Green in the Blue

“Fish are jumpin and the weather is sweet” … “but the seas suck.”

The sails were once again flapping away as we clipped along our destined course. This dynamic liquid blanket does well to shake out any dust left in the sails. As Brian adjusted the course, or we pulled the tiller so the windward roll would keep the sails full, silvery platters leapt from their ocean abode. Ungraceful flops of freedom, these fish were making their presence known to someone with a hook who was craving protein. Flying fish flutter in front of our vessel, their fins flopping feverishly to free themselves from a moment from their water neighborhoods.

One of the former fish struck Brian’s lure, an easy first catch for this leg of the journey. Pulling in the silvery blue Jack was tireless and its green and purple belly shone in the daylight. It released the hook on its own accord and Brian skillfully reached into its gill to remove the fillamental organ. Gasping for a breath with the equivalent of a lung extracted, its eyes grew larger and it wiggled and struggled, unaware that its efforts were futile. A few bonks on its noggin, a couple bouts of rigor mortis, enough blood was lost and Jack’s soul entered the animals that surrounded it.

Brian was thrilled to pull out a brand new fillet knife from his roommate. He demonstrated quickly and effectively how to get the choice slabs, while I watched and pondered if I would be able to do the same. “If you were hungry enough you would,” Brian dared.

It was about this time that we looked up to see a barge closer than our horizon. So occupied in our deserted and independent state upon the water, we rarely see many other ships in out vicinity and were surprised at the nearness of this one. We sent out a radio call and got in touch with 3^rd Officer…Andrew (not sure why he hesitated with his name, perhaps it was a guise?) of the ship Ultra Ace. He had email capabilities so we passed along a brief message to be sent to my father’s email: All is well, caught our first fish, our coordinates. This was a blessing, as it come on a day that I awoke thinking and meditating on family, sending good vibes to grandparents, parents and siblings.

Rough seas again, making life in the cabin shifty. Big swells and lots of wind. We’ve been struggling with the wind vane (herein referred to as Wendy Darling Vanity). She seems to go bonkers with a big gust, a big wave or due to an imbalance. Her fin was hitting the stern guardrail so we tried to raise it and she’d hold a course for a few moments then violently disagree with what we wanted, shaking her silver noggin in displeasure. She’d pass along to her pals, Rudder and Trim tab, to steer us straight into the wind. We fought back, realigned and gave her chance after chance to behave. Tried to rein her in with new bright yellow bungees, to which she replied by flinging them off the tiller, shooting them like slingshots into the ocean. First she aimed for Brian and a few minutes later for myself. She missed us in her retribution, thank goodness, but we lost the elastics to the sea.

Perhaps the winds are shifting here, from NW to NE, in order to drive us directly to our hopeful spot of a left turn, south, to cross the equator. We undid the changes we’d made on Wendy and she behaved for the most part, but we left a leash on her tiller so she couldn’t drive us too far to our starboard side.

Brian busied himself with Jack the fish, marinating morsels in a variety of ways: lime, salt and pepper, two different seafood rubs and cubed for a limey ceviche.

Having been a vegetarian for half of my life and never very fond of meat to precede the switch, I’ve purposefully eaten seafood five times in the past 15 years, and small quantities of it at that, caught in small and sustainable amounts. Having some of Jack was a bit of a moral, ethical, spiritual and historical betrayal. To a carnivore, it should be no problem; fish is food like bread or steak. I suppose they don’t differentiate eating animals to pulling mangos from a tree, ending their fruitful life in their bellies. “Vegetables may be the most intelligent beings on earth,” someone tried to convince me one time.

I understand people’s various tastes and preferences and don’t try to tell people what to do based on my biases. Perhaps eating animals is right for them, for it’s not for me. I grow frustrated when my choices are challenged due to ignorance (perhaps people feel guilty and are trying to justify themselves), but I am glad to have the opportunity to share my views, visions and values, reiterate to the curious, not the confrontational, where I stand.

