The Puddle Jump
19 June 2012 | Pacific Ocean
Jenny g
We get our land legs back now and again and being in an anchorage is a lovely change, especially in this part of the world. I just love that the boat floor is level, as is the bed and the plate and drinks stay where you place them. But here is a tad of what being on an 'adventure' is really like and the 21 days at sea called "the Puddle Jump".
Adventure = not knowing what to expect.
Back to where the cold Pacific Ocean meets the warm playful waters of the Bahia California coastline. Once we had cruised past the blow hole in the rocky cliff face off Cabo San Lucas - that was it! We took off, and I mean like the Apollo launch, we shot out into the Pacific Ocean going instantly from 10knts to 35knts. At that point I knew for sure and certain there was no turning back.
Within the first minute I had to scramble to the galley realizing that my stowing was not in any ways prepared for this kind of introduction. I crawled past by "he who had no time for humming right now", to go below decks and re-secure as much as I could with the one hand available, and at times, barely a foothold. Slightly horrified to see the galley portholes totally submerged by the rushing sea, in actual fact I think I saw a fish pass at great pace. No time to question.... this is "blue water sailing". I continue to jam... tuck...shove and push anything from the flight path into crevasses that may hold. Then I clawed my way back along the side boards in the direction of the cockpit, only briefly stopping to check our ditch bag was handy. There was enough goings-on above board without my stowage concerns added to the fierce activity, so I took my position and my concerns and I wedged myself into a corner feeling for my St Christopher medal and trying to think on what else I could have done to secure the saloon and galley. I noted "he who used to hum" also checking a numerous things that clenched his jaw, I might tell him about that passing fish later. The 3 of them in conversation muffled by the noise of the explosive sea something about sea cocks under pressure? Oh join the club, I can't even bare to ask!
We understood the ocean would take 3hours before it settled and it wasn't more than an hour into this before I heard "We've lost steering!" All 4 of us just stared at each other in disbelief for a full minute not saying a word. I should have studied how you turn in biblical seas without steering? Why, after all this time, and a week of nosing our way towards the ocean and it was in the heightened water at great speed....and we have no steering you say? You gotta be kidding me!
Before long we realised that someone had knocked the auto pilot button (not me) and we instantly regained position, power and best of all steering. Soldier on crew!
Somehow the thought of having to turn back was half expected from stories I had heard with one boat turning back 3 times the year before. With the many boat systems and working parts, it is a hell of a task to get to sea with everything in perfect working order, no matter how hard you prepare.
We soon settled into Condesa’s rhythm taking us into the night of 25knts with slightly less ferocious seas. All of us on alert in the cockpit together. I had to distract myself so as not to think of water surrounding us and it took a few days before life felt more normal.
During first days of sailing, it was the noises that were new to us that we noted, analysed and sometimes discussed and then actioned as Condesa powered up and was letting us know. Other times it was best the sounds were just noted for 'he may never hum again'. Our concern was for the propeller and shaft unable to lock off in anyway, so it was working hard as we galloped along and would continue do so for the next 3,200nm. After a week I could see it was going to be the ruin of 'he who used to' so I got out the ear plugs for sleeping to help suppress the troublesome sound of rotation and other "new baby" sounds that he was wearing. I found 5 or 6 of these fluro ear plugs strewn in our bunk and as he wasn't hearing me, I suspected still 2 in his ears. Condesa didn't seem to care, she loved the wind and handled the seas extremely well; this is what she had wanted - not being strung up in a marina. Proud to say she never missed a beat, once her sails were set she was happy as can be ballooning all 5 sails as large as life day in and day out. She surged ahead like a freight train and it is hard to believe the speed and miles achieved purely under sail each day.
The 4 of us aboard Condesa, had found our niche and a rhythm too after the first week, everyone compatible, comfortable, contented and living the "adventure". It was a great team working together for this the first passage, enjoying top deck through the day and tag teaming as we change shifts during the night. The nights alone at the helm were humbling, especially when we had the full moon working it’s magic. It would spotlight a path that shimmered like mercury spilled out ahead, and the trillions of stars like sugar crystals strewn all over the blackness in, out and around the Milky Way.
When the moon waned, the ocean was dark, barely able to make out the horizon. These nights we were sailing into a misty abyss and only made worse by a squall you couldn't trace clearly.
Every night was different and we had the ocean to ourselves despite keeping a vigilant watch out for "traffic" throughout our crossing.
So for at least 10-14 days "he who forgot to hum" was fighting sea sickness and soldiering on doing what he could to stay on top literally.... The galley amidships was his enemy, as were other growing concerns to add to the wearing shaft but nothing that other boats haven't already experienced on a ocean crossing like this. By now 'he who wore earplugs' was looking as worn down as the one and only bean bag that had become everybody's favourite spot to flop.
I too fell into deep sleep on the library lounge and woke to find Jimmy Buffet on my chest Harpers Bazaar stuck to the perspiration on my forehead and a pile of other safety at sea books that had appropriately fallen within my reach during the night.
It wasn't until close to the end of the crossing when we first spotted white sails that caught the light on the distant horizon during the sunset, and that created excitement all round.
We had more confirmation all was well, when dolphins came racing from as far as the eye could see. I stood at the bow and looked back at a scene straight from an animated movie. There were hundreds of dolphins jumping and racing up towards us from every angle. It was obvious we must have been the only boat they had seen for a long time and the word was out.
As the weeks past so then did Condesa's pace ease, and as soon as we slowed to 2knts, that was definitely slow enough to start the engine for the first time since leaving. It took most of 300nm to get Condesa through parts of the ITCZ -Inter Tropical Convergence Zone aka 'The Doldrums', where the northern and southern waters merge and it is known for very little wind and confused water. We bobbed on flat seas with very light breezes and plenty of squalls around. Initially this eerie stillness was a nice change and the millpond nights out there were surreal. We were lucky as we only incurred only 1 squall that rapidly brewed up from behind and instantly increased our pace. The fresh dumping of afternoon rain was a welcomed washing down and refreshing our salty decks. We captured that breeze in the sails and ran with the squall for as long as we could. There were days where we look around and saw squalls dumping in big patches from angry clouds but Condesa was sailing beautifully under a special patch of clear skies just for us.
I am not sure if it was being in the lower Hemisphere at last, or the threat of an injection but that sea sickness I spoke of earlier had subsided by our third week at sea. We eventually picked up the southern hemisphere trade winds and by Day 20 we had the first vision of the magnificent Marquesas Islands. Tall peak topped mountainous ranges draped in deep 'Polynesian green', custom fitted lushness peeked in the distance. Once we glided between the islands you could smell the sweet woody aroma from off shore. There too was music to my ears, as the familiar and distinct sound of humming had finally drifted around me. We navigated the anchorage in the early hours of the morning 10 hours since we first spotted the Marqueses Island on the horizon. ~ at last, we had made it!