The bridge!
Getting the storm jib down and stowed.
Susan shaking a reef.We are beginning our approach. The Farallon Islands are 35nm away and the Golden Gate Bridge is 65nm. We are hoping to get a glimpse of land before the sun sets in an hour, but if not we will soon start seeing navigation lights, as well as the lights of civilization.
When we arrive in San Francisco late tonight (actually early tomorrow morning) it will be about 16 1/2 days since we left Honolulu, which seems like another lifetime. Here we are, bundled in layers upon layers of poly-pro and fleece and foulies (and still cold!), the 90-degree heat a distant memory.
Our watch system has had someone in the cockpit 24-hours a day. This means we have each stood about 100 hours of watch on this passage; scanning the horizon constantly, watching the weather, contemplating life, and, at times, wondering how three hours can seem like eternity when you just want to crawl back into a warm, cozy bunk.
Today was a lovely day, despite all of us feeling pretty tired. A pod of dolphins surfed our 8 to 9-knot bow wave for almost an hour, as an albatross flew overhead, and a sunfish was spotted off port side. The wind moderated slowly throughout the afternoon, and Confetti unfurled her wings as we gradually added more sail area. We are currently double-reefed with a full genoa, broad-reaching in 15 to 18-kts NNW breeze. This looks like a LOT of sail compared to what we've carried for the last five days.
If all goes well we'll pass under the bridge and tie up to the St.FYC docks around 4 in the morning.
Dolphins!!
We can almost smell the redwoods. If all goes well, we will sail under the GG Bridge late tomorrow night or early Tuesday morning. Conditions are still pretty big out here, and in fact we are under (reefed!) trysail and storm jib making 7 to 8-kts. When the wind picked up to 30-kts again today we replaced the main with the trysail and have lost no speed at all. Since we are going across the wind and seas (which have been developing for days now), the motion is pretty challenging and we round up hard
on some of the bigger waves, burying the whole leeward deck. We probably all have done the equivalent of about 500 abs every day this week, just trying to stay upright. I am wedged into the nav station with the same knee and toe, but have discovered the comfort of padding my bruised knee with a cushion. What a difference!
This morning we were treated to a brief (20 minute) respite when the wind dropped down to 16 to 18-kts for a while, the sun came out and a pod of southbound dolphins joined us to play in our bow wake. George made us some scrambled eggs (our first real breakfast besides instant oatmeal in a few days) and I made a pot of real coffee. It's been so rough we've had to resort to drinking instant coffee. Granted it's fancy European instant coffee that Riina left on the boat, BUT STILL!
The rough weather hasn't gotten any easier, but somehow we've just all gotten used to it, and it almost feels normal. Last night Dan likened it to doing low-impact aerobics constantly, including in your sleep. You can't stop compensating for the boat's movement for one second or you will be on the other side of the cabin or cockpit.
Wow! As I type, an enormous wave just crashed over the whole boat. I wish I could have recorded the sound that just made! I bet George just got doused.
Susan cooked us up some chili for our last night out here at sea, and the sky is clear for the first time in a week. It's hard to believe we are so close to land after almost 16 days out here. It will be so exciting to scream, Land Ho! sometime tomorrow afternoon. Cheers from a tired, but healthy and happy Confetti crew.
Bad hair day!!!
Getting the storm jib hanked on.
Dan got very fast at sewing the new slides on.The ocean is a powerful entity.
Well, we didn't really think it would come to this, but we decided to take down the mainsail this morning when the wind piped up over 30-kts. sustained. We were actually almost overpowered with the triple-reef, and burying the entire leeward deck, so we opted for the trysail, which we had lashed on to the base of the mast the day before. Dan and George went forward with Herculean effort to strike the main and hoist the trysail, which immediately felt like a much better motion. But within seconds
the top two slugs (that hold the luff of the sail to the mast) blew out, and we knew it was only a matter of time before the rest would zipper. So we lowered the sail and Dan went to work sewing new slugs on. After another attempt to raise, and another blow-out, we realized that the lazyjacks had been mounted wrong and were the culprit of the blown slugs. So Dan sewed yet another set on. And in the meantime the wind moderated a bit, so we are back under triple-reefed main, with the trysail ready
to go. Forecast is for this strong wind all the way home. Woo-hoo.