So Jack was there I helped reel in the pretty guy, know he was leading a natural life and that our intentions with him were noble. I tried some of his flesh, flakey and white, and while each variation that Brian prepared tasted alright, it was a mind game to have, intentionally, bits of body in my mouth to chew and pulverize, masticate, increase surface area and being digestion of this creature who was, 20 minutes ago, alive and thriving. Making Jack’s body part of my own, turning his soul into mine, he can live on through me. Like John Cusack at the end of Being John Malkovich, stuck to see someone else’s life through their eyes.

Wanting independence for myself in many ways (doing a job myself, carrying my own luggage, funding my own habits) is another reason that I avoid eating animals. Live and let live, not rely on beings for my livelihood and a Buddhist perspective of kindness to all living beings were challenged with each small piece of Jack that I consumed.

So why did I? (this question was pondered and unanswered for a few days…) I suppose the abundant and natural life of Jack pre-mortem can ease my conscience. I have made concessions in the past around seafood and feel like I should try this out-of-character-experience once in a while to reevaluate how I feel and to push myself and see for myself what people appreciate about the freshest seafood. Traveling and visiting families or villages can be difficult if my diet is limited. I could also appear rude or unappreciative and I must explore language in order to convey my mindset and reasoning to people for turning down offered food.

@6pm

12° 09 ½ ’ N

117° 9’ W

Traveled 115nm

~3-6 knots / hour

Breakfast: granola

Lunch: Jack, tortialls, trailmix

Dinner: Jack, roasted potatoes with onion, garlic and roasted red peppers

Projects today encompass: sand and oil two sides of the dingy mast, which is lashed to the deck (full sanding and painting to be completed after the sun scorches the other 2 sides of the mast, about one week) : paint various parts of the boat : protect jibsheet from constant friction on the lifeline, using MacGyver tools of tubing, string and duct tape : set up fishing lure and line with bungy cord.

Winds are fairly regular and consistent in direction and strength. Brian doesn’t think he’s changed the sails once today. If we make 100nm per day, we’ll be at the Marquesas in 20!

I’m appropriately reading Thos Heyerdahl’s Kon Tiki…many common observations while crossing from Peru to Polynesia on a blasa wood raft with 5 other men, with my Mexico to Polynesia trek on a steel boat with one other man…many differences in details, as well. These are perhaps because of their route south of the equator, averaging 40nm per day, having a vegetation vessel and nature of their journey…Thor’s account of sea life is much more abundant than our few sea birds, dolphins, flying fish and occasional squid. But being in the big blue, I can easily visualize their observations and more appreciate the parallels and perpendiculars.

“Coal black seas towered up on all sides, and a glittering myriad or tropical stars drew a faint reflection from plankton in the water. The world was simple- stars in the darkness. Whether it was 1947BC or AD suddenly became of no significance. We lived, and that we felt with alert intensity. We realized that life had been full for [hu]men before the technical age also-in fact, fuller and richer in many ways than the life of modern [hu]man. Time and evolution somehow eased to exists; all that was and that mattered were the same today as they had always been and would always be. We were swallowed up in the absolute common measure of history-endless unbroken darkness under a swarm of stars.” Kon Tiki, Thor Heyerdahl.

Outside the cabin of Kayak, on the deck, in the cockpit, snug in the bow or steadied against stay or support, our universe of the sky above and seas as far as we can see makes sense. Waves roll into the starboard side and Kayak bobs up and down, the splashes from the hull sound in response. Seeing the piles of moving force approach allows us to gauge their force and how the boat will rock or sway with the impact. Natural light of sun or moon swath skin and sea, illuminating as much as we need to see. This exterior world is of abundance; fathoms of lively seas beneath, all the fresh air we can gulp, every star that began to shine in time to reach our grateful gaze. Warmth and sensory treats, subtle yet prevalent, greet us each exit of the cabin.

