Hawaii - August 8-13

Seems like a long time ago already that we pulled in to Ala Wai Boat Harbor on Oahu! We apologize for the interruption in Blog posts - a combination of computer problems and just general busyness has kept us quite occupied. It is now Wednesday August 13th and all is well.

 

So - here is the rundown since the last post from Thursday August 7th.

 

Friday August 8:

 

We were in sight of land as of late Thursday night and after a lively night on watch for all of us, a grey dawn finally arrived. A few showers and then the sun came out as we made our last miles into Oahu. The wind picked up, blowing more than 20 knots as we approached the harbor and navigated our way in. After the calm rythym of our watch system and life on passage, we had to be extra cautious manouvering among all the boats and docks. By 11:57 we were tied up to a mooring ball and dock at Ala Wai Boat Harbor right smack in the middle of Honolulu/Waikiki.

 

Beer, showers and then a meal on shore were the order of business that afternoon. We came back to the dock for an afternoon nap and just as we laid our heads, Cress and I heard a loud "POP" - then Cress yelled "All hands on deck!!! - the mooring line broke!!!" Within a few seconds, our bow was drfiting down onto the boat beside us. Cress was up in a flash and jumped onto the other boat, and managed to hold us off. Cress and I then switched places so that he could re-attach a new line (no small feat). Al and Don manned the dockside lines, while Leona and I held us off the other boat and helped Cress get a new line secured - it was by the grace of God that we happened to be on board and on deck when the line broke. Since then, we figured out that the line broke in the first place because it was rubbing against a very old metal ring on the mooring buoy. We now have 2 heavy shakles and lines attached with chain and have had not problem since. Thank you, thank you , thank you.... After that last burst of energy we all collapsed and were in bed by 8 PM.

 

Saturday August 9 - Wednesday August 13:

 

The next day we started with boat cleaning, inside and out, and looking for alternate moorage since we will be leaving the boat for several weeks while we return to Singapore. Sunday we took a day off to tour the island and do some snorkelling - great stuff! Since then it has been back to boat cleaning and boat projects in preparation for the next part of the passage. Leona and I have managed to sneak away for a bit of shopping though - a well deserved break!

 

Paul and Jordan have been squeezing in some swimming, snorkeling, SCUBA diving and surfing over the last few days as well.

 

And oh yes, we are all enjoying our daily lattes and walks on the beach :) - now, I need to rest up so that I can head back to work next Monday, although I cannot imagine that at this moment!!

 

Cress will send an update soon regarding the route and timing for the rest of the passage to Singapore. Anyone interested???

 

Irena

 

 

 

 

Arrived safe and sound

We have arrived - compouter problems not withstanding! More to come as soon  as possible!

 

Irena

The beginning of the end...and a new beginning...

And so it is, that we make our last miles into Hawaii. Our extended happy hour this evening was interrupted by a squall, with an approach like I have never seen. The sky in front of us was clear blue and the sun starting to set in the west. the sky behind us (and rapidly approaching) was dark grey and low to the horizon. Through the grey though, was a magnificent rainbow that stretched across the entire eastern part of the sky. At first we could only see one half, then more and more until we witnessed
the full rainbow, both ends dipping into the sea. Just beautiful. As the storm approached, we cleared the cockpit, except for those on watch duty and waited for it to pass. In less than 30 minutes, the rain stopped as most of the cloud passed to the south of us.

Dinner and some singing awaits us now, as we continue to celebrate our good fortune, fair winds and just generally our faith in one another and life. From my favourite Joseph Campbell poem "The Hero's Journey" - here is the last lines...

A bit of advice given to a young Native American at the time of his initiation:

"As you go the way of life, you will see a great chasm.

Jump.

It is not as wide as you think."

Irena

Conversations jouney coming to an end!

Hello hello,
youngest current slav... ahem crew member of Conversation 2 here. I'm feeling different things about this journey and I'd like to talk about them here. I have had a wonderful time sailing with this wonderful crew. I am both sad and happy that this journey is coming to an end. I am sad because i will miss the wonderful, life changing experiences that I have had on this boat. On the other hand I am happy to get to land, have a shower and just be in Hawaii.

