Crossing the Indian Ocean - Cocos to Rodrigues Days 9 - 11

days 9-11

Day 9 Miles run last 24 hours:  162               

Miles to go:  779

We've not been able to sit in the cockpit for the last four days. The wind and, mostly the errant waves, prevent us from sitting there and staying even a little dry. I'm not talking salt spray; I'm talking big old drenchers. We wander up for few minutes at a time to get some fresh air, mostly standing on the top step of the ladder in the shelter of the companionway. When we hear the thud of a wave hitting, we duck back down. Think of hermit crabs in their shells! At least we're making good progress.

We're more than halfway to Rodrigues and celebrated with Halfway Alfredo for dinner. I'm certainly looking forward to a calm anchorage in Rodrigues for dinner, a glass of wine and sleeping in our comfy bed together. We're both lame and sore from sleeping in the sea berth (among other causes)...lots of ibuprofen being consumed.

As we make our westerly progress, it's becoming light later in the morning and staying light later in the evening. The time change from the Cocos to Rodrigues is 2-1/2 hours. We prefer the light later in the day and thus, we're resisting making any changes. We'll have to do it eventually, just not now.

No fish on deck ...all washed away. Morale:  We're not biting each other's head off or anything.

Day 10 Miles run last 24 hours:  157             

Miles to go:  622

Same old...same old. Winds and waves have not diminished although each weather forecast indicates it will, but always "tomorrow". So far tomorrow hasn't come and cabin fever isn't helping the morale problem.

A bit of clarification...we are not life-threatened; we are mighty uncomfortable and a bit grumpy. Big difference. We share with you the good, the bad and the ugly ...mostly so you understand it's not all wine and roses everyday ...just most days.

We hit 5,000 nm sailed for the year today! We shared a chocolate bar to celebrate. Hard to believe, we started this year in Adelaide. Seems like eons ago. Reminds me that I should put a bottle of champers in the fridge to chill. We sail dry ...that is, no alcohol while on passage. We'll deserve some bubbly when we arrive in Rodrigues! Oops almost forgot (in case you're keeping track) 2 flying fish in the scuppers today.

Day11 Miles run last 24 hours:  141               

Miles to go:  481

At last...we've escaped from below decks and we 're out in the fresh air again. Winds are 15-20 knots on the beam; seas are down, although every once in awhile a big breaker crashes onto the scene, prompting an immediate duck and avoid maneuver.

The wind gen tail has literally disintegrated in all this rough weather, rendering the wind generator unusable at the moment. We realized just how much it contributes to our power bank when we had to start the engine in the middle of the night last night to charge up the batteries. All those navigation electronics and the autopilot that we love so well certainly do suck down the power. David is going to try to repair it underway ... always a challenge on a rocking boat.

Below decks looks like a typhoon hit. Salt water sodden things never seem to totally dry out. We have stuff draped everywhere. Everything is out of place and looks dirty and messy. There's a thin layer of film on everything ... a combination of salt and passage dust. I imagine there's not a port locker aboard whose contents isn't ready to spill out as soon as its latch is opened. The starboard lockers are all in a jumble. The good thing about a boat ...they're small enough to straighten out in an hour or two. The cleaning and un-jumbling will take a bit longer, but Cups will be livable within a few hours after we're anchored in Rodrigues. Always look at the bright side of your life!

Deck count:  1 flying fish; 1 squid

Continue with us on our Indian Ocean crossing.

Come Stand Night Watch with Me

 

I've talked lots about night watch and lots of people have asked what it's like to stand night watch alone. Quite honestly, it can be glorious or it can be miserable. Why not join me for one night and see for yourself? It will definitely disturb your usual sleep pattern, but it's only for one night. You've got the advantage of bailing at any point if you don't like it. Set your alarm for midnight and meet me in the cockpit. Dress warmly … it gets chilly out there, even in the tropics.

