Position: 31 degrees, 44 minutes south; 172 degrees, 29 minutes west (126 mile day)

Little buggers! They’re lurking.

We spent the morning going through our storm checklist and making sure everything that needs doing was done and checked off. In the meantime, the gremlinss were playing tricks. The first “event” was when I turned on the radar to check on a big squall in front of us to get a sense of what direction it was going and whether we could avoid it…the radar had quit sending. Nothing. Arghh! Just when I needed it the most! I decided a reboot might help, but needed have bothered. I turned it off, then went to do something else and when I came back it had restarted itself. It still wasn’t working, but it turned itself on. It did that three more times before I decided to switch it off at the circuit breaker and have lunch. After lunch I tried it again. Now it’s working. Gremlins. Having a bit of sport.

Then, we decided it would be a good idea to run the engine and charge the batteries good and full. We’re not going to have much sun for the solar panels for the next 36 hours and one of the checklist items is to lock them down anyway, so no solar power. So, after starting the engine I noticed a funny whine. Or maybe not. It’s so faint and inconsistent. Gremlins. They are messing with me.

Sometimes people call this phenomenon “automatic rough”. When you’re getting ready for a difficult stretch “stuff” happens.

But I know better.

Other than little disruptive creatures, we’re as ready as we can be. Everything’s tied down or put away and we put the storm sails – two little sails each about the size as a Laser sail – up before sunset. Much easier than trying to subdue a flogging jib on a heaving foredeck and tucking the main away. So for now, we’re motoring until it gets either too windy or the waves get too large to comfortably motor. That is forecast to be sometime between now (just after dinner) and midnight.

Position: 33 degrees, 03 minutes south; 174 degrees, 24 minutes west (135 mile day)

When we set the after dinner watch last night we knew the wind was building for a blustery night and set a double reef in the main. We were trucking along at 6-8 knots with the double, stays’l and jib and this combo in 20-25 knots of wind works well and it gives us two more adjustments if the wind increases. In that case, we furl the jib and if that’s not enough, we can go to the triple reef. The triple reef and stays’l works great into the high 30’s.

It was Ann’s watch until 0200 and as it progressed the wind did indeed increase. She’s become quite the sailor and was able to handle the needed changes as the wind pushed into the high 20’s. As the breeze freshens the dynamics of sails change – the overall balance of boat, wind and water shifts – and unless you respond, it won’t go where you want it to!

So, Ann adjusted the wind vane on the helm – three clicks to leeward to counter increasing weather helm. Then she eased the main a bit and tweaked the wind vane itself a bit to angle us more downwind in the building waves. Finally around 0100 I awoke from a very deep sleep – hadn’t heard a thing until then – as I could hear winches turning. Ah, Ann was furling the jib. In 30 knots of wind! It’s easier to say it than to do it. By yourself, it’s kind of like patting your head and rubbing your tummy. It requires a lot of coordination and dexterity. In the dark when you can’t see a thing outside the cockpit, the boat’s rocking and rolling and it’s raining (Oh, did I mention we crossed into a front full of squally, rainy weather?) furling the jib also takes an experienced “touch”. Ease it out a bit with one hand on the starboard winch, then grind in the furling line with the other hand on the port winch. But not too much or you’ll break it! Ease, tighten, ease, tighten and ten or fifteen times until the jib is nicely tucked around the headstay. Whew!

By the time I came on deck around 0130 the wind was still increasing beyond the comfort level for the double reef. Charisma and Wilson were straining to keep course. The wind was now solidly in the mid-twenties with sustained gusts into the mid 30’s – and it’s still raining. Going up to the mast and putting in the final reef in those conditions is a whole “nother” story but for now, I’ve run out of time.

For now…Tahiti beckons.

Position: 34 degrees, 05 minutes south; 176 degrees, 45 minutes west (140 mile day)

Who would have thought that something so low tech would be so awesome! Ann bought one in NZ before we left and it’s been amazing. The Kiwis use them quite a bit, so it was easy to find one. It’s been such a nice addition to the cold night watches. You add some hot (but not scalding) water to the bottle and put it behind your back out in the cockpit. It stays warm for hours and if it gets really cold, you pull a wool blanket over the whole thing. Close your eyes and you’ll think you’re in a sauna at your favorite spa! The added benefit is that it’s cured my “tweaked” back. All the prep work, carrying heavy stuff like the dinghy engine, jerry jugs full of diesel, etc, etc left me with a pretty substantial lower back pain for about a week before we left. Two nights with the water bottle here on passage and I’m cured! Distance wise, 140 miles is worth celebrating, but 12 hours of that was motor sailing. The wind just died last night at 0200 and we need to keep our speed up to get above the low. Timing right now for that event is sometime Saturday midnight our time. For now, the wind filled in about 1400 from the west so we gybed and turned the engine off. Now it’s gone a bit southwest, I don’t think for too long, but it’s pushing us north, which is not too bad, but I’d like to get more easting in. We’re currently making about 50 degrees true. We’ll look at it in a few hours and see – maybe we’ll gybe back over for a while but while that would get us more east, we’d lost the northerly separation we need from the low. Everything out here requires a decision and is typically a compromise.

