon... and at some point that evening, we tacked onto port for the first time since the Molokai Channel
I made a little video clip, which doesn't quite capture it, but still:
www.vimeo.com/226519
we all just sat in the cockpit watching this amazing scene all afternoon... and at some point that evening, we tacked onto port for the first time since the Molokai Channel
day 8 - water
just had to add this one to the blog, to show just how insanely calm the ocean was...!
and don't forget, there's LOTS more photos on my Flickr site -- please feel free to browse!
and don't forget, there's LOTS more photos on my Flickr site -- please feel free to browse!
day 8 - flat calm and birds
from my journal:
"day 8 (thurs) at 7am -- we must be right underneath the pacific high, as the sea's gone completely still -- a strange silvery blue stretching out in all directions under a still-overcast sky -- it seems so strange that an ocean that's been so consistently restless for so many days can also suddenly be so quiet -- after all, it's a continuous body of water, should the waves elsewhere at least cause sloshes here? I understand the physics of it, but that doesn't make it any less strange -- and completely wonderful as well."
we spent the day with the motor and autopilot on, otherwise we'd have made no progress at all -- at noon our position was 34° 44' 8" N, 143° 23' 3" W, having gone roughly 140 nautical miles in the past 24 hours -- slowing down as the wind got lighter and lighter! 1028 miles to go to san francisco (and pearl harbor was now 1120 miles behind, having crossed the halfway point)
food report: David made a monster quesadilla for breakfast, which Mouse called "the quesadilla from hell" -- some huge number of eggs, cheese, and onions all neatly sandwiched between two tortillas and cooked in voluminous quantities of butter... damn that was tasty.
and they are small in this picture, but hopefully you can see two small dark birds -- i've not been able to identify them precisely, I think some kind of storm petrel? we saw them constantly all trip long, they flew in erratic fluttery patterns, almost like bats -- and at night they often followed the boat's transom closely, perhaps better able to see fishes in the aft light?
we also saw occasional albatrosses, but they seemed to know when I had a camera out & stayed far from the boat unless I was camera-free -- elusive creatures, and utterly beautiful to watch them flying -- and even more occasionally a tern flew past, but that's it for the bird life on the open sea...
"day 8 (thurs) at 7am -- we must be right underneath the pacific high, as the sea's gone completely still -- a strange silvery blue stretching out in all directions under a still-overcast sky -- it seems so strange that an ocean that's been so consistently restless for so many days can also suddenly be so quiet -- after all, it's a continuous body of water, should the waves elsewhere at least cause sloshes here? I understand the physics of it, but that doesn't make it any less strange -- and completely wonderful as well."
we spent the day with the motor and autopilot on, otherwise we'd have made no progress at all -- at noon our position was 34° 44' 8" N, 143° 23' 3" W, having gone roughly 140 nautical miles in the past 24 hours -- slowing down as the wind got lighter and lighter! 1028 miles to go to san francisco (and pearl harbor was now 1120 miles behind, having crossed the halfway point)
food report: David made a monster quesadilla for breakfast, which Mouse called "the quesadilla from hell" -- some huge number of eggs, cheese, and onions all neatly sandwiched between two tortillas and cooked in voluminous quantities of butter... damn that was tasty.
and they are small in this picture, but hopefully you can see two small dark birds -- i've not been able to identify them precisely, I think some kind of storm petrel? we saw them constantly all trip long, they flew in erratic fluttery patterns, almost like bats -- and at night they often followed the boat's transom closely, perhaps better able to see fishes in the aft light?
we also saw occasional albatrosses, but they seemed to know when I had a camera out & stayed far from the boat unless I was camera-free -- elusive creatures, and utterly beautiful to watch them flying -- and even more occasionally a tern flew past, but that's it for the bird life on the open sea...
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