0950 Ship's Time
Sailing
Contributing to the blog is a rotating assignment on the boat, like doing the dishes on the after dinner watch or rinsing the cockpit midday. I was actually assigned the job yesterday but was relieved of the duty by my crew mate Scott who kindly volunteered. This morning, as I sit down to write, I regret giving up the chore so willingly. Yesterday would have been an easy day to write a ship’s blog. My morning coffee was interrupted by an orca sighting. After my morning watch, I got to take the most glorious fresh water deck shower, my first since leaving Cabo. Before moonrise, during the darkest part of night watch, we inadvertently released our Yankee halyard while shaking out a reef and managed to recover it to deck immediately and hoist it back up as smoothly as if it were a part of a planned practice maneuver.
We’ve had an uneventful twelve hours since the Yankee incident although I understand there were dolphins riding the bow wave overnight and a recreational vessel not identified on AIS just passed within boat lengths of our port side. The last half dozen logbook entries comment on light winds and I suspect we will spend at least the next 6 hours ghosting back towards the coast of Mexico where we hope to take advantage of favorable current and ideally some afternoon sea breezes. We are tracking to cross the Gulf of Tehuantepec on Monday during daylight hours and I’m looking forward to what I’m sure will be the most exhilarating sailing of the passage.
For now, I am enjoying the slow motion sailing. I’ve been taking advantage of the calm sea state to hang out in the saloon and watch the daily goings on in the galley. As I’m sure others have commented, the meals on the boat have been unbelievable and this morning Delaney is making dough for croissants, an ambitious baking project in a shore kitchen much less an 80+ F degree galley with limited counter space. In between watches, I’ve been reading Hal Roth’s Two On A Big Ocean and imaging what it must have been like to circumnavigate the Pacific without GPS, weather routing services or refrigeration. On watch, I focus on keeping the boat moving roughly in the direction we are trying to sail.
I signed up for this trip thinking that it would allow me the headspace to untangle some sticky shore problems. The reality has been that it is hard to even remember the problems that needed solving. On the ocean, there are few reference points to life on land. The days are structured by time on and off watch. When I look to the horizon, all I see is Pacific Ocean. I spend most of my day sleepily considering how to plan around predicted and actual weather conditions and there is little bandwidth left for the shore problems; they will have to wait until I get back to shore. My last connection to my home in Washington, DC was the blue fleece that I wore in the Uber on the way to the airport to catch my flight and continued to wear on the first few night watches leaving Cabo. A large winter storm had covered DC in a concrete-like mixture of snow and ice and forecasted temperatures were below freezing for at least the next week. I left for the airport hours before rush hour and we passed heavy duty construction equipment that the city had hired to clear the streets so that trash could be collected. A few nights ago, the weather turned decidedly tropical and I packed the fleece away in the farthest recesses of my locker. Since, then the only thing that comes to mind when I try think of home is the car ride to the airport.
I want to use my blog writing duties to send a couple of messages home: To my mom - I am safe and alive. The winds are light, the ocean is calm and we are headed back to within sight of the coast of southern Mexico. To Brian - I miss you and I wish you were here. You would love this.
// Christine
Sailing
Contributing to the blog is a rotating assignment on the boat, like doing the dishes on the after dinner watch or rinsing the cockpit midday. I was actually assigned the job yesterday but was relieved of the duty by my crew mate Scott who kindly volunteered. This morning, as I sit down to write, I regret giving up the chore so willingly. Yesterday would have been an easy day to write a ship’s blog. My morning coffee was interrupted by an orca sighting. After my morning watch, I got to take the most glorious fresh water deck shower, my first since leaving Cabo. Before moonrise, during the darkest part of night watch, we inadvertently released our Yankee halyard while shaking out a reef and managed to recover it to deck immediately and hoist it back up as smoothly as if it were a part of a planned practice maneuver.
We’ve had an uneventful twelve hours since the Yankee incident although I understand there were dolphins riding the bow wave overnight and a recreational vessel not identified on AIS just passed within boat lengths of our port side. The last half dozen logbook entries comment on light winds and I suspect we will spend at least the next 6 hours ghosting back towards the coast of Mexico where we hope to take advantage of favorable current and ideally some afternoon sea breezes. We are tracking to cross the Gulf of Tehuantepec on Monday during daylight hours and I’m looking forward to what I’m sure will be the most exhilarating sailing of the passage.
For now, I am enjoying the slow motion sailing. I’ve been taking advantage of the calm sea state to hang out in the saloon and watch the daily goings on in the galley. As I’m sure others have commented, the meals on the boat have been unbelievable and this morning Delaney is making dough for croissants, an ambitious baking project in a shore kitchen much less an 80+ F degree galley with limited counter space. In between watches, I’ve been reading Hal Roth’s Two On A Big Ocean and imaging what it must have been like to circumnavigate the Pacific without GPS, weather routing services or refrigeration. On watch, I focus on keeping the boat moving roughly in the direction we are trying to sail.
I signed up for this trip thinking that it would allow me the headspace to untangle some sticky shore problems. The reality has been that it is hard to even remember the problems that needed solving. On the ocean, there are few reference points to life on land. The days are structured by time on and off watch. When I look to the horizon, all I see is Pacific Ocean. I spend most of my day sleepily considering how to plan around predicted and actual weather conditions and there is little bandwidth left for the shore problems; they will have to wait until I get back to shore. My last connection to my home in Washington, DC was the blue fleece that I wore in the Uber on the way to the airport to catch my flight and continued to wear on the first few night watches leaving Cabo. A large winter storm had covered DC in a concrete-like mixture of snow and ice and forecasted temperatures were below freezing for at least the next week. I left for the airport hours before rush hour and we passed heavy duty construction equipment that the city had hired to clear the streets so that trash could be collected. A few nights ago, the weather turned decidedly tropical and I packed the fleece away in the farthest recesses of my locker. Since, then the only thing that comes to mind when I try think of home is the car ride to the airport.
I want to use my blog writing duties to send a couple of messages home: To my mom - I am safe and alive. The winds are light, the ocean is calm and we are headed back to within sight of the coast of southern Mexico. To Brian - I miss you and I wish you were here. You would love this.
// Christine
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