Waking from the Dream

I am now in the Sydney airport, waiting for my flight to LA via Fiji.  We arrived in Darwin just a few days ago, and it feels like I have been woken up from a 10 week dream, a period of suspended animation that now seems world apart from packed bags, final boarding calls and security checks.

The trip from the Solomons to Australia took us through the Coral Sea, the Arafura Sea and Torres Strait.  We weathered several gales, encountered sea snakes swimming in the open water, and dodged New Guinean fishing nets through one very long night.  Pictures of the adventure will be posted shortly, as I will be sorting and cropping and organizing on the flight from Sydney to Baltimore via Fiji, LA and NYC.  Sadly, my father succumbed to his cancer just a few days ago - I was able to talk with him several times by satellite phone from the boat, and his support for this adventure meant a lot to us both.  I'll be attending services for him before returning to Olympia on Sunday.

Arrival at the Solomon Islands

We made it.  I am attaching a jpg that shows our trail from the second red point at Hawaii - thanks Kristin.  Wow!

Stern-tied and anchored off the harbor wall 50 feet from a work site where a dozen Solomon Islanders are building a new wharf in steel girders and concrete.  Two worlds, a quarter of a planet apart, a steel ship with three women who just crossed the largest ocean in the world over the last 5 weeks, all the while that these men were building this wharf, each party unaware of the other until this morning.  Fascinating.

I’ve not yet stepped ashore as I write this, sitting in the cockpit waiting for Alice to return from the quarantine office.  I’m wondering how it will feel to step on solid ground after 36 days at sea.  Sleeping last night on a boat that was not pitching and rolling was a luxury I could never have appreciated.  And yet, somehow, it also seems so natural – that of course, we did it.  And did it safely, with all of us on board and intact, if only a bit tired.

So many impressions…

The immense vastness of the ocean.  In 36 days we saw only 5 other ships (and those only at night, oddly enough).  Sunsets and sunrises were the ultimate wide-screen experience, watercolor montages of cloud and light, for which we were the only audience.  

The relentless motivation of the wind – impelling our boat incessantly forward forward forward.  The trade winds are a magic carpet ride, carrying us and all we had on board just by their unwavering pressure on our sails.  And there is no turning back to pick up anyone who went overboard.  I still remember the moment when Anne and I looked at each other and realized that we all needed to be tethered on. 

The power of the sun to warm this vast ocean to bathing temperatures, to generate the clouds that towered above us, and the legions of clouds arrayed in ranks all the way to the horizon.   The big sky country has nothing on the Pacific Ocean – I have never seen so many clouds, of so many different kinds, in one viewing.

The luminosity of the full moon, bright enough to read by.  The depth and dimension of the Milky Way, and multitudes of stars visible in a world devoid of industrial pollution.

The disorientation produced when ink-black clouds blot out the moon and the stars, and lower dark curtains of rain to the sea.  The power of a single cloud squall to take our ship in its grasp and propel her off our course for an hour or two.  I was in the cockpit one night on watch, when an eerie stillness descended on the water.  The horizon disappeared completely and if it was not for the compass, I would have had no idea where we were heading.  The phosphorescence was rich and full, leaving a trail of fairy dust behind us.  A huge black cloud had drifted over us, and another one – squally – was en route.  Suddenly a blast of cold air hit as Alice poked her head out of the hatch and said, “You're in for it”.  And then the wind veered, and picked up True Blue and sent her on a heading at least 30 degrees off our course over the next two hours.  I let the wind vane follow the wind, and simply sat in the cockpit and waited it out.

The soft, saturated azure of the sea, the waves rimmed in aquamarine and trimmed with lacy collars of foam and spray.   The swell rising 12 and 15 feet behind us, lifting our stern as we watched with a remarkably calm kind of acceptance as we slipped down the face of the wave.

The shimmer and grace of a school of mahi mahi following us.  The lovesick booby sitting on the boom who confused our wind generator with a mate, leaving chips in the blades, but hopefully not his beak.  And another bird who landed on the boat as we neared land and let up hold him like a parakeet...so unafraid.

I have learned so much…

…that tuna swim so fast that their bodies are warm inside.  As Alice cleaned our first catch, she pushed my hand deep between its filets to show me.

…reef points and roller furling are the key to comfortable sailing.  Being able to reef down as the winds pipe up kept us moving forward on an even keel with little loss of speed.

… tropical squalls are manageable and going out on the foredeck or up to the mast to raise, lower or reef the sails is no different than doing it on a race in Puget Sound, except the rain is WARM and you are in shorts!

…long passages are more a test of endurance than of skill.  We never seemed to be able to stop the flow of quarters to the bucking bronco machine.  Cooking required that you wedge yourself into the galley, and washing dishes in the cockpit required 4 hands and both feet.

…saltwater shampoos leave your hair surprisingly clean and soft

…Steering by the stars is so much easier that steering by compass and GPS.  And, it was only fitting that the Southern Cross would be hanging below our spreaders as we arrived in the Solomons.  It is VERY strange to no longer be able to see the North Star.

Later…

With Alice back from customs, Ann and I took off exploring.  The Solomons are a Melanesian country, somewhat off the beaten cruising path.  But they are LOVELY – verdant and clean, and (it would appear) remarkably well run.  I would love to spend more time here as the people are lovely, gentle and helpful and the whole area has been little affected by tourism.  The central market is organized, clean and charming, and the major place to get fresh fruit and veggies.  Most everything else is sold in the ‘Chinese stores’ where housewares, soap, canned goods and fabric compete for shelf space.  Betel nut seems to be the stimulant of choice - $1 Solomon (about $.17) compared to $9 Solomon (about $1.25) for a beer.

There are few crosswalks here and crossing the main drag is an exercise in timing.  Even the locals look for safety in numbers to cross the street.  I would love to stay longer, but Alice is pressing on for Darwin.  So this will be my only posting before we leave early next week.  Then you can follow our progress on sail blogs again.

Final Preparations

Alice is clearly on the mend, and she learned that she had been exposed to salmonella – 15-20 other people were also sickened and some were still in the hospital a week later.  We are so relieved that she is recovering.  Sobering experience from a potluck!

Tuesday, Anne and I made a run to Costco and three other stores to make final provisions.  The lockers are bulging and the boat is sitting low in the water and we’ve only got to top off the water tanks and take on some fresh eggs and produce.

Lockers stuffed to bulging ad labelled

Today we did a shakedown sail, testing the new Strong Track for the main, putting in all the reefs and putting up the staysail.  Made note of a few last adjustments, but basically all looked ready to go.

Skipper Alice at the helm

And then there were the spinner dolphins – at least 15-20 playing in our bow wave.  Many of them were mothers with their calves, who dashed off from Mama’s side from time to time to leap from the water (“look, Ma, no fins!!!”) or to race across our bow, returning quickly to mama’s side.  We are taking their appearance as a good omen – a well-wishing party from the dolphins to coincide with the send-offs from friends on shore.

This will be my last post until we reach the Marshalls or the Solomons in 4-6 weeks.  However, you can follow our blog at http://www.sailblogs.com/member/newdawn.  We will not be posting pictures until we reach port, but we will try to post an update daily.  You can also see the breadcrumbs of our track.