Boat Experiences
I have had many great and wonderful experiences on this boat. Here's some of the best ones. My first graveyard shift (12-3) getting up out of my nice warm bed. Putting on my clothes in a trance, and climbing up on deck to a nice crisp breeze mixed with an absolutely amazing view. There were stars upon stars upon stars, there were so many they became utterly uncountable! Thousands of stars gleamed down on our little portion of the pacific ocean, and with no lights around for miles and miles, the milky
way gleamed silver in the pitch black night sky. The phosperescence (please excuse my spelling) lit up the breaking waves with a gleaming, purplish light. That was the most amazing experience, and even the thought of how few people had had the amazing luck to see that sight. The second most stunning experience came today while swimming. I did a dive of the swim-grid, surfaced and was part-way through a dolphin kick a few feet under the surface when I opened up my eyes to a sight that has no words
to describe how beautiful it was. It was a light sapphire-blue glimmering with different hues. The next best experience would be just being here. I am speechless how great an experience it has been.

Meals
The meals on the boat are so fabulous they deserve a section all on their own. I of course can't mention these meals without mentioning the chefs with amazing talent that prepared these meals. Leona and Irena completely outdid themselves with cooking our meals. I wonder how much our bill will be for all these gourmet meals. From eggplant with tofu and homemade tomato sauce to lamb curry to beef stew, we've had it all.

Well that's it for now at least,

Jordan "young 'un" Clarke

Thursday August 7, 2008

Hi folks...Paul here with happy news from the good ship Conversations II. It is 1545 h Hawaiian time (three hours behind Pacific Time) and in less than 24 hours we anticipate making our landfall in Honolulu, Oahu. Yippee!

Our intention is to spend this final night making our cautious approach to the roadstead off of our landfall, then making our way in between Molokai and Oahu, in the light of day. We have secured initial moorage in the Ali Wai Yacht Basin right in downtown Honolulu. Once ashore we will assess if that is where the boat will lie for the next month or so, or we may move her to another location if necessary.

The Captain and crew are all in good spirits; who couldn't be with such outstanding companions, idyllic conditions and such a promising tropical landfall.

After lunch today we pulled off the highway's fast lane, hove to to stop the boat (as much as a slippery boat of 48 feet can be stopped in 20-25 kn of wind!) and had a swim party! One at a time, those hardy souls that so chose to commit themselves to the deep, jumped over the side with a bowline around their chest to revel in the deep blue sea. We had a safety line floating behind us for 100 feet or more, and no shortage of lifeguards. What a life memory! The boat looked so clean, and big from the
fish eye view, and the water so unbelievably clear and blue. Opening your eyes underwater you could see down and down and down... it was like gazing into liquid sapphire. If you hadn't had your daily recommended dose of NaCl, then you would have after swimming! Man was that water salty!

After an hour of splashing and laughing, and blowing raspberries at the imagined sharks, we brought the last of the prisoners aboard, dripping and blowing, and got the vessel underway again. By the by, in the 20 kn breeze, the GPS reported that we were making roughly 3 kn of leeway. No way could you swim that fast (Cress gave it his all, and could only make brief headway before falling behind to the end of his tether), so the first rule of sailing ("Don't fall over the side") was graphically underscored
for us all. Still, great fun was had. As we had coincidentally only just finished our first tank of fresh water (meaning we have slightly more than half left, plus reserves) we allowed ourselves a quick fresh water slosh off. An hour later, I still taste salt in my mouth; a pleasant reminder of today's adventure that is soon to be washed down by a jar of Johnny Walker's Liquid Tonic, Balm and Emulsifier.

Given that this will likely be our last night at sea, and that tomorrow we will be snug in a marina, this may well bring this blog to an end. It is difficult to send updates via the ham radio with all the surrounding masts, so this could be our last missive. If we don't write again, don't be afeared...we are safely ensconced in one of Honolulu's establishments, sipping fruit drinks and bouncing off the washroom stalls as we try to keep the walls from moving!

Thanks for following along with us. We've had a blast! Hope you have too, vicariously!