Inside these walls contain a conflicting experience. Waves smash and rattle the fibers of our home, vibrating the wooden interior and sounding of intruders forcefully making their way in. Water gurgles past when a calm sea maintains for a moment. Hardware grinds and shifts with each motion of the ocean and the slap of a sail devoid of wind or the windscoop shifting around jolts me to attention. When a powerful waves rolls under our keel it breaks and lathers on leeward port, but shifts everything loose or free item in the cabin, including our bodies. Fruit hammocks and stove sway violently, fixtures rattle a tale of security gone by and everything shakes and vibrates. It’s all we can do to keep ourselves upright, against the will of gravity.

@6pm

12°  50’ N

115°  17’W

Traveled 117 nm

~4-6 knots / hour

Breakfast: Chilequiles, fruits

Lunch: Hummus, crackers, cheese and cuke

Dinner: pressure cooker Lentil curry

Rough seas overnight and this morning; large, narrow rollers tossed the boat about all night, cupboard contents clanging continuously. We’re running a broad reach and occasionally the wind is not strong enough to keep the sails full as the waves push the boat side to side. The sails SMACK and WHAP back into place, sure to tear threads and fracture strong holds if this action continues at a lengthy pace.  As Brian puts it, if we want to get to New Zealand, we’ve got to keep the sails for 5000 miles. It’s hard to compromise the sail sway for going astray. Much of the night we headed 15-40 degrees off our hopeful 252 degree course. We could keep speed and a westerly direction but we’re headed to the South Pacific, not the West Pacific (although it’s lovely that side of the Ring of Fire as well).

In order to get full use to the wind vane, we had to move the Furuno radar satellite Blob to the side of the boat, instead of leaving it at the stern where it impeded our auto pilot. This took great teamwork and care, despite the radar being broken and therefore moot.

I feel as if we are in a constant earthquake zone. Belongings shift and launch from tables, counters, benches and beds, at the moment towards the port, or leeward, side of the boat. Pots of boiling water or anything left on the counter threaten to paint us with their contents. Tremors vary from small to boat rockin, a continuous battle to remain upright.

@6pm

13 ° 31’ N

113°  26’ W

Travelled 98nm

~2-5 ½ knots / hour

Breakfast: Banana bread, fruit

Lunch: Guac, tortillas, fruit

Dinner: pressure cooker potato soup explosions

I realized too late that I should have gotten the GPS coords of the Pacific Gyres just for curiosity sake as well as to observe the state of the ocean around it. As of yet we’ve seen 2 plastic items, both white, floating along about 50m from the boat. I’ve also seen the frame of something wooded, perhaps a pallet, a bird perched upon one corners for a rest from the wind and waves.

It’s hard to avoid buying and using plastics in a country where health of land and oceans is a low priority, shadowed by the need to feed families and doing so with a low income. On Kayak, bags that we’ve saved that haven’t been ripped to shreds already due to their low quality have come in handy. Garbage bags, water proofing, organizing, food storage, hardware sacks are some ways we’ve utilized plastics that we’ve fastidiously collected. We aren’t producing much garbage at the moment, mostly paper towels soaked in paints from Brian’s shop for projects ongoing, empty canisters that are harmful for ocean life or cartons that don’t break down in salt water. Cans, organic material, and paper products are offered to the ocean, the ultimate recycler, as we are grateful for its vastness and turbulent nature, able to accept these items at a sustainable pace.

We are about 450nautical miles off the coast of Mexico, the varying winds are still coming from the northwest, and we are hoping to soon hit the trades, coming from the northeast, in order to push us southwest! Reasons for the delay in predictable weather could be due to a late start in the cruising season or a shift in climate patterns. Winds affect transportation and storm season, and changing weather patterns making predictions less reliable. Shifts in temperatures and pressure systems drive the wind and change sea levels and tides. I’m looking forward to see if these natural forces, changed by human nature, are affecting life for flora and fauna on land and sea once we reach our first destination.