What I forgot to mention the other day is that we are getting our “sea legs” quite nicely. Neither of us felt seasick this time out and after the first day or two, we’re both sleeping really well, so at least on the physical side we’re good. And…we took baths today (Yay!). It was just barely warm enough for a cockpit shower with our friend the teapot.

For now, my day is kept fairly active around gathering weather faxes (tedious) and plotting the weather. We’re getting grib reports off the SSB and I have a weather router (Bob McDavitt) who is very well respected in these parts as a very experienced weather guru, giving us a second opinion. We stay connected via shipboard email, so I get an update from him every couple days. I’m looking forward to getting past this low so I can relax a bit and just enjoy the view!

Tonight’s supposed to get a bit blustery, so I put a double reef in at sunset, but right now the wind has died down. Did I say compromise?

Position: 34 degrees, 43 minutes south; 179 degrees, 18 minutes WEST

We’re headed across the South Pacific the way Polynesia was colonized centuries ago. More on that below, but first some other thoughts.

We crossed over the date line this afternoon. We’re now in west lattitudes. Funny, I don’t feel any different. Well, a little younger maybe. I wonder if when the ancient Polynesians did this, they had to reset their, um, oh nevermind.

We did about 120 nautical miles yesterday. One thing about cruising – you can sail the boat faster if you want to, but both you and the boat will wear out. Yesterday was a good example. We probably could have done 150 miles, but given that we use a wind vane to steer Charisma 24/7, we have to trim the boat to the “gust factor” and not to the average wind or the vane gets “overpowered” in the gusts and we go out of control. Usually this just means we “round up” and the sails shake and the rig rattles, but the wear and tear is cumulative and not desirable. In fact, I would guess that we’re only really trimmed properly for the wind about 30% of the time, which is the time we spent in the gusting range of the wind. The other 70% of the time we’re either slightly underpowered or quite underpowered in the lower ranges of the wind. Thus, with a wind vane you accept a little “wandering” and maybe you don’t go as far as if you stood out there all day long and “hand” steered. Amazingly though, even if you watch the compass and see that you can be wandering off course by 20 or more degrees at times, somehow over a hundred miles or so when you really look at where you are, you are spot on. It all averages out I guess.

So, about those Polynesian settlers. The islands from Fiji all the way east through Tahiti and north to Hawaii were populated by people who migrated eastbound against the prevailing wind by noticing the same thing we have – that even though the predominant wind in the South Pacific is easterly (flows from east to west), when a low pressure system comes through you get south and westerly winds that counter the flow. That’s how we hope to go “against” the prevailing winds to get to Tahiti. Ride the top of lows that come through. The winds go clockwise around the low over an area hundreds of miles wide, so over a large area you can get south and west winds for some days. When the low goes too far past, you have to wait for the next one to get the same boost. A tougher ride than the “milkrun” down here, but an interesting one since we’re following an ancient historic migration path.

Here's the "plan". You can just see New Zealand outlined in green on the middle left. As you go east (to the right) you can see two low pressure systems. The wind flows approximately in line with the lines defining pressure gradients. Wind circulates Clockwise around lows in the southern hemisphere, so you can see how we can "ride" a west wind to the east. Tahiti is the little "green smudge" approx 17degrees south, 150 degrees west.

Position: 35 degrees 25 minutes south; 178 degrees 15 minutes east

Day two is always a tough day. You can tell I’m tired if I can’t find a better title for this post! You aren’t in a rhythm yet, you’re not sleeping yet, getting used to the noises and the shifts, and add to that wind in the mid-30’s or so followed once we got out of the shadow of New Zealand, by 10 foot waves. Well, you get the picture. Then to add to it all, the strap that holds the wind vane steering block sheared its bolts. At 0300. In the morning. A loud POP!

Here's a picture of the jury rigged block in the daylight. You can see the three temporary lines holding in more or less in place, although "floating" in air. You can just see the broken shackle (actually the screw sheared).

At first I was resigned to a very long night hand steering. I didn’t want to wake Ann since that watch is her best opportunity for uninterrupted sleep. But as I thought about it, I figured a way to strap it – kind of in mid air- with three pieces of rope attached to various places in the cockpit. The trick was to get enough tension because that is the main turning block and has to hold the steering lines tight or they come off the wheel. Well, after a couple tries I got it fixed enough that it steered the rest of the night. After breakfast, with Ann up and able to help I got out the drill, a new spare strap, etc and fixed it. Problem solved.