And now, a bit of doggerel in limerick form for those who don't know all 7 of us who made the voyage from San Francisco to Oahu, 2008:

--------------------------------------------

There was a ship named Conversations
On the Pacific Ocean she was gracin'
She sailed strong and true
With her gallant crew
Bound for Hawaii and subsequent nations.

Includin' a young man named Jordan
A teen version of Captain Morgan
He'd a glint in his eye
When e'er food went by
And his Cokes I swear he's been hoardin'.

Now next on the list comes Paul
Who tells stories both fanciful and tall
With simian grace
And a gorilla-like face
He scampers o'er foredeck and all.

Then there was a young girl from the Prairie
With an eye like a hawk for the unwary
Leona's her name
And culinary arts her fame
But it's her heart that is legendary.

Our resident wise man named Alfred
Is erudite, sagacious and well-read.
He possesses a mind
Chock full of rhyme
Need a lyric? It's in his head!

This brings us to Admiral Don,
The Old Man's Old Man takes the con
He rules the blue seas
With wisdom and "Please…
Yes another beer would be foregone".

Of especial note is Irena
A first mate you couldn't find keener
She's a chef, she's a sailor
A navigator, a tailor
But it's her vision that's oh so serena.

Now the last is Captain Cress
By whose presence we feel blessed
A finer man
A more abler hand
And a Skipper who ranks with the best.

-PC
08/07/08

Aloha!

Holy Smokes Only Two Days Away

We are all beginning to grieve the end of the passage. Today marks two weeks at sea, and it feels like less than a week. We have sailed about 1800, maybe 1900 miles and have 250 to go to bring the islands into sight. Dawn Friday should reveal the island's grey form with first light. At that point we will still be the better part of the day getting around to the south side of the island and into port. It'll be showers and dinner out in celebration of a safe journey.

For all of us, it is sort of bitter sweet. We are all looking forward to being Hawaii - the sights, the sounds, the beautiful people -- but we will all be sorry to be leaving this magic kingdom behind. We have had an easy time of it, spent hours enjoying the sail and the sea and one another's company, songs and tales - tall and otherwise.

But it has not been all easy. We had a tough night of it, night before last. Frequent squalls came upon us in the dark, surprising us with their rain and strong winds. "Blow, wind, crack thy cheeks" shouts Paul. And blow it did. We bent the living hell out of a couple of stanchions (up right posts that support the life lines around the perimeter of the deck) when we did an emergency douse of our head sail in a dark wind squall that pounced upon us. We caught a line around them. Otherwise, other than
getting wet, we are non-the-less worse for wear and we soon had the boat back under control and sailed onward, most of us returning happily to our snug berths below.

The last two days we have been running downwind in mostly eastern tradewinds, well established and running a steady 20 to 25 knots from behind us under the bright tropic sun. Over this time, the seas have grown steadily enough to impress even the admiral (my Dad) standing in the safety of the aft companionway looking aft and up, watching them tower as they approach to loom over the boat before the stern rises and the seas pass, hissing but harmless, beneath us. Its quite impressive I must say, but
their height is impossible to prove photographically. We will all remember their power and beauty none the less.

Today, I did my best to prove to the girls that the men onboard can cook too. With great aplomb, me and my mateys set about fixing a pot of what I can only describe as kraft dinner supreme - extra cheese, sausage, dried salami, wieners, etc. You know the drill. Personally, I think it was a master piece. Sambal was the secret ingredient. After much rolling of eyes, even our woman folk had to agree it wasn't bad, but still they wondered aloud "how could we?" after all the gourmet meals they have been
serving us. How could we men folk be so easily pleased? Ah yes, we are such simple creatures.

We are counting down the night watches. They are the hardest ones to get up and get dressed for, but when the stars come out, its all worthwhile.

Please, god, send us another fish and see us safely ashore Friday.

Cheers from the good ship Conversations II
Over and out!
Captain Cress

.

August 5, 2008

From Don, our senior member...

