Good sailing,
Things have calmed down and we are trying to get into a
rhythm for the rest of the passage. We are getting weather fax
images on
the computer using the SSB radio so we can keep an eye on the weather.
At 10:30 the engine started making a terrible noise and Ellen shut it down immediately. Upon closer inspection the clutch for the watermaker pump was coming separated from the pulley, so I removed the pump cleaned the bolts added some locktite and put it all back together. After starting the engine things we quiet again and we made 20 gallons of water to make sure everything was in working order.
The wind finally picks up as we approach Clarion Island so we put up the spinnaker and shut off the motor after almost 42 straight hours.
Passed by Clarion at 9pm this evening. Still no Tropical storms, so we decide to press on.
In the lee of the island I transfer fuel from 2 of our jerry jugs to our main tank since it is relatively flat and calm. Ellen is able to talk to the Navy outpost on the radio. This was done all in Spanish. We enquired if our friends on Calyptus had stopped my a week ago, but they said they had not seen the blue steel boat. After Muchas gracias' and Que la via bien's we continued on. The wind got light again and we had frustrating sailing conditions much of the night. But when we would threaten to turn on the engine, the wind would pick up a bit.
We have no idea why we didn't take any photos of the island as we were approaching it in the evening. I guess we were just so excited to see land.
Yesterday I found our jib halyard was cut badly near the top of the mast a few inches from the shackle, so I retied the shackle and taped the area to slow down the process. I also wrapped the shackle in chafe guard that Davis makes. This is a piece of durable material that has Velcro on one side and is normally designed for dock lines where they chafe on cleats. It worked very well in protecting the halyard from the headstay. Thanks Niels. Today I found where the block for our vang was cutting into the boom so I now have the vang attached to the boom with a piece of tubular webbing like the race boats do. Each morning and evening we do a look around the boat at all the rigging to make sure everything is in order. This way we catch potential problems while they are still small.
Ellen made spicy rice for dinner which we followed with fig newtons from Trader Joes that her Mom bought for us in Southern California. What a treat. We have also been munching on chocolate covered raspberry bars. I think we are eating them too fast, but Ellen points out that they will melt in the heat we are approaching.
On my morning inspection of Mandolin I found 2 flying fish that had the unfortunate luck to land on the deck. So I collected and cooked them up for breakfast much in the same way we cooked brook trout when I was a kid. They were tasty. The wind was fabulous for sailing today, most of which was under a full main and a poled out jib. Even got some spinnaker time this afternoon when things got light. The weather faxes have been looking good. We pulled out our French lessons on CD and started studying.
There have been sea birds circling our boat and diving near our bow. Only this evening I figured out that they to are enjoying the tasty flying fish. Apparently the noise of our boat going through the water scares them into flight and the birds swoop down and catch them. Interesting to watch.
Then this evening Mandolin was feeling a bit jealous and sailed under her first squall and got a rain bath of her own. I am on constant lookout for chafe.
Today we are more than 1/3 the way to the Marquesas. Also we calculate that we are now south of the sun and also further south that either of us has ever been before.
Today was
a culinary day. Starting out with a huge Mushroom, Tomato,
Avocado and cheese omelette. Then Ellen made a loaf of whole
wheat bread.
Somewhere in there I caught a Dorado and made sushimi out of half of
it.
The other half we poached with onions and capers for dinner.
We're
stuffed.
I had to take the pole down for a bit this morning to reach for a while as we were steering too far south. That was short lived and the pole for the jib went back up and stayed that way for the rest of the day. Ellen and I comment on how important it is to have a whisker pole when doing a downwind passage like this to keep the jib out to windward and full of air. We spend most of our time wing on wing which means the main sail is on one side of the boat and the jib is on the other with the wind behind us, but slightly to the side of the jib. It works really well and is comfortable. Saw another ship today, this one was a long liner who was fishing for yellowtail tuna. Ellen talked with him on the radio.
Where we are near 11 degrees north and can see both the North star and the Southern cross at night. Quite a sight.
Today, after I
looked for ships, I noticed the tiller for the first time.
It sure looked like fun to steer the boat, so I jumped on (I'm not
very
big) and grabbed ahold. Oh, boy! What fun to steer a sailboat.
Todd
took some pictures of me, so I'll remind them to post one of them on
their
website once they get to an internet cafe.
