Day 15- Halfway mark pizza party

Time: 1700 Zulu (noon PV time)
Position: 19-deg 09-min N 131-deg 22-min W
Wind: ENE 12-knots Seas: NE 4-ft
Avg. Course: 274 T Avg. Speed: 5.3-knots
Rig: Single-reefed main, 80% jib poled out
24-hr distance traveled: 113-nm
Distance to Hilo: 1343-nm

Early this morning (5/31 0430 Zulu), we reached the halfway mark, and were 1,405-nm from both Punta de Mita, Mexico and Hilo, Hawaii. We celebrated last evening with homemade pizzas (BBQ chicken, onions, and hearts of palm), cold caffeinated cokes, and fair trade Trader Joe's dark cacao chocolate bars. Halfway there in mileage, but the second half we expect to have more consistent NE winds nearly howling the rest of the way to Hawaii, pushing us along the 19th parallel more quickly than the first half.

That said, last night, winds waned and this morning they have barely ramped back up. Our weather data shows that the 1018-mB contour that usually is found at this latitude, will swing a bit further south for the next day or two bringing us lighter-than-normal winds. Although with less wind the swell has become a bit more tedious, we are fine with slowing down a little. At the rate we were going, we were looking to land in Hilo on a Friday afternoon, and we are more aiming for the next Monday so we can properly check all of us and Grizzly into the Islands within 48-hrs of landing.

So we left the 80% up alone most of yesterday as the squalls got further apart and finally disappeared completely. It wasn't until the middle of the night when the winds dropped to less than 10-knots Chris raised the main. Now that it is daylight again, we will jibe the main, run wing-on-wing and likely put the 100% back up to take full advantage of the lighter winds. Or maybe, if we're really motivated, we'll fly one of our bigger head sails or even the spinnaker?!...

Day 14- Squalls?! Yes, squalls...

Time: 1700 Zulu (noon PV time)
Position: 19-deg 01-min N 129-deg 23-min W
Wind: NE 15-knots Seas: NE 5-ft
Course: 276 T Speed: 4.9-knots
Rig: 80% jib
24-hr distance traveled: 127-nm

It was an uneventful afternoon. But just as the sun started going down, things got exciting. First we noticed that the seas were no longer so organized. They were building (to 8-ft) and coming both from NE and from due N. As we enjoyed some chili and cornbread (with fresh celery, tomato, cheese and sour cream fixings) and looked at the stormy cloud formations, we discussed "a little tendril of rainy patch at about 20N and 130W that has been sitting there for a while" that Jacob had mentioned in one of his e-mails to us. Shawn was just clearing the dishes when Chris noted with a little confusion, that he was standing in a "rainy mist". We were both on deck just in time to see the leading edge (i.e. strongest winds) of our first squall. Thankfully, there was still enough light to get a view of what was happening. Our 20-knot winds bumped up several knots and we watched a cloud that reached the water's surface marching toward us. It appeared almost yellow in the waning light. Then it engulfed us. Winds increased. Rain flew horizontally. We were in a cloud. Then 10 minutes later, the sky lifted and we watched as it continued moving downwind away from us. Another 10-min and another cloud was upon us.

We still had the 100% jib up at this point and it seemed to handle the intensified conditions okay (though in truth we were a little bit overpowered, rounding upwind a bit with the heavier gusts). Since we could see that the path before us was riddled with these clouds and night was nearly upon us, we decided to be pro-active and reduce sail. It was a slow process (we really need to practice sail changes more often) and is the specific scenario that begs for roller furling. Although a few squalls went by while we bobbed around side to the swell and bare poled, the winds and waves weren't unmanageably great. Once our 80% was finally set, we observed how it handled another passing squall. Same boat speeds = good choice for the coming night.

The entire night, this scenario was repeated over and over, though time between squalls did increase toward morning. When we questioned Don Anderson about them he replied "South of 22-deg N, you are in the tropics, my darling, squalls are everywhere and are impossible to forecast. You forecast them with your eyes and your radar. They always travel NE to SW and you will see an increase in local winds of 5 to 10-knots". Yup, this was exactly what we saw (though we don't have radar). Get used to it was written between the lines. We wonder if we will see squalls daily for the rest of the passage and are grateful that our first round did not include lightning. So, as we dig deeper into our remaining warm/dry clothes, we continue our watches, just sitting back and enjoying the wet and dramatic shows.

