St. Helena to French Guiana - Days 13 - 14

shiptrak 95
shiptrak 95

Day 13

Miles to go: 1,738

It was a day of bright, contrasting colors. The night had been pitch black with a heavy, thick cloud cover that cloaked the stars and the waxing moon. The sunrise, however, made up for the lack of nighttime show. When David woke me for the 0600 watch, he coaxed me out of sleep with talk of a red sky and promises of a superb sunrise to come. As I peered out for my morning's first glance, all I could see were brilliant shades of reds, oranges, pinks, purples and yellows...a virtual artist's pallet offering vivid hues and announcing the sun's imminent arrival. I grabbed my morning cuppa to watch the show. It was a dazzler.

My favorite time of day is early morning. I enjoy the new day and then wait for David to wake up. We enjoy a cuppa together and then just sit and chat for hours. No rush, no hassle. It's relaxing and intimate and rarely enjoyed by folks on the go. Certainly, a luxury we never seemed to have time for in our pre-Nine of Cups days.

The day was lovely with cerulean blue skies and puffy, cotton-white clouds. We could easily get used to this and not put into port at all. I say that now, but once we see land, that's all we'll be thinking about.

We chatted and puttered and wrote and read. Our South African friends, Christine and Jannie, are planning to escape the rat race in the next few years. Chris dreams about sailing off into the sunset and having entire days to just sit and relax and read. This was that kind of day and I was thinking of her.

We picked up another hour today. Our new time zone is Nuuk, Greenland, GMT -2 hours.

Day 14

Miles to go: 1,625

Milestone:  Half Way Day

A crappy night watch. It rained and poured throughout the night. It's stuffy down below when it's all closed up, and it was definitely stuffy as I groused through my watch, waiting for the rain to quit.  A ship appeared out of nowhere just after midnight...the Yeun Hrong, apparently bound for Brazil. The  AIS/CPA alarm went crazy, shattering the calm of a brief respite between showers. Cups was bobbing and bouncing and sometimes it appeared the ship was on a collision course  (loud, annoying alarm) and other times showing it would pass 3 miles away. The CPA alarm alternated to distraction with the wind vane alarm advising me that there'd been a wind shift. No peace, no quiet, no contemplation, no stargazing. The ship passed within 2.5 miles, but it took forever. Finally, though, I was able to sit for a few minutes topside in peace and quiet.

Something was clunking below...the strainer in the sink was rolling around. Then, a can was loose in a locker and the tea kettle was rattling against the side of the stove top. It's amazing that we can no longer hear the whir of the spinning prop shaft or the sing-song cry of the autopilot, but let a new instrument join the orchestra, and it drives us nuts.

The rain stopped, the wind shifted and we were heading away from the Equator instead of towards it. Other than reefing, we rarely make major sail changes during the night...like re-rigging the pole. If a change is required, it waits till morning. Neither of us slept well on our off-watches. And then, a new, resplendent day dawned, the wind behaved and  clocked more southerly, we were on course again and all thoughts of a crappy night were forgotten (except in this blog).

A little housekeeping was in order today. For short passages, we wait till we arrive at a new destination, but during longer passages, things get out of hand if we don't keep up. The night showers had loosened up more of the Luderitz dust and grime, and the cockpit needed a wipe down. Some dusting, sweeping and general tidying up down below did wonders.

The highlight of the day? We 're half way to French Guiana! We're sailing almost parallel to the Equator, at just under 2 degrees south. It's only about 100 miles north now, but on our present course, it will still take couple of days to cross it. Good it's not too close, they'd be too much to celebrate all at one time. We like to spread out the partying a bit. Surprisingly, the trades are still with us, though less strong. The ITCZ is evidently further north enjoying the vestiges of the Northern summer.

As for us? It's Half Way Alfredo with smoked trout for dinner tonight to celebrate.

Days 15-17 just a click away ... much faster than actually sailing.

Sleep Tight - Sea Berths and Lee Cloths

Sleeping well while on passage can sometimes be a challenge. Especially when the boat is on a heel or the seas are rough, sleeping in our aft cabin can be either a scrunching or a tumultuous experience. We find ourselves very uncomfortable and sometimes getting thrown out of bed, so we opt to use the saloon settees as sea berths, cradled in lee cloths. lee cloths in action

We found that the sectional settee cushions weren't all that comfortable and complained about it to each other for several passages, always forgetting to do something about it once the passage was complete. When we recently had the settee cushions re-upholstered, we also ordered a new one-piece foam mattress made that fits both the port and starboard settees. It's quite convenient to set up and infinitely more comfortable for our alternating 3-hour off-watch naps. Depending upon our tack, we switch the mattress to one side or the other.