While I was steering, Todd got on the amateur radio and was able to call his Dad with the help of another amateur radio operator. I got to listening to their conversation and fell off the tiller, ouch! It's pretty cool that Todd and Ellen can call their families from sea. It makes them happy.
[Bioloski writes] I'm one of Todd and Ellen's three stuffed bears onboard Mandolin. I also sleep in the quarterberth along with Rex, Teddy (another bear) and the off watch person. Well, tonight Todd decided to sleep in the cockpit as it was too warm down below. He wanted me to sleep with him. I was a bit scared to go out in the cockpit, but Todd said he would hang on to me.
He held me really good and I was just about comfortable when he turned over on his back. He let go of me as he shifted and I rolled across his chest to the low side of the boat. Luckily, the edge of the cockpit seatback was just high enough to catch me, but I could see over it into the water. Yikes! I must have let out a yelp, because Ellen snatched me right up and tossed me down below into the quarterberth where I felt safe again.
I guess Todd missed me. Ellen soon brought me back out into the cockpit, but before she gave me to Todd, she tied a line around me really tight so that if I went over she could retrieve me. Todd and Ellen are always tethered to the boat when they are in the cockpit or on deck and now I was too. Todd and I slept quite comfortably for the rest of his off watch. Being a teddy bear isn't as easy as it looks!
The ITCZ was formerly known as the doldrums. Not only does the wind get light, This is the area where wind can come from any direction and strong squalls are common. Our fuel was running low and we were concerned at how much we might have to motor.
That night around 9pm, the first of the serious squalls hit. It dumped rain on Mandolin for several minutes. After, there was no wind. The wind slowly picked back up and we slowly sailed on. We were now sailing in a SW direction, but we wanted to go S. The wind was now out of the south.
Ellen writes: Sailing close hauled meant reefing down by degrees. We reefed the main, then put the second reef in a few hours later. We sailed on our ear with reefed main and full jib for about a day when Todd noticed that the aft lower shroud (part of the rigging that holds up the mast) was stressing the deck, which was in turn stressing a bulkhead. Time to reef the jib. The boat then flattened out some and the ride was more comfortable. Mandolin is now covered in salt from the constant spray flying from the bow. Thank God for our dodger and sun awning; at least there is a small area in the cockpit that doesn't get doused.
We are down to our last mango and enough oranges to make a glass of juice for each of us which I want to save for the equator. On the veggie side we had to throw away a couple cabbages that molded, but we still have one and a couple of cucumbers left. After that we are down to canned fruits and veggies in addition to all our dry stores. It seems that we have barely scratched the surface of our dry stores.
The wind has finally come around today like we had been hoping and are on a beam reach doing 5.3 knots. I just took the reef out of the jib, and may take the last reef out of the main later this evening.
Earlier today I got out the Silicon and fixed a leaky chainplate for our port upper stay. Now no more water is coming down below.
Ellen writes: Todd mentioned the Pacific Seafarers net. This is a net of amateur radio operators who conduct a roll call for boats making passages anywhere in the Pacific. They post the positions of the boats at www.bitwrangler.com/yotreps
The net is on during my first evening watch, so I get to check us in. All the men on the net are just super. I've had a lot of fun chatting with them and getting to know a few just a bit. Todd reworked our radio installation before leaving La Paz and the changes have made big improvements. Several people on the net have complimented us on the fine installation as indicated by strong signal strength.
Each time we make a passage of a few days or more between the Islands, we will be checking into this net. We'll try to send out a message before we begin a new passage and then everyone can follow our progress on the web.
Todd writes: At 1:10 Cabo time Mandolin with it's crew of Todd, Ellen,
6
ducks, 3 bears, 2 moose, a dog and a platypus sailed across the equator.
This is cause for much celebration as it is the first time we have
crossed
into the Southern hemisphere. We are now shellbacks following
maritime
tradition. A few miles north of the equator a pod of Risso's
dolphins
swam by the boat to wish us well. These dolphins are very large,
12 plus
feet and have blunt noses. They swim in formation side by side
all coming
up for a breath at the same time. Ellen made us a celebratory
lunch of
pasta and clam sauce. King Neptune faired well as he got a liberal
dose
of Barcardi rum both before and after the equator. As we crossed
Ellen
collected a bucket of equator water. This special water is either
both
clockwise and counterclockwise at the same time or neither depending
on
how you look at it. All the rubber duckies got to go swimming
in the
bucket while Ellen and I made quick work of a bottle of Martenilli's
Sparkling Cider and had a few Hob Nob cookies that Ellen had hid away
for
the occasion. We congratulated each other for all the hard work
we have
done to get to this point. We were also very thankful for Mandolin
being
so strong and swift, the weather being good, God keeping an eye out
for
us, Helmsley for steering, and the fact that all the hurricanes stayed
away from us. So now we continue on a broad reach to cover the
650 miles
left before we make landfall at Fatu Hiva in the Marquesas.
