We expect to make land fall this week. Tomorrow even could be our penultimate day. Richard and Joel are building up the excitement about what it is like to see land for the first time after a month. I am leery. Supposedly one can see these islands from 100 miles away. If this is true we will have an entire 24 hours sailing to look at land before arrival. This reminds me of the bike ride, Marcus and I would reach the welcome sign for a campsite and still have a full hour and and half ride to get to the main gate.
Each evening Joel does his check in with the Puddle Jump Net on VHF. Several boats doing exactly what we are doing check in. They share information like current position, knots, bar., and traffic for other vessels. They also love to make painful remarks like, "We're in the doldrums, but hey it beats the doldrums of working!" Even worse are the all too often banalities uttered from the lexicon of Margaritaville shirts. However, this week the Net has been awesome. We gather round the radio to listen to the saga of Sea Flyer.
Sea Flyer is a Choey Lee Off-Shore 38' sail boat probably from the 1970's. After 7 days at sea she lost 2 of her 5 shrouds (shrouds are really important, Google it, they hold up the mast). Sea Flyer calls this emergency traffic in to the Net. All are concerned, boats offer help. Day 8, Sea Fkyer shares that he is happy with the jury-rig and decided to continue out to sea. Day 9, another shroud is lost. Day 10, Sea Flyer is out of fuel, was motor-sailing the whole time (this means no mast, no motor). Day 10, a Cuban vessel coordinated by the US Coast Guard does a fuel drop. By Joel's calculation Sea FLyer is now out of helicopter range. Day 11, Sea Flyer overheats her engine. Day 12, has it working but taking on water through the prop. Day 13, that's tonight, tune in.
Here is the best part. Everyone on the Net is gossiping about Sea Flyer and it is shared that the other person on the vessel is a stranger. I e-mailed Sea Flyer about boarding the ship last year. This stranger, her name is Delores, was picked instead of me. Santelli is right, horseshoe up my ass."
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Saturday, April 24, 2010
Crossing the Equator
We crossed the equator at 2:30 pm (Zulu) today. The sea doesn't know it but we do. No longer a "Polly Wog", circa 1899 sailors would now refer to me as a "Shell Back".
Lack of wind has put us behind course but we are within a week of our destination (about 700 miles to the south). However, I don't really think about it. I have found as much patience as the sailing is slow. Time is distorted. I don't have a watch, my electronics are in a time-zone hours and hours ahead, there are no clocks aboard the boat. I wake when I am rested, I eat when I am hungry, I sleep when I am tired, I take on tasks at the time they need be accomplished. My schedule is based on either necessity or convenience. For the sake of the blog any mention of time is largely speculation to give context. I'll be happy when we get to Nuku Hiva but I am in no rush. To rush against the ocean and wind would result only in loss and fatigue.
I was delighted to receive a few messages forwarded by my father. Anytime I am away from Atlanta I marvel at how wonderful my life is at home-- undeniably due to my friends. I miss three things primarily: friends, dogs, and fountain drinks. When I get home I want to jump in a pool of friends and puppies and float around sipping from a Styrofoam 64 oz. Big Gulp. Can you picture it? Good because this will more than likely happen. The messages were nice but short. It is difficult for me to ascertain the effectiveness of my writing. Am I thorough in the portrayal of the voyage. I don't know. So I'm asking that you ask me something. I'd be obliged to answer questions, serious or not. Despite three weeks of physical inability to be more than 37 feet away from another human it is still lonely out here. Send something short to Robert.Lange@gmail, and don't forget to check the Yotreps site, we update everyday.
00 degrees 00 minutes south/north
134 degrees 06 minutes west"
Lack of wind has put us behind course but we are within a week of our destination (about 700 miles to the south). However, I don't really think about it. I have found as much patience as the sailing is slow. Time is distorted. I don't have a watch, my electronics are in a time-zone hours and hours ahead, there are no clocks aboard the boat. I wake when I am rested, I eat when I am hungry, I sleep when I am tired, I take on tasks at the time they need be accomplished. My schedule is based on either necessity or convenience. For the sake of the blog any mention of time is largely speculation to give context. I'll be happy when we get to Nuku Hiva but I am in no rush. To rush against the ocean and wind would result only in loss and fatigue.
I was delighted to receive a few messages forwarded by my father. Anytime I am away from Atlanta I marvel at how wonderful my life is at home-- undeniably due to my friends. I miss three things primarily: friends, dogs, and fountain drinks. When I get home I want to jump in a pool of friends and puppies and float around sipping from a Styrofoam 64 oz. Big Gulp. Can you picture it? Good because this will more than likely happen. The messages were nice but short. It is difficult for me to ascertain the effectiveness of my writing. Am I thorough in the portrayal of the voyage. I don't know. So I'm asking that you ask me something. I'd be obliged to answer questions, serious or not. Despite three weeks of physical inability to be more than 37 feet away from another human it is still lonely out here. Send something short to Robert.Lange@gmail, and don't forget to check the Yotreps site, we update everyday.
