Conditions got windier and wavier as forecast. Once we came out from the relative lee of New Caledonia and its associated reefs, a nasty 4-meter cross-swell from the Southern Ocean found us. Every 50th wave or so peaked with our regular swells at right angles and would explode into the cockpit or smack the side of the boat. It wasn’t anything dangerous, but just annoying. We had to keep all hatches battened down. Otherwise, it was another fantastic day of fast downwind sailing. We poled out the jib in the morning again and ran wing-on-wing for an hour or two, but were a little too optimistic. Our speeds quickly jumped into the 9s with the Yankee out, but the winds built right up and hovered around 30-35 knots all day. So we went back to our trusty standby and have been running a comfortable 6-7 knots under the storm staysail and double-reef main. We hardly touched the Monitor today and incredibly have stayed within 2 miles of the rhumb line (direct course) of our destination.
Taz had a busy morning with his “activities” as he calls them. He learned how to use crayons today and quickly figured out that it is way more fun to color on his chair and all over his body than on paper. He looked like he was putting war paints on as he smeared the wax across his chest.
Our visiting bird sadly left us this afternoon after doing his night-watch all night and into the morning. Oddly, I felt like he really was watching for ships, and I felt comfortable leaving him on watch for a spell while I did chores below-decks. He flew away when one of those big swells smacked us and soaked his perch. This evening we got on the radio with the Beguine who are just 21 NM behind us. “We have a visitor” they said. They were very surprised when I responded “does he have a furry white unibrow?” There was an awkward pause on the radio and then Beguine answered “…why, yes!”
It feels really good to be pointing the bow toward Australia and Africa after our “checkmark” down to NZ. We’re playing leapfrog with the sun now–she rises astern and sets right off the bow. It’s as if we are on a giant celestial gerbil exercise wheel, sailing around and around. As we near the equator the familiar constellations like the Big Dipper appear low on the horizon, and upside-down.
Kelsey pointed out the obvious this evening “We’re out here on the middle of the Coral Sea, the whole family. Is there any place you’d rather be
Despite coping with the imminent breakthrough of his upper canine, Taz was in high spirits today. Lively sea conditions kept us cooped up down below, nesting together in our berth. While I provided Taz with motherly comfort and company, he supplied daylong entertainment and had me in stitches. Meanwhile, Pete dodged many a soaking wave from our companionway perch.
At sea, Taz is generally confined to the main salon where he is safest. We are so pleased with our primary baby modification to the boat-a new and improved lee cloth built high (to keep Taz from throwing himself over the top edge) and long, extending from bulkhead to bulkhead (so that he cannot slither out of the sides). The space doubles as a sea berth and playpen and has the necessary effect of keeping child and/or crew well contained at sea.
Pete has joked that we might very well be arrested for keeping our child in a cage all day long! While it gets a bit claustrophobic for me at times when we are inside (along with a gaggle of books, blankets, toys and stuffed animals strewn about), for Taz there is ample room to run around if he can manage, plenty of air flow and no barriers to communicate his wishes. He is clearly happy in his berth. I may sound like a zookeeper making a case for humane cage conditions-but as a zookeeper who spends as much time inside the cage as our waddling little penguin, I have a vested interest in making sure the space is suitable. The main differences in accommodation from his fellow zoo inhabitants should be made clear-Taz has not been removed from his native habitat, he is caged purely in the name of safety, and the majority of his life is spent elsewhere, as time spent sailing is minimal compared to time spent at anchor.
From his perch this morning, Taz was pleased to spot our sweet “birdie” companion in the cockpit. Blasted off and on by the blinding early morning sun as the boat rocked to and fro, however, he was often thwarted in his efforts at hailing the bird.
