Was it worth it??

Hello dear friends,

After a roly poly night and a pretty tense morning, with a strong wind blowing and large swells throwing us about, Captain Cress maneuvered us into the tranquil waters of Port Resolution, Tanna Island, Vanuatu on Tuesday, October 28. The sail took us 4 days in total. We only saw one other ship along the way from Fiji. What a lovely little piece of Paradise Tanna Island is. Calm waters, lush green hills, palms swaying in the gentle breeze... There are several small villages and a school with 150
students from K to Gr. 8. The people are very poor, with little more than their small hut, garden, and a few animals. But they are very friendly and welcoming. And the scenery is breathtaking! The village of Port Resolution is preparing for a week long celebration (150th anniversary of the Presbyterian Church) and they expect 1000 visitors from all over Vanuatu. As we walked by, we could see women sweeping or raking their dirt paths or cutting their grass (with machetes).

While on Tanna, we met several other yachters/cruisers. What a friendly, helpful community they are! Our second day there, we took a truck ride up to Mt. Yasur, one of the world's most accessible, active volcanoes. We were fortunate, as the evening was clear so visibility was excellent. After a very bumpy ride we walked the last 100 or so metres to the top of the volcano. As darkness enveloped us, we saw not one, but two caldera, each spewing red hot lava. Occasionally, there would be a large,
thundering thud and huge pieces of molten lava, some the size of cars, would catapult skyward. We can hardly wait to show off and share our many photos and videos. It really was like watching a special National Geographic programme, except this was in real life! I am a great fan of Vancouver's summer fireworks displays on English Bay, but this was so much more fantastic!! We all felt very privileged to witness this amazing wonder of Nature!

The next morning we set sail for Port Vila, Efate Island. It was a "robust" sail of about 24 hours. We will likely stay in Port Vila till Tuesday morning. If you ask any of us, "Was it worth it?" you would get a resounding "YES" (with maybe just a tad less enthusiasm from our Captain who got no sleep last night)!

Life on board has been so much fun! We newbies worry that we must be driving poor Cress to distraction because we are just so slow to "get it", but he is an amazing captain and teacher!! We try to make up a little for what we lack in sailing savy by feeding the crew decently. But even that varies from pretty darned good meals to barely being able to pour water from the kettle into the coffee pot! But I guess that's life -- it can't all be smooth sailing!

Life is good!
Rita

What's that noise?

"What's that noise?" asks Matt.
He and I have been sitting idly in the cockpit digesting an excellent dinner of Dennis' spaghetti and meatballs and Rita's fresh baked scones. It was only a few minutes after sun down and already it was as black as only a starless, moonless night can be at sea in tropical latitudes.

I knew what that noise was alright, because today it had been familiar. 'It's the beans we all had had for lunch' I said to myself. Earlier in the day we had all agreed that being at sea is the only respectful place to each beans and garlic - lots of wind around. So we all had had a really good go at a guilt free lunch of garlic bean salad made by yours truly.

When Matt had disturbed my introspection with his question, I had been quietly exercising by prerogative as delicately as I could, and I was darned if I was going to fess up, so I sat on in the dark silently pretending I was either dead or asleep. 'Could be anything' I said to myself.

"Hey Cress, what's that noise?!" Matt asked more loudly, "What the heck's going on in the galley"
'Ahhh, I am in the clear' I thought.
Yes, there was another familiar sound that had not really risen into my conscious until Matt asked his question. I looked around the companionway opening and sure enough there was Bob working the galley sink with the plunger. And he was having a really good go at it with both hands on the plunger, apparently with no success. It was making a very gratifying sucking sound, but not yielding.
I turned to Matt. "Just Bob having an after dinner treat" I said, "he's plunging the sink."
I turned back to watch over Bob's shoulder for a moment longer as he worked away at the sink full of 'tomatoey' water splashing this way and that with no relief in sight. The girls had had a go at it earlier, apparently, equally without success. They had called in 'a man' to get the dirty job done. Hmmm.
"You know Bob", I said as helpfully as I could leaning in the companionway, "You sure look like you know what you're doing and all but have you tried plugging the other sink at the same time?"
"Yuppp" he said between pressed lips as he continued with ever greater more gusto.
I watched for another moment or so. I had never seen the galley sink plunged with such intention.
Now, I don't pretend to be any expert, but it is my boat after all and I plunge that sink at least every other day and it yields a lot easier than that.
"You know" I said again, "There must be something wrong".
"Do you figure!!" said Bob and he trenched away with even more vigor
"Well.. yeah …. It's not usually that…. recalcitrant"
Finally, Bob stopped for a breath and leaned his chin on the plunger staring at the slopping contents with great concentration, willing the answer to come, as if from the swill itself. Then his right hand let go of the plunger almost of its own accord and attacked the drain. His fingers were gouging the drain, fiercely determined to find the problem. 'Here was a man of determination, not to be defeated by a mere galley sink.' I thought approvingly.
There was a small cry of anguish from Bob. Out from the murk he hauled this big black object. Initially, in revulsion, I wondered 'Where in gods great mercy did that horrible dark mass of muck come from?'

