Days at sea completed: 10

Distance sailed in the last 24 hours (nm): 131 Distance sailed total (nm): 1466 Distance to go until French Polynesia, as the crow flies (nm): 1330

Wind Speed & Direction (knots): ENE 15-20 Waves (ft): NE 6-10

--- See the map on our blog for our current location---

Yeah! We passed the half way point! We now have fewer miles to go than we have gone already. However, I am not sure that we have passed the half way mark in terms of time. We are just entering the ITCZ and the wind is forecast go to less than 5 knots by tonight, and stay that way, mostly, for hundreds of miles. It looks like we will be using the engine to help us along quite a bit in the next few days. On the plus side, that means unlimited power, water, and warm water for showers!

A couple of other good news items to report. First, the weather. It has improved! The wind has dropped a bit and so have the seas. There are fewer squalls around as well. Dee's overnight shift was completely dry. I only had one complete soaker squall. It is amazing how much rain can come down at one time. I couldn't even look up wind without drowning. Some sailors have ski goggles on their boats for this kind of weather. I can see why.

As well, the problems with the main sail track don't seem to be terminal. When the wind dropped, I hoisted the main sail all the way up and the cars didn't pop out of the track. That's great news for our upcoming light wind sailing. I may still need to buy a new track, but at least we can sail in the mean time.

Right now, as I lean back in the cockpit of Speakeasy, sailing downwind in strong trade winds towards the Equator, if I could have one wish, that wish would be that I could share the real essence of these ocean waves with you. If you have sailed offshore yourself, you know what I am talking about and you probably have a smile on your face. Mother Nature can do many amazing things and waves are one of her best tricks.

Ocean waves have nothing in common with their brethren that we see crashing on the beach, even a beach on open ocean. Out here, it wouldn't be fair, it wouldn't do them justice, to describe them simply as waves. Instead, what I get to experience are multiple different wave trains, some coming from thousands of miles away, all meeting and overlapping around me, and right under my boat. For example, There is a large set of NE waves coming from winds generated here and out about 500 miles away. Then, there is another train of waves coming from the N and NW. These waves were formed many days and weeks ago in the North Pacific. The storms that batter the BC coast create these waves and send them down here. There is also long, low, but powerful SW swell coming from huge, storms in the far south Pacific. These gargantuans have a very long wave length and are almost impossible to detect until they reach shore.

Right here, right now, all these waves are crossing over each over, creating the tumult that I sail through. As a refresher to your grade 10 physics wave theory, when two peaks meet, they stack on top of each other. Two valleys subtract from each other, making a deeper valley. A peak meeting an equal valley cancel each other out. Now, extrapolate this into many overlapping wave trains coming at different angles, at different speeds, and with different strengths. Instead of a clear row of waves like one would see from shore, here we have innumerable peaks and valleys in a pattern that looks almost random. The largest train of waves sets the tone, but the others break up or amplify those waves. Sometimes it is complete chaos, sometimes, for a few moments, the ocean is almost flat. This, is what offshore waves are all about.

As I set and look at the waves approaching from behind, I see a large wave, maybe 10' high. But, instead of the expected linear wave, it is more like a single peak moving towards me. If it meets a friend before it reaches my boat, it may suddenly rear up and can break. Just as often, it is nearly cancelled out before it reaches me. If it does make it to the boat, it first climbs higher than the horizon and it seems that there is no way that it cannot swamp my large, open cockpit. I feel like a sitting duck. But every time, without fail, the power of the wave lifts the boat at the last minute, then pushes it forward surfing down the face.

Just as often as a large wave approaches, I will have a valley moving towards me. When two valleys from different wave trains intersect, the valley can turn into a deep round hole. The side may be so steep that, if it was suddenly transformed to land, one couldn't walk up it. Just like the peaks, these valleys come and go and are constantly changing.

There is always the sound of rushing and crashing water. When the waves get large, it can be stressful or even terrifying. Sitting and looking up at waves higher than eye level on board is an amazing experience. Even though I know how these waves behave, I always wonder what will happen if too many stack on top of each other? What will happen if the wind gets just a little bit stronger? How much more energy is needed until these waves start breaking and become an entirely different kind of monster that can destroy boats?

But, whether they are mild waves, rolling quietly in the sun, or large mountains with incalculable force, they are always one of the most beautiful creations of mother nature.