Day 8: For the last 6 days the ocean has been our own. Not a single freighter, fishing boat, cruise ship or sailing vessel in sight. While on watch, poking our heads out at night was more of a ritual than necessity. But not last night. As we approached the Ecuadorian coast 50 miles off shore, first the AIS freighter targets appeared on our our charts, then after dinner when the lights in the cabin were shut off and we were settling in for another evening as usual little panga fishing lights seems to appear out of no where, surrounding us on all sides. They would only reveal themselves to us with tiny lights when we were within striking distance. Upon closer look with a spot light they were actually small sailing pangas. Like Wack a Mole, we'd barely clear one and another would pop up on the other side of the boat. All the while freighters the size of 4 football fields would come barreling down through the game. This all began on Mike’s first watch so when I arose to start my watch Mike told me of his experience, and wished me good luck. What, I exclaimed, your not leaving me alone up here?! You'll do fine, wake me up if you need me he said and with that he went to bed. As instructed every few minutes I would go out on deck and flash our big spot light so the pangas would see us coming. That seemed to do the trick, shortly after they would turn on their light and move off our course. Needless to say, last night there were no cat naps. Welcome to Ecuador! We should be arriving late tonight into Salinas, where we will be staying at the Puerto Lucia Yacht Club.


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We should be crossing the equator this afternoon, at which time Annette will be officially transformed from a "pollywog" to a "shellback". Having undergone the same transformation some 20 years ago on a previous sailing trip in the Galapagos, I will remain unchanged.

There is some debate on board as to how to properly mark the occasion. The crew of the tour boat upon which I crossed the equator celebrated by making us all a special drink. This task fell to the newest member of the crew, Jorge, who wanted to practice his bar tending skills. The resulting drink was not particularly good, but, since it was a special occasion and not to offend Jorge, who was very proud of his concoction, I cowboyed up and sucked it down. The onboard naturalist had his suspicions, though, and asked Jorge what was in the drink. "Rum and mixer" says Jorge, beaming. "What mixer" asks the still dubious naturalist. Jorge reached under the sink and pulled out a plastic jug marked "Floor Polish". "This mixer", he says, still beaming. It was hard to be angry with him, as he meant well, and, to be fair, the bottle was labeled in English, but this did not spare him a lip whipping from the entire crew and relief of his bar tending duties. A few of us had the squirts for a day or so, but, as far as I can tell, there was no pernamint damidge.

Annette, has chosen to buck tradition and have a dram of Old Rum instead, which is just as well as we don't carry floor polish on board.

Day 6:
Today appears to be just like yesterday, the day before and the day before that. The days begin with the sunshine, blue skies, white puffy clouds and sparkling blue water, wind from the same direction (straight on the nose)a and more or less the same speed 10-15 knots, with choppy seas and swells from every direction. Around midday the sky turns gray and cloudy and remains that way until sunset when the clouds break up just enough to light up the west painting the sky vibrant shades of orange, pink,dark purple then complete blackness.
Because of the 360* visibility from the main cabin we don't have to assign watches 24 hours a day which is awesome because it gives us a lot of freedom to do whatever we want or do nothing at all, as long as we don't nap at the same time. Day light hours seem to fly by bringing the darkness way too soon. After dinner we begin our watches, around 7:30-8:00pm. We have a timer/alarm that we set to beep every 18 minutes. The watch person must press a button when the beeper goes off with in a minute otherwise a loud nasty siren goes off alarming the sleeping crew. This beeping also marks the time the watch person checks outside to make sure .we don't hit anything, that we're still on our course, that the sails are trimmed, and that the engine isn't over heating. When it's not cloudy it’s also a wonderful opportunity to enjoy and appreciate the unobstructed night sky. Mike takes the first shift from 7:30 to 11:30 pm. I watch from 11:30-4:30am, then Mike does the 4:30 till I wake up. So far that's working pretty well but always subject to change. Watches are usually not that difficult, it's amazing how easily it is to cat nap every 18 minutes when your sleep deprived kinda like falling a sleep at the wheel and waking up with a jolt when you hit the grated shoulder.

Day 5, spirits are brighter and more optimistic. We have blue skies, white puffy clouds, and we're still making progress towards Ecuador. Also, after getting some quality sleep which didn’t happen the night before, we have the energy to resume chores and projects. As I write this Mike is out bouncing around on the trampoline with his mop shooing the boobies way from the boat. What started off as cute and entertaining quickly turned into a messy intrusion when 5 became 20 with bird shit and feathers flying everywhere.
Sunshine means laundry day(as you'll remember Danny), with the hope that things will dry before the next squall. Also I'm trolling a fishing line maybe we'll have a "delish fish dish" for dinner.
What makes this day special is the magic of the water, sparkling, deep, cerulean blue. As far as you can see to where it contrasts with the pale blue horizon. Perfection.

Still raining. We remain lodged in the ITCZ with large, confused seas and wind from 13 to 18 knots out of the south southwest. Our current is now running east at 2 knots, so our speed is up but we are being pushed far more to the east than we would like.
Yesterday evening we were joined by a flock of 20 brown boobies who perched on our lifelines and rigging. While the boat's motion is pretty violent in these conditions, the boobies are unfazed. They just hang on tight and fight with their neighbors. They are still there today so I thought I would have a bit of fun with them. During a break in the rain I snuck up under a hatch that sits about 2 feet directly underneath the main bunch on them perched on the lifeline. I threw open the hatch and hollered "booga booga booga" as loud as I could. They just looked at me like I was nuts and went back to fighting amongst themselves. Not to be so easily put off I started poking them with 2x4 but they just moved aside until one of them let go with a squirt of boobie poo. Most of it landed on the hatch, but I took the rest right in the face. Salty and creamy with a hint of anchovy, in case anyone is wondering.. Karma is alive and well on Rum Doxy.

We continue to make slow headway, pushing against a contrary current that runs from 1.3 to 2.5 knots against us. At times we struggle to make 3 knots, even with both motors running. We have only made roughly 80 miles a day for the past 2 days. All is well, though. Annette has the butter out, thawing, which means we will likely get chocolate chip cookies today, so what's the rush? We are still in the ITCZ and getting lots of squalls and rain, but these usually come with favorable wind up to 20 knots, so they are welcome.