Midnight … I was sleeping oh so soundly when David woke me. He climbed into the sea berth rather quickly after briefing me (very briefly) on what was happening … nothing. Good news … perhaps it'll be an easy watch for us. Most of them are when we're this far out to sea. Are you awake? First, we'll check the AIS … no ships around. Let's make a cup of tea and head topside. Prepare yourself … the tradewinds are really blowing tonight.

David has logged for the past three hours and I'm always interested in how well we did and how much progress we've made. We've been averaging over 6 knots, it looks like. Check the iPad … you can see our course and our position. We're right on the course line and there's nothing in the way for a thousand miles. We're not anticipating any sea monsters at all, so nothing to fear in that category.

Mostly night watch is just that … “watching” - staying awake and alert and making sure we're on course, the sails are trimmed and there are no other vessels aimed at running us over. Stand up and take a good look around … all around, even behind us. Nothing out there, but blackness, although now that your eyes are adjusting to the dark, you can make out the horizon. I check the AIS every 15 minutes or so … ships travel fast. Nothing going on. Look up … have you ever, ever seen so many stars?

Take a look at this app on the iPad. It's the southern sky constellations. Just hold it up and it names and outlines the constellations for you. The Southern Cross is easy to pick out and so is the upside down Orion. It's all the others that I wasn't familiar with, like the Pegasus.

No, that's not a ship to the east nor anything to be alarmed about. I've been fooled many times by that very thing. It's the moon rising and it's pretty dramatic, isn't it?

Well, we've been chatting and it's already log time. It's probably not really necessary to log hourly. Some folks we know only log at the end of each watch or once a day even, but we've always done it this way and prefer to have an hourly record of our progress. Go ahead … you can log. Take a look at the instruments. The GPS will give you our position, course, and speed. You can get the apparent wind direction and wind speed off the other instruments. I also check and log the voltage each hour to make sure we've still got plenty of power. The voltage is 12.58 … plenty to last till morning. Logging is pretty easy and it's a mental tick mark … one hour of the watch has been completed.

How about a snack? I'm always hungry during my second watch hour. Granola bar? Some water? The snacks are in the swinging hammock over the port settee. I'll check the AIS while you get us something to munch on. The AIS shows a ship about 15 miles away with a CPA of 2 miles. We'll keep checking on him. In the meantime, I've got some books loaded on the iPad as well as some games. You're welcome to read or play a game as long as you don't get too distracted. Remember, we're keeping track of that ship out there.

So, do you know any show tunes? The reason I'm asking is that I usually sing on my watch. David can't hear me below (or at least he doesn't complain) and I can sing to my heart's content without bothering the neighbors. Singing is good for the soul. Ah, you're not a singer. No worries. You can play on the iPad again if you'd like. I'm going to read for awhile. Go ahead and check the AIS again and make sure our friend is still far enough away. Hey, take a look at the moon. It's waxing and will be full soon. Isn't she a beauty?

Time to log again … time flies, huh? Same info, different line. One hour to go. We did nearly 7 knots last hour … good progress. The sails are fine. The voltage is good. The wind gen is keeping the power topped up. I just checked the barometer and it's steady … looks like more of the same weather ahead.

Can you see that light in the distance? That's the ship we've been tracking … he's about 7 miles away now. The AIS indicates that his CPA is just under 2 miles … a good safe distance away, but we'll still keep an eye on him. If he gets any closer, we can hail him and ask his intentions.

During my last watch hour, I usually tick off the minutes in my head, especially if I'm really tired. Only 28 minutes left. Check out the ship. Looks like that's the closest he's going to come. Good view, not too close. We'll make sure to tell David that he's already passed us and heading east.

I've really enjoyed having company on watch. Hope you're not too tired. You get used to the different sleep pattern after a few nights and it's really not too bad. Rainy, cold nights aren't very pleasant. I usually sit at the nav station then and watch the radar and just pop my head up a few times each hour to see what I can see … usually not much. Tonight, though, was just beautiful. Time for the final log. 0259 … time to wake David and get some sleep. Join me again some other time?