There are so many impressions running through my mind because of our experiences in the last couple of days that it takes some sorting out. For example, we have been sailing for many days now downwind, wing-on-wing, at 7-9 knots with no difficulty in fine weather. This happy chain of events was nicely broken in the middle of last night when I found myself wakened by the tossing and bouncing of our ship as it shouldered its way through a couple of squalls. Indeed I was also treated to a shower of
fine rain, almost like mist, coming down into the aft cabin and soaking our clothes. Before it became really serious I attempted to close the hatch, which was the entrance for the foul weather. Cress was not long in reassuring me that the storm drop board across the hatch would stay secure.

One more thing: The next day, today, I watched as Cress and Al and other assistants spent three hours or so working to solve the mechanical breakdown of the self-steering. If we were to judge the number of things kept in his head to be dealt with, this must truly be a shakedown cruise.

Signed,

Don "The Admiral" Walker.

Thursday, August 2, 2008

Hi folks...Paul here.

Let's Do The Time Warp Again...

Since Hawaii is 3 hours different from San Francisco, we need to adjust our clocks, and today we did so again, for the second of three times. It's a good sign! You know it must be time to update clocks when the morning watch comes on at 6:00 am and it is nearly pitch black out!

'Chute City, USA...

Today we once again have the honkin' big spinnaker ("chute")up, and it is just sucking us along at a great turn of knots. With full main we are maintaining 6 to 7 knots in the lightest of the breezes we have, and occasionally up to 8 knots. For those who are aurally fixated, like me, there is a certain sound the boat makes when she comes off the waves at 7 knots, and a deeper more satisfying sound when she is surfing off the waves at 8 knots. The bow wave moves aft, the boat is flat, and the surging
sound stays for a nice long several seconds. You look up and smile!

Definition of a shakedown cruise...

Since this is Conversation II's shakedown cruise, it is only fitting that we mention a few projects that have made themselves known as the miles reel off beneath our keel. For example, mid-morning 2 days ago, whilest on watch and therefore nominally paying attention, but in actual fact, just drooling on myself in the midst of a day dream, I became aware that the mainsail was hardly attached to the main mast any more! Yikes! Closer inspection revealed that of the 8 cars that slide up and down the
main mast on the sail track, 6 were no longer attached to the sails, but were collected at the bottom of the track. In other words, we had developed a loose-luffed main! Cress and I brought down the main, sourced some 1/2-inch wide sail ties (like seatbelt material), and reattached them to each of the cars. We both remarked on how "greasy" these sail ties were, but felt that sewing them in place (as they are supposed to be) would take too long, so we tied them with the tightest reef knots we could
manage. Patting ourselves on the back for a hard job well done, we re-hoisted the main and carried on. Fast forward 24 hours and yours truly is once again drooling on himself in quiet contemplation when it is observed with no little amazement that every one of the cars we reattached the day before had undone themselves, and were once again parked at the bottom of the track, all but one complete with its seatbelt material dangling, mockingly, like placid cattle in a corral. Talk about a magnificent
failure! This time we got out the sailmaker's palm, sailmaker's needles, pliers, and waxed dacron thread and sewed the little "will nots" back into place. 24 hours after that I can report we have continued success.

In a similar vein, the gals reported hearing a bolt and nut or something landing on deck in the middle of the night. Since most of the bits and pieces above deck have some purpose or other, it is not generally considered a good sign when the ship begins sloughing off random parts of herself. Dawn's light revealed the bolt and nut had come from the 10-foot high wind generator on the port quarter. Amazingly they sat there right on the deck and waited to be retrieved. How they landed on deck and didn't
bounce over the side is beyond us. Such is the nature of a shakedown cruise.

Glass of wine with that Salad, Ma'am?
An army marches on its stomach. Sailors sail on their stomachs too. Or something. Anyway, food becomes important, and each meal is approached with reverence and great anticipation. Those of us with limited imaginations keep waiting for peanut butter on a bun with a tin of beans. But no. We have culinary visionaries (Leonaf & Irena) who surprise us with meals right out of "Gourmet" magazine. Baked eggplant topped with tofu, cheese and a homemade tomato sauce, with baked garlic foccacia bread on the
side. That was just today's lunch! Jordan (aged 13) is like, "What??". We just purr with satisfaction.

