Close to the Equator
Everybody knows what you do with a drunken sailor�--keel haul him �'til he�'s sober. But what do you do with a sick sailor? Keep him in his bunk, mostly; keep him as cool as possible, make him drink plenty of fluids. And hope for a quick recovery and return to strength.
Conditions are good for keeping to my bunk, couldn�'t ask for better, not without tempting fate. We are ten days and 775 miles from Pago Pago, sailing northwest close hauled, with a light but remarkably constant breeze off the starboard bow. We passed through, or more like drifted through, three days of light and variable winds a few days ago, but since finding this wind, haven�'t touched a sheet, and are making 150 miles per day. The daytime sky is strewn with cumulus in every direction, and the nighttime sky with stars and planets. Last night I saw Cassiopeia, which I have not seen for some months, and I am quite certain I saw a part of the Big Dipper. We approach the equator!
We had the most amazing encounter yesterday morning. Kirsten used her command voice to summon me out of a sleep on up on deck. Since her command voice usually implies imminent disaster, I am am usually aided in awakening by the jolt of adrenaline which seems to accompany the command voice. Pavlov�'s dogs salivate, I get an adrenaline rush.
Turns out this summons was not to imminent danger, but to an escort of false killer whales.
They stayed with us for about an hour. A cluster of three to six or eight zigged and zagged across our bow, and several animals ranged alongside, both port and starboard. I�'m guessing the group numbered at least a dozen, and more like a couple dozen. Lucile�'s freeboard is only a two to three feet, depending on the heel, so the animals were right there, right underfoot, as it were. You could easily see the movement of the blowhole during exhalation and inhalation, and you could easily hear the different sound of exhalation and inhalation. They exhibited classic dolphin behavior, keeping in close proximity, touching each other frequently, and vocalizing. Vocalizations were all of the squealing or squeaking variety, no clicking, and were audible through the hull and in the air above the water! The biggest of the group was probably longer than 15 feet, and showed what looked like two small flesh wounds just to the left and slightly aft of the dorsal fin. The exposed flesh was what we humans would describe as flesh color. There was another animal that showed a small puncture wound, which was dark pink. One animal had the raggediest, gnarliest, most tattered dorsal I�'ve seen on a dolphin or whale. I�'d say the average length of these animals was 12 to 15 feet, the one big guy being 15 to 18, and four or five animals about 8 to 10 feet. There was one pair that always maintained close physical contact and stayed in tandem. The larger animal was 12 feet or so, the smaller about 6 feet. I presume this was a mother and juvenile pair.
We took no pictures or videos, as usual. But we do have beautiful memories.
As fine as the sailing is, I�'m keep a weather eye open over my left shoulder. Kirsten said it was time to look out for a depression to form to the west, conditions were �'just so�', and sure enough, we�'ve started to see it develop, at least in the forecasts. It appears likely to whip up winds in the 35-50 knot range. It also appears likely to pass to the south of us. Nothing we can do at this point, though, other than keep an eye out. Lucile moves steadily northwest at 5 to 6 knots; the system moves steadily east to southeast at 15 to 18 knots. There is no outrunning her. Our �'active defense�', if the storm shows signs of veering any north of it�'s currently forecast track, is to turn Lucile north to northeast, and go as much perpendicular to the storm�'s path as possible. If we are to feel any effects of the storm, it will be on Tuesday or Wednesday.
In the meantime, Lucile keeps sailing smoothly, 595 miles to Bikeman Island, in the Tarawa Atoll, capital of the Kiribati Islands. This is our planned rest stop on our way to the Majuro Atoll, capital of the Marshall Islands.
Aloha
Conditions are good for keeping to my bunk, couldn�'t ask for better, not without tempting fate. We are ten days and 775 miles from Pago Pago, sailing northwest close hauled, with a light but remarkably constant breeze off the starboard bow. We passed through, or more like drifted through, three days of light and variable winds a few days ago, but since finding this wind, haven�'t touched a sheet, and are making 150 miles per day. The daytime sky is strewn with cumulus in every direction, and the nighttime sky with stars and planets. Last night I saw Cassiopeia, which I have not seen for some months, and I am quite certain I saw a part of the Big Dipper. We approach the equator!
We had the most amazing encounter yesterday morning. Kirsten used her command voice to summon me out of a sleep on up on deck. Since her command voice usually implies imminent disaster, I am am usually aided in awakening by the jolt of adrenaline which seems to accompany the command voice. Pavlov�'s dogs salivate, I get an adrenaline rush.
Turns out this summons was not to imminent danger, but to an escort of false killer whales.
They stayed with us for about an hour. A cluster of three to six or eight zigged and zagged across our bow, and several animals ranged alongside, both port and starboard. I�'m guessing the group numbered at least a dozen, and more like a couple dozen. Lucile�'s freeboard is only a two to three feet, depending on the heel, so the animals were right there, right underfoot, as it were. You could easily see the movement of the blowhole during exhalation and inhalation, and you could easily hear the different sound of exhalation and inhalation. They exhibited classic dolphin behavior, keeping in close proximity, touching each other frequently, and vocalizing. Vocalizations were all of the squealing or squeaking variety, no clicking, and were audible through the hull and in the air above the water! The biggest of the group was probably longer than 15 feet, and showed what looked like two small flesh wounds just to the left and slightly aft of the dorsal fin. The exposed flesh was what we humans would describe as flesh color. There was another animal that showed a small puncture wound, which was dark pink. One animal had the raggediest, gnarliest, most tattered dorsal I�'ve seen on a dolphin or whale. I�'d say the average length of these animals was 12 to 15 feet, the one big guy being 15 to 18, and four or five animals about 8 to 10 feet. There was one pair that always maintained close physical contact and stayed in tandem. The larger animal was 12 feet or so, the smaller about 6 feet. I presume this was a mother and juvenile pair.
We took no pictures or videos, as usual. But we do have beautiful memories.
As fine as the sailing is, I�'m keep a weather eye open over my left shoulder. Kirsten said it was time to look out for a depression to form to the west, conditions were �'just so�', and sure enough, we�'ve started to see it develop, at least in the forecasts. It appears likely to whip up winds in the 35-50 knot range. It also appears likely to pass to the south of us. Nothing we can do at this point, though, other than keep an eye out. Lucile moves steadily northwest at 5 to 6 knots; the system moves steadily east to southeast at 15 to 18 knots. There is no outrunning her. Our �'active defense�', if the storm shows signs of veering any north of it�'s currently forecast track, is to turn Lucile north to northeast, and go as much perpendicular to the storm�'s path as possible. If we are to feel any effects of the storm, it will be on Tuesday or Wednesday.
In the meantime, Lucile keeps sailing smoothly, 595 miles to Bikeman Island, in the Tarawa Atoll, capital of the Kiribati Islands. This is our planned rest stop on our way to the Majuro Atoll, capital of the Marshall Islands.
Aloha
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