Very Near Raivave 30 June 2010 23.9564S 146.7695W
The winds have calmed a smidge (20 knots instead of 30plus). I’m feeling better, Kennan’s been immersed in a book series since we left (so not feeling tooo seasick). Logan was sick the first day, but then was loving surfing down the faces of those big waves, periodically getting splashed, and loving watching the shearwaters and storm petrels doing their acrobatic antics. At one point, he said he wished he could soar up the face of a wave like that and spin back around to plunge back down, and I responded that those kite surfers do just that. He said, “no I mean I want to have billions of years of evolution behind me perfecting me for just that movement.” So I don’t know if he’ll be taking up kite surfing anytime soon. Once you’re not seasick, it really is spectacular sailing, and Silver Lining’s is performing beautifully, she may not have billions of years of evolution behind her, but humans have been working this sailing thing for thousands of years, and Gary seems to have taken advantage of all that and perfected her for this kind of weather. We’ve had a number of 175-mile-plus days (that’s straight line way made good toward goal in 24 hours). That probably seems like an amazingly slow pace to land lovers in the crowd, but it’s actually not to bad for a boat our size and weight.
I’m back to my dog watch now. It’s interesting how in 4 hours my mood can swing. When I’m still sluggish and sleep deprived from a too short nap, that first half hour crawls by at a painfully slow pace, all I can think about is crawling back in or curling up by the mast and hoping it all goes away. Then as I become more aware of my surroundings, getting a feel for the night’s wind and weather, stars or clouds, rain or wind or calm, my mind drifts into contemplative mode, sometimes digging up a very old memory to cuddle with, sometimes writing mental letters to all of you, sometimes solving life’s big problems, or wondering at it’s great mysteries. I think it’s the kind of time, that modern life just doesn’t leave room for. I don’t know that now having this time makes me a better or healthier person, but it sure is enjoyable. When I’ve completed my drifting, sometimes I’ll read a little, or if the weather is too rough to bring a book on deck, I’ll listen to the kids podcasts (the current favorite onboard are the radiolab podcasts), or cut loose dancing and singing along to the eclectic mix of music magically available to me now-a-days – it’s great not having an audience so I can goof off all I want. By the end of my watch, I’m tackling projects, trying to mix bread ingredients below, and bring them up to kneed, or straightening the cockpit and arrange all the lines, dry the cushions. By the end, I’m amazed how fast 4 hours can fly by, and wondering how I could ever have felt that the first half hour was tedious. The task of keeping the boat trimmed and keeping watch for any other boats (we’ve not seen one this trip), has a different feel from beginning to end, at the beginning I’m grumbling about the lines cutting into my hands, or a bump to a shin, or the fact that I have to kneel on hard steel to do a maneuver, since it’s too wet on deck for the cockpit cushions, or whining to myself about having to stand up yet again to do my 360 degree scan of the horizon. By the end I’m thrilled at the new strength in my hands that wasn’t there 6 months ago and wishing for a wind shift so I can keep them in shape, and watching for boats while dancing is pretty fun. All in 4 hours.
xoxomo