But I saw I was mistaken. It was the sink plug.
"What the…." sputtered Bob, but whatever he said was lost in the laughter from the cockpit. Even Dennis woke from his slumber to join in. Bob looked at the Rita and Jan in the galley beside him but they were not laughing. "I just assumed you had…….."

"Dibbs on tonight's blogg" I said between tears of laughter, "that's one for the books."

……
We are underway again, sailing overnight between Tanna Island and the Island where Port Vila is located. Great volcano action of a different kind last night. We should arrive shortly after dawn.
C. Cresswell

A Trampoline on board !!

Tueseday, October 28/08

Hi there:
Jan signing in- finally! I was going to write this a few days ago while we were at sea but sitting below in the Navigation Station with the hatches closed, no air movement and the boat tossing around was not my idea of fun, so let me back track a little.

Monday afternoon started off as a very quiet, almost windless afternoon, lazily bobbing along at 1 1/2 to 2 kts, listening to Bob playing his guitar. The setting was perfect. As I look around in all four directions, I see nothing but water, horizon, sky, more water and rolling swells big enough that my writing is affected as I write in my journal. Yet the sea is as calm as it's been since we left port Danarau in Fiji. We are the only ones out here, as far as the eye can see and probably beyond.
We haven't even seen a boat for two days!! The only noise out here is the occasional "cracking" sound of the sails as they flop windless in the breeze. We had left the fast paced, hectic, deadline driven city life for this. What a great decision!

I however quickly realized that without the wind, we could be out here for ever. Judging from the wind to this point, we had estimated our arrival in Vanuatu at dawn the following day. Now it appeared like it would take 2 more days. After four days on the boat, I was really looking forward to a hot shower.

That evening Bob and I prepared a meal of pork chops, mashed potatoes and coleslaw and then went to sleep early so as to catch a nap before our 3am - 6am watch. Well around 10 pm the action started. The south east trade built up momentum and soon we were sailing at 8 to 9 kts. in what now had become 5 - 6 ft. swells. All this was happening as I was "trying" to sleep. Sails were changed and immediately I noticed a change in my salon berth. Where things before had been a slow soothing rock, suddenly
I felt like I was sleeping on a trampoline, with 4 year old Jonathon jumping up and down beside me. I had ignored Matt's suggestion to use the weather cloth. (a cloth which you tie next to you to keep you from rolling around in your berth or onto the floor). When I turned on my side, the washing machine action started. I was literally lifted off my berth and tossed back and forth. At one point I landed on Bob's knees. He wasn't too thrilled about that as moments before he had been hit with
a shower of water as we had forgotten to batten down the hatches. Ah - beginners at sea !! Dennis and Rita and the two of us are on a huge learning curve and are enjoying every minute of it. (Well, almost every minute). That one hour of nauseousness I experienced yesterday when I decided to try living without the Stugeron was not that enjoyable!

Anyway with all this activity and the action above in the cockpit, I was too excited to sleep. Watching Conversations gliding along (okay, mastering the swells, might be a better way of describing it) was a sight to behold. It was even more exciting when it was finally my turn to take the helm. I was beginning to feel when she was happy. When the sail angles were completely balanced, one slight move to port would slow us down and a little to starboard would cause the sails to luff. Keep her on
course and she's happy. Now, that is until the wind direction changes slightly and then we start all over again.

As night watch turned into dawn, it became Matt's turn to master the helm and bring us safely into Port Resolution Bay on Tanna Island. This island has an active volcano which we were all interested in seeing. Bringing the boat into the bay was no small feat considering we had to come in from the windward side of the island with what were now 10 foot swells, good wind speed and coral reefs to watch for. Matt did an excellent job and later Cress took the helm, and Matt, Bob and Dennis were on
the sails (with Cress' expert guidance). They handled everything exceptionally and we arrived safely at 9:30 am., to my biggest relief !!

The next few days would be spent exploring the local village and going up the mountain to see the volcano. Much excitement still ahead but I'll leave that to someone else to write about.

Cheers -
A Prairie Girl at Sea !

Keeping on Course for Vanuatu

The trade winds are back. And we are sailing! Now the challenge for everyone on board is to keep the ship on course for Vanuatu.

