These flying fish are beginning to piss me off. I know my relationship with them took a turn for the worse when one invaded the inner sanctum of my bed but recently their activities are getting suspicious. For the first half of the trip, each morning one it was light I would inspect the deck and find any flying fish or squid which had suicided on the deck overnight. Both sets of creatures stink nastily so the exercise is usually followed by a good scrub of the fingers. The squid realized the futility of their attacks and stopped after a few days. The flying fish have taken the opposite approach and are now instigating daylight attacks. Often, the outcome for the them is the same. They end up dead. Some get away leaving only splatters of scales or the odd bloodstain to mark their attempt at boarding. They’ve even recruited their spry – tiny little flying fish that die and quickly dry up into a husk on contact. I have to pick them all up and toss them overboard.
The skies today were clearer than the past couple of days so we saw more sun than usual. The winds were light and clocked round to the east making it difficult for us to hold the rhumb line and maintain whatever boat speed we could get. I used this as an opportunity to get atop the bimini and tie in a new outhaul so we could shake out the first reef. At around 7.5S we also lost the favourable current which was giving us about an extra knot. This was corroborated by another boat on the net who lost it about the same latitude. This was good info for the boats behind us who have an opportunity to stay in the current a little longer with this information. This has resulted in the slowest day since the first two when we had winds light enough to leave hatches open (and be invaded by fish). The result of the lighter winds and loss of current has put our 24 distance made down to around 148nm rather than the 170nm-190nm range we’ve managed for the previous few days.
Around dawn we had a close encounter with a cargo ship called the Tombarra bound for Aukland. When I say close I mean 6nm which is close when you’ve seen nothing for 10 days. I hailed the watch officer on the radio to say hello. He gave an unrecognised monosyllable in response to my greeting which I took for an end of conversation.
Aboard we’re really into mid passage routine with each day blending into the next. Our watch rotation marks the time. When off watch we read, rest or sleep. On watch we take care of the boat keeping her on heading and checking for traffic. The radio nets and our emails give us contact with the nearby and extended world but the rest of the time it’s just us in our little bubble of life making our way across this vast ocean. The character of the night shifts are changing with the brightening moon. Initially they were as dark as you can get with the heavens bright with stars and the milky way. With the moon lighting the landscape we see an exaggerated almost monochrome sea scape with the accents between waves being highlighted to the extent where the troughs can sometime feel like bottomless pits.
Time is marked by the countdown of our distance to go. Once we’d passed the 2,000nm mark it the hundreds felt like a countdown from 20. 20, 19, 18, …. As I write we’re now in the 12’s. Single digits in a couple of days.
We now have a candidate itinerary for the Marquesas :
Fatu Hiva (1 stop)
Hiva Oa (1 stop)
Tahuata (2 stops)
Hiva Oa (2 more stops north side)
Ua Pou (1 stop)
Nuku Hiva (3 stops)
This will take us around 3 weeks. That will give us around 3 more weeks to reach Tahiti, including visiting the Tuamotos, in the time for the Pacific Puddle Jump rendezvous/party. So much to do, so little time.
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