Hello All!

We're alive! ALIVE! After 250 miles of sheer torture, we're alive. The only way I can describe the situation is to liken it to some level of Hell from Dante's Inferno. We go up, and down; and BOOM! - a wave crashes over the top of the boat. I had dreams of what it would be like to be on a boat sloshing into the wind for all of eternity. I'm glad to be saved by grace...

We left Marina Brallias at 6.00 am sharp. Our guide promptly showed up in his official panga and met us. We exchanged greetings and disconnected Adventure from the mooring ball. Alaya, our buddy boat, is with us. We're going to Costa Rica which we here has more theft. I like the idea of having another boat with us that has our back. It takes two hours of motoring to get out of the estuary and the entire trip was uneventful. After being freed by the panga I wave and hold up a Coke. He zooms by and motions for me to throw it to him. Apparently, he doesn't know that I majored in Computer Science and I miss badly. It lands 4 feet in the water behind him.

Alaya has a new autopilot, having lost their old one to the Tehuantepec, and needs to configure it. We pull out ahead and start our trip south. It becomes, all too soon, apparent that this is going to be a beat. For some reason I always thought that the waves should be traveling south. We're doing down and that's how the waves should be going. These waves are defying gravity and I'm not sure how. The wind is reasonable though and we're making 3 knots. Casey complains that we're going too slow, but fuel in El Salvador was 4.12 a gallon. We hear that it's 4.30 a gallon in Costa Rica. Kathy and I decided that sailing more might be in our best interest.

Around lunch the wind starts to pick up. It's between 13 and 15 knots. Kathy and I have the following conversation:

"I think we should reef," Kathy says.
"Are you kidding? We're making 6.5 knots this is great!" Kathy gives me that look - a stern look that exudes supreme authority.
"I think we should reef," she says again.
"I think we should reef," I say. I think she Jedi mind tricked me. I chastise myself for being so weak minded.

The wind consistently builds through the afternoon. We're close reaching and heeling a lot. I start to compare my boat's configuration with that of Captain Jack's Sophie from Master and Commander when he's crossing the Horn. Alaya is out of site from us now and we're all alone. I stand at the edge of our cockpit and allow the spray to hit me in the face. I'm all full of myself. We're SAILING!!!

I have our course set to hug the coast down. We'll stay approximately 9 miles off shore the whole way. Bob, from Alaya, told me he's going to cut across which will take him further offshore, but I don't want to take that chance. Unfortunately, our course will take directly into the wind. At 8.00 pm the wind dies. I contemplate shaking our reef out, but we've been burned before. I know that we've lost our sea breeze and the land breeze is coming next. Casey and I watch a couple of Star Trek episodes and I try to relax.

The wind starts to build. The swells are coming at us fast. In order to stay on course we have to beat directly into the wind. This isn't very fun and Kathy requests that we veer off the wind 30 degrees so that we're more comfortable. I comply, knowing full well, that we're going further out to sea. I look at our tracking error on our radar and decide that we'll tack back once we're 9 miles off course. The wind consistently builds to 25 knots and then holds. We're overpowered with a single reefed main but I keep telling myself that the wind is going to let up soon. It doesn't. We're bouncing around a lot and it's uncomfortable. Our full moon disappears; there's some sort of eclipse. I stare at it through our binoculars and take notice of how difficult it is to keep the object in view. We wonder if it's some sort of bad Omen.

We're making 9 knots now beating into the wind. Wow! We're making great time. I notice that our tacking error is holding at 9.9 miles. I'm happy to believe that we're holding our course and making great time. I don't want to tack anyway - it's too rough. Swells keep pouring over the bow. For the first time on our trip, I'm not feeling so good. Kathy made Lasagna for our trip and between that and my Milkyway my stomach is upset. I can't sleep.

At 4.00 am Tara loses her lunch (literally). Casey and Kathy help her. I'm hiding in the cockpit cuddled in the fetal position. After 6 hours of pounding, I'm broken. I want off the ride, but there's no place to exit. Every time a wave hits the boat I say under my breath, "This sucks."

At 6.00 am I'm exhausted. The wind is still at 25 knots. Tara's had 4 episodes of vomiting now and doesn't look well. She's now tried three different sea sickness medicines. I decide to check our position on the computer. The radar is still showing that we're only 9.9 miles off course. I'm starting to have doubts. Oops! We're now 38 miles offshore. I can't believe it. The radar appears to stop incrementing after 9.9. Kathy comes down and I quickly minimize the chart. "How are we doin?" she asks. I tell her that it's time to tack. We try to make best speed back to shore. We're going backwards now. We're motor sailing and doing 4 knots. I decide to take a nap. It'll take us 6 hours to get back in.

I wake up. Casey is reading Peter and the Secret of Rundoon in our forward berth. The girl has a stomach of steel. She not affected by the pitching of the boat at all. We call Alaya and they're just behind us now. At 1.00 pm the wind instantly shuts off. The seas start to die down and we're able to work our way back closer and closer to shore.

At 5 pm Tara, Casey and I prepare for the evening. We double reef the main. I pull out our stay sail. It's GO time. We've had enough. I take the boat inside of 6 miles to shore and then turn so that we're on a close reach. We can stay on this tack all night and we'll be in Costa Rica in the morning. Because we're double reefed with the stay sail we can only make 3.5 knots using just the wind. We decide to motor sail and can make 5.2 knots. The wind tops out at 21 knots during the evening. It slowly begins dropping as we enter Costa Rican waters. By morning we have no wind at all. It's calm. During our last 25 miles we shower and eat pancakes. We anchor in Playa de Coco in 34 feet of water. It's deep but the anchor sets well. We can finally relax.