For the beginner helmsmen we have on board, this is especially challenging. In the unfamiliar world of ocean waves, changing winds and slanting decks, steering a straight line seems impossible. And, in fact, it is impossible. The best any helmsman can do is to swing back and forth across the desired course, doing our best to minimize the amplitude of each swing. A beginning helmsman? - well its not too much of an exaggeration to say I have come on deck from time to time to find Conversations II going
back to where we just came from! But mostly, even after a few hours, a first time helmsman can stay within 20 degrees of course either way. An experienced helmsman can keep within 5 degrees of course.

But even as we get more practice in steering the boat, we still go off course. As we become more 'dialed in' to the current conditions, we can get our swings down to a narrow groove. But just when we finally find the sweet spot for the current conditions - the right combination of sails, heading and steering technique, something changes and we are again swinging way off course and have to begin all over again. And isn't that just like life? We each pick a destination, figure out our course to that
destination, and then as we start down the road, we begin to wander, some of us more than others. (Personally, wandering is a favorite of mine!) All the vagaries of life seem to throw us off course. But like ocean passages, if we keep our destination in mind, and stay focused on the task of steering our course, sooner or later, despite our wandering, we will get there! And think of all the cool things that happen while we make the passage.

Last night, the GPS tracked our course over the ocean bottom from dusk to dawn. As each watch crew came on deck and took the helm for their three hour stint, the GPS slavishly recorded our wanderings. By morning, from the GPS trail, we could see that some watch crew were more practiced than others at staying on course. Some watches tended to steer to the left of course, others tended to steer to the right of course. Some watch crews pretty much ran down the line. By morning, overall we were about
40 miles closer to our destination, but 6 miles off our track.

As we sat around the cockpit this morning for coffee, we kidded one another on our steering prowess and then someone asked, "What do we do about being 6 miles off track?" "Should we work to get back on our track, or should we just 're-set' our GPS track to take us to our destination from where we are this morning?"

Surprisingly, re-setting our course from wherever we find our selves 'in the morning' is the most direct route. We try not to wander too far from course, but when we do inevitably, we just say "oh well, silly me, I'm off course again" and then re-set our course from where ever we are. There is only extra mileage involved if we work hard to recover our original track, because when we do, we are aiming for our track, not our destination. Here is the neat thing about life from this metaphor, it reminds
us that 'its about the destination, not the track'. Keep the destination in mind, and reset the course track frequently to make the best progress to the destination. Forget the old track when you wander off it. Trying to recovering the old track only adds extra mileage, the fastest way to our destination is to reset and go back to steering as best we can directly to our destination.

I can think of the times in my life when I have mistaken my track for my destination. I have wasted a lot of energy when I forgotten that 'the job', 'the marriage', 'the toys' - the 'whatever' that made up my track - was my track - and not my destination. This whole exercise last night and this morning only reminds me why keeping our destination in mind is so important, and why letting go of the track is so important. It also reminds me of why knowing the difference between our track and destination
is so important. Sometimes we have to let go of the things on our track to get to our destination.

So here some questions for all of us everyday. What is your destination? What is on your track to that destination? Where are you confusing your track with your destination? What, on your track, do you need to let go of to reach your destination more directly? At home, or at work, these seem to be great questions for us to ask ourselves every morning as we re-set our GPS track for yet another glorious day on the sea of life.

Back on the open seas!!

Hello again,

Lets start with a little Fiji recap. We pulled into Fiji two weeks ago into Lautouka, checked in and had a real shower! They're weren't many boats at the anchorage and the next morning we found out why. It turns out that the sugar mill in Lautouka rains soot down on everything over night, so we woke up to soot all over the boat, and in the cabins. We made the decision then and there to leave asap. The following day we headed to Musket Cove. What an amazing place. We pulled into the marina sometime
in the afternoon to a waving and greeting Dennis and Rita, two of our newest crew members. That night we fired up the BBQ pit and had our first meal on plates for over 3 weeks!! The bowls were getting a little old. After dinner Roland, Marcel and I followed the music we heard from the other side of the cove. We arrived at the Plantation Resort bar and to our surprised were immediately called onto the dance floor with all the other bewildered guys. So then we had to remove our shirts, and dance
in front of all the women in the crowd. Keep in mind at this point the 3 of us were completely sober. Well, after all the "dancers" had finished it was time to award the top prize for best dancer. Well my good friend Roland was number 1!!! Congrats buddy!! We later found out that he is a dancing machine, even on two bad knees. We met a few Australians who were there for a wedding and two British moms making there way to New Zealand to start newer, more exciting lives. We met some other people
as well, a nice German girl and her friends from NZ. The snorkeling at the sand bar just a five minute dingy ride away was phenomenal, and the BBQ's we had every night will be missed! After a few days in Musket Cove we made our way to Mana Island. That's where they filmed Castaway. There was no marina so we anchored out in the bay. This was the location of our most drunken moment before 6pm. Roland and I were chugging beers, I stopped half way and Cress became angry and poured the rest of my
beer on my head. Whether it was deserved or not is debatable but it makes for good memories. This kafuffle got the attention of everyone in the bar, and before we knew it everyone was sitting around our table. When we got in the dingy to head back to the boat for dinner, Roland pushed me into the water, so I pushed him back in all to the onlookers delight. When we got back to the boat I got my revenge on Cress by pushing him off the swim grid......twice!!! Later that night the dancing machine
showed his stuff once again. After that day we decided, for our livers sake, to go back to Musket Cove for a few more nights, and to see off Roland and Marcel, and to welcome Bob and Jan from WINNIPEG! Finally some familiar accents! Roland and Marcel are missed everyday but will soon be forgotten....ahaha just kidding boys. These two guys helped make Fiji a very memorable experience, and I'm very grateful for that! I hope you guys can make it out to Singapore eventually. After two more days
in Musket Cove, and a few other girls Jan and I met, we moved on to Denerau to check out and make our way for Vanuatu. Just when I thought the partying was over, on our last night a newly wed couple and their friends started buying me beer, the crew went back to the boat, and we partied well into the night. I awoke the next morning in a bad state but ready to leave Fiji and get back on the open sea.