Day 13- riding the 19th parallel

Time: 1700 Zulu (noon PV time)
Position: 19-deg 01-min N 127-deg 10-min W
Wind: NE 17-knots Seas: NNE 6-ft
Course: 260 T Speed: 5.6-knots
Rig: 100% jib
24-hr distance traveled: 131-nm

We think our bodies are getting a bit more used to this motion and schedule. Our stances (even Grizzly's) are very stable to counteract the roll. We continue to enjoy our overlapping time and spend it discussing the most up-to-date weather, excitement that happened when the other was off-watch, and checking in with how we are individually feeling throughout this voyage. We each have a cup-of-tea during our solitary dark watch hours, and punctuate the time by filling in the log book with our hourly position and weather observation data. We read. We munch. We get weather data from the HF radio. We stare at the ocean, thinking deep thoughts, looking for signs of change, watching how Tao rides each wave a little differently, noting the constantly changing sky and it's reflection playing on the water, and generally feeling in tune with nature and our smallness in the universe.

Windiest in the morning hours yesterday, we sensed a slight lessening of intensity and chose to leave the 100% up. We were rewarded with the perfect amount of wind for carrying it all day and night. We did, however, button up the old blue mainsail cover since we don't expect to be doing much upwind work for the next while. It was interesting to note how much more difficult this normally menial task was in 20-knot winds and 6-ft seas. Together we struggled to pull the lazy jacks aft, hold the cover so it wouldn't blow away while simultaneously buttoning it closed. Shawn found herself bear-hugging the boom during several rolls, being tossed first back upwind toward a wave and then forward a mere few feet from the water on the leeward side and back again. And of course it made us want to add "sew new terra cotta sail covers" to our project lists.

It has been colder and moist, so warm meals have been welcome. Yesterday we enjoyed Cheesy Ginger Carrot Pasta, cold cucumber-tomato-romaine salad and fresh warm golden brown, oatmeal topped, salt water pressure cooker bread (possibly the best loaf of bread that Shawn has ever cooked thanks to all of the previous testing done with Julia of s/v Pisces). Last night on watch, Chris clearly sighted a ship off our starboard heading eastward. He was able to see a change in bearing quickly so didn't check for it on the AIS, but guesstimates it was probably a mere 5-nm away. A good reminder that there are other boats out here to reinvigorate our 15-minute horizon scans. The winds have shifted more easterly, enough for us to cite NE in our log book, though the extra fresh winds we expected today have not yet materialized. Still, 15 to 20-knots is more than enough to send Tao racing along, so we continue sailing due west.

Day 12- Dryness is a losing battle

Time: 1700 Zulu (noon PV time)
Position: 18-deg 55-min N 124-deg 51-min W
Wind: NNE 20-knots Seas: N 6-ft
Course: 266 T Speed: 5.6-knots
Rig: 100% jib
24-hr distance traveled: 131-nm

We are grateful for many things. Of course, Tao, who steadily moves forward with no hesitation in the face of a 6-ft wave and if she gets knocked just turns back up and keeps going. Our stout SF Bay sails that hold up during this heavier weather. Our new cockpit enclosure/weather cloths that keep us indefinably dryer. Grizzly, who rolls with all of it only getting loud if she smells a can of tuna being opened, all the while providing loving snuggles. Moni (our Monitor wind vane), who is the only one of us that has previously experienced crossing the Pacific (this is his 3rd trip from east to west). Attached to our tiller, he stands watch every moment of the day, holds a better course than either of us could dream to, and only squeaks a little. Really, how did we think we could ever manage without any of them?

The first order of business today was to replace Moni's steering line as it had already nearly chafed through. The second, to eat warm blueberry muffins together in the sun. The third, kitty litter cleaning, during which Chris managed to keep ahold of this important tool as a blue water wave swept over our leward rail. For a moment Grizzly's bathroom turned into a miniature rapid and as the water passed through it redeposited more than half of the rocks to the ocean floor. And then there is radio contact- Chris now has a check-in time of 1900 Zulu on 14.306 with family up in Gualala (please feel free to check in with him at that time if you've got an HF rig). It is great for Chris to get time on the radio as he's been missing it while Shawn has been getting a crash course with both Net checkins occurring during her watches.

