Pacific NW

Expeditions

Now that we are just above the ITCZ our NE winds have filled in, and we are out of the squalls. There’s quite a bit of a NNE component to the wind, so we have to sail slightly to windward to hold a rhumb-line course. Wind speeds are in the 17-20 knot range, which makes for wet sailing! We are forced to dog down all hatches & ports, and during the day the cabin is like a steam-box. It’s just like the Winnipeg Folk Festival camping–after a long night of music & partying, the hot sun rises on the treeless field, begrudgingly baking everyone out of their tents by 7 am. One benefit of sailing to windward, however, is that our wind generator is producing unlimited amps and we can freely use as much electricity as we desire. All the cabin fans are running 24/7, and the fridge is stocked with cold drinks. We’re living on a 15-20 degree angle of heel which is a bit annoying, but manageable. Temperatures are in the 90s(F) and the steaming torrid jungles of Brazil lie just 450 NM to our south.

Nep did his job well on the night watch the other night. He woke me urgently after spotting nav lights on the horizon up ahead of the boat. “Pete, we’ve got a ship ahead, not on AIS, and it’s pretty close” is just about the fastest way that you can wake me out of a deep slumber. I was on deck in literally three seconds. Sure enough, there was a fishing boat drifting directly on our path, dead ahead. I couldn’t make sense of their lights because they were all on–anchor, running, steaming, deck lights. No response from them on VHF. They were surely all asleep for the night, drifting. I quickly altered course 45 degrees and re-set the sails as we charged on at 7 knots into the night. What a great relief as the bearing of the lights fell off to port and we soon passed the hazard! I cannot stress enough the importance of keeping an alert night watch at all times–this boat was not on AIS, and the seas were lumpy enough that our radar was picking up nothing of the low-lying boat. No alarm would have gone off to warn us–only a set of human eyes will do the trick.

Earlier the previous morning we had another fishing boat encounter, right at dawn. I saw the light and no later than 10 minutes, the fishing boat had altered course and was steaming directly toward us! The situation grew tense as they drew closer and I demanded their intentions on the VHF. Eventually I heard some incomprehensible Portugese, and whistling. I whistled back, and they whistled again. At least we had made contact… Soon I saw that there was a buoy in the water quite near Privateer, about 200 feet away. Just like approaching a wild bear, we made sure not to get between the mother and cub (fishing boat and buoy) lest there be a net or lines connecting the two. After not seeing a thing on the horizon for two weeks, it was a shock to look at three other humans standing on the deck of the other boat. They came up to within four boat-lengths of us and we got a good look at each other. This morning we passed through fields of Sargasso plants, floating on the swells. As we sailed along Privateer sucked the plants in through her leeward scuppers and they entangled in the lifeline netting. What a crazy plant…each stem has little hollow “bouys” attached to keep them floating. At times the patches were so thick it looked like we were sailing across a watery golf course. I wonder if this swath is a blown-off remnant from the Sargasso Sea, or if it is associated with the Amazon delta somehow…