We left around noon on the 24th, we've been sailing for just over 12 hours and our making some progress. The new crew are getting a crash course in sailing, and learning very quickly. I just finished my first night watch and I never realised how much I missed it. It's truly a remarkable experience that doesn't get old. Dennis and Rita are on the helm, trying to get used to the steering as Bob and Jan sleep restlessly in the salon. They had a tough watch, tacking all over the place, just for
the wind to settle in for my watch. I'm sure they'll get used to sleeping in a washing machine like state. Oh well, time for bed. We've got another 4 days to Vanuatu so I'll talk to you at least one more time before we get there.

Ciao, Matt

How slow was it

How slow was it?

The birds didn't even want to land on our mast for a free ride.
The fish wouldn't bit on our lines.
We could out-swim the boat.
It was so slow, even our beer cans were passing us.

Who said it? "A man who would go to sea for pleasure, would go to hell for a passtime."
Samuel Colleridge if I have my fact straight. Clearly, he had never heard of Miller Genuine Draft.

It was a modest 90 NM on our first day at sea, so we swam on the end of a rope, dozed in the heat, and watched the coconuts passing us by on the way to Vanuatu. We moved along okay last night but the trade winds slowed to a near stand still by late afternoon as a big low passed to the south of us shaking the heck out the poor souls trying to sail south to New Zealand. Presently we are sitting around with our canned water trying to keep hydrated and retelling the same stories to the new crew. All
things come to those who wait.

We have only 380 NM left to Tana Island. No sweat.
C. Cresswell

Day 20 with land in sight!

It was 13:20 and I had just woken from another afternoon nap. I think it was the fine aroma of yet another Turkish bean salad which had once again been prepared by the captain. As I staggered into the galley from the aft cabin, I began to look for a clean bowl to shovel heaps of the delicious looking sustenance into. Of course, there weren't any clean bowls. I thought about using a plate but the salad just works better in a bowl, as the captain later proved by spilling the bean salad all over the
cockpit as it slid off his plate. This dilemma brought my attention to the mountainous pile of dishes forming in the galley sink. So I groggily removed the wash basin from the cabinet below and began the dish routine which has become more and more engrained as the days go by.

The captain was reading in one of the 25 spots he has around the boat, completely oblivious to my actions as he was completely immersed in the story of Roma. Jim was sitting in his usual spot, which is the midship berth on the starboard side, flipping through a book and dozing off at the same time. Marcel was in his groove up in the cockpit where he almost always is when awake (and sometimes asleep) and Roland was at the helm. Slowly regaining consciousness I placed the last of the dishes into
the basin and sent it up the companion way, made my way up and plopped myself down opposite Marcel.

About half way through the dishes I heard, "FISH." It was Roland at the helm looking back at the clip device we rigged up to make it easier to see when we caught something. Wide-eyed and wide-grinned, he went back to investigate ignoring the pleas from Marcel to let this one go. In his defense we had caught and ate a 3 foot barracuda yesterday and a small Tuna the day before. A look of disappointment on Roland's face, and a limp fishing line implied nothing was there. As he was letting the line
back into the water, I noticed something in the water off the starboard side. It looked as if a fin had popped out of the water quickly submerging back down. I have "seen" this many times before, wishing it was a dolphin or shark only to be disappointed when it was only a small breaking wave. So, for a split second I thought nothing of it, looked down at the basin full of never ending dishes, and mentioned the sighting to Marcel. "There it is again," he said, and there they were. For the third
time this journey a pod of dolphins had spotted the boat and decided to give us a show. "DOLPHINS" I shouted down to the crew below as I ran up to the bow. What a magnificent sight, it just doesn't get old. They move through the water with the grace and accuracy of a world class dancer, turning on a dime and jumping around in unison. They look up at five humanoid creatures clapping, whistling and waving like idiots. I can only imagine that's what they're seeing. That being said, they do love
the attention. The thing I've noticed about dolphins is that they disappear as quickly as they appear but this time one lone dolphin stuck around like a child not wanting to leave the playground. Just like that, he made a quick right turn and was gone almost as if his mother was calling, "I'm not going to ask you again, you come here right this minute!"