00 degrees 00 minutes south/north
134 degrees 06 minutes west"
Thursday, April 22, 2010
Daily Activities
There really is very little to do. In all likelihood whatever you did today or will do tomorrow cannot be done on a 37' boat at sea. After the ocean and the birds loose their novelty there isn't much stimulation. All day my mind wanders and races to fill the void. In a 24 hour period I spend equal parts, 9 hours each, day- dreaming and dreaming.* Albeit I try to be as productive as possible with all this thinking time.
My deepest reflection time I call my "Oscar Wilde Time", which happens each night after dinner from 8pm - 1am. Thereby I devote 1/5 of my day to intense rumination of 5 general topics:
1. My imaginary wedding
2. Patterns/fabrics and their interplay with furniture
3. Fictitious witty conversations I would like to have
4. Oratory rhetoric
5. Letters and invitations I would like to compose (and the appropriate stationary/linen stock/hue etc.)
The remaining 3 hours of thinking time (typically in late morning) involve wild violent fantasies. Yesterday I look up from my Joyce novel for just a moment and am transported to East Atlanta. There I am driving a early '60s Cadillac with several attractive friends when hooded marauders attempt to car-jack my "whip". In the ensuing moments I fetter a would be bandit to the steering wheel with fuzzy dice. I drag my to the nearest police station mustering sensational invective after invective. In the back seat friends watch with horror my violent indifference, crying and in disbelief. This goes on in my head for quite a while. In defense I suppose day-dreams such as these necessarily counter-balance my fantasies where-in these same friends fawn over my taffeta upholstered Henredon settees.
* The remaining 6 hours of non-sleep involve reading for 5 with the balance endeavored to trim sails, eat, use the head and stare blankly at the sea.
My deepest reflection time I call my "Oscar Wilde Time", which happens each night after dinner from 8pm - 1am. Thereby I devote 1/5 of my day to intense rumination of 5 general topics:
1. My imaginary wedding
2. Patterns/fabrics and their interplay with furniture
3. Fictitious witty conversations I would like to have
4. Oratory rhetoric
5. Letters and invitations I would like to compose (and the appropriate stationary/linen stock/hue etc.)
The remaining 3 hours of thinking time (typically in late morning) involve wild violent fantasies. Yesterday I look up from my Joyce novel for just a moment and am transported to East Atlanta. There I am driving a early '60s Cadillac with several attractive friends when hooded marauders attempt to car-jack my "whip". In the ensuing moments I fetter a would be bandit to the steering wheel with fuzzy dice. I drag my to the nearest police station mustering sensational invective after invective. In the back seat friends watch with horror my violent indifference, crying and in disbelief. This goes on in my head for quite a while. In defense I suppose day-dreams such as these necessarily counter-balance my fantasies where-in these same friends fawn over my taffeta upholstered Henredon settees.
* The remaining 6 hours of non-sleep involve reading for 5 with the balance endeavored to trim sails, eat, use the head and stare blankly at the sea.
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Re-Fenestration
Somnambulism - 20 days at sea. All is quite constant, samey. We have not seen ship nor land in 17 days. There is S/V Alobar and the ocean.
Outside the ocean is cerulean blue in sunlight or metallic blue under clouds. There are two other species: Boobies fly above and Flying Fish fly below. (The fish appear like hummingbirds. Swarms of them cross our bow and die on deck. One flew through the hatch in my berth and flopped around to death in my bed as I slept. Re-fenestration perhaps?) The ocean is always there, always moving, to consider her is to consider how unwelcome one is.
On the boat a cacophony of clangs, thuds and creaks sound day and night. Yet, unlike a rail-side apartment, the sound cannot be ignored. One registers each noise. A clang awakens us from sleep to conjure an image of the Cunningham striking the mast, which means the main is spilling air, which means we have lost wind or course which precipitates a series of actions. For example. Sailing is a noisy affair which, for a better sailor than I, begets a certain conversation between her skipper and craft.
Damp and clammy. Everything is damp and clammy. The wooden doors and drawers have swollen shut. One's clothes and bedding are never dry -- sweat leaves salt, the air leaves salt, the sea leaves salt, salt holds moisture, we are sweating on the ocean in the rain. In this climate we sail an average of 4 knots -- that is to say the speed of walking. We are walking across the Pacific. --Rob
Outside the ocean is cerulean blue in sunlight or metallic blue under clouds. There are two other species: Boobies fly above and Flying Fish fly below. (The fish appear like hummingbirds. Swarms of them cross our bow and die on deck. One flew through the hatch in my berth and flopped around to death in my bed as I slept. Re-fenestration perhaps?) The ocean is always there, always moving, to consider her is to consider how unwelcome one is.