Crossing the Indian Ocean - Cocos to Rodrigues Days 7 & 8

days 7-9 cocos to rod

Day 7 Miles run last 24 hours:  148             

Miles to go: 1095

The day started out beautifully. Blue sky, fluffy white clouds, reasonable winds and seas ...an enjoyable day to be sailing on the Indian Ocean. Just before dinner time, dark clouds appeared on the southeast horizon ...huge ,black, ominous-looking clouds. Maybe just a squall. We saw a rainbow...a full rainbow, arcing across the sky. Rain on its way. The wind  piped up. We reefed down as we watched the rain moving in heavy, dark sheets towards us. We gathered all of our gear from the cockpit and stowed it below. We were in for a soaker.

The wind increased ... 25, 30, 35 knots. The seas kicked up quickly. We hunkered down below. Making dinner was a challenge. We cozied up on the starboard settee ...stuck in place by gravity. Nine of Cups jerked and bucked violently, reacting to the collusion of winds and seas. It became uncomfortably hot below while outside a cool wind kept screaming. Waves crashed loudly ...thud....splash.

Sleeping was wishful thinking. The ride was too rough. By my 0300 off watch, however, I was exhausted enough to finally doze off. I awoke to the sound of a freight train colliding with Cups. One "big mutha wave"  delivered a huge hit and the boat rolled like a boxer taking a wicked left cross to the jaw. CRASH ... In the following seconds,  things went flying through the saloon and a huge deluge of water forced its way through the secured companionway hatch boards and the dorades.

David, on watch at the nav station, was thrown out of his seat against the breaker panel. Marcie asleep on the starboard sea berth was the recipient of gallons of sea water over her head. Everything was soaked ..clothes, sheets, pillows. Water on the galley counters stood two inches deep and worked its way inside lockers. An iPad went sailing across the saloon, ricocheted off the  galley wall, and finally settled in a puddle on the galley floor. The  saloon table, the bookcases, the sole ...everything was completely doused and dripping. Stuff was strewn about everywhere.

It took a second or two to figure out what had happened. The wind continued to shriek, the boat shuddered and bucked. We were both momentarily flustered. We pulled ourselves together quickly, assessed the damage, grabbed towels and rags and began mopping up. We heard an alarm sounding on deck.

Evidently, the cockpit had been totally pooped ... all lines and sheets were hanging over the starboard side trailing in the water. It was the ignition switch that was shrieking so loudly and it wouldn't shut off. The switch had gotten submerged, and so much salt water had gotten inside the switch, it had caused it to short, turning on the ignition. Other alarms were sounding ...the bilge pump was on, the high water alarm added to the bedlam; the autopilot was complaining that it was off course.

This crew is exhausted. Stay tuned for more...

Deck count:  Who knows, who cares? Morale: Somewhat less than usual.

Day 8 - Cocos to Rodrigues Miles run last 24 hours:  160         

Miles to go:  941

David temporarily disconnected the ignition switch, knowing he'd have to do something if we were to turn on the engine later to top the batteries. The other alarms were handled in turn and the chaos was in check. Our back-up cockpit GPS was not working.

It took well over an hour to mop up. Where to put even more waterlogged towels, rags, clothes? By 0515, Marcie was back in the sea berth with dry linen, but up again at 0600 for the change of watch.

The day finally dawned ...dark, dreary, and boisterous. There would be no respite short term. David slept soundly through his off-watch, and a very exhausted first mate collapsed into the sea berth seconds after he vacated it.

Now that it was light, David conducted a general triage of apparent damage and began fixing. He re-wired the ignition and replaced the switch. The GPS was an easy fix. When he was thrown against the breaker panel, he hit the outlet switch and unknowingly turned it off by accident. A flip of the switch and the GPS came alive, found its fix and started ticking off the miles again.

Long, uneventful naps during the day despite the continued rough sea, and the crew recovered a bit. We've been at sea a week now with another week to go. Let's hope Neptune considers our dues paid for this passage.

Deck count:  8, plus a small fry waiting for us in the cockpit Morale: Improving

Continue with us on our Indian Ocean crossing.