Coming to You via Radio...

This blog comes to you from our Single Side Band Radio which translates a radio signal into an email to our friend Alicia in Bellingham, who in turn will post it as a blog.  This is the same system that ham radio operators have been using for decades, now turning into email.  We are currently 541 miles south, southwest of San Diego, CA at N 24"25', W 122"15'.  Hey, you Meridian fourth graders, can you find us on a map?

We left San Diego on Tuesday, March 10th, with fuel, propane and water topped off and enough food to get us to Australia in the fall if we manage it well.  With 2838 miles to go before our next port in the Marquesas in French Polynesia,  we needed to each develop a circadian rhythm that would give us enough rest and some rejuvenation and have one of us on deck 24/7.  Our new rhythm: six hours on watch, six hours off, over and over and over.  Day one was a gentle sail.  Leaving around two in the afternoon, we spent the rest of the day on projects around the boat as the auto pilot takes the job of steering the boat.  By nightfall, however, both seas (6 to 8 foot swells) and winds (23 knots X 1.2 equals 27.6 mph) had picked up.  We tried sleeping in our bed in the cabin, me from 8 pm to 2 am, and Jerry from 2 am to 8 am.  Neither of us slept more than an hour as the swells were coming from the starboard side and the boat was rocking hard. 

On our second day, we tried out our new spinnaker.  It’s a new design in sail making and looks something like this:  [Alicia here – I hope I found a photo of the right sail! The website is:  http://www.parasailor.com/us/products/parasailor.html ]   

 It is an amazingly beautiful sail.

Our rhythm started feeling more natural as the second night gave each of us almost five hours of sleep and the following night, almost six, plus a little napping for both of us during the day.  On day three, we turned on the hot water heater for 30 minutes, about the max we could afford in electricity, as we must produce everything we use.  The refrigerator and the auto pilot take huge amounts and most boats resort to turning on the engine or bringing a gas generator, but with wind, solar, and a water generator, we haven't had the engine on since March 10th when we pulled out of San Diego harbor.  But back to those delicious showers.  With five gallons of hot water, we each had a shower and I used the last two gallons of the hot water to do laundry, which decorated the boat and whipped in the wind all day.  Oh, do I miss those exotic laundromats!  It may seem meager for water usage, but we must not only make the electricity to heat the water, but also make the fresh water with our water maker, a de-salinator that can produce 6.7 gallons of fresh water from the sea per hour.  Unfortunately, it is also a major electricity hog.

In Jerry's night shift last night, three flying fish slammed into the dodger (the hooded awning over the cockpit) and tonight, he saw the reflection of the lights of a big ship in the clouds of the horizon.  It's the closest we've come to seeing anyone since a ship passed us on the 11th.  Otherwise, there has been no sign of human life: no planes or boats of any kind for the past four days.

My sleep time starts at 8pm and I can't wait to get into bed.  I know it won't be long enough.  My night watch starts at two am when Jerry wakes me.  I feel groggy and not ready for prime time.  Even in this mild climate, getting dressed for being on deck in the night involves one pair of long underwear (much better than the three underlayers we needed when we left Washington in January!), jeans and foul weather bib overalls.  The top is the same with sweatshirt and down vest and foul weather jacket, then the life vest, at and ski gloves.  You put all this on while the boat is rocking.  It's a little like trying to get dressed while riding a bongo board!  (Try cooking on a bongo board!)  Once on deck, I lock myself in with a tether to a fitting on the cockpit and my mood immediately rises.  The stars are beautiful, the moon is just ready to break the horizon, the breeze is soft, and the night is welcoming.