Galapagos to Marquesas
As soon as we left Puerto Ayora heading WSW, the longed-for trade winds arrived and we were now bustling along under poled-out Genoa and partially-reefed main at an average of 7.5 kts. Pure trade wind sailing. Seas varied from 6-15 ft and sometimes too beamy and rolly for comfort, but complaints were few and far between. The usual first few days of seasickness were well-handled by Stugeron, which we all agree is the best seasickness medicine on the planet.
We played with the spinnaker a bunch, trying out Albatross’ new Profurl Spinex top down spinnaker furling gear, but conditions were not ideal for it [too far downwind] Using a night watch schedule of initially 2 hours on, 6 off, then 3 hrs and the rest off, allowed for plenty of rest and recovery time. The monitor self-steering vane worked like a charm with some tending needed. And finally fish—caught 6 Mahi Mahi [the largest about 15#] and a small Tuna ---more than enough to keep us in good protein.


We had our share of squalls, some rainy, but rarely saw over 30 kts of wind. We continued our swim ritual on the rare occasion when the wind abated some, unfortunately the jelly fish were waiting and Kym got tattooed by a man-o-war. Gorgeous sunsets and sunrises, and the most incredible cloud formations we’d ever seen, painted a backdrop that kept any monotony at bay.

Daily calculations of our noon-noon runs confirmed that we were making record time. Our best was 189 miles, worst 140 miles. New electronic toys were useful too. The Delorme In-Reach satellite messenger allowed us to send out daily texts or emails to our contact “list’ letting friends and family know we were safe. A personal locator beacon that would alert the boat and give the overboard crewperson's position if the wearer fell in the water and activated it, gave an extra measure of safety. And our faithful water maker delivered 7 gal/hr of fresh water [from salt water] as long as we ran the boat engine or Honda portable generator and were not heeled over too much.

Some sextant practice and noon sites took up some of our attention, and a movie or two, books helped the time go quickly. Most landlubbers who inquired about the trip wondered how it wouldn’t be just too boring. I can’t say that any of us ever felt bored. Between cooking, clean-up, sail changes, navigation and electronic communication, weather predictions via email and downloading grib files, on-watch lookouts for other boats [we saw almost none until in close proximity to land], minor repairs, playing music, drawing and writing---------not that much “free’ time was left. We did nightly check-ins [tho we missed a number of them] with the PPJ radio net. The Pacific Puddle Jump is an annual migration of cruisers westward from the Americas to French Polynesia, starting in March and ending in June. It takes advantage of a good spring weather window, and the loose association of cruisers affords some companionship, potential help in the event of problems and some financial advantage in the checking-in process (helpful in Galapagos and with fuel costs in French Polynesia). Organized by Latitude 38, the bay area sailing monthly magazine, it features a couple of send-off parties in Mexico and Panama, and attracted over 200 boats to participate this year.