New holes, new screws and the shackle holding the steering block is back where it belongs.

In the meantime it actually turned into a kind of nice day. Almost warm, some sun and the wind let up. Got a little sleep and things look better, although we sailed through a front of some kind just about Charisma time and in an instant it went from sunny and nice to clouds, rain and wind. Now we’re back to 20-30, not as bad as last night though. Double reefed main and stays’l seem to be happy sailing along more or less in the right direction at about 6 knots.

The other highlight of the day was an albatross sighting. Actually two! There’s a pair working this area and we saw them majestically soaring along the wave top search for unwary prey. The interesting thing about these birds is they never, ever flap their wings. They just glide and soar, gently rising a bit to get high enough off the water to turn, effortlessly banking their impressive six-plus foot wingspan, just feeling the water, but never really making a mark.

So, the wind is supposed to ease a bit over the next couple days, but then the gale. We’re working to figure out how best to avoid that. For now, we’re angling a bit north to get “above” it. We’ll see.

You can tell it's a bit bumpy when I have to have a special "cozy" for my lunchtime beer to keep it from flying across the cabin.

Position: 35 degrees, 50 minutes south; 175 degrees, 42 minutes east

The compass glows a soft, gentle red to the night sky and the stars blink back a familiar; “Hello, it’s good to see you back”.

So, here we are, once again at sea. This time heading east. 2200 miles east across a part of the Southern Ocean. And only 50 miles out we’re definitely feeling it with gusts into the high 30’s.

Earlier today we started with the jib and a double reefed main. It wasn’t 20 minutes before I decided we needed to go to the triple reef, but upon trying to set it while going down wind, the leech/battens got blown inside the shrouds. No recovery for that one but to lower the main and wait until the wind moderates to get it up again. Just as well. It’s squally and gusty and while it “sometimes” only blows 20, it often gusts to the high 30’s for ten minutes at a time. The only thing the main would add to that is anxiety, since we’re on course and making up to 8 knots. At least it’s coming from behind us – more or less about 120 degree aft. Makes for a decent ride all in all.

The forecast right now is for more of this for the next day or two but a little lighter. Then we have to watch for a low that will bring gale winds. Avoid. We’ll be watching closely for that guy and probably try and work our way above it to the north to lessen the impact.

We’re both feeling pretty good. Our dinner of smoked ham and bean soup was cooked last night and sitting in the pressure cooker on the stove and Ann had made some cornbread muffins to go along with it, so we actually had a pretty good first night dinner without too much effort.

It’s cold though. Coming on winter down here and the nights are going to be uncomfortable until we turn the corner and head north. However we’re not likely to do that for a week or two.

So for now we’re just looking to get “in the groove” of sailing 24 hours a day. Right now we’re tracking what looks to be a fishing boat on radar. It’s about 5 miles away so we mostly see a glow, but occasionally one of his lights is visible when we’re both on top of a wave at the same time. There’s no AIS, so it’s not a freighter or tanker and it just seems to be arcing behind us.

All for now.

P.S. Did you know they don’t stamp passports anymore. New fangled internets stuff. Ann was distraught that she didn’t get a New Zealand stamp in her new passport. So the nice folks in the Marsden Marina office stamped her hand for her. The stamp said: “PROCESSED”

P.P.S. We are going to try a new tracking service. It’s called “Yachts in Transit”. They have a web site where you can scroll down the home page and find our link in the right column with other yachts under passage. Click on the link and you should get our 0700 position update. The site is; www.yit.co.nz Note, there is no “m”, just the “co”

Yup, we finally see a weather window.  At least we think it is.  There’s a low bombing through here right now.  We went to the Farmer’s Market this morning and stocked up on fresh veggies and fruit.  We’ve been cooking and vacuum packing meals that our friend Rand has kindly put in his freezer to turn them into “bricks” that will hopefully stay cold in the fridge.  Doing some more random provisioning and heading down the river to Marsden tomorrow.  We’ve notified customs and we’ll check out of the country Monday morning and hope we timed the back side of the low to get some south(ish) winds to help us sail east of here before the next storm comes through.  Stay tuned to see how it all works.  The plan is to go east between the 30 degree south and 35 degree south parallels, then at around 152 degrees west longitude head north.

It’s 2200 miles or so east to Tubuai in the Australs in Southern French Polynesia.  We hope to be able to get there in approximately three weeks, but who knows.  We’ll go where the wind lets us and would like to eventually make it to Tahiti which is north of Tubuai.  Then after resting a bit, going on north to Hawaii and eventually take the trade wind route north and ultimately east to Washington state.  Once there we’ll see what time of year it is and whether we’ll stop there for this season.

So for now, it’s “farewell” to New Zealand.  Thank you and your people for treating us so well and thanks to all the friends we’ve made here!

A final hike up Parahaka for a view of Whangarei, our home away from home for the last three years.