On the boat a cacophony of clangs, thuds and creaks sound day and night. Yet, unlike a rail-side apartment, the sound cannot be ignored. One registers each noise. A clang awakens us from sleep to conjure an image of the Cunningham striking the mast, which means the main is spilling air, which means we have lost wind or course which precipitates a series of actions. For example. Sailing is a noisy affair which, for a better sailor than I, begets a certain conversation between her skipper and craft.
Damp and clammy. Everything is damp and clammy. The wooden doors and drawers have swollen shut. One's clothes and bedding are never dry -- sweat leaves salt, the air leaves salt, the sea leaves salt, salt holds moisture, we are sweating on the ocean in the rain. In this climate we sail an average of 4 knots -- that is to say the speed of walking. We are walking across the Pacific. --Rob
Monday, April 19, 2010
Update From the Captain
Hello guys. It is about 11PM here at 4N latitude and 131W longitude as the boat progresses south to the equator. It is a beautiful night and I have come down below to write a bit and to look at the Stellerium program that I downloaded from the internet so that I can find the names of some of the stars that are brightly displayed across the heavens all around us. It is very calm where the boat is just now as we are in the doldrum area just north of the equator where light, unpredictable winds are the rule. We have motored or motor-sailed on and off for the last 40 hours. Hope to break out of the doldrums into clear trade winds at about 2N latitude and from there should have steady south-easterly trades into the first landfall about the 28th of the month. Had planned to visit Nuka Hiva first, but am thinking it would be nice not to miss Hiva Oh. Have really gotten into the day to day routine of voyaging and am enjoying the time out here on the wild blue. Boat is doing very well, although there have been a few glitches. Screws that hold the roller furler for the headsail came loose and one disappeared. Luckily there was a spare left from installation and I carried a lot of red lock-tight. A few other things have come loose including the shackle that holds the halyard to the headsail. The halyard disappeared into the mast and will need to be re-run thru the mast. Fortunately I installed a second spinnaker halyard as a spare and am using it to hoist the headsail. Have gone to the top of the mast a few times, but doing it with the mast going from side of side would be a challenge. One night in strong winds the whisker pole tore off a piece of the track secured to the mast. Luckily, there is a large portion of track remaining that allows the continued use of the pole. I just do not use the full headsail on the pole in strong winds anymore. Despite the few failures, the boat performs well and we have been very comfortable. Fishing has been slow, but we did eat our first fish for dinner this evening. Best wishes to everybody. Joel
Friday, April 16, 2010
Where's the MacDonalds?
Today marks 2 weeks on the boat and our half-way point. We are going to celebrate by using the last of the meat on the boat and try to make hamburgers.
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
Sleeping With the Fishes
We have been rolling in 7 foot seas for the past couple of days which is exhausting and makes sleep difficult. It has also been overcast which makes everything damp and salty. Capt. Joel has been updating the YotReps site so you can track our progress. Soon we will be southing towards the inter tropical convergence zone/doldrums/equator. We check the weather reports each day in hopes to pass this area using as little fuel as possible. Another boat on the "puddle jump" got stuck with only 5 gallons of diesel and floated around the ITCZ for a week. We are about 1500 miles from any form of land, the gravity of this recently struck me and I am careful when doing anything at all; to injure myself would be complete disaster. Interestingly, swarms of flying fish accompany the boat at all hours of the day to the extent that we find a dozen or so dead on the deck each morning-- one even came through the hatch above my berth and must have flopped around next to me as I slept. They are like little aquatic hummingbirds.
Saturday, April 10, 2010
Finding My Sea Legs
April 10, Day 8
Hello, all is well on the boat. Books, cooking, sleeping and sailing are keeping me well occupied. 28ish more days does seem a bit daunting I will admit. The contents of the previous posting are no longer indicative of my current condition, I have my sea legs and am quite happy.
--Rob
Hello, all is well on the boat. Books, cooking, sleeping and sailing are keeping me well occupied. 28ish more days does seem a bit daunting I will admit. The contents of the previous posting are no longer indicative of my current condition, I have my sea legs and am quite happy.
