The day began calming and peacefully, so calmly in fact, that we were gaining no ground with sails that were in irons due to the variable stretch of weather we were in, between coastal and trade winds. Deciding that motoring would help get us further offshore and towards the trades, we fired it up. Despite its loud chugging and low rumble we were happy to be going more than ½-1 ½ knots. Until, that is, the noise maker heaved and sputtered and silenced without direction from humans who supposedly command it. Fearing the worst has its advantages when these thoughts are dispelled. Brian knew he had to change the fuel filter at some point. The time had come…after a swim, of course. We both dove into the azul blue pacific, deep and clear, nothing to stand in the way of seeing the boat and each other under water, with eyes wide open, without a mask. We played and dove and tossed a nerf football and swam laps of Kayak. Reluctant to get back on board, but we knew that we’d be goners without this steel oasis. Brian got down and dirty with the engine filters while I passed him tools and made banana bread.
After dinner and chess we broke down and broke out our technologies to negotiate our music, photos and videos. Afterwards, Brian slept for a few hours before his watch was to begin at midnight and I had some coffee. A little strong for 10pm!
A ship barged into my realm of vision, far enough away to not be of concern, just of curiosity. What’s on board and where is it headed? Realizing that we are still technically coastal and passing shipping lanes, I experienced the true meaning of “Like two ships passing in the night.” I now sense the solitude and silence of this simile.
After another check on our course and our coasts I heard flapping and slapping around the windscoop. I thought I’d find another suicide flying fish, and was working up the courage to grab the slippery creature and return it from whence it came. Surprised to find one of the sea birds that had been escorting us previously cowering in the fabric of the windscoop. Grateful that he hadn’t fallen into the cabin, I spent some time with the blue beaked bird, its snout long and pointed, perfect for spearfishing, and for keeping me from coming to close for fear of a puncture wound. The gull made its way to the comfort of the sail bag that was on deck, and we shared some time while the mainsail flopped and snapped, void of wind. We had lost wind and our course, so I summoned Brian and we attempted to fill the sails again, a hard task when we can’t feel a breeze at all, or the wind indicator at the top of the mast is spinning like clock hands in a fun house. We pulled down the genoa and star gazed for a while, contemplative of the night that began while we watched the sun melt and bubble into the ocean a few hours beforehand. Calling it a night, we drifted in the blue until the sun rose again.
@5:30pm
15° 55’ N
107° 41’ W
~1/2-4 knots / hour
Travelled 72 ½ nm
Breakfast : leftover beans and vegetables on toast (plus eggs for Brian)
Lunch: Chips and avocado with lime and mexi seasoning, banana bread
Dinner : pasta with tomato sauce & TVP, tomato and cuke salad
Green in the Blue 