Here's a little stream-of-consciousness sense of life on the boat right now. It's like riding a bucking bronc. I imagine taking a small bed and lashing it to a mechanical bull in a cowboy bar. Then you climb in to go to sleep, as someone sticks a quarter (do they take quarters?) in and the thing begins to buck. You haven't had any sleep for a while so you tell yourself this can work. You will close your eyes as you are bucked around. But what's that thing digging into your back? You move the camera
box that has slid behind your mattress and and try again. Who put that jib car in your bed? Your knees are getting jammed into the wall, so you flip over on your back. No that won't work; your head is rolling side to side too much. Okay fetal position. Here we go. You try to think nice thoughts, not ones like, I only have three more hours before I'm on watch again and I haven't slept for 24 hours. You imagine maybe you're at a spa, getting a massage; the massage therapist is working on the knots
in your back that are as tight as Confetti's rigging. Ouch, you're thrown into the port-hole knobs. Okay fetal position on the other side. You look at your watch: two hours to go. You imagine your hairdresser massaging your scalp with warm soapy water that smells really good. Mmmmm. But then the boat launches off an enormous wave and you wonder if that really loud whumpf! has done anything bad to the boat. Probably not. You check your watch again: one hour to go. Back to the massage at the spa; this
time Enya is playing and the sweet smell of lavender is wafting into your nostrils. The table seems to be moving up and down, but it's nice just the same. The massage therapist is rubbing your feet, which are very sore and tired, so you are glad. Now she is pinching your toes. Why is she pinching your toes? She says, It's time for your watch. And you wonder why she is telling you this. And then you realize she's not a massage therapist at all. So you sit up with as big a smile you can muster (no
one wants to wake up a grumpy person for watch!) and you say, Be right there! As if you had just had the best night's sleep of your life and can't wait to get on deck. Which is no different from the bucking bronc down below, except the wind is really loud, and if your attention lags for just one second you might get a wave in the face like a hard, cold water balloon. Then you curse the company who makes your foulies, angry that they didn't make the seal on the neck and wrists tighter, as water saturates
your long underwear. But then you admit to yourself that you probably neglected to fasten them tightly enough in your haste not to be late for watch. Your hands grip the cold stainless steal of the dodger as you scan the horizon for ships. You feel your aches and pains. The waves are really big! Oh but there's an albatross soaring around the boat, and the sun is rising, trying to peek through the clouds, and what's that? Your lovely, lovely husband is poking his head out of the companionway with
a big smile and a steaming cup of coffee for you. And you think, life couldn't get any better than this.
Flying the trysail.
The wind is generally the same strength as yesterday (N-25-kts), although it blew harder for a while today. We are still under the triple-reefed main and storm jib, trying to go east. Do to the slamming of the bow off the waves (yes there are some drawbacks to a flat-bottomed boat), we sometimes have to head lower. But generally we are pointed at SF. We are getting used to the loudness of the wind, but the motion of the boat is still pretty hard on the body. Simple tasks are very difficult.
We have about as much sail up as a Folkboat right now, but we're still making great time. Dan and I lashed the trysail onto the mast this afternoon (no small feat!), so it is ready to go if we decide to strike the main. There's been a fair amount of VHF radio traffic, and we've seen a few ships. We even heard the Morro Bay CG station this afternoon. Everybody is healthy and happy, but certainly looking forward to some flat rest. We are getting closer!
Same knee and toe wedged in as I type, but harder tonight. I also have bruises on my hips from getting shoved into the stove's crash bar, cooking dinner. We are under triple-reefed main and storm jib, and are moving 7 to 8-kts on a beam reach, in seas that are just about fully developed (big!). Everyone is asleep. Of course that could be a total exaggeration. They are at least prone in their bunks. Susan, Dan and I sleep on port side; Susan and Dan in seaberths with lee cloths. This means they are
100-percent relying on their lee cloths now. George sleeps under the bookshelf on starboard, so on this tack he doesn't have to worry anymore about books coming down on him. Maybe just a flying body.
This is great sailing, although really the kind that one would prefer to look back on.
From Dan's memory:
"And wherefore was it glorious? Not because the way was smooth and placid as the southern sea. But because at each moment your courage was called forth and your fortitude challenged. For this it was glorious. For this it was a glorious adventure..."
It's blowing 20-kts NE and we are hard on the wind, double-reefed with storm jib. It's quite a contrast to a couple days ago. We're burying the rail and moving at about 6-kts. Not everyone is feeling terrific but we're all happy to be moving well and sailing again. Port tack is more challenging for working at the nav station (where I am now) and for cooking. I've got one knee and a big toe jammed against a bulkhead trying to stay in the chair to type this as the boat launches. The moon is in its
first quarter tonight and the clouds (which we've had 100% of) have lifted just a bit to show us a really pretty night. The wind is supposed to increase and back tomorrow, so we should be on more of a reach and screaming along. We're on our way!
Trying to get some sleep!
Well, it took a while, but we finally got away from the Pacific High, now a couple hundred miles behind us. We are sailing, and actually even have a reef in. The wind slowly (so slowly...) finally came up throughout the day and we shut down the engine at noon (hopefully for the duration). The wind is straight out of the north 13 to 15-knots and we are moving along at 7.5-knots in soup thick fog and light rain. We saw two huge eastbound container ships today, so we're keeping an extra vigilant look
out.
At longitude 145W we switched time zones to keep our sunrise on the 0600-0800 watch. We had a little adventure yesterday when the starboard flexible water tank emptied unto the bilge just after we had filled it with the watermaker. But it turned out just to be a burst hose, which is now blocked off. Thankfully we were motoring, so the batteries were charged and we just re-filled the tank. We are down to 22-gallons of diesel, and are over 900nm from San Francisco, so please keep your fingers crossed
for good wind for us! Otherwise we'll be having flashbacks of the sail to the Marquesas.