Dinner time brought happy hour with apples, cheese and crackers followed by saffron rice with madras lentils to carry us through the night. Having nearly reached the goal of 19-deg N, we decided to fall of a smidgen for a more comfortable ride relative to the building seas. Sunset, a moist star-filled night, and a sunrise later and we find ourselves in the thick of it. We have found the SE quadrant of the NE Pacific high and solid 20-knots of NNE wind. 131-nm is about as fast as we want to go so as not to put too much strain on ourselves or the rig. Just about time to pull the 100% jib down and replace it with the 80%. With current conditions, dryness is a losing battle, though Chris has hung wet cushions, towels and clothes out each day in the sun and we're still doing our best to maintain some sacred areas.

Day 11- Epic Epicurean Adventure

Time: 1700 Zulu (noon PV time)
Position: 18-deg 52-min N 122-deg 33-min W
Wind: NNE 15-knots Seas: N 6-ft
Course: 266 T Speed: 5.6-knots
Rig: 100% jib
24-hr distance traveled: 128-nm

Day 11 was a beautiful sailing afternoon with lots of speed in the right direction. However, winds and seas were still from the N, and with our heading W, the seas on the beam have made for some relatively solid side-to-side roll while underway. Pretty much impossible to do more than one task at a time (remember, slow and steady wins the race).

Determined to make a delicious dinner anyway, Shawn forged ahead. First the tomato salad. How often does one end up with extra fresh ripe tomatoes ready to eat? Slice about 2-lbs and set aside on the engine cover under the companionway ladder to marinate. Next step, shift focus to the pasta. Before even starting, Chris calls a warning, but too late. Enter sneaky wave #1 through the companionway to create a waterfall directly into the tomatoes. Close companionway hatch cover. Empty dish of salty water, re-marinate. Cook the gnocchi, make the pesto sauce, whisk together to a boil. Take the top-of-the-hour position report, whisk sauce more. All the while keep stance solidly wedged for stability and work with the crazily gimballing stove. Open can of chicken, give Chris juice, add chicken to sauce, whisk, add gnocchi, stir. For rockstar quality, top with pine nuts and fresh grated Italian parmesan cheese. Enter wave #2, add hysterical laughter as Shawn is drenched, put in clear weather boards and drain the tomatoes again. Don foul weather gear. While getting dressed, extra big roll knocks tomatoes off engine hatch into quarter berth. Five-second rule, scoop up tomatoes and replace in container. Finally, both of us wearing foul weather gear, clipped into the cockpit sit down together to enjoy a rolly Pesto Chicken Gnocchi with Extra Salty and Tossed tomato salad. All is well with a full belly.

The night watches were relatively uneventful. Good for star gazing with only 25% cloud cover and very little moon. As per normal, the winds abated in the wee hours enough to raise the mainsail to double reef. Then, as the sun rose in beautiful oranges in the relatively cloudless sky, winds built enough again to drop the main completely and even included some of the easterly component we've been searching for. Crew morale has been up and down. We've decided that long passage-making is a game of attrition, slowly continuously wearing down the bodies, fraying the nerves, the gear, the boat. But the low moments beget the high ones when deep thoughts about sailing are realized and challenges surmounted lead to satisfaction. No matter how much we struggle through this we are reminded time and again that together we make an excellent team and we're in the midst of an epic adventure.

Day 10- chasing the high

Time: 1700 Zulu (noon PV time)
Position: 18-deg 11-min N 120-deg 25-min W
Wind: N 10-knots Seas: NNW 6-ft
Course: 308 T Speed: 6.2-knots
Rig: double-reefed main, 100% jib
24-hr distance traveled: 128-nm

Yesterday afternoon the clouds broke apart to allow some solid sunshine through. The winds were filling in from the N, the seas built almost instantaneously to 6-ft and we were still headed upwind a bit to gain northing. We decided that whether or not we needed it, it was a good time to grab a shower. So we pulled out our shower gear, the bucket, the freshwater filled insecticide sprayer, and braced ourselves, one foot in the cockpit and one foot up on the downwind seat to wedge ourselves safely. Several buckets of not-so-sudsy saltwater and a pressurized freshwater spray rinse later and it felt good to be clean again.

