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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What is the first thing we’ll do when we hit land?:

• Hug a tree
• Yoga
• Climb a mountain
• Swim
• Drink something cold
• Long walk on the beach
• Veggie burger in paradise

What candy did we seek out as children?:

• Now and Laters
• Nerds
• Fizz candy
• Freezees

Lovely lazy day, motored to push through the lightest headwinds…pineapple rum and deck chilling…some sewing and swimming and bottom scraping…speaking of the way back past and the not too distant future. Jellyfish pocked the water like lychees, long thin strings dragging behind them as protection and warning. A few creatures took up residence beneath the hull and their musselly mass easily detached with a scour to their bases.

@ 6pm

4° 38’ N

132° 58 ½ ‘ W

Traveled 67nm

~1-3 knots/hour

Breakfast: toasted tortillas with PB & nutella (B had eggs)

Lunch: leftover soup

Dinner: Falafel wraps with hummus, cuke and onion

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I woke Brian at 3am to swap watches. I hate waking people up, because I know they don’t like it…I sure don’t. About 30 minutes into an attempt at sleep, with violent waves smashing the boat, Brian summoned me. Deck work. He had no problems waking me. Duty calls. No problem. I hopped up to reef the main and help jibe the jib. We are at 131 ½ ° W. Time to turn left! Now our course is 180°, due south. I crawled back to bed, damp and salty, to try and Z. I woke up at 7am to tag off with the Captain again.

Something different is in this equatorial air. Clouds hamper horizon views but they are not static. A variety of vapor shapes drop sheets of rain and we can see the course of these storms, or squalls in sailing terms, if they wreck havoc upon us.

A spattering of rain dusted the deck, a welcome wash of fresh water. Rain in sunny climates of course translates to rainbows, arc-en-ceil. Completing its reach, a full arching glowing message of change. Some cultures see Roy G Biv as omens of bad news, perhaps understandable if it precedes a picnic-dampening rain. There was a faint double rainbow and I appreciated my friend in Yosemite who was blown to the ground in the stunning beauty of dual light play.

Inside the cabin I enjoyed a slow Sunday morning when suddenly sails went flapping, our course pointed straight for the wind, clocks spun in reverse… I wedged my Mac in between cushions and bolted out to the cockpit to steer us away, and Brian woke with a start and literally flew to the bow of his Kayak to take down the genoa at record speed. Quick action in a sudden, stormy situation averted disaster. Even in pjs…

On edge and on lookout for more squalls, we cooked and caffeinated with a lean to starboard, a deviation from our flow up until last night. Now instead of the boat’s roll hurling us away from the galley and across the cabin to hit a table or bench, 8 feet away, we are pulled by gravity into sink and stove, oven and cupboard…new hazards to adapt to.

With the working jib flying, we assessed ripped seams on the foot of the one we had replaced this morning. I began some seamstressing with a comfortable seat against the dingy, toes propped on the side of the deck and riding the brunt of the waves with the boat. Occasionally a watery assault assailed the port side and I had a salty shower reign down on me. Lively action for a usually mundane task. The rest of the evening we spent indoors and dry, reading, cooking, chessing, chilling…all at a 10-15° angled tilt.

@ 6pm

5° 41’ N

132° 14’ W

Travelled 115 nm

~5-7 knots / hour

Breakfast: Cher’s apple fritters with quinoa

Lunch: Quinoa, cuke and cheese wraps

Dinner: Brians heart warming potato soup

“If you’re not living good, travel wide.”

“There’s a land that I have heard about so far across the sea

we’ll get our breakfast from the tree

We’ll get our honeeeeeey from the bee”

~Bob Marley

At my window, sad and lonely

Do you ever think of me

Sad and lonely I wonder

Do you ever think of me

Everyday is sad is lonely

Every night is sad and blue

Do you ever think of me my darling

As I sail the ocean blue

At my window sad and lonely

I stand and look across the sea

And I sad and lonely

Wonder do you ever think of me

Will you find another sweetheart

In some far and distant land

Sad and lonely now I wonder

If that boat will ever land?

Boats sail a stormy ocean

Planes fly a stormy sky

I’m sad and lonely but I remember

I’ll love you til I die

~Billy Bragg and Wilco

Us and them

~Pink Floyd

IGNORE THE EARTHQUAKES…

@ 7pm

7° 09’ N

131° 10’ W

Traveled 119nm

~4-5 knots / hour

Breakfast: leftover enchilada

Lunch: granola, pretzels

Dinner: Quinoa and veg in spicy peanut sauce

“Sailing- The fine art of getting wet and becoming ill while slowly going nowhere at great expense.” From the glossary in the South Pacific Handbook.

Brian finished putting insulation over the ¼ berth at the stern of the boat, a project we started yesterday with insulation installed above the food cupboard in the galley.

