Position: 23 degrees, 44 minutes south; 178 degrees, 56 minutes west

Amazing sight, but I’ll tell you what I saw in a moment. To set this up – it’s getting warmer (finally) and the waves and wind have gone down, so this morning at sunrise I decided it would be a good day to start fishing. Out goes the handline with a squid-like lure.

Not 15 minutes from when I dropped it the indicator (a used clothspin) snapped off the lifeline indicating a fish on. Pulling in the handline I found a lovely looking but small Mahi. Too small I felt (about 2 feet) so I shook him off the hook and back he went. I held the hook out for about five minutes to make sure he was long gone – I’ve caught the same fish before.

OK, the amazing part. About fifteen minutes (around 0700) after I caught the first Mahi I’m just sitting enjoying the morning without lightning, rough seas and high winds and I’m just staring out at the water in the vicinity of the lure when I saw something that in 20,000 more miles of sailing I’ll probably will never see again. We were doing about six knots sliding down 6 foot waves and as I’m looking out at the water I saw a three to four foot Mahi come completely out of the water surfing toward the squid (my lure). He popped out about ten feet behind it zooming down at probably 20 knots. The rational side of my brain couldn’t even process what was happening, it was taking place so fast, but the emotional side was enthralled. “Big fish. Mahi. Dorsal fin fully extended. Irridescent blue and green glinting in the warm morning sunlight. Cavernous, gaping mouth fully open (in appearance, not unlike the front grill of a 1950’s Buick)”. Just before he hit the lure I remember the rational side of my brain catching up and thinking. “He can’t be on the line, it didn’t click!” Just then the clip snapped and the line slapped to the deck (later I found the hit had even bent the steel spring on the clip). Yes we had a fish most definitely on the hook.

The aftermath. The one problem is that it’s been six months since we’ve been fishing off Charisma with a handline. I forgot that I have to give the handline a “tug” to set the hook, so while I was busy furling the jib to slow the boat down and waking up Ann to help land Mr. Mahi…he jumped the hook. Oh well. We’ll keep fishing and hope for another one. In the meantime, hey, we have rice, dried peas and canned chicken for dinner.

The second “natural” event of the day was later in the afternoon. We’re 500 miles from any sort of land whatsoever (OK, there’s a reef that we’re passing right now – Minerva – but that doesn’t count) when a large bee comes flying in and lands in the cockpit. I’m thinking, “Hmmm, not many flowers out here, this guy’s a long way from home”. Anyway, he looks around a bit and then flies off. That was it. Nature messing with my head today.

Position: 26 degrees, 06 minutes south; 179 degrees, 07 minutes west (did 131 NM yesterday)

The wind has finally steadied and calmed down. Last night was still 25-30+, 9-12 foot waves, breaking and rain (at least there was no lightning). Not fun and it lasted until noon today, but at about that point it settled down to the current 15-18 with still impressive but long period waves and the sky is clear for now. Much nicer. We were able to set the jib on the pole opposite the 3rd reefed main and have been doing sixes and sevens and the knotmeter. Not bad.

We’re about 100 miles from Minerva Reef, but are not planning to stop as the weather doesn’t look that promising, so we’ll pass it close by – probably to the south and look to then head up a bit towards Savusavu as the waves moderate. Right now, our course is somewhat dictated by the size of the waves. If we angle too much across them the ride gets uncomfortable as the wind vane doesn’t “know” that it needs to compensate for angling across a 12 foot wave. So the waves are coming from the southeast, thus we’re going more or less northwest. By tomorrow they should diminish and let us head up 20 or so degrees and still have a comfortable ride.

So that’s it for now. Ann and I are tired and need a good night sleep. Last night the boat was throwing us around so much in the bunk we had to wedge ourselves between two seat back bolsters to try and keep our bodies from going airborne. Tonight the motion is much gentler.

P.S. Thanks to everyone who has been commenting on the blog. Your comments are getting to us and are fun to read. I know that I have to “approve” a few of them for you to see them on the blog, but I can’t do that until we’re in Savusavu and have an internet connection. So know that they are all making it to us and look for your comment to show up sometime early next week.

Position: 28 degrees, 11 minutes south; 179 degrees, 24 minutes west

It’s dark in the woods, but off in the dense darkness beyond where you’re standing you hear a low, menacing growl and see the flash of white teeth. Then you hear movement, huge paws on the forest floor coming your way. You see another glint of white teeth, this time much closer, then all of a sudden the teeth shine right in your face and at the same time a deafening roar fills you head and you smell its hot breath on your cheek.