When the winds/seas increase, we want to be far enough north to be able to fall so all day yesterday we headed above the beam, moving quickly. As we are nearing a new moon, it has been very dark during night watches. Forced to use senses other than sight, small changes in the conditions are more difficult to notice. It's like being able to read another language but unable to understand an overheard conversation in that language. In addition, the protection of the dodger, creates a false sense of calm conditions. Still, even in the dark, around 10pm it became obvious that conditions were changing as waves splashed over the bow more frequently. Since the wind direction hadn't shifted, this must mean an increase in intensity was forcing our windvane to steer us higher into the wind.

Maybe Shawn just figured it would cyclically reduce as so many nights past it had, or maybe she just wanted to put off any sail changes until after her Pacific Seafarer checkin. Either way, plans rapidly changed when a sneaky wave got past the dodger to soak Shawn, the comfy dry watch cushions, and with the hatch open, the navigation station. This of course awoke Chris who joined on deck and together we pulled the main from it's 3rd reef down completely and fell off to a more comfortable beam reach. With the increased seas, being beam-to with the main down for several hours made life aboard quite rolly from side-to-side. This new configuration gave us a whole new chorus of noises (not worrisome but note worthy) to listen to and individually identify including the water in our two stainless tanks sloshing loudly around beneath our bunk.

We haven't quite broken into the southern edge of the high as it has been elusively moving west, just a day ahead of us as our newest weather guru Jacob (s/v Pisces) teasingly pointed out. (He is now in the midst of his physical oceanography PhD at UW and has been looking at models and sending us information- we are amazed that he can basically tell us exactly what we are seeing and thus we're trusting his predictions. Thank you, Jacob). Both he and Don Anderson say that we're close to some solid NEasterlies. This morning as we munch on pineapple and mango topped granola, the barometer is back up to 1015 and we are watching the winds fill in. Day 10 was our biggest mileage day yet, speeding over the peaks and gliding through the troughs of the waves. We are presently holding speeds so fast, we wonder if there is a current helping us along as we continue to chase the edge of the high.

Day 9- seamounts and sleep

Time: 1700 Zulu (noon PV time)
Position: 17-deg 38-min N 118-deg 15-min W
Wind: N 10-knots Seas: NNW 3-4-ft
Course: 284 T Speed: 5.5-knots
Rig: full main, 100% jib
24-hr distance traveled: 115-nm

Yesterday afternoon we were just 65-nm SW of Isla Clarion after which we made a comfortable point of sail between several seamounts noted on the chart (no one has mentioned them as hazards, but just to be safe we wanted to stay clear). This means that we've cleared the Soccoro Islands and Mexico and are now in international waters and true open ocean. The sailing has been a magnificent, fairly consistent, 10-knot breeze with wonderfully small seas.

The only excitement last night was watching the far away glow of a fishing vessel not on the AIS (likely fishing for large pelagic fish that thrive around such seamounts), and eventually passing within 10-nm or so. Today dawned beautifully as the cloud cover broke down to 60% allowing the sun to peek through as it rose. Shawn pulled out the camera to capture it when a blow from a whale came from the peak of the wave that was about to pass under Tao. Fear flashed as the pilot whale incident was still fresh, but with the camera already out, she caught a picture of it diving just in front of Tao on its path southward. From the size and the fin, we think it was possibly a finback.

These calm conditions have allowed us some excellent sleep and Chris slept much better getting off watch before the sun rose this morning. We are still basically sticking to the 6-hrs on 6-hrs off schedule, but each of us are spending a portion of our "off" time up and about "working" at the things we most enjoy. We've been calling these our crossover periods and have really been appreciating them- having extra hands to pull a reef, another mind to discuss ideas of what the best point of sail for the current and predicted weather, eating breakfast and dinner together, all of which have been special times. Not to mention Grizzly loves having the bunk to herself for a few hours a day.

So we continue to try to gain northing with our westing and therefore find ourselves pleasantly close hauled in these settled conditions. Our weather guru, Don Anderson, says that we should be seeing 20-knot NE winds within the next 48-hrs so we want to gain northing while we can before we fall off for a more comfortable ride in the heavier wind conditions. Our barometer has just bumped up to 1015, so we are definitely getting closer to the edge of the NE Pacific high.