The Countdown Begins...
Having celebrated our "Half Way Party" the other day, it is natural that we will be looking forward to arriving in Oahu. At the time of the Half Way Party we were going so slowly due to lack of breeze I thought it should be referred to as the "Half Fast Party". Try saying that quickly and see what you get. Anyway, at sea, distances are measured in units called beers. For example, you might hear the hardened blue water sailor ask, "Is it time to pull down the spinnaker before it blows itself up?"
and the rejoinder might be "Yes, but let's finish this beer first." Similarly in calculating how long it will take us to get to our landfall on Oahu, the landsman might incorrectly assume you divide the distance remaining (roughly 900 miles as of the time of writing) by the speed (roughly 7 kn) to determine ETA. But such is not the case. In fact we peer into the beer locker, see the cases stacked in pleasing symmetry, with sufficient plentitude to last until autumn, and answer the question: "How
long till..." with a self-satisfied smile, and "We don't care". Soon, or perhaps later. All that counts is that

A) We have enough breeze.
B) We have enough bits that haven't fallen off yet.
C) We continue to eat like Kings & Queens.
D) We have enough beer.

Since all of the above currently returns a positive, and furthermore since night watches can be done wearing only t-shirt, shorts, and a harness, then it is a safe bet that we are having a great time! It will come to an end too, too soon.

Aloha from Paul...

Lat. 24 N
Long. 141 W

Nighttime post

Hi folks...Paul here.

It's about 1:20 am on Monday August 4, 2008. Do you know where your children are? I know where one of my two are. He's just 3 meters away, clipped into his sailing harness, up in the cockpit on this black night.

A Stygian Night Report...

Tonight is one of those nights where the sea is black, the overcast sky is black, and with time your eyes adjust to the very low light levels. Even the faintest glimmer of light from a backlit wristwatch or a sailing instrument is too bright. We have the main up to port, and the genoa poled out to starboard. These two towering triangles of sail show up well against the darker background. The breeze is up tonight, so at the change of watch when Jordan and I came on watch, and while Cress and Al were
still on deck, we double-reefed the main, and rolled out some of the deeply rolled genoa, searching for the right sail balance. Even with the overall reduced sail area we have lost only 1 kn of boat speed. We continue to surf along at 7 to 8 knots, but with less wear and tear on the boat.

On dark nights like this, the clouds hide the friendly stars. Sometimes a patch of clear sky will reveal a handful of stars for a few minutes, and you try to identify them while they're visible. Often the cloud cover is just thick enough to slightly blur the stars, making it look as if you don't have your glasses on. Instead of sharp crystalline points of light, the stars appear faint, larger, and indistinct.

You come to rely upon your watch mate in these conditions. There is little to look for, but you stand up and look anyway. You scan the horizon, or watch the dip and roll of sail against sky. But it is your watch mate that keeps you interested. Is s/he talkative, full of interesting stories or jokes? Or is s/he quiet, relying on you to keep up the conversation? Some discussions go on for half an hour or more and you've hardly looked up, aware only of the need to keep boisterous laughter down a bit,
out of respect for sleeping sailors below, but within earshot.

Perhaps you duck below for a few minutes to put on the kettle for a late night brew, or make a trip to the snack cupboard. Your mate is left on deck alone with their thoughts while you are below.

Left on your own, your thoughts turn inward while your eyes scan your surroundings. Larger than average waves announce that they are about to overtake you by a hissing sound that deepens as the waves get larger. On this point of sail, our decks are dry, indicating that we are not troubled by waves. On other points of sail you ignore that telltale hiss to your chagrin! Tonight, though, you can think your thoughts almost without interruption, safe in the knowledge that the waves - lit from within with
phosphorescence as the tops break - will roll harmlessly under you.

The thought occurs, as it has to every sailor I bet, that the birds are in their element when they soar on the ocean winds, and the fish are in their element when they glide through their trackless environment, but it is only we sailors who struggle as we bob and weave on the interface between sea and sky. The best we can do is to design sailboats that handle the waves with elegance. Even in the pitch black of a graveyard night watch.

Aloha from Paul!

N 22
W 144

690 nautical miles out from Oahu.