Port tack is where we'll be for the next week, which is taking some getting used to. We've really only sailed on this tack for a few days before, so we have to learn where all the new handholds are, and how to sleep (or try) leaning the other way.
Dan just served us up some baked brie with apple-cranberry chutney, and chicken is roasting in the oven. I can't say we're suffering in the culinary department. Every meal has been better than the next, and so good I don't think our clothes are going to fit when we get home.
We are more than half-way to San Francisco! It's hard to judge exactly since we aren't on the rhumbline, but we have come more than 1,300nm and have about 1,100 to go. The high pressure has really kept the wind down where we are, so we're still motoring. But the forecast is for wind tomorrow, so hopefully we'll be zooming along again under sail, on port tack.
The sea was completely glassy (really!) today, which is a little eerie when you're in the middle of nowhere. We even stopped to pick up a floating glass ball as souvenir.
We've had to do a few projects, which is always easier in calm weather. So we are glad to get them done now. Two nights ago the outhaul on the main parted; the main was just floating around out there by itself. Dan also had the autopilot drive unit completely disassembled on the table yesterday, but sadly it is shot. So we are handsteering while motoring, which is the most boring kind of steering there is. Once we start sailing, though, the windvane will be able to steer.
Lastly tonight I just want to state a HUGE appreciation for our awesome crew. Susan and George are so much fun and they each embody (what we call at NOLS) "EB" or expediton behavior, which is basically just a really, really good attitude about everything and anything. We love our crew and are having a great time with them.
We couldn't resist stopping to pick up this glass ball while motoring through the Pacific high.
The only problem was that there was this whole ecosystem living underneath it: muscles, crabs and little fish, all in harmony in the middle of the Pacific.
So we extricated them from their home and tied them onto a milk jug.
We know it's illegal to throw plastic in the ocean, but we didn't want to leave the little creatures to drown (and we really wanted the ball!).
Confetti's bow is pointed right at the Golden Gate Bridge! Except we are 1,200nm west in 4-knots of SW breeze. We turned off the engine this morning and have been sailing all day, wing-and-wing at about 3 or 4-knots. We're trying to decide if we should use more of our fuel now or wait. The forecast is for pretty light wind for a while, so it's a hard decision.
It's a beautiful night out here and we just finished dinner. The sliver of a moon from a few nights ago is turning into a beautiful sight in the evening, that will conveniently be full by the time we get home.
George's wife, Stephanie White, is tracking our progress with her Meadow Montessori high school students. We hear they are getting to go out sailing this week. Fairwinds from the middle of the ocean!
Projects and appetizers.
Finally we have been visited by an albatross, for the first time this whole trip. The huge bird flew by this morning, hanging around astern of us. And again it came by for a visit tonight just as the sun was giving us an awe-inspiring set, with the tiniest sliver of new moon just above it.
It's been a truly delightful day out here in the big blue, with favorable winds and a reasonable amount of sleep to be had. As I write, I am wearing a sweatshirt and contemplating a wool hat for my night watch. Yet another novelty to be had as we check off the latitudes and leave that equator far behind.
Since yesterday afternoon we have been passing lots of debris in the water; mostly small bits of plastic. But there have been some rather large chunks too. It's a little sad to see so much garbage.
Topics of conversation in the cockpit today included religion, acquiring an MBA (we have a couple MBA's on board and one who is considering getting one), and politics. Susan was been kind and lovely to us lay people, considering the people she must regularly converse with.
George prepared a gorgeous meal of spinach ravioli and salad tonight, raising the bar on presentation. We are currently skirting around the west side of the Pacific High, and plan to "turn right" tomorrow and head for San Francisco. Yippee!
George getting ready to put a reef in.It's just after midnight here in the middle of the ocean. Confetti is slicing through the phosphorescence, and the stars are poking out between big dark clouds looming overhead. Everyone is sleeping, and reports so far are that sleep hasn't been too hard to come by, at least in several-hour chunks. Our wind has been pretty steady out of the NE 10 to 15-kts today, and we have moved along at over 7-kts since a few lulls last night. Yesterday's 24-hour was 140-nm at 002-degreesT.
Today there was an "incident" in the head (the bathroom on a boat, or, more specifically, the toilet). Imagine all the things you don't want happening to your toilet, and what keeps the plunger section of hardware stores in business, and then try to imagine that situation on a moving, heeling, broncing boat, and, well... not pretty. But we are all alive and well and sanitized, and thinking of that which does not kill us.
We are about even with San Diego right now, except 2000nm west across the ocean. We've had to pull blankets out for sleeping for the first time in 6 months and I am wearing a fleece top right now. These are new sensations on our sun-soaked skin and it is fantastic!
Donuts and coffee at sea - mmmmm!
Strata a la Susan!
Our fabulous crew.
Hey we won our class in the Lahaina Return race (beating all of two boats!!).
George topping off our water tanks.
