Day 111: some sort of omen
Miriam: Passage life continues. It’s an interesting rhythm, everyone on slightly different sleep schedules, switching off every two hours to take our turn at the helm. Wendy is working, sort of, sometimes, when she feels like it anyways so it’s not all hand steering but she needs a bit of tending even when she is in charge; her delicate windvane sensibilities get ruffled and suddenly we’re swerving all over the place. The speed/wave surfing record today is held by Jamie at an impressive 11.4 knots but I’m in the running at 11.2. Mere moments, these speeds, catching a wave just right to accelerate down the face in a breathtaking glide before steering into the next swerve the ocean throws our way. It feels like dancing to me, an exhilarating coordination of wind and wave, hull and sail, and my body doing it’s best to steer the helm, to stay the course and ride the swell.
I want to describe night watch for those of you who have not had the pleasure of the task. For me, it feels like both the serious responsibility of keeping this vessel and it’s precious sleeping (hopefully anyways) inhabitants safe and also an incredible intimacy, to be the only one awake with the magic of night on the sea engulfing me. Sparks of bioluminescence shooting off our wake, curls of waves peeling off the bow lit green on the starboard and red on the port side, the sound of the hull carving through swell, the meditation of keeping the sails full and the course steady, the brilliance of stars shining above. Gruelling sometimes, waking from sleep to sit watch, but a unique and wonder filled experience for me (at least when I’m rested enough).
Jamie ere, Bluebird is haulin ass as we say in the states. Untold progress towards destination Bora. WOD: fission : fission - a binding or bonding between two things or stuff usually in a strong way. Used in a sentANCe: bait up your hooks and cast your lines, we’re going fission.
Ia orana, Megan here! A nebulous anxiety is filling the gaps between my thoughts and growing ever thicker - what will I occupy myself with during our passage to Fiji? Am I to succumb to lethargy and bitchery? I am prone to it. Already on this novel second night of passage, I feel listless and overfed. Watch does give me a sense of purpose, I have many interesting books to read and crosswords to do… I have, I suppose, my companions with whom to conversate and commiserate when I absolutely must…I think I need a physical activity. I will try a few and report back to you. I think perhaps looking up “exercises for sailors” when we are in Bora Bora will yield some exciting possibilities. Anyway, the ocean is breathtaking as usual - I never really knew the intensity of blue and purple and green that existed in the natural world. I’m becoming much better at using the stern toilet without threatening my own life or Wendy’s life (our windvane who also hangs off the back). We watched a tropicbird consider our lure and thankfully decide he wasn’t that hungry. 8oclock and all is well. Mauruuru!
Naomi here, We have foolishly gone too fast since we left makatea - I think I know a couple crew to blame for that- and are set to arrive in bora bora just a bit past midnight. Not knowing how the anchorage is and what sorts of obstructions or hazards could be around I’m not too keen on entering in the dark. Luckily the pass is on the leeward side of the island so we will have nice calm seas in which to attempt heaving to. We are running under just the jib at the moment in an attempt to slow down a little (it only kinda worked) and an attempt to get Wendy to steer (also only kinda worked). Which means at some point tonight we will be doing main raising manoeuvres and sail plan changes, no doubt on my watch. Fingers crossed we don’t run into any land or reefs tonight! Also for dinner tonight was duck stew with Ellen and Qwalen’s homegrown hominy, the last of the wild rice, and fresh limes.
Ellen says But sailing fast is FUN… how can you resist on Bluebird?… actually we thought we might be on track to get in Thursday eve, buying us all a bit more sleep and time in our various logistics, but not so in the end. My last sail on Bluebird, at least for now, hand steering to the setting waxing moon, keeping the southern cross off the port shroud as it swings below the horizon. Sometimes I think I can pick out the southern groundswell among the wind waves, rocking the hull from left to right in a more sedate way than when we surf canted down a white cap. Orion rises, Rigel first - it is past my watch and squalls are gathering themselves around the horizon’s rim. Tacking into Bora Bora, its high sharp peaks wrapped in orange grey dawn clouds, is surreal after so much time in the atolls. Bittersweet, this landfall - all those sea shanties are right. Once you fall in love with the ocean you are never the same, and she will always call you back, even if you deeply love your home on land. This time I take with me a comfort with the sea I have deepened, a bit more of knowing her as a familiar friend - a pearl from the Tuamotus.
Q Last night was the night was the night of wet beds. Changing sails, tacks, and drivers, I think everyone at one point or several point got their bed soaked by waves crashing from the side, front, or back of the boat finding their way through innocent unexpecting hatches. Hand steering through sloppy seas during my night shift, Ellen had just sat in the cockpit after making us all a delicious dinner in her last set of dry clothes, as earlier we had about 5 if not 10 gallons from a fluke wave do a graceful dive through the hatch(open for ventilation out of necessity and usually not a problem downwind) right onto us , the bed and our packed bags of clean clothes. I hear the familiar cascade of sloshing sounds that means several waves are combining in amplitude on their way towards the boat. “Watch out for the….” Splash, her almost empty bowl of food now mixed with ocean pouring into the cockpit, the wave was at least 1m over her head with a well aimed peek right down on top. Feisty ocean in here, waves refracting off islands, swell squeezing between and refracting around others. Fun to feel the different patterns in the waves indicating distant invisible land far off in the dark.