Sunday, August 3, 2007

Hi folks...Paul here.

Wow! Last night was a series of fast-moving watches. The day before we had purposefully ducked South to where our latest weather files showed stronger breezes. That was a smart move on our part! With just white sails up last night we were never slower than 7 knots, often at 8 kn, and sometimes pushing over 9 kn. Lots of miles slid under our keel last night.

That forward motion also came with some rocking motion too. Leona literally "hit the deck" in the middle of night while sleeping. Apparently this was followed by a forceful and heartfelt expletive, before she crawled back up on the salon berth to try and regain sleep.

Flying Fish, Flying Sails, and Soaring Souls...

This morning we were met with more lovely breezes from astern. We gybed, heading directly for Oahu, some 800+ miles distant. With the wind on our starboard quarter we hoisted the spinnaker and roared off for another day of tropical cruising. Flying fish were seen scooting over the wavetops as they hastened out of our way. These are little guys, scarcely 6 inches long, a beautiful blue. Sometimes we see them soaring with their specialized pectoral fins held stiffly out to the sides like wings. Other
times they escape by "dolphining" from wave to wave. After 50 to 100 feet they slash head-first into the blue water and are gone.

Within an hour of putting out our fishing lines (which we have done daily during the daylight hours of this voyage), we caught our first fish. A lovely mahi-mahi! She was soon brought aboard, summarily dispatched, cleaned, and butchered into steaks.

A few hours later for lunch we enjoyed the freshest fish going. Cooked in olive oil, with lime, wild rice, and fresh tomatoes and black olives, it was scrumptious! Just the right size too, as if King Neptune himself had sent along just enough provenance for 7 people. Perfect.

Meanwhile, the spinnaker, flying from the masthead, is pulling along like gangbusters! All eyes are on the knotmeter as we come surfing off the building seas and the needle stretches up past 9 kn, pushing 10 kn. The overcast skies have cleared to deep blue, with fluffy cu's marching along at about 1000 feet of altitude. Irena and I both think today is a perfect "dolphin" day, but so far no luck. Just glorious ocean vistas!

The ocean is so big, and we are so small. This truly is a wonderful way to experience the roundness and fullness of the planet earth. Hour after hour we are making big gains, yet when you look on the chart, those hours translate only to miniscule advances. When you fly in an airplane, you have little appreciation for how fast you are going and just how big the earth is. Here, sailing, you have a very specific feel for how large and round this earth is!

But the soul is nourished by many other realities. The perfect harmony between fine trade wind conditions and a beautifully designed and built boat. There is deep satisfaction in seeing the muscularity and broad strength the boat has. Fast and stable. Big and powerful. The forces at play are enormous, and Conversations II responds to each push and pull with poise and athleticism.

I saw Polaris last night, along with a host of other stars and constellations, the first time the clouds have peeled back in days. I can't get over how low in the sky the North Star hangs. It hangs, of course, the same angular distance above the horizon as we ourselves are above the equator. So last night we were moving through 22 degrees North, and so Polaris was only 22 degrees above the horizon. Cassiopeia is nearly below the horizon hereabouts! This too feeds the soul, for in this way you can
truly measure progress.

Daytime temperatures have been quite lovely recently, but when the clouds clear, as they have today, the sun has instant searing heat. Wow! Thank goodness for sunscreen, at least for people of my fair skin. But best of all are the nights. You come up on deck at 0300 h in shorts and a t-shirt and your first words are "Isn't it warm out!" This too feeds the soul.

Last night at Happy Hour I was sitting aft on the "fantail" on a deck chair, eating sunflower seeds and spitting the seed husks over the side. Forward the Captain and crew assembled in the cockpit. Laughing faces all round. Big, big smiles. Eyes seeking out other eyes. Voices raised in laughter, and song. This companionship feeds the soul.

Late at night, after your watch is over, you get to crawl into your berth where no sleeping bag is needed any more. A sheet will do. You hear the fast-paced gurgling of the ocean just on the other side of the boat's hull, and you feel the rock and roll of a big powerful yacht moving through a seaway. You can relax and close your eyes, because you know those on watch take their responsibilities seriously, allowing you the freedom to drift off to sleep. You know you'll be called if needed, but in the
meantime, Orpheus's arms beckon. This relaxed state feeds the soul.