It's amazing to think that we left Cabo over 20 days ago. Time is different out here. On the one hand it seems like it goes so fast. How can it have been 20 days when it seems more like just a few days ago? But at the same time it seems to go slow as we work our way through each watch of 3 hours several time a day so that it appears that we have 4 short days in each 24 hour period instead of just one.
The sailing has been heavenly as we broad reach before 15 -18 knots of wind with a 4' sea. Reaching, even broad reaching is one of the best points of sail for speed, but it seems that it happens least often as you are either going to windward or straight down wind. Mandolin has found her groove with a full jib and a single reef in the main to keep the helm balanced. Now with the South Equatorial current pushing us we are again averaging more than 6 knots over the ground. Not bad for our 27 feet of waterline.
Ellen cooked up a large pot of curried split pea soup for lunch and I just squeezed the last of our oranges into juice. The oranges have lasted great. We bought a 100 lb. bag in La Paz and had to give away many of those before we left so we would have room to walk around as they were sitting on the floor. Had we purchased them just before leaving Cabo we would still have oranges when we arrived. So now it is on to dried and canned fruit until we make landfall.
We keep a three hour on/ three hour off watch schedule so someone is always awake. This is to watch Mandolin and her needs and to watch for other ships. We look around every 10 minutes for other traffic. This morning, on one of my look arounds, I saw a ship ahead of Mandolin's port bow. I took off the headphones for the CD player and jumped down below for the binoculars. I saw two white steaming lights and a green sidelight. Oh, gosh, what side is the green light on? I look at our masthead tricolor light and then remember that we are just running the all around white anchor light to conserve battery power. I jump below again to turn the tricolor on and the anchor light off. Now the ship can tell what our course is - if they are looking.
I look at the tricolor again. My port side is red, which means his green light is starboard. We are on a converging course. Not good. I am feeling deer-in-the-headlights paralysis and I don't do things in the right order. Instead of changing course to pass starboard to starboard, I turn on the radar to see our distance apart and try to raise the ship on VHF. The radar gives a loud alarm when it turns on, which wakes up Todd. The ship doesn't respond to my VHF call.
"How are we doing?" asks a sleepy Todd.
"We have a ship off our bow. I'd, I'd really like it if you came up here."
Todd pokes his head out of the companionway. I give him the lowdown on our converging course and he recommends heading more to weather to pass starboard to starboard. Of course, I knew this was the right course of action, but hadn't done it yet. I brought us 20 degrees more on the wind and the ship was now on my starboard bow. The events I've described took less than five minutes.
I now had the ship on radar. It was only four miles away. I watched his progress visually and on the radar. It passed about a mile from us. I hailed it twice more, but never got a response. Is anyone on watch?
This incident reaffirms my belief that we are basically invisible out here. While we have had ships hail us, I always assume we won't be seen and it's our job to get out of the way. A converging course bow to bow gives the least reaction time of all courses as the combined speed of both vessels is narrowing the gap at a fast rate. I estimate that from the time the ship was abeam of us until it disappeared over the horizon behind us was only 20 minutes.
We have heard stories of ships arriving in port and discovering sailboat rigging stuck in their bow. The ship never knew they had struck a sailboat. We must always keep a good watch and fight complacency when we haven't seen one for several days.
Many people don't believe it, but crossing oceans in a small boat is much safer than driving on the LA freeways, where I grew up. Even with the discomfort of being in constant motion, I'd much rather be where I am than in a car.
Today has been a lovely beam reach all day.
Some amateur radio operators on the Pacific Seafarers net have the equipment to enable us to make phone calls. I'm not familiar with what the details of this equipment, but it enables the operator's radio and telephone to be connected. We contact one of these operators, they call the number of our choice, and we can chat with whomever answers the phone at the other end. When I talk with my mom, she is essentially talking through the other operator's radio.
WA6TLL, Tom in Riverside, has made several phone calls for us and we greatly appreciate it. I think our parents are beginning to like our ocean passages as they hear from us more often.