Ever since Taz settled into life aboard Privateer, he has claimed a certain spot as his very own, quite naturally suited as it is to his little body and curious inclinations as well as his desire to be in close proximity to mom at all times. His “perch”, as we’ve come to call it, is along the curvy keyhole cutout on the portside bulkhead (a boat’s wall) that serves as an aesthetically pleasing demarcation separating the aft space from the main salon and which also acts as a structural piece. Taz has claimed his territory by way of tiny tooth marks dug into the varnish and a perpetual veneer of baby saliva slime smeared across the wood. From his rightful spot he can pluck at bits of allocated food on the countertop, stuff raw and prohibited morsels of food stealthily into his mouth, open wide to be spoon fed, watch all manners of food prep in the galley, stretch himself impossibly far in hopes of snatching a knife, and pitch my painstakingly washed and chopped produce onto the floor with devilish laughter. The dregs of many meals and the dribbles from his chin rot away in the slot below the perch devoted to the ship’s calculator, protractor and parallel rulers. Taz is wild for citrus fruit and the juices from pamplemousse, grapefruit, and mandarin run down the bulkhead, in the gutters between the tongue and grove. Rotating in either direction, our astute observer is able to survey nearly everything on the boat. While an advantageous, convenient and safe location for Taz, his positioning at the perch is often slightly irritating for me. Such is life in a space of 36 feet!
After making quick work of his adult sized portion of oatmeal, I left Taz in his portable baby chair, firmly seated on the floor of the salon, and handed him his beeswax crayons for the first time since he’s blossomed into a full-blown walking and talking toddler. I felt jaunty that I’d thought of a good strategy to bide myself a little time to grind coffee and maybe eat some breakfast. Gingerly fingering his novelty items, Taz quickly became infatuated with the chubby little blocks nearly as much as the small tin they came in. In and out of the tin the crayons went, and he discovered that they had multiple uses as he formed a solid Jenga pile. I drew the moon, stars and fruits that he enthusiastically identified. Than I wrote his name and drew a kangaroo in lieu of our upcoming landfall in Australia. Taz was excited about the “T for Taz!” as he is starting to identify letters. He then proceeded to smudge his body and mark up his chair, which bought me a little more free time, so I was quite happy.
Baby occupied and conditions seeming pleasant enough to permit me to grind coffee beans with little hassle, I set to the task knowing full well that Taz considers himself an integral part of the morning coffee hand-grinding process. Once upon a time, Taz was simply content to fondle one greasy morsel of a bean between his fingers like it was the greatest of treasures. As he grew, we granted him a small pile of beans and he began to insistently add them to the hopper one at a time. Soon he was demanding to take charge of the handle. While this was once charming, the process has become increasingly longer as the handle makes fewer and fewer rotations as Taz dips his fingers into the hopper, interrupting the flow to extract another bean or two. Our patience wanes a bit as we crave the morning cuppa (as they say in New Zealand).
The first day out to sea continually proves to be a bit rough for Taz. Fortunately, he is able to overcome his ill and equalize his inner ear in rather short order. Today he proved that he is one with the sea, so completely aware of the gravitational forces affecting his movements. This boy knows how to lean with the sea, how to instinctually maintain balance while heeling over. In a situation of extreme heel, this means that one knee is bent into the high side of the boat while the other leg is extended straight toward the low side, legs parallel with one another. This strategic movement seems altogether specific to the sport of sailing.
While making a rolly-polly downwind run, the wind splitting the stern and causing the boat the rock from side to side, Taz was giddy as he worked with and against gravity. The adults aboard felt a bit annoyed at the motion but agreed that it granted us freedom of movement as compared to our previous upwind passage that left us plastered to the port side of the boat. Jungle gym antics commenced in Taz’s berth and he managed one or two gleeful steps forward before collapsing with a dramatic “Ah boom!” He performed a sort of calculated catapulting, knowing well that he was doomed to cover any significant ground before spilling again into a puddle of laughter and across the berth cushion. The lurching looked awkward but was all part of the game. Taz was indefatigable, tumbling and jumping up and down in his berth and previous concerns about lack of activity aboard were all but erased. Taz will not atrophy at sea; quite the contrary, the constant motion is forcibly building muscle.