--Rob
Friday, April 9, 2010
UPDATE from the Captain
April 9
S/V Alobar is progressing nicely on the voyage to Polynesia. We are now in the trade wind area and moving well at around 6 knots. Have traveled about 730 miles since leaving Puerto Vallarta and are settled into the routine. There are two daily radio nets for boats making the crossing so I get to hear how everyone is doing. Not sure exactly how many boats are involved in this year’s "Puddle Jump" but believe it will be well over 50. A number of boats have arrived and are reporting good anchoring conditions in Hiva Oh and Nuka Hiva. Several boats are well behind us having left only the last day or two. We expect to reach our way point near the Inter-tropical Convergence Zone at about 6N, 132W in about 10 days at present speed. At that point we will be more than 3/4 of the way to our first Island.
--Captain Joel
S/V Alobar is progressing nicely on the voyage to Polynesia. We are now in the trade wind area and moving well at around 6 knots. Have traveled about 730 miles since leaving Puerto Vallarta and are settled into the routine. There are two daily radio nets for boats making the crossing so I get to hear how everyone is doing. Not sure exactly how many boats are involved in this year’s "Puddle Jump" but believe it will be well over 50. A number of boats have arrived and are reporting good anchoring conditions in Hiva Oh and Nuka Hiva. Several boats are well behind us having left only the last day or two. We expect to reach our way point near the Inter-tropical Convergence Zone at about 6N, 132W in about 10 days at present speed. At that point we will be more than 3/4 of the way to our first Island.
--Captain Joel
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Dramamine Dreams
April 7, Day 5
"Relay Via Sail Mail: I am awake but largely unable to delineate reality from my Dramamine dreams. The sort of state one finds sitting erect and alone in a foreign airport-- not realizing you had succumb to sleep but suddenly awakened and embarrassed by, of all things, the lucidity of your dream. I am consistently on the verge of sea-sickness for which I take 2 pills daily. These pills make me drowsy. I have not had a cigarette in 7 days after 12 years. Nor have I had a drink after a marathon Bukowski re-enactment. I have not showered, have slathered sunscreen over my sunburn, balm on my burned lips, sun glasses over my salted eyes. My sleep is truncated by night-watch from 2am - 5am. My exhaustion off-set only by my daytime naps required no less by the constant struggle to maintain one's physical equilibrium (even in sleep) against an ever persistent, unwieldy, pendulum I call the ground on which I float. Yet at no point before my sitting down to write this reflection was I aware of any of this. I am aware only of the ocean."
Love - Rob
"Relay Via Sail Mail: I am awake but largely unable to delineate reality from my Dramamine dreams. The sort of state one finds sitting erect and alone in a foreign airport-- not realizing you had succumb to sleep but suddenly awakened and embarrassed by, of all things, the lucidity of your dream. I am consistently on the verge of sea-sickness for which I take 2 pills daily. These pills make me drowsy. I have not had a cigarette in 7 days after 12 years. Nor have I had a drink after a marathon Bukowski re-enactment. I have not showered, have slathered sunscreen over my sunburn, balm on my burned lips, sun glasses over my salted eyes. My sleep is truncated by night-watch from 2am - 5am. My exhaustion off-set only by my daytime naps required no less by the constant struggle to maintain one's physical equilibrium (even in sleep) against an ever persistent, unwieldy, pendulum I call the ground on which I float. Yet at no point before my sitting down to write this reflection was I aware of any of this. I am aware only of the ocean."
Love - Rob
Monday, April 5, 2010
The Big Blue
April 5
The sea has been very calm with 12 second intervals between rolling waves. It is chilly at night and high 70's during the day. We are about 50 miles south of Socorro island. Lots of lounging in this mild weather; I've finished Green's The Power and the Glory and sleep half the day. I don't have any revelations to share except to say that everything you've heard about the ocean holds true: the blue is surreal, the vastness is sublime, we are very small.
The sea has been very calm with 12 second intervals between rolling waves. It is chilly at night and high 70's during the day. We are about 50 miles south of Socorro island. Lots of lounging in this mild weather; I've finished Green's The Power and the Glory and sleep half the day. I don't have any revelations to share except to say that everything you've heard about the ocean holds true: the blue is surreal, the vastness is sublime, we are very small.
Saturday, April 3, 2010
And the Journey Begins
April 3rd
This will be our first full day at sea. We departed yesterday around 2pm. The ocean has been calm (1 to 2 foot seas) and we are making an average of 4 knots under sail and under motor at night (100 miles a day). Dramamine is working but makes me drowsy thankfully my night watch went smoothly. Will take a little time to get used to constant movement although this has not affected my sleep. Learning 10 new things everyday and hope to be a self-sufficient sailor soon.
This will be our first full day at sea. We departed yesterday around 2pm. The ocean has been calm (1 to 2 foot seas) and we are making an average of 4 knots under sail and under motor at night (100 miles a day). Dramamine is working but makes me drowsy thankfully my night watch went smoothly. Will take a little time to get used to constant movement although this has not affected my sleep. Learning 10 new things everyday and hope to be a self-sufficient sailor soon.
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