Hitting the early part of the trades we’ll be traveling much quicker and hopefully make up for lost wind we had a few days ago.

At the moment, we’re sailing beam reach, 245-252 degrees. Up until now we’ve been shooting for 230-233. In a navigational lesson with the proudly humble Captain Underpants, the professor himself drew up a universal plotting chart to see how we can best take advantage of trade winds. First they come from the NW but as they shift to NE we’ll need to head west and try to cross the equator due south, at the recommended 132 degrees (World Cruising Routes, Jimmy Cornell). This would require a broad reach sail at about 252 degrees. After we’ve crossed the equator we shall see where the trades pick up.

@6pm

13°  45’ N

111°  48.5’ W

traveled 112nm

~3-5 ½ knots / hour

530nm offshore… ~ 1/5 our distance

Breakfast: Chilequiles

Lunch: Guac, salsa, chips, fruit

Dinner: Pasta with tomato sauce, beans and vegetables

“The Vikings were different [than Roman sea farers who used slaves to row]. They carried no slaves and resisted being told where they could go, even by the wind. Their square sails…could be adjusted to make the sail fuller for going downwind or flatter when sailing close to the wind. The Vikings were among the first seafarers to sail successfully at an angle to the wind, a triumph due not so much to the sail they used as to the graceful hull with its shallow keel that gripped the water to prevent leeway.” From The Complete Sailor, David Seidman.

“It was better for me to set a difficult goal that would be fun to achieve and then get the feeling of accomplishment as well as the fun of doing new [exciting] things. I think it’s important to keep a little challenge in your everyday life and not always take the easy way. In that way you feel pride in yourself when you have accomplished something that was not ‘the easy way’.  Challenges are not supposed to stop you from doing what you want to do, they are meant to help you feel pride in yourself for accomplishing a task that others my not have tried…Nothing can help you discover more about yourself than conquering challenges…I can’t think of anything more beautiful than a sailboat on the horizon, under sail. It doesn’t matter where they are going. What matters is that they are going…They are moving forward to a new destination and the discovery is just over the crest of the next wave.” From Latitudes and Attitudes Magazine, Bob Bitchin, August 07.

More wind today, but choppy. Brian supposes there is fowl weather north of us, where the rolling seas are bumping and battering. The breeze and overcast skies are a welcome relief to relentless sun. The anchor is finished and put away. We’ve been lazy after a light sleep, studied some French and motored some in the late morning.

After Brian’s nap we glued Velcro to the cockpit cushions, a tedious job yet satisfying that they are in place.

Sunset as usual, in the west, and the overcast skies were breaking up. A variety of heights, distances and kinds created layers of artwork with the sky as a canvas. Smokey blue cumulous spotted the horizon while cirrus danced with each other in golden and ember hues.

After a delicious dinner, of which was prepared in a lunge stance as to not get knocked around by the rollers, we put up with a boat that was rocking and not enough wind to keep the sails full, so they smacked back and forth for most of the night.

A taste of home came in the form of one of Scotty’s podcasts. “Vancouver is truly a great place to be,” he says, regarding shows that happen there, of which I am known to fancy. I heard another quote, “Home is a great place to visit but I wouldn’t want to live there”…However, “absence makes the heart grow fonder” and I’m feeling a little homesick….

@5pm

14°  23’ N

110°  03’W

Traveled 72nm

~3-5 knots / hour

Breakfast: Fresh squeezed oj, coffee, banana bread

Lunch: Guac and tortilla chips, jicima

Dinner: Tortilla pizza with roasted garlic, caramelized onions, roasted red pepper and 2 cheeses

My 6am wake up call came with a bonus: dolphins friends again! It was hard to get out of bed, but their shimmering streaks in the water, luminescent lights were a great reward. Brian and I tagged off so that he could get some rest. I marveled at the infinite sky, the lightly coloured belt of the galaxy, of comprehensions far beyond my scope, light years of travel and our vastly small world and sphere.