It’s funny how he adjusts so easily and readily to this new environment without the promise or reward of standing on solid ground ever again; meanwhile I struggle to perform basic functions. For the first few days out to sea he would say “dinghy” and point towards the cockpit but I think he’s abandoned hope by now that we will disembark for a dinghy ride in the middle of the ocean.
Awake from his nap, Taz springs immediately upwards like a jack-in-the-box (sometimes actually giving me a scare) as if to implore “What did I miss, guys?” His tiny fingers curl over the wooden rail before his head pops up, back into its usual notch. Still rubbing away sleepiness, he struggles to appear as eager as possible and begins to instantly point at things and name them in his gravelly munchkin voice. While he once experienced a slow and gentle post nap awakening, cooing sweetly and twiddling his toes in his bunk, those days seem behind us. The motion of the sea sends Taz into motion.
He has me in a constant state of awe, delight and amusement as his vocabulary explodes and he mimics nearly every word that I utter. He likes to say “shovel, bucket, turtle, pocket, penguin, beetle, purple” and look to me for excited affirmation. Laying in bed tonight, Taz cycled through all of his token phrases that make both of us laugh-“boom boom”, “up sie” (whoopsie daisy), “oh nooooo”, and “honey” (apparently my most frequently used term of endearment for him). At night, his body is wedged comfortably in his bunk, the curve of his spine molded into the forgiving lee cloth material. In rough conditions that make it difficult to sleep, his body fits snugly alongside mine as we spoon.
In many ways, the routines that fill our day vary little from that of most 18-month-olds-there are books, music, meals, exercise, naps, nappy changes and sleep. The way in which we manage to accomplish these activities often differs a bit-Taz might eat standing up, in his bed or on the floor. Considered apart from these everyday details, however, he is a serious minority among babies. The soundtrack to his dynamic existence is the whistling of the wind and the lapping of the waves. The backdrop is the endless blue ocean, the near constancy of the sun, the faces of the moon, a million twinkling stars and marine life that surprises us along the way. In his sub-marine bedroom, the water makes a dramatic “whoosh” as it rushes past the hull while we surf down the waves, a thick piece of fiberglass all that separates him from our surrounding ocean habitat. If any kid has a name appropriate to the life it is Atlas, titan of endurance, navigation, and the celestial bodies.
Another day flying along wing-on-wing… at 3 am we got pegged by a series of squalls, one behind the other, until 7 am. Finally the skies cleared up and the winds became regular, making for a pleasant day. I slept through most of it, until the wind freshened up in the afternoon and got right up to 40 knots for a time. For awhile, it was great sailing–Privateer was carving down the waves with lots of 9s, 10s, and 11s on the GPS as she surfed. There came a point, however, when we decided the Monitor and downwind pole were becoming a bit loaded up and working too hard. We rolled in the Yankee for our instant storm sail combo and are now comfortably running down at 7.5 knots under storm staysail and double-reefed main. The pole will remain set for now, if and when the winds settle down we can resume our wing-on-wing. For now, we’ve got a solid 25-30 knot breeze with more of the same for the next 3-4 days. We are charging full-speed through the blocky seas. This is exciting sailing!
Taz continues to grow his fangs out here on the Coral Sea. He was a pretty happy guy most of the day today, with his usual morning “smiling fit” where he squints and wrinkles up his nose at us for about 1/2 hour–it’s a great way to start the day! He’s really adapting well to the motion of the boat. He’s learned how to always use one hand for holding on and how to position himself in the bunk for sleep so he won’t get tossed around. His grip is so strong that he’s like a coconut crab–almost impossible to extricate him off of whatever he has a mind to cling to.
We’ve had a visiting bird for the past day or two and this evening we’ve all become comfortable friends of sorts. He landed in the cockpit beside me and sat right next to me on the seat cushion for a few hours–he’s totally tame and not the least bit suspicious. Now he’s taken up a perch beside the solar panels where he can peer into the boat and watch our every move.