Bioluminescence shine brighter with a deep, dark sky. Dolphins play and swim along, for the sake of fun. Kayak’s hull must be an attractant for them. Large glowing balloons light up the area where the dolphins frolic and bump them, glowing orbs of flotsam in the sea.

@ 6pm

8° 29’ N

129° 45’ W

Traveled 102nm

~4-6 knots / hour

Breakfast: Cereal and soymilk

Lunch: apple, chips and salsa

Dinner: bean / Jackfish enchiladas

Brian and I traded watch at 4am with howling winds, record speeds (as per my time on Kayak) and massive waves to not rock us to sleep but rock us so hard we had no choice but to stay awake, staring at the ceiling, listening to gurgling waves build up force and smash into the boat. Prior to this I slept in the V berth at the bow of the boat, but woke with a funny tummy, bloated from boat movement, unusual nourishment, dehydration, my rag, concern, who knows… I attempted to sleep outside under a full moon and stars, with fresh air to heal mind and body, less booming and echoes to wake and fret to. A large roller splashed me awake so I came inside to continue my snooze in the bunk centered in Kayak.

Watch became a lookout for Wendy Vanity aiming us upwind, which keels the boat and throws objects around that have not been tightly secured (pots and pans, spices, books, stationary, eggs…). At about 6am, when she still veered us further west than southwest, we reefed the main (in the dark, my first time…thrown into the fire…the best way to learn!) and went wing on wing for relief from the constant battle from port. I sleepily snoozed on the galley cushions, my fourth bed of the night, until 9-930 when Brian woke me with coffee.

Rumour is the world is getting smaller. I know, I experience it constantly and perpetuate the gossip. Seeing people in seemingly random places, two degrees of separation, hearing world news as it happens, being hurled through the air at 600km an hour to land in a completely different culture and environment only a few hours later…but traveling by wind changes this dynamic. Reverting to age-old technologies (sail shapes, use of keels, understanding tradewinds), adding some modern twists (but not too many…no refrigeration, contact with the outside world besides a VHF radio…) to crawl an expanse of sea, sometimes slower than walking, for a month, creates a feeling of desolation and isolation. The world experienced upon its surface (nevermind airtime and jet fuel, satellites or internet) is just as massive as explorers thought when they were bound to fall off its edge. Moving along at nature’s pace, with one other face, a waterscape as far as we can see, 17 days in a row, with 1300 nautical miles still to go makes me feel like a plankton in the soup. We are just a few bright glowing souls in a dark night and when we’re moved and disturbed we allow our presence known. When pushed by force or instigated, enough initiative ignites our essence to shine brightly at this chance encounter and share some light that inherently lies within.

Clouds shroud the glittering universe, darkness perpetuated upon the ocean’s ebony surface. Instead of in the vast sky, the constellations continue to shoot past the hull of Kayak as biolumes. Their radiance made up wholly for the blackest of nights, until a reflective moon rose to enlighten our sphere.

@ 10pm

9° 09’ N

128° 19’ W

Traveled 155nm

~5-7 ½ knots / hour

Breakfast: fried potatoes with tomatoes, apples

Lunch: dried fruit, Clif Bar

Dinner: Pasta and peas, fresh Foaccacia

Thanks for being born, Dana, Catherine and Scotty!

We interrupted our day with a bit of sailing. Switching between broad reach and wing on wing a few times gave us an average course of what we are aiming for (270° vs 220° when we’d like 252°) as well as a variety in boat rocking motions. These changed interrupted reading the Happy Isles of Oceania, catching a dorado/ mahi mahi, playing chess and battleship, watching sunset with rum and lime, making dinner…

This fish was a baby, I’ve been told…I’ve eaten an infant. I heard over the past month about the colour show that occurs, rather, ceases, when this fish dies. Unfortunately it must have been on the line for a while, as there was a hole in its cheek L It passed quickly in the cockpit on the boat, where its spiky dorsal Mohawk was deep aquamarine and its flank golden with navy spots. After its life was taken and its soul transferred to us, its shine faded to a blue that matched the overcast day. I lit incense as a new ritual, a smudge of thanks and blessings for the life forsaken so that we could continue with ours.

@ 6pm

10° 07’ N

125° 52’ W

Traveled 155nm

~5 – 7 knots / hour

Breakfast: Sasquatch scones

Lunch: Pretzels, trail mix, chips

Dinner: Garlic, parmesan mashed potatoes and honey cornmeal crusted dorado

Today is probably the last plot on the West Coast of North American, USA to Mexico chart! We’re on our own now in the Big Blue, and onto Brian’s universal plotting charts.