Dozing a few minutes before sunrise and concerned at our due south course, hand steering and hoping for wind to the west, I appreciated a pinking sky. The solar flare returned to my world once again, born of a liquid womb, an orb of florescent fuchsia, as big as we had seen it only hours ago at sunset, I began to hear short yet deep gasps from the water. Finally a chance to see these dolphins in daylight!

The ocean in this part of the Pacific is so sapphire blue and clear as glass, the only variable that removes visibility is the breeze we need, rippling and slightly distorting the surface and our views into the deep.

First six dorsals sliced the surface of the water, then 8, up to 12. Breaths revealed backs that glistened shades of grey and contoured by muscle. The mammals wove around each other and the bow, grew in numbers and played with each other. I woke Brian for the morning treat, sunrise to stern and friends at the bow. We could clearly see these stealth and intelligent creatures below us and wished them a good morning when they broke the surface. Pondering what message this pod could have for us, I thought since this is the first we’ve seen dolphins in the daylight, perhaps their food supply is changing or more abundant. A mix of waters, temperatures and nutrients are often causes of more sea life and this must mean that wind is on the way! Their squeaks and chatter audible to us confirmed it.

The dolphins were curious about the riders of this sailing vessel, swimming sideways to peer up at our distorted figures through the barrier of our worlds. A few times one of them emerged as if standing from out of the water, to its midsection, to check out the steel wonder, also grey and powerful, work its way to the wind.

At one particular swell in front of us, the swimmers threw their bodies into the air, arching and flying. Ten or twelve must have heard us wish them a good morning and replied with jubilant elation as a reply.

This pod escorted us for about an hour, cruising along our bow, checking me checking them. I wanted to wear my fins and join the posse, the first ginger dolphin! After watching and marveling these creatures, thinking what a past life they must have had, noting scratch or claw marks behind their dorsals, they darted away, to join their families, hunt or due to a sense of danger.

Winds are steadier now, coming from northwest and forcing our course off slightly but at least we’re moving!

We busied ourselves today, as a Monday ought to be: full of work, projects, some stresses. The day started and ended well, with a handful of dirty projects in between. The bananas are very ripe so I made more banana bread, doubled the recipe and added apple sauce for moisture. A great improvement over the first batch. I tried cookies without butter, and they were no muffookie (muffin texture cookies I often baked for coworkers at Cypress) but they were cookies on a boat!

In the meantime, Brian changed the impeller on the motor, hoping for improved cooling, even though the old impeller worked just fine. Trial and error in replacing parts will hopefully yield results. Together we worked to fill various hoses and potential problem spots with water and pump them out to suss out a clog. I also finished painting the anchor chain, the gnarled mess of rusty metal now steel and bark coloured. I probably breathed and absorbed enough aerosol chemicals today to warrant hazmat status. Brian was growing frustrated with the motor but kept composed and persevered in meticulously checking each potential trouble spot. Monday crept into my patience levels when parts of the anchor had to be resprayed and were a tangled disorganized mass of rusty metal coated in half wet paint. But the job is done and will be left for sorting tomorrow. Our coffee break consisted of jumping into the dolphin’s habitat, and acting quickly to grab the back of the boat while we were under sail.

Running the behaving motor, we began a citrus fermentation project with oranges going bad (ps bad idea) and watched the dolphins once they’d returned to play in our bow’s shadow after their day of whatever they’ve been doing. It was probably more lucrative and fun than what we had busied ourselves with.  As this morning, one stood out of the water and smiled Kayak’s way. These lovely, intelligent and fun animals’ visit was a great end to our work day.

Soaking up sunset and a rum & oj, we were happy to rest and share company and vantage points. Again, the seabirds struggle to land gracefully and balance on the mast’s crossbar. They bicker and squawk at each other when a new recruit attempts to join. We have three little birds along for the ride this evening, adventurous fowl. Singing sweet song, a melody pure and true, singin… don’t worry about a thing: we have wind!