Aloha from Paul
22 N
143 W

WindSong

It's 4 am something, and Al is keeping watch in the cockpit while I check in with this posting on the computer at the ship's navigation station. The cabin is in deep dark, with everyone else snug asleep in their berths. And what a great ride we are having tonight! Its blowing close to 20 knots on deck, and we are bouncing along at close to 8 knots. Down here, we are swaying so much, that to type, I must brace myself against the ship's roll by pressing my knees against the chart table.

A few moments ago in the cockpit, Al and I were talking about our passage so far and how we were enjoying one another's company so much. And we were noticing how much singing we are doing. Everyone is a strong singer. Everyone, of course except me. Years ago I remember overhearing someone once saying of me as I played guitar informally to a group gathering "he sounds pretty good, as long as he doesn't sing". It was a careless, but accurate remark by some unremembered person from my past. And I have
hung on to this story. I tell myself I am not able to sing very well, even for my own pleasure. It has been a theme for me that remains both a challenge to overcome, and a reason not to try. As a result, I have avoided the whole issue, and sing a lot less than I want.

But this week aboard Conversations II, my ship mates have opened up another possibility altogether about song, music and sharing. I see my father and Al meeting through song in a way that goes deep through the duets they do in the cockpit. At any moment, they are as apt to break out in song with one another, as they are to speak in conversation. Over their lips flow melodies from a generation or two before me, that until that moment, even they had forgotten. Though to me, many of their songs mean
almost nothing, as I watched and listened to them, I could see they positively gushed with pleasure as they sang together. In the remembered songs, they were remembering and reliving some rich part of the their individual and collective histories. Now I see how their sharing in song connects them. Song connects them in humanity -- to themselves and to one another. Likewise, Leona and Irena sing together. During their time together on night watch, to pass the dark hours, conversation alternates with
song. I heard one night, they shared an iPod bud in each ear while they belted our their favourite tunes together. Mercifully, though they both sing quite well, I slept through it. But when they called Al and I to take over the next watch at 3 am, they were quite topped up with joy. Their energy was infectious and it buoyed Al and I in the cockpit, long after their departure to their own berths.

Finally, the crescendo. What was emerging bit by bit as the days of the passage went by, was brought fully to bloom at our halfway party. Gathered together in the cockpit as the sun brought the day to a close, we celebrated this short time together as friends on this two week passage to Hawaii in song. As far as music goes, I am sure it was nothing special. Half the time only half of us remembered the words, with "la la la" the ready substitute to carry the melody as long as we could hold it together.
As we rocked down the waves in the dusky light, we trailed a wake of laughter, guffaws and joy. Song is not about the words or even about the melody. It is about the connection. Its about taking time to connect to our own souls -- all of us singly -- and then connect with one another.

Thanks to my companions, I have remembered how song and conversation brings to the surface for each of us the essence of what is important on this journey, to what gives our lives meaning. Companionship, in conversation and in song, helps us connect with our own soul, and to our joy, it helps us connect with the souls of our companions. Without this connectedness so much or our own journey through life would go by unnoticed, unappreciated and un-enjoyed, like the ocean floor slides by unseen by me
tonight a thousand feet beneath the ships keel. Song and companionship, keeps us afloat!

I see the dawn light is looming through the port lights. I must rejoin Al in the cockpit before waking the next watch!

Captain Cress

Thursday, August 2, 2008

Hi folks...Paul here.

Let's Do The Time Warp Again...

Since Hawaii is 3 hours different from San Francisco, we need to adjust our clocks, and today we did so again, for the second of three times. It's a good sign! You know it must be time to update clocks when the morning watch comes on at 6:00 am and it is nearly pitch black out!

'Chute City, USA...

Today we once again have the honkin' big spinnaker ("chute")up, and it is just sucking us along at a great turn of knots. With full main we are maintaining 6 to 7 knots in the lightest of the breezes we have, and occasionally up to 8 knots. For those who are aurally fixated, like me, there is a certain sound the boat makes when she comes off the waves at 7 knots, and a deeper more satisfying sound when she is surfing off the waves at 8 knots. The bow wave moves aft, the boat is flat, and the surging
sound stays for a nice long several seconds. You look up and smile!