An unexpected benefit of the radio, we've actually made some new friends on our ocean crossing! Five days after we left Cabo San Lucas, I heard a new boat at the end of the roll call list on the Seafarer's net. It was the schooner, Astor, enroute from San Diego to the Marquesas. Hey Todd, another boat is as crazy as we are!
Well, not really. Leaving out of San Diego put them quite a bit east of Cabo and further away from any possible tropical storm development. Also, turns out that the schooner Astor is 86 feet long! I would hear Lani on the net, "... travelling at a boat speed of 9.1 knots..." "... at a speed of 8.5 ..." Wow, all that waterline makes it easier for them to outrun bad weather systems.
So one night after her checkin, I heard Lani switch frequency with another ham operator and decided to introduce myself to someone else going to the Marquesas. I thought we would be the last boat from the Northern West coast to make for the South Pacific. Turns out that Lani and Gordon and Suzy have a radio schedule twice a day other than after the Seafarer's net. They invited us to join them. Todd and I dubbed it the Lani Net as several people in California were there to hear the latest and wish Astor well. I've chatted with Byron, Paula, Hal, Ken, and Jullian.
These radio contacts with Lani and gang have been a major highlight of my day. It was because Gordon wanted some equator water that we grabbed some. I had not thought of it. I sailed to Hawaii five and 1/2 years ago on a boat that did not have long range radio; I sure didn't know what I was missing!
At 8:45pm the wind is screaming and a squall is bearing down on us. Time to reef the jib. I head us up into the wind and release the halyard. Todd pulls the sail down on deck while I then heave Mandolin to. The motion get better immediately.
The squall hits and starts dumping rain while Todd is still on the foredeck. He is only wearing his Sospender PFD, so at least there won't be any wet clothes to hang. He comes back into the cockpit since the rain might start pelting down on him. We've heard of people getting red welts from rain squalls. We look at all the water pouring down and blowing into the cockpit and start laughing like two kids playing in the sprinklers. I'm glad we were hove to.
When we raise the Jib again, the sheet has not been secured and it luffs itself crazily and shakes a bit of the reef out. Darn. Down it comes. Todd reties the reef and straightens out the sheets. Up it goes again and Mandolin leaps forward at 8+ knots in a gust. Wow, pretty amazing for a boat with a hull speed of 7 knots. We drop down to 7.5 knots and then settle out at about 6.5 - with the sails fully reefed!
I give my report on the net and then chat with Gordon, Byron and Lani for a bit. Me talking on the radio is cutting into Todd's sleeping time so I try to cut it short. I sit in the cockpit in just a jogbra and Sospenders, clipped onto the jackline. It's too wet to wear anything on my lower half and too warm for waterproof pants. I ought to invent waterproof shorts.
I sit there watching for ships and squalls and hoping Todd is asleep. We haven't opened any forward ports for over a week as too much spray is making its way on deck. I am tucked up inside the dodger on the high side of the boat where one is usually safe from most of the green water. I heard a joke once that goes like this:
Q: Where does a Sumo wrestler sit when he comes to your house? A: Where ever he wants to.
I've modified it for sailing:
Q: Where does green water flow when it comes on board? A: Where ever it wants to.
So I sit there with most of the spray hitting the dodger, or landing in the cockpit behind me. The night is dark with 100% cloud cover and no moon. Mandolin rises on yet another wave, does a sort of herky jerky, and the next thing I know I have a few gallons of salt water running down my recently washed back. Of course, one conquest wasn't enough for this wave. The water continues past me, down the companionway and lands on Todd, asleep in the quarterberth next to the companionway. Gosh, how romantic this ocean voyaging is. I'm more upset that Todd has been woken up than that the bottom sheet is fairly wet. Todd goes back to sleep on a wet sheet and I spend the rest of my watch down below, popping my head out of the companionway every 10 minutes.
We just have this night, another day, another night and we should be at Fatu Hiva, Marquesas. God, I want to be there. I want the constant motion of the boat to stop. I want to curl up in bed with my husband for an entire night. I want a salad. I want fresh fruit. I want to go swimming in a fresh water pool at the base of a waterfall. I want a cup of coffee and a croissant at a cute French cafe. I want to snuggle with my husband for hours instead of minutes.