We attempted wing on wing today with the main sail on starboard first, and when our course way too far south, with it on port side. We held the same course (not the one that leads us to Hiva Oa) and so reverted once again to broad reach, able to keep on 250°. Overnight we were averaging 275° and being bombarded with boat quaking swells, the steel walls shuddering, cupboard contents rattling, a constant attack from starboard side. Not extremely peaceful to sleep but a siesta this afternoon helped.

You can try to swim the sea

And you can try to hold the breeze

And you can try to hide the sun

But say goodbye to everyone

~Avett Brothers

A shower day! Probably halfway through our voyage and we haven’t finished a fresh water tank yet (we have 2, about 70 gallons each) and we both felt pretty icky, so we decided to splurge (splurge being washing with salt water and rinsing with fresh!). Our hair was moldable into the places we shaped it, dirt embedded our finger and toe nails, we’re covered with layers of salty ocean crystals, sunscreen, sweat, aloe vera… Teamwork is the name of the game in a bucket and bottle type of shower…especially with the waves of our landscape.

After dinner we were getting tossed around as usual and Wendy Vanity is having a hard time keeping a course with waves pushing the boat and confusing her with which direction the wind is prevailing from. As we reefed the sail, we noted another boat’s red mast light on the darkened horizon. Being keeled over quite far by huge rollers, we took care to make sure our course was being kept as we did deck work. Harnesses donned and not comfortable in pj boxers, we pulled down the wind scoop as we reached 7.4 knots per hour, even with the reefed sail. Perhaps the lunar pull of the full moon is drawing water from an otherwise placid sea up to heights that shake and rattle hull and heart. Things should settle in the doldrums!

@ 6pm

10° 50’ N

123° 34’ W

Traveled 135nm

~5-7 ½ knots / hour

Breakfast: Trail mix, cornbread and honey

Lunch: Quesedillas

Dinner: Mie Goreng

The only thing I want to do

is to be in the arms of someone who believes in me

like I believe in you

Hey World, Whatcha say

Should I stick around for another day or two

Don’t give up on my and I won’t give up on you

Just believe in me like I believe in you

~Michael Franti

Although there are only 2 of us on this vessel, many times the people puzzle pieces come to mind and stay with me for much of the day. I hope that they (you!) can feel me! A song or a story conjures their souls, a memory or a possession, a lesson learned or favorite phrase are all ways that the people in my life shine in my mind, and meditating on these lovely folks is a way to visit with them, send out energy and good vibes, try to picture where in the world and in your lives you’re at.

“Travel, which is nearly always seen as an attempt to escape from the ego, is in my opinion, the opposite. Nothing induces concentration or inspires memory like an alien landscape or a foreign culture. It is simply not possible (as romantics think) to lose yourself in an exotic place. Much more likely is an experience of intense nostalgia, a haring back to an earlier stage of your life or seeing clearly a serious mistake. But this does not happen to the exclusion of the exotic present. What makes the whole experience vivid and sometimes thrilling, is the juxtaposition of the present and the past: [Vancouver seen from the watery South Pacific waves].” Paul Theroux, the Happy Isles of Oceania.

We set up for wing on wing, with the wind coming from behind us, for ten minutes until Captain decided that the winds weren’t strong enough to keep the sails full enough and remain on our desired course. Back to broad reach, and being drawn to the port side of the board, where wing on wing gives Kayak an equal roll side to side, a similar feelings in the cabin as riding the Pirate Ship at the amusement park.

@6pm

11° 12’ N

121° 20’ W

Traveled 141nm

~ 5- 7 knots / hour

Breakfast: PB & nutella quesdillas (B had eggs)

Lunch: Pasta salad with beans, cuke, corn

Dinner: Black bean and mango curry, corn bread

I think today is Sunday, a day of rest…from all of this turmoil and hardship…truly blessed at the life I get to lead at the moment. Realizing dreams, learning the uke, contemplating what I stand for and the many human being reasons that I am here toady. True, I miss those reasons, the friends and family, the pieces of the Kelly Puzzle that complete the mosaic me.

Simple pleasures of today include pineapple salsa and sitting on the bow of the boat, watching waves crest and carry on, maneuver the boat while we our steady course, and my big silly straw hat…Fashion finally meets function!

In the 360° of Pacific, the water is as many shades of blue as degrees surrounding us. True blue azul at the bow, calm water before being sliced by the hull; glistening navy on the starboard side, the sun reflecting diamonds scattered on the surface; translucent fresh splashes of individual droplets; the ashen ocean under wind sweeps and shadows; turbulent turquoise of a broken wave on the boat as it curls and bubbles; seafoam bubble left in our wake…

Otherwise this has been a lazy day…2 naps, not too much accomplished…some cleaning and lots of being…

6pm

11° 44’ N

119°  01 ½’ W

Traveled 117 nm

~ 4-6 knots / hour

Breakfast: granola and pineapple

Lunch: Tortilla chips and pineapple salsa

Dinner: Crackers, avo, parmesan, cuke