Well, the entertainment for the afternoon had come and gone but the dishes were still there waiting for me. For crying out loud, I just wanted some bean salad! With the whole crew now up in the cockpit, and a few dishes to go, I heard the two words I've been waiting 20 days to hear come from the captain, who was perched on the port side of the cockpit between the winches with binoculars in hand. "Land Ho!" Cress shouted, and there it was. The first sight of land, a mountain from the Fijian Yasawa
Island group was in sight. At 14:10 late into the 20th day we could finally see what we've been aiming for. I could see the feeling of relief and success brush across each of the crew member's face with a sense of fulfillment gleaming in their eyes. We are there....well, almost. Actually, our desired port of Lautoka is still around 24 hours away. 24 hours to an ice cold drink, 24 hours to a fresh water shower, 24 hours away from the sight of women! How exciting! It's been 20 days and here
it is. So what did I do next?

Of course, I finished the dishes, hopped down to the galley, took a freshly cleaned bowl off the rack, served myself a hefty portion of the Turkish bean salad that had woken me, found some Ritz crackers and finally satisfied my insatiable hunger. Damn it was good!!! Well that had to be by far the best dish washing experience of my life haha.

Well, for some of us on board the journey is almost over, but for myself it is just the beginning. I'll spend two weeks in Fiji, then it is off to Vanuatu, with a new crew, for a new adventure. I want to thank the guys, Roland, Marcel, Jim and Cress (who will obviously be with me until we arrive at our final destination) for making these three weeks a time I'll never forget. What a blast! What a great crew and a great group of guys. Cheers fellas! This will be my last post for a while, so thanks
for checking in and be sure to check in again in a few weeks, when we untie the lines and push off the dock once again.

Bye for now, Matt

Movin' quickly, sleepin' poorly

Day 20 (I think)

It's amazing to think that we are 20 days into this journey and just a few hundred miles from our destination. Everyday comes and goes comes and goes with no real concept of time. The boat is beginning to feel like home, which is a good thing, as that is what it will be for the next few months. Land? I'm trying to remember what it looks like but the memories of Waikiki Beach in Honolulu are becoming more and more distant and faded. For the last 19 days all we've seen is horizon, a few boats, some
dolphins and what we thought was a whale. The view of the Fijian mountains and islands are only a few miles out of sight but once seen, will still be a day or so away. It will be great to eat fresh food, and take a long fresh water shower. The last few days we've been cruising at incredible speeds, and the miles we've been covering are increasing everyday. There is one downside to moving fast...you can't sleep worth a damn.

After being relocated to the aft cabin due to a leaky hatch in the forward v-berth what feels like a week ago, I found myself switching from the leeward side to the windward side. Little did I know, this small but very relevant fact would play a massive role in my sleeping habits. When the sea is calm and we're moving at a snails pace, the sleeping is comfortable and the sea lulls you into a deep sleep no matter which side of the boat you are on. The dreams are glorious the feeling of refreshment
in the morning is amazing! But, when we're screaming along at 7 or 8 knots and the seas are rolling in from all directions, sleeping becomes increasingly more difficult, if not impossible. The boat is rolling fiercely back and forth, and the momentum either slams you into the inner hull or throws you into the lee cloth. For those of you who aren't familiar with a lee cloth, it is a sheet that is tied up alongside your berth to keep you from slamming on the floor below. It does a great job. The
key to a sound sleep is to get yourself into a position where you are somehow wedged between the lee cloth and the hull, while maintaining a level of comfort suitable for sleeping. Which is impossible!!! If any of you have found this key and can explain it to me, I would be forever grateful. I think I tried every sleeping position under the sun (or moon) last night. Help...

***INTERRUPTION*** 3FT Barracuda caught...fish number 2....good eating tonight!!!

Bye for now, Matt

Fastest day!