@10:30pm

14°  55’ N

108°  57’ W

Travelled 62nm

~1-5 knots / hour

Breakfast: Fruit and fresh cookies

Lunch: Sandwiches with tomato, avo, cuke and hummus

Dinner: Spanish rice with tomato puree, beans and vegetables

Arising early to check on the wind, I startled the gull stow away and he flew west, glad for the rest and to see his surroundings enough to leave. We had breakfast and coffee and got to work before the sun gained much heat. A project of rinsing, cleaning and painting the anchor chain has begun. How fun.

Halfway through the morning the wind again vanished. Trying the motor was successful but cooling it was still questionable. We jumped in the drink once more to play and cool down, marvel at our solitude and the clear colour of the placid Pacific.

Brain wanted to conduct an experiment on the motor and try to cool it down another way. We began a bucket brigade to feed the motor cool ocean water and bypass its usual tap into the ocean. Before firing it up again we rinsed our sweaty selves with the salty sea. We planned to motor until we had wind enough to fill the sails. After Brian’s experiment, however, no water was being fed through and produced by the motor on its own. An overheated motor could seize and overheated humans were getting frustrated at the lack of forward momentum.

As I learned in the stress of college assignments, a siesta usually alleviates stress, so Brian took one under the newly fixed and assembled, stronger fan, while mine was in the shade of the cruising bimini, a cover offering sun relief to the cockpit. After the snooze, Brian troubleshot the motor while I spray painted rust protector on the anchor chain.

As the sun star sank to our horizon, promising new beginnings elsewhere, west glowed pinks and purples, the soft shades of light dancing on the blue surface of ocean, manipulated by a whisper of air. Behind us, the horizon’s haze made the distinction between sea and sky hard to find. The eastern grey blue atmosphere powdered the water’s surface a pastel aquamarine with dustings of pink from the west on the crests of ripples. It was a 360 degree colour palette playing and overtaking, conceding and circulating. Birds fought for mast space to enjoy the celestial show.

@3:30pm

15°  30’ N

108°  05’ W

~1/2 – 3 knots / hour

traveled 35 nm

Breakfast: Banana Bread, fruit, cereal

Lunch: Mango Guacamole, leftover pasta

Dinner: Bean, pineapple and vegetable fajitas

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

 

My internal alarm woke me up at 6 am to swap with Brian. Just as I was hitting the head before coming on deck, he called me: dolphins!! It was still pitch black but waves were throwing specks of glowing plankton. Dancing, swimming, zigzagging around the bow were three dolphins. The only clues to their whereabouts were the trails of glow they left in their wake and their powerful gasps every so often at the surface. During their rigorous swim with the boat, a pattern seemed erratic but we could follow their trail for 10 metres away from the boat. What a sight for us, imagine the space travel-like view they must be getting!!

Keeping the decks cool with sea water splashes in the heat of the day and jamming to Bob M and Bob D was interrupted with a nap in the shade. I have hit my big head many times (falling mangos, bonked on winches, smashing on Brian’s bike hung from the ceiling…). Good thing I have hair for padding and a hard skull!

We’re putting buoys in the dingy as a back up to the life raft in an emergency situation, so that we can have the entire flotilla in case this steel bubble bursts. I’m also learning how to plot our position on charts and track our course.

After a rigorous work day of projects, it was dance party time! This dance floor sways so my usual moves have to be toned down and stabilized. I can hardly keep myself upright when dancing on land, let alone at sea…(Lorena and Scotty, you were missed!!). Feeling like we were in a music video, on a sailboat with a big blue backdrop (“Everybody look at me cuz I’m sailing on a boat!!”), brought out confidence and attitude. Funk was spun by the DJ, featuring Tower of Power. We had 2 Pacificos leftover from our launch night and we lived out the ‘Latitudes and Attitudes’ lifestyle. We were very goofy but smiling the whole time, jiving and enjoying the tunes.