The other boat, S/V “Beguine” is only about 9 miles away from us. She’s a Valiant 40 and I’ve always been curious as to how they stack up to the Cape Georges. So far we are almost exactly matched for speed, though we’ve been carrying a bit less sail than she has. We check into a “cruisers net” each morning to report our positions to the wider network of sailors, which adds a degree of safety to a passage. We’re also close enough to our “neighbors” that we can chat on VHF radio. It’s nice knowing there are other people out here experiencing the same wind shifts, squalls etc. The “Beguine” is headed to Thursday Island and on toward South Africa as well. It’s exciting to tie back into the circumnavigator route and meet other people & boats on the same trajectory.
We’re within a thousand miles of our entrance waypoint to the Great Barrier Reef, and already over 1/3 the way across the Coral Sea as I write this. Thank you Trade Winds!
All sails are set and drawing today as we whoosh down the waves, wing-on-wing. There’s a perfect 20-knot breeze on our tail, and we are surfing along at 7 knots, with occasional 10-11 knots showing on the GPS. Privateer is singing her offshore symphony. Everything she’s built to do, she’s out here doing it! We’ve got the Yankee sail poled out to windward, Mainsail on port tack, and Storm Staysail sheeted in tight to act as a stabilizer. We like flying the Storm Staysail all the time because when we sail through a squall, all we have to do is roll in the Yankee and we’re instantly ready for 40 knots of wind. The Monitor is keeping us pegged on a 150-180 degree wind angle, doing her incredible job of steering the boat day and night while allowing us to focus on the passage and rest up.
Taz had a pretty happy day today too, despite the fact that his fang-teeth are just starting to poke through his gums! He’s been chomping down on fingers and toys to relieve the pressure. He’s also getting pretty good with his throwing arm. Today while doing the usual hurl-every-single-toy-out-of-the-berth routine he flung one of his blocks across the cabin and nailed me right in the groin–ouch!! His vocabulary is expanding, to the point that we’re a bit creeped out at how much he understands. Beyond the usual “dinghy” and “boat” and “moon”, he’s pointing across the sea and saying “horizon”. Each day we understand a bit more of what he’s trying to tell us, and when we make a connection he clucks his tongue, which is his method of expressing satisfaction.
We’re falling into the routine here and the days and nights fly past in a blur. Each day seems so short at sea (when the weather is good) and we are happily bounding across the Coral Sea. The boat has a bit of a roll due to the down-wind angle, but Kelsey and I agree that while it’s annoying, it’s far better than heeling while smashing to windward. At sunrise today about a dozen dolphins swam with the boat for about an hour. I found a large flying fish on deck, and about 1/3 the way up the main it looks like we may have been inked by a squid. I’m not sure if they can leap out of the water that high, but we do have a nasty ink stain there. Our hull got inked in Vanuatu as well. Kelsey baked the perfect pizzas for dinner tonight. All in all, a great day to be out here on the sea.
Our friends Mark & Cat on S/V “Tuuletar” have a funny saying about how Murphy’s Law strikes all sailboats at precisely 2am, and how the motion of the boat through the swells and the infinite problems that can arise on a boat can combine in some very interesting ways. Murphy struck Privateer at 2am last night when I suddenly heard the whoosh of our galley fire extinguisher go off about one second before finding myself enveloped in a thick cloud of irritant dry chemical powder. Earlier in the month, Taz had taught himself how to break the plastic seal and pull the pin out of the fire extinguisher. Re-locating the unit to an above-Taz location was on the long list of minor boat chores that got overlooked by engine work, rigging, etc. Anyway, at some unknown time Taz had again pulled the pin and stashed it god only knows where–I’ll probably find it in the bilge–leaving the fire extinguisher in the “armed” mode. All it took was for a heavy object to shift from the quarter-berth to the floor as the boat leaned into a swell–and down it came right on top of the trigger. And of course this happened at 2am. I thought about Mark and Cat then, and how they would probably tell me that while this was an unexpected event, I should expect this to happen at some point on the voyage.