Day 20 dawned clear and bright. Even before 5:30 am, the sky had brightened in the east and stars gave way to milky white. The morning sun rose quickly from behind the fluffy clouds rimming the distant horizon and flooded down the wave tops into my eyes stinging with salt spray. As the sun rose still higher, the sea turned from grey to indigo to bright purple-blue colour, a colour I cannot describe for the life of me. Azure? But the texture of the sea surface I can describe - it's was like a giant
washing machine; a cacophony of peaks and valleys from every direction. It blew hard all night, so by morning, the great seas of the SE trades winds were marching down on us. Though majestic by their size, their power and their silence, they were confused by several other opposing wave trains. Squalls with winds of up to 30 knots had come at us most of the night and, I guess some disturbance form the north was adding to the mix. I sat in the cockpit, alone on the morning watch, hiding from the flying
salt spray behind the dodger, trying to make sense of the jumble. But Conversations seems to see some path through it that I cannot. She bucked and jumped her way through it all, her bow rising and falling as we charge along at 8 knots. But below, decks I could practically hear everyone groaning in their semi-sleep, bravely accepting that the cost of going this fast is a good night's sleep. And, yesterday we sailed 206 miles! It might not be a first for this boat, but it is first for me!

This is may be our last day out of sight of land, though we still have 200 miles to cover as we sail south along the barrier reef down Fiji's west coast. If luck and the wind holds, we'll be in harbour by Friday close of business (Thursday on the other side of the date line).

Ahh, the smell of fresh Barracuda on the stove has just filled the boat.

C. Cress

Morning Gusssssst

Wooooshhhhhhhhh!!! Clang clang clang <Cress: Pull in that sheet!!!!!!>

After a rough 12 - 3 am watch, I wake to the sound of 30 kt winds and the ship speeding along at 9 kts. I see Marcel, Mat, and Cress struggling in the storm as i am overwhelmed with the comfort of my birth. I can see them pulling, running and jumping about as I'm warmly perched on the port dining bench trying to close my eyes. I struggled to sleep but i couldn't stop thinking of the crew outside. I wake and much to my surprise the wind subsides. I quickly dart back to my bed and wait out the rain
that followed. he he he

As i wake the second time i see the crew drenched from head to toe having battled the passing storm and as a sign of good will i offered a warm breakfast to the crew for their bravery.

After baking in the sun the previous two days with little to no wind, I'm confident we have found the triad winds again!

-Roland

Alone with the night

"Cress…… creSS… CRESS… CRESS!!!"
"Huh?... What?... What is it?"
"Its 2:45……err sorry… Its time for your watch" Roland says apologetically, as his words and head lamp come down the companionway and into my brain like thunder and lightening. Consciousness hits hard. I groan involuntarily and struggle up onto my elbows. I manage to mumble into the darkness, "Yeah… okay, okay… I'm awak.....I'm coming." But I am alone again: Roland has gone back to his watch leaving me to get it together in the darkness. This is the only thing I don't like about the 3 am watch -
waking up for it in the deepest, darkest hour of the night!

It seems like only seconds ago I was tossing in my berth, fast awake, fighting for sleep. Like most nights at the equator, the night started out insufferably hot below decks. During the day, Conversations II soaks the tropical heat into her very bones, and so takes a while to cool every evening. For awhile, I had dragged my sleeping back up onto the aft deck, and managed a brief nap before one of my mates, headed for a pee at the rail, threatened to step on me. And last night, like most nights, as
skipper, I was up for almost every watch at some point to help out with stuff like sail changes, the self steering or checking to be sure we pass a safe distance from an approaching freighters. I don't go to sleep easily at 9 pm at the best of times, but with the heat, the motion, my sunburn and the laughter from the cockpit, it was hopeless.

But getting up for morning watch is worth it. It's the only time to be alone on a small boat. I reach out in the dark for my own headlamp and find it stuffed between the mattress and the side board. I put it on over my tender sun burnt scalp - ouch - and then turn it on - ouch again. Like a Cyclopes, the cold blue eye of the LED lamp strapped to my forehead hurts my eyes as it lances around the cabin, taking in the details of accumulating laundry, half read books and ships equipment stuffed here
and there. Now, with the light, I can better sense the ships motion but not see it, except for the gently swinging towel.

Despite myself and the night, I had fallen into a very deep sleep and now the swim to wakefulness was going to be a long slow climb to the surface. I needed coffee. I force myself to keep my eyes open and after a moment roll my feet to the cabin sole, then lurch out of the berth. I stand braced against the berth till I figure I am wake enough to navigate to the two steps across the bouncing cabin floor to the cabin door. Fortunately, the dark passage outside to the galley is narrow and short. I am
soon filling the kettle, counting down the moments till the blessed aroma of freshly brewing coffee fills the cabin with its promises of wakefulness.