Things did finally calm down last night. And here it is only 2/3 the way through Todd's off watch and he just got out of bed. Hurray, he must have caught up a bit on his sleep. Today has been a fairly pleasant sail even though we're still on a close reach. We are still reefed down hard as we have a current pushing us and don't want to arrive at Fatu Hiva while it is still dark. We should be there tomorrow!!!
Chatted with Lani on Astor this morning. They were about 16 miles from Nuku Hiva island and should have their anchor down and be in town several hours ago. Good for them! Gordon is still keeping the radio schedule going with us until we get our anchor down. Very nice of him.
Completion of 23: 6/22/2000 10 Degrees 27' South 138 Degrees 40' West
Laaaaaand Hoooooo!!!!
Todd wakes me up for the dawn watch with a silly grin on his face. I know we should be within 10 miles of the island and I'm sure he's sees it, but it is still hard to get out of bed. It is time for our radio contact with Gordon, but Todd won't talk on the radio until I pop my head out of the hatch.
My God! There it is! It's big and still a silhouette in the
first light
of day with clouds resting on top. We key the mike, "LAND HO!"
we yell.
We are within 7 miles of the island and are within French jurisdiction.
We are not allowed to transmit on amateur radio until we obtain a French
reciprocal call sign, but this transmission counts as maritime safety
and
is allowed.
As we sail closer to the island, the sun rises above the horizon, but is still hidden by the clouds. We begin to make out the features of this tall, rugged, volcanic island. The background color is charcoal. But the charcoal is mostly hidden by an amazing variety of shades and textures of green. The greens are yellowish, brownish, sage, emerald, kelly, moss and forest. The far point of the island is still in silhouette and looks like a citadel guarding its precious land. Todd and I can't stop grinning, laughing and hugging each other. I think I expected to feel relief when we arrive, but we are in a state of bliss and excitement. I can't stop hooting, hollering, and jumping around the cockpit.
There
is an area where the steep hillside/cliff slid down to the ocean.
This slide area is now covered with trees. The surge breaking
into the
trees is a bluish, turquoise color. It's so amazing to see something
other than deep, almost black, blue of the open ocean.
About this time the smell of the island hit us. It is the most amazing thing to smell earth again after such a long time at sea. You become very sensitive to any smell besides the ocean and the boat. It was a woodsy smell, damp and pleasant. So here we are breathing in deep lungfulls of air not unlike a hunting dog who is trying to get the smell of a bird.
We see other sailboats anchored in the distance. Another sailboat is motoring in from the far side of the island. We find out later that this French boat has just sailed from the Gambier Islands to the Southeast. Our friends Claire and Raul on Calyptus, with whom we left La Paz, are anchored here in Hane Vave, Fatu Hiva Island! We motor by and yell, "Ahoy Calyptus!" until they wake. The two Italian boats are waving energetically, welcoming us in. Other friends, Gary and Amy on Quarter Splash are also here. The people on the German boat, Anna Maria, wave us in as well. What a wonderful welcome!
The French boat that arrived just before us is now anchored, so we pick our spot and put the anchor down for the first time in 23 days. We picked up our anchor in Cabo San Lucas and were under sail by noon on May 30th. We are anchored and settled by 11am Cabo San Lucas time - 22 days and 23 hours later.
Todd and I propped our eyelids open with toothpicks for the rest of the day and managed to stay away until early evening. Our friends Claire and Raul invited us over for breakfast. It was so odd to get off of Mandolin and row away, but it was so wonderful to see our friends and share a meal with them. Fresh fruit!!! We ate our first Pompelmouse. I detest grapefruit; anyone who says pompelmouse are grapefruit is wrong.
Later we decide to test our land legs and row ashore. Amazingly, we can both stand still in one spot and can walk normally. The charcoal and green cliffs rise all around us as we wander up the narrow river valley past Polynesian people and homes. We are tired and don't attempt to enter into much conversation with people. Besides, we can't say much in French beyond "Bonjour!"
Todd brought home a fish after spear fishing with Raul. While he was gone, I unburied the V-berth and made up a bed for two. We showered, dined and were asleep not long after 8pm Marquesan time.
Some statistics from our passage:
Distance: 2849 Nautical Miles Motored: 54 hours Made water: 6 Hours Fuel used: 30 Gallons Water Used: 110 Gallons approx. or 4-5 Gallons/day Average speed: 5.2 knots
Fatu Hiva 10 degrees 27' South 138, degrees 40' West
Todd and Ellen Mandeville
S/V "Mandolin" - Cal 34
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