Kelsey & Taz slept right through the ordeal, fortunately, as I swept the thick layer of irritating powder from the floor. The boat looked like a night club with the fog powder swirling around in the red lights below-decks. The galley took a direct hit, of course, and all of our dishes and Kelsey’s herbs and many sensitive electronics needed immediate attention. Later on, Kelsey worked all day cleaning up the mess. Taz adds a degree of power to Murphy’s Law. One time he stuffed about 15 oranges into a little slot above the radio locker. When you go to use the SSB you don’t expect oranges to spill out of the doors! One of his greatest passions (other than shouting “OHH–NOH!” before throwing any object within his reach to the floor) is stuffing small objects into the finger holes in our floorboards. Ultimately, anything that goes in there ends up getting soaked in the bilge, covered in a thin layer of oily debris, and poses a hazard to our automatic bilge pump as they accumulate around the float switch and intakes. Baby-proofing a house is quite different than baby-proofing a boat…
We had a fine sail today in low seas, beam-reaching along at 6 knots! Made 145 miles good from noon-to-noon since yesterday–pretty great for light-wind sailing. The boat is staying cool below with all the hatches open and we are moving along nicely. Our distance to cover on this leg is about the distance between Seattle and Chicago. The trades are forecast to intensify throughout this week and should give us a pretty lively sail in a few day’s time. For now we’re enjoying the lighter winds, although we’ve reefed down the main at sunset in anticipation for the wind increase to come.
Hello all! We have set sail from Port Vila, Vanuatu, today for the 1,585 NM crossing of the Coral Sea. We are gliding along on a beam reach in 10 knots of light breeze…very nice. We’ve got a great forecast with lots of tail winds, and we’re hoping for a fast 11-13 day passage. Privateer is in top form and all buckled down for offshore. Our destination is Thursday Island, Australia, so it’s fitting that we leave on a Thursday for this voyage.
Many of you have wondered where our journals are & if we’d set out from NZ yet… I’ve fixed a few things on-line so the journals should start coming in regularly to your e-mails now. In the meantime, we’ve posted the log from NZ to Vanuatu which you can see on the svlogbook site. We’ve had an incredible & busy month in Vanuatu and will post those logs soon. We visited the amazing island of Tanna & have posted a few pics, with more stories to come…
We are in the process now of settling into the offshore routine. It always takes a few days to establish a day/night pattern of sleep, sailing, and play. Taz had one puke today as we rounded the Devil’s Point under engine power, but now that we’ve got the sails set & drawing he’s back to his regular self. He sucked down about 1/2 a pineapple and some coconut water and promptly began “pee-peeing” all over the cockpit. He’s really proud of his new ability to pee on command and really strains into it.
We met another boat leaving with us today, sailing to South Africa on our route! They’re just a few miles away from us now & we’ve set up a “sked” in which we communicate with them at a set time & frequency each day on the SSB radio. It’s always nice to know we’re not the only ones out here, and have a chat about the weather & sail trim.
The island of Efate quickly disappeared as we sailed away and we have a waxing moon overhead tonight. As we approach the Great Barrier reef, we should have an almost-full moon, which makes for a friendly companion on the night watch. For now, we are silently clicking away the miles on our magic carpet, taking us to a new horizon, across the Coral Sea, and onward toward the Indian Ocean!
Hi all! We are in Port Vila, Vanuatu, preparing for our Coral Sea crossing to Australia. It’s been a very busy 2 weeks here, organizing boat projects, fixing the engine, re-building the ship’s head, and tackling many small boat chores we’d been putting off while working in NZ. I’ve loaded most of our journals from the sail to Vanuatu, and we will post the landfall and Tanna journals from sea, when we have time! All this frenzy on land leaves a sailor little time to relax…