While I wait on the kettle, I time the ships roll and lurch for the navigation station. I slide onto the familiar bench seat and my head lamp lights up the ships instruments now idling in the darkness. As I check how we are doing I can hear Jim's sleep filled breathing just a few feet away. I scroll through the data pages of the GPS were the ships track overnight is shown against our intended course. Pretty good considering all the wind changes. The guys are doing great job of keeping the boat on
course, though last night it was less critical. We have left behind the cluster of atolls called the Phoenix Group and are now back out onto the open sea. I check the voltage on the ship's battery bank and see they are down to 12.1 volts. That bloody freezer is killing us. It never shuts down in the tropical heat, so it greedily consumes the lion's share of every day's electrical quotient. Even though we use personal head lamps, not the ships lights, run through the dark without running lights and
turn off all unnecessary electrical equipment, every morning the batteries are crying for a charge. It's too early to run the engine - Marcel in the crew cabin next to the engine compartment needs his beauty rest - so I reach over to the electrical panel and snap off the fridge breaker.

"Take that you greedy so and so" I say with some satisfaction in the dark.

The kettle is boiling and I see I am due on deck for my watch in about 3 minutes. I hate to be kept waiting at the end of a long night watch, so I don't want to keep Rolland waiting either. While my left hand holds the contents of the cupboard in place against the roll, I slide open the cabinet with my right hand, and take out the coffee and place it in the sink. That way when it spills, it can't get away. "This morning I going to make this puppy extra strong" I say to myself with a smile. I am remembering
what a friend once said to me when I complained his coffee was too strong, "Cress", he said "There is no such thing a strong coffee, just weak people." Very funny.

I climb up the companionway ladder with my coffee in hand and greet Roland behind the wheel.
"How as your watch?" I ask.
"Pretty darn fast" he says," and I hardly touched a thing all night"
"Good sailing!", I say as sit-down on the cockpit seat and brace myself with my feet up onto the opposite seat. Not yet fully awake I sit and hungrily sip my coffee while I get my night vision and get used to the rhythm of the seas running under the boat. I see from the instruments we are sailing along at 7.6 knots, with the wind on the beam at about 15 knots. This is good sailing. "Yup", I say "Pretty darn good sailing indeed".

I bid Roland thanks as he descends the companionway headed for his berth, and I step behind the wheel. The boat is steering herself nicely. Within a minute, I see the cabin is in darkness, and I imagine Roland is asleep already. Ahh, the night watch - I have the universe and my coffee all to myself.

I step out of the cockpit and head for the aft deck for a good look at the night. I wedge my coffee cup under the rail and stretch out across the rope locker on my back, hands behind my head, looking skyward. I have seen this sight a thousand times before, and it never fails to move me. Under the cloudless, moonless night sky, I am looking into the farthest reaches. I gasp involuntarily. I see clouds of stars enfolding upon themselves into infinity; I imagine I am seeing back to the beginning of
time. And there I see, during another night watch at sea, god's face smiling back me. I guess I am not alone with the night after all.
C. Cresswell

Sailing adventure

From Giant Jim [heart and hands - not stomach]

Dear family and friends,

Thank you for your kind words of encouragement and news. I don't know why you fail to receive my emails. Mom and Shauna if my email finally comes through don't worry about the stock information or gleaning anything from my over loaded gmail inbox. Honey I too wish you were here with me so we could enjoy the brilliant stary nights together. However, the sailing is unlikely your cup of tea. It is a little rough at times with the waves and sail causing the boat to lurch from one side to the other.
But no lurching yesterday as we were completely becalmed - no wind - we just bobbed like a top going round and round. Today was so much better. We put up the spinnaker and with the return of the South East trade winds we are going very fast- more than 8 miles an hour. The boat is very fast and very strong. From Hawaii we have travelled more than 1500 miles with only 800 more to go. We may reach Fiji before next weekend. Please tell Brother Chand - I will phone his friend as soon as we arrive to
see if I can help them. Lots of news on the ham radio about the constitutional troubles of Fiji and of course this is a favorite interest on mine. [Perhaps they need a non obstante clause - just joking.] The 5 of us are getting along just fine. Roland and I will do some law business together when we return. Cress is a very experienced captain and knows everything about sailing and lots of other things as well. Tell Leona we have had some great conversations on Conversation 2. He is writing a
book and I plan to make a connection for him with my first executive coach, Marshall Goldsmith - Cress has a similar career to Leona.
I think of you honey all the time and look forward to a safe return. This is the first time since my mission that I have taken so much time off work for this kind of adventure. For sure I can chalk this up on my "bucket list".Thank you for being so supportive. Give everyone a big hug for me. I will phone you as soon as we reach Fiji.

Love Dad

Bucket List

Hello again,

I have just finished my watch which was from 6-9pm after a nice meal prepared by Jim, who claims not to be a chef but actually has a knack for it. After dinner Marcel, Roland, and I once again overcame boredom by naming musicians and bands in a word snake fashion. Which means taking the last letter of the previous name to create the new name. Yes it is now day 16 and we've completely gone nuts, but don't get me wrong it's very funny when Roland begins to make things up, and try to pass them off
as true. But this isn't really the reason I'm writing.