new settee cushion

We use the lee cloths primarily on the port side since there's nothing on that side to hold us into the berth, although we have them available on both sides. Lee cloths are easy to make and last indefinitely. They're basically rectangles strung with line and firmly attached above and below to cradle you into the berth. Start with a sturdy canvas material like Sunbrella. The finished size of our lee cloths is 60” long x 18” wide. We use grommets evenly spaced about 7” apart along the top and bottom edges. David drilled holes into the settee locker access hatch boards. Using a short piece of 1/4” line, we knot one end under the board and attach it to a corresponding grommet on the bottom edge of the lee cloth.

knot through the board

We attach another longer piece of line to the grommet in the top edge of the lee cloth and secure it to the hand hold above the berth. If a handhold isn't available, cleats can be installed for a secure attachment point.

tying lee cloth to handholds

When not in use, we stow the lee cloths under the settee cushions and detach the knots through the locker boards so we still have easy access to the lockers.

lee cloths when not in use

This is an easy project. SailRite has a great YouTube instructional video if you're interested and their catalog provides all the supplies you'll need. Caution: I always find way more in the SailRite catalog than I actually need for the project I'm working on.

St. Helena to French Guiana - Days 11 - 12

shiptrak92
shiptrak92

Day 11

Miles to go: 1,979

Milestone - under 2,000nm left

Sailboats don't always go exactly where you want them to go. We've been heading more N than NW as the wind has backed more easterly, so our daily mileage yesterday of 130 nm equalled under 100 nm to the good. The wind finally changed enough to warrant a jibe and once again we re-rigged the whisker pole to port. Re-rigging the pole every third or fourth day for long, long jibes is definitely not something to complain about.

The night was mild. The breeze was warm and steady and the star-studded sky was glorious. The moon is with us again. She's waxing now and every night she shines just a bit brighter and just a while longer with her sidekick, Venus, twinkling not far away. She'll be with us now for the rest of the passage.

Other than the celestial display, the  night was pretty unremarkable until around 0400. I alternate my watch activities between reading, playing a game or two on my iPad and singing my at-sea repertoire. Evidently, I was singing a siren's song (or possibly annoying the local marine life) because something suddenly leaped from the ocean's depths over the port rail, sailed across the cockpit and attacked me. Thwack!

I screamed. I eeked. I shrieked. Whatever it was, was in my lap, flailing and writhing, perilously close to my private parts. I nearly jumped out of my skin. I managed to bat it away and it landed on the cockpit settee beside me. I could hear it moving and thrashing violently. It was so  dark, I couldn't tell what I was fending off. I finally found the flashlight. A very large, silver-winged flying fish stared back at me...obviously just as traumatized by the ordeal as I was. Once my heart started beating again, I had to laugh out loud. The poor misguided fellow continued to flail as I, emitting involuntary yips, attempted to get a handhold on his slippery wing to toss him overboard. I advised him to stay still for a second, which he promptly did. Over the side he went, leaving scale residue and a strong fish stink behind. I was afraid I'd woken David with all the ruckus, but no worries. The captain was oblivious to my plight and snored peacefully below. I wisely chose to discontinue singing for the rest of my watch.

Last night it was the crash...tonight the thrash. Enough with night watch thrills.

Another flying fish landed just outside the cockpit during David's watch, and yet another was found on the foredeck on David's morning rounds,  bringing the total passage count to  a measly 7.

Day 12

Miles to go: 1,855 nm

The past couple of days and nights have been absolutely gorgeous, but last night and today have been grey and dreary with multiple showers. There was one squall during the night that caught my attention with heavy rain and gusts to 30 knots, but it was over in 15 minutes, leaving behind a wet cockpit and the same overcast sky. Having a break from the sun's intensity during the day isn't all that bad. Some cloud cover to minimize those UV rays is welcome. Even slathered up with sunscreen, we can sometimes feel ourselves sizzling. But grey skies all day and night? Luckily, the drab, colorless day was salvaged by a late afternoon rainbow.

The to-do list is growing. What a surprise, huh? I mentioned the wind speed indicator was on holiday. It works sometimes, but not reliably. The speed transducer for measuring through-the-water speed isn't working reliably either. There's the gimbal on the stove and the cable on the handheld autopilot control and the automatic bilge pump, and a new squeak/groan in the floorboards that's driving us crazy...all need attention, but nothing that can't wait till French Guiana. Making repairs in exotic places. That's what it's all about. Something to look forward to...and then, of course, there's baguettes, cafe au lait, wine, inland travel.

4 flying fish this morning for a passage total of 11.

Maybe more flying fish tomorrow? Days 13-14