Flying fish began their dance across the water, one or two graze our world of atmosphere for 15-20 metres, shining their scales in exuberant elation. These creatures have either discovered why dolphins are always smiling, playing with the wind and rebelling against their supposed fate, or they have adapted an amazing defense mechanism, leaving the realm of danger for some moments, removing themselves from confrontation of the food chain. When whole schools of these swimmers exodus from the water and become a flock, we assume a chase is in progress below the line of our vision. The fastest swimmer and highest flyer avoids being dinner. They do not, however, remain safe from the steel vessel they may accidentally land upon. Without a launching wave to propel from, these suicide fish flop around on deck and suffocate, to be dried and fried by the relentless sun.

The artistry of sunset began and we retired our dancing soles to enjoy the show. Run and limonade kept the vibe alive and we shared stories and thoughts. Neither of us have seen the green flash that is supposed to happen right after the sun descends from view, and I’m not sure that it exists. Sore staring eyes missed it tonight as the sun sank behind a dark cloud, and when it was between cloud and sea, I was more enamoured with the deep purple hue of the star to see any green. Residual colour hung in the clouds and the gulls that have been cruising alongside is played in the wind. “Heaven’s gonna burn your eyes” is ambient and nostalgic, creating a sunset soundtrack. Absorbing the elements, my surroundings and connecting them, uniting my present to my past was a pensive and complete, a brief meditation.

After dinner my watch began. Steady winds picked up and jostled the bat around, changing our course more north westerly and inconsistently. The stars shone brighter and a thin crescent moon offered familiar lights. When Brian took over, reluctant to leave his slumber, lines were echoing in the mast waves pushed the boat to and fro, and images of what may be happening on deck forbid a quick escape to sleep. A 3am awakening proved Brian to be alert and secure in his harness, my sleepy mumbles incoherent yet meaning to reassure.

@ 4:30pm

16° 48’ N

106° 45 ½’ W

Traveled 82 nautical miles

~ 2 – 3 knots / hour

Breakfast: toast with avo and tomato

Lunch: Quesedillas, limonade

Dinner: Fajitas

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I slept under the stars all night and awaited for the closest one to illuminate the day. Pink hints smeared the sky but sunrise itself was lost behind clouds.

The first full day on Kayak was a lazy one. We set up the wind scoop and cruising bimini, drank coffee…I rested in the cockpit, Brian scraped the bottom of the dingy, we drank coffee…we secured the life raft, had breakfast, dozed…this sailing is hard work! 😉

Not normally so unmotivated, but a lack of sleep and this new environment took time to sink in.

We are in a constant state of motion. Always bracing ourselves, hanging on, putting belonging where they won’t fall or tip over…Even if wind is limited, the ocean stretches as far as we can see and it will rise and swell, keeping us on our toes.

We have been seeing birds all day, solo or flocked, cruising up to Kayak to check out the sails by which we fly, then swiftly carrying on. Occasionally they veer over the water, wingtips grazing the waves as they play and demonstrate their maneuverability, and hope we feed them fish scraps.

Sea sickness is subsiding. I can now spend longer than 10 minutes in the cabin! Sleeping is alright on the internal motion sensors, but everyday activities like pouring hot water or chopping ingredients is not only a challenge in the swing and sway, but requires equal amounts of time outside with a cool breeze to calm my guts….Yet another reason to be Green in the Blue!!

I took the first watch after dinner, but not before losing to chess. I was on my own. Everything was smooth but I was sleepy! Fought to stay awake until midnight with tea, chocolate and Kon Tiki (thanks, Zack!) by Thor Heyerdahl. I woke Brian to take over and I crashed for 6 sweet hours.

@3:30pm

17° 49’ N

105° 53 ½’ W

Travelled 108 nautical miles

~ 4 knots / hour

Breakfast: Pineapple (rinds saved for homemade rum!), granola

Lunch: Greek salad and tortillas

Dinner: Sautéed veg and instant noodles, trail mix dessert