Position at 4:00pm Mon 24th: Lat 23 06 067N, Lon 134 42 842 W, [mag]. Heading of 238 deg
Currently ENE Winds of 17-22kts[app] coupled with a ENE 1.5-2.0 mtr swell at 12 secs have become more consistent after the light and fluky winds this am. Our course change to get closer to Lat 12 continues with 'wing on wing' sail plan directly downwind at 6.5 - 7.5kts. We will adopt our night sail plan and may revert to our 120 deg wind angle after dinner for crew comfort and particularly during the girls evening helm duty. All is good.

Sharon:
Over the course of a pleasant and peaceful Sunday afternoon of downwind sailing, we watched the clouds begin to slowly build and start to coalesce around us. We plotted our course on the charts and made note of the half- way mark to Hawaii which we will approach in the next ~ 150 miles...a mental milestone for us all. We had a lovely, indulgent "Sunday dinner" out on the rear deck in blowing winds: Asian spice encrusted pork tenderloin with mango chutney sauce, mashed potatoes and herbed green beans, a nice Chilean Malbec, and baked chocolate croissants for dessert, with the roar of the sea and classical music serenading us in the background. Very civilized, everything under control, right? Never get too complacent in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, thousands of miles from land in any direction. Mother Nature is always in control.
No sunset could be detected under the bank of clouds encroaching slowly in all directions. As I began my night watch at 10:30pm the winds were very consistent at 15-18 knots, the seas growing slowly in intensity. Light rain showers came and went. At 1145pm, the winds suddenly jumped to 21...25...29...knots, rapidly changing directions, and the boom begins to pop. I quickly wake Fernando and Ian to begin adjusting the sails. As they scurry onto slippery wet decks in their safety gear, they begin thrashing from side to side in pitching seas while they try to reef and furl flapping lines.
However, lurking beneath the stormy ocean, a large fish shape was gathering dinner thoughts himself... we all hear the sudden loud whirrrrr, of a fish hitting the lure of our trailing fishing line and taking off at incredible speed away from the boat. The line continues to play out with an unrelenting whine, unable to be slowed with Fernando's best effort, and cannot be stopped. Moby Dick??? Ultimately, the reel is ripped from its rod holder, the heavy-duty line securing it to the rail snaps, and it soars behind the boat, trailing behind a determined fish...fortunately Fernando did not go in with it. Bye! Bye! Kiwi's new fishing rod & reel!!!...Kiwi said "@@@%%$$...Fernando you did what!!!"
Finally, by 1AM, the sails and course were adjusted and the winds back down to 20 knots, and a tired crew retired, leaving Fernando to man the helm for a few more hours, keeping an eye out for Moby Dick.
This AM, the air is warm and muggy, and the clouds have broken up, though showers can still be seen at points on the horizon. The guys spent additional time on deck this morning doing "smart rigging," to more easily manage wing- to -wing sailing from the helm. A new fishing line is out, and we are surfing a following sea. Overboard casualties: 2 of Ian's favorite caps, his brand new heavy duty ocean rod and reel, one lens from his prescription glasses, and our fish dinner.
Human beings all intact, as we pay our homage to Mother Nature.

FERNANDO'S VERSION:
- Indeed all was as described with great accuracy and lighthearted humor, though I must add that from where I was as these events unfolded, the picture was a bit more serious. First of all the painstakingly engineered preventer set-up failed right where we thought it would not. That, coupled with above described sea state and deteriorating wind conditions plus a bloody fish that decides to strike just at the wrong moment, set in motion one of the funniest/scariest events in all of my sailing adventures.
Picture this: I am slumbering on the deck chaise while Sharon is at the helm, happily tooling down the road at a steady pace. I hear her say something like " The winds are picking up" or some such. As I scramble up the stairs to the helm station the winds are really, really picking up and I hear a loud crash above. Little did I know that the preventer pully had come loose at the cringle and now we have a 20 degree swing the boom can freely move until arrested by the port traveller. With winds racing to the 35+ knot mark, that cannot be a good thing, especially when you are wing on wing. I say to Sharon, "please go get Kiwi. We need to take steps. She goes below, and by the time he arrives at the helm, things are really interesting. Just as he and I are drawing up a plan of action, the fish strikes. So, now we have an extra element to deal with. I am torn between the fish, de-briefing Kiwi, racing up the deck to remedy the preventer situation and putting my rain jacket on. Mind you I am standing at the port side stern rail, fighting this bloody fish, getting wet, being bounced around and having Captain smarty pants throwing remarks at how I should bring dinner in. When the rod finally bounces loose, all he can say is...You did @#$%%what with MY rod??? WE could all do nothing but laugh out loud, forget the rod and the fish and carry on with the more immediate and pressing issues of getting our good ship back on track. One hour later all is well again. The Pacific gave us a little spanking tonight, and we are wiser and more confident in each other because of it.