Definition of a shakedown cruise...

Since this is Conversation II's shakedown cruise, it is only fitting that we mention a few projects that have made themselves known as the miles reel off beneath our keel. For example, mid-morning 2 days ago, whilest on watch and therefore nominally paying attention, but in actual fact, just drooling on myself in the midst of a day dream, I became aware that the mainsail was hardly attached to the main mast any more! Yikes! Closer inspection revealed that of the 8 cars that slide up and down the
main mast on the sail track, 6 were no longer attached to the sails, but were collected at the bottom of the track. In other words, we had developed a loose-luffed main! Cress and I brought down the main, sourced some 1/2-inch wide sail ties (like seatbelt material), and reattached them to each of the cars. We both remarked on how "greasy" these sail ties were, but felt that sewing them in place (as they are supposed to be) would take too long, so we tied them with the tightest reef knots we could
manage. Patting ourselves on the back for a hard job well done, we re-hoisted the main and carried on. Fast forward 24 hours and yours truly is once again drooling on himself in quiet contemplation when it is observed with no little amazement that every one of the cars we reattached the day before had undone themselves, and were once again parked at the bottom of the track, all but one complete with its seatbelt material dangling, mockingly, like placid cattle in a corral. Talk about a magnificent
failure! This time we got out the sailmaker's palm, sailmaker's needles, pliers, and waxed dacron thread and sewed the little "will nots" back into place. 24 hours after that I can report we have continued success.

In a similar vein, the gals reported hearing a bolt and nut or something landing on deck in the middle of the night. Since most of the bits and pieces above deck have some purpose or other, it is not generally considered a good sign when the ship begins sloughing off random parts of herself. Dawn's light revealed the bolt and nut had come from the 10-foot high wind generator on the port quarter. Amazingly they sat there right on the deck and waited to be retrieved. How they landed on deck and didn't
bounce over the side is beyond us. Such is the nature of a shakedown cruise.

Glass of wine with that Salad, Ma'am?
An army marches on its stomach. Sailors sail on their stomachs too. Or something. Anyway, food becomes important, and each meal is approached with reverence and great anticipation. Those of us with limited imaginations keep waiting for peanut butter on a bun with a tin of beans. But no. We have culinary visionaries (Leonaf & Irena) who surprise us with meals right out of "Gourmet" magazine. Baked eggplant topped with tofu, cheese and a homemade tomato sauce, with baked garlic foccacia bread on the
side. That was just today's lunch! Jordan (aged 13) is like, "What??". We just purr with satisfaction.

The Countdown Begins...
Having celebrated our "Half Way Party" the other day, it is natural that we will be looking forward to arriving in Oahu. At the time of the Half Way Party we were going so slowly due to lack of breeze I thought it should be referred to as the "Half Fast Party". Try saying that quickly and see what you get. Anyway, at sea, distances are measured in units called beers. For example, you might hear the hardened blue water sailor ask, "Is it time to pull down the spinnaker before it blows itself up?"
and the rejoinder might be "Yes, but let's finish this beer first." Similarly in calculating how long it will take us to get to our landfall on Oahu, the landsman might incorrectly assume you divide the distance remaining (roughly 900 miles as of the time of writing) by the speed (roughly 7 kn) to determine ETA. But such is not the case. In fact we peer into the beer locker, see the cases stacked in pleasing symmetry, with sufficient plentitude to last until autumn, and answer the question: "How
long till..." with a self-satisfied smile, and "We don't care". Soon, or perhaps later. All that counts is that

A) We have enough breeze.
B) We have enough bits that haven't fallen off yet.
C) We continue to eat like Kings & Queens.
D) We have enough beer.

Since all of the above currently returns a positive, and furthermore since night watches can be done wearing only t-shirt, shorts, and a harness, then it is a safe bet that we are having a great time! It will come to an end too, too soon.

Aloha from Paul...

Lat. 24 N
Long. 141 W