After my watch I filled in the trip's log book, read the blog post from Jim, shut down the computer and decided to go to bed. Then I started to think about what Jim said in his blog and it really started to make me ponder exactly what it is we are doing on this trip. Five different guys from five different backgrounds, cities, ages, professions all stuck on a boat for 3 weeks. Sounds like a bad reality show, but it is truly great reality. Jim mentioned that he has sacrificed work and being away
from home to check off something on his "Bucket List." For those of you who don't know what that is it's a list of things to do before you kick the bucket. Now again this really got me thinking. All five of us have stopped working, left family and friends to sail across the Pacific Ocean. You'd think this would be a difficult decision but for each one of us it was the polar opposite. From what I've gathered from the others on board is that there was no decision to be made at all. Roland heard
about the opportunity on the 16th of September and was in Hawaii on the 18th without a second thought. Jim made the decision a few days before that. Marcel a month or so before that and for me, well, two years ago I made this decision. Cress said he was buying a boat and I said I was coming, I was there hands down, without a doubt, whenever he got it. He bought the boat, and I bought my plane ticket.

Why was this such an easy decision for all of us? Well, I don't really know the exact answer myself. But what I do know is that we've all taken the chance to do something different.. To step out of our comfort zones and, speaking for myself, do something that was scary as hell. So I extend this message to all of you, and hope that it will inspire you to do something that you've wanted to do, something on your "bucket list," a dream, a goal or whatever it is and DO IT!!! There's no better feeling
than breaking the mold and doing what you want to do, doing what you enjoy most, or doing something that scares you to death (in a good way). Whether it's sailing, traveling, climbing a mountain, backpacking or cycling thru Europe or Asia, or something as simple as trying that Indian Restaurant down the street for the first time. Whether we're 65 or 25, we all have goals and we all have dreams. Age is not an excuse, a job is not an excuse, a girlfriend or boyfriend, husband or wife is not an excuse.
There are no excuses. Don't let anyone or anything hold you back or let anyone tell you what to do. Just do it, it's worth it. What if we all said no? What would we have missed? What have we said no to? What have we missed?

Lots of love, Matt.

Hot, Damn hot - still

Howdy folks,

Cress here.
How hot can it be sitting windless on a small boat on the equator in the middle of the Pacific Ocean in 35 degree water? Yes, you guessed it - hot, damn hot.

The wind, despite what the weather forecast, has deserted us to bob windlessly in the Pacific swells. Well, true, there is a faint breath from behind, but when we try to sail away from it in the direction of Fiji, we just stop! So we have set the spinnaker, just for fun, and are zooming slowly back and forth, reaching, but not getting any closer to our destination. It is however, a little cooler for the moving air. At least Jim at the helm is having some fun.

Right now are now passing, or attempting to pass through the Phoenix Island Group. Thing is, they are so small, and so far apart, we are unlikely to see any of them, and even less likely to hit any of them. Most are low lying atolls, barely wave height, which can make them a bit tough to spot, if you didn't know where they are, which of course we do with our GPS. What is spooky, however, is that the ocean floor here is covered in little sea mounts - underground volcanoes that don't quite come to
the surface in all instances. This is cool, except for when they do come announced to the surface every now and then, like an ex-partner showing up to your wedding reception. And like the an ex-partner, they can be not very friendly when you run into them unexpectedly, if you are not looking. Not likely to happen, but it is enough to make you pay attention on watch. When we are moving at least.

Otherwise , not much else to report, except that it is getting a little harder to be creative at meal time. And we are just a bunch of guys after all. Still its surprising what we come up with when pressed. Who would have dreamed of salmon potatoes for example - instant mashed potatoes, carrots and a can of salmon on top - could be so darned good! And its everything we can do to keep cold beer in the fridge. Fortunately, we still have red wine to hold us while we wait for the beer to cool. As for
cleaning up it will be simply easier when we run out of dish soap tomorrow or the next day. Besides, who can tell the difference between a glass washed in salt water with soap and or one washed without soap. They say salt kills all the germs anyways, doesn't it? I guess if running out of dish soap is the worst we have to worry about, we will be all right.

And speaking of being alright, let me make this confession: We definitely will not run out of beer. As all sailors know, beer has a lot to say for itself as a provisioning staple. It contains plenty of water, never goes bad (at least in my possession) and requires no preparation or clean up. And I guess that's why, as an all male crew, we made sure we definitely won't run out of it. (Thanks especially to Al for his gift of 25 cases!) You know, I believe its very close to noon. Gotta get my fluids!

C. Cresswell