Green in the Blue

“…this ocean was as vast as outer space and being on this boat was like shooting from one star to another, the archipelagoes like galaxies, and the islands like isolated stars in an empty immensity of watery darkness, and this sailing was like going from star to star, in vitreous night.” ~Paul Theroux, Happy Isles…

Equatorial rain began in the depth of night as a mere sprinkle, a fresh way for B to rinse salt from the swim earlier that evening. Wind remained incredibly light so sails were not engaged as we drifted overnight through space and sleep. When the downpour began, fat wet rain bombs feverishly descending at accelerated pace to join once again with their wet reflection, I couldn’t hold myself in the dry bed. Skin is waterproof and this Vancouver native has no aversions to rain. Downpours are cleansing, inconvenient only when hair has been set with heat and sprays, or when not properly attired (as I’ve been soppingly guilty of in my Vans in Vancouver) or after a succession of days of cold grey moist misery. Tropical rain is a treat for the olfactory senses, the pre-shower air filled with promise of hydration from above, opening scenting portholes otherwise closed behind walls of cellulose, stagnant air, watery gatekeepers. These soggy occasions are quick to arrive and short in duration, very efficient at dousing everything under its cloud. Emerging from the cabin and pelted with the first large drops was a shock, but as more of my skin, hair, clothes became wet than dry, a certain comfort level set in. The chill of fresh rain at night was a welcome sensation, as was skin cleansed of salt, sweat, lotions and potions. After tidying moist lines, tying sail and genoa in place, we retired and dried, to attempt the second half of a full night’s sleep.

The morning brought an intense, blaring sun, scorching skin as soon as it touched the unprotected flesh, fresh from a mid night’s squally shower. Glaring from the smooth ocean’s surface doubled the bright light and made laundry with collected rainwater a blinding yet purifying task. Heading into a grey cumulous cloud would ease the eyes and its rain would rinse soapy clothes, sure to dry soon after the sun once again took charge.

We attempt to sail when a breeze gusts our way, coming from the south, giving comforting feelings. It frees damp and stifling cabin air and is cool and velvety on my skin after it has been blown from under the cloud beneath which we now motored. The cool billowing breeze wrapped around me like a duvet, soft and supple, a change of temperature and sensation from the periods of el sorcho.

I spotted my first whale today, about one km from the boat…a couple exhaling gusts of air, some arching action and a full fluke view. This mammal was shy or nonchalant and not curious about us.

We’ve been spotting more plastic in the past 2 days than we have in the past 3 weeks.  Fanta and two litre bottles, bits of buckets and a large blue cooler. Plastic and insulation kept this last specimen afloat and mussels growing 2-3 inches up its sides is hardly an indicator as to the time this cooler has been at sea, because these bivalves probably only attach themselves below the water line. One small fish was forcibly living inside the cooler and a dozen pilot fish (perhaps?) were sheltering underneath in the shade. A pretty purple fish with white dots and a fin on top and bottom of its midsection (similar to reef fish in Hawaii) had made friends with the cooler as well. As Brian brought this discarded cooler on board, the fish lost their security and swam off confused. Despite my protests to Brian as a voice for the mussels, they are sure to die as they dry on Kayak’s deck, void of water and nutrition. It’s a hard decision to pull plastic from the ocean; true, it removes a foreign and potentially damaging object from the sea, but it will be just as obtrusive in a Marquesan landfill, unless it does damage if it returns to the ocean from the place we discard it. Once onboard, however, there is not a way that we can justify or feel content with putting it back into the ocean. It is now joining our journey.

@ 8pm

3° 15’ N

100° 1 ½ ‘ W

Traveled 57nm

~0-3 knots / hour

Breakfast: something not exciting enough to write down or remember

Lunch: Probably some form of snacks but again, nothing to write home about

Dinner: Rice and bean burritos

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