Yup, we had lightning last night and that’s what it feels like. I can deal with the squalls– wind, waves, rain – but the lightning is so random it scares me. You can never tell when a billion electron volt bolt of energy is going to find its way to the only thing rising above the surface for a thousand square miles. Your boat’s mast. 54 feet of aluminum. One of the flashes was right above our heads with the thunderclap rattling our teeth at the same time the flash blinded our vision for about 15 seconds.

So…when I saw the huge, black cloud with lightning inside it bearing down on us I decided the best way to “outrun” it was to sit still. We hove-to. I think it was the right thing to do since we were going the same way as the squall front. If we had run with it we would have been in it for a long time as it slowly passed us. On the other hand, sitting still meant it would run past us and we would spend a shorter amount of time exposed to the lightning. We ended up being in the lightning for about an hour – seemed much, much longer. We stayed hove-to about four hours to let the worst of the squall line go past and give me some much needed rest (Ann was off watch having been on earlier in the evening).

Turns out we have just “clipped” the corner of a subtropical depression that is just to the southeast of us. It’s quite a ways away, but throwing some nasty weather anyway. Most of today has been in continuing squalls with rain and 25-30 knot winds. The only good part is the wind is finally coming from the south so we have “turned the corner” and are now heading toward Fiji. The GRIBS are showing winds from the south at 15-20. Hopefully this system we’re in will moderate tonight and we’ll get the better weather. We expect about five more days for arrival maybe Sunday.

Also hopefully no more bears.

Position: 29 degrees, 37 minutes south; 179 degrees, 21 minutes west (over the date line)

Being out here on the vast ocean between New Zealand and Fiji gives you a lot of time to think. Today I was thinking about Bob and his self-proclaimed Charlie Brown comparison. It is a good fit. We really do start out that bundled up and slowly as the weather warms up we lose a layer. Today I spent my watches without my foul weather jacket on. That’s big. (Bob, however got the watch with the major rain and squalls so had to still wear his). One day soon I may even change out of my long johns. But I don’t want to tempt fate so I am still in them.

The other item of warmth that relates to this blog that I have yet to abandon is my sea boots. These boots are easy to jump into when called to help. They keep my feet warm and dry. Only one problem….they seem to make my feet even bigger! Yes, I have big feet. When you put sea boots on them a whole different dance ensues…of course all choreographed to the song of Charisma that Bob shared the other night.

Well I wish it was that graceful but the truth is that it is not graceful at all. I am on watch, warm and cozy, tethered in. I get up to check for any traffic around us. As I step back down off of the bench and into the cockpit the tether wraps around my legs. Remember I just did a 360 degree traffic check. And then here comes the really graceful part….i try to descend the companionway steps to use the facilities.

It becomes comical watching me try to untangle these big feet from the tether and descend the stairs. No putting two feet on one step, they just won’t fit. So I shuffle to the side and hang onto the hatchway to free myself. Mind you, I would never give up the boots because of the great support that they provide when bracing myself in the bathroom. NEVER use the head on a boat in stocking feet when the boat is underway. It is just not safe and quite frustrating. Sea boots with non-skid soles. Essential.

So Big Foot reigns supreme until the weather is warm enough to change to my Teva sandals. Oh the little things that amuse me on passages.

Position: 30 degrees, 40 minutes south; 179 degrees, 19 minutes east

Those old enough to remember the comic strip; “Peanuts” will recall that when Charlie Brown went out ice skating in the winter, his mother would make him wear so many layers he couldn’t move. Inevitably he’d just tip over on the ice and lay there unable to right himself, trapped by all his layers.

Well that’s how we feel leaving New Zealand’s winter and heading north to the promise of warm tropical waters. Well, it hasn’t warmed much yet so we’re still wearing almost all the layers we have in order to keep warm at night when on watch.

Right now I’m sitting in the cockpit on “dawn patrol” and like Charlie Brown I’m afraid to move lest I tip over. Sea boots with wool socks, pants, bib overalls (heavy Gore-Tex with Cordura), a thermal long sleeve undershirt with zip neck, heavy pile parka with zip neck, Gore-Tex foul weather jacket (with a collar that goes over my head and contains the hood), a heavy pile neck gaiter, wool watchcap and all topped by my PFD (inflatable life-jacket), with built in harness and a six foot long tether that I hook in while working outside the cockpit. Ann wears the equivalent plus she’s been adding long johns. (The scary part is other than our socks, we haven’t changed since leaving New Zealand as these layers are the ONLY cold weather layers we have. Let’s hope for warmer weather soon. Very soon.)

Now, let’s see, did I miss anything? Oh yeah, don’t forget the lightweight wool glove liners I have on (my heavy Gore-Tex gloves are under the dodger but not yet needed) and a headlamp.

Whew! Just getting up to make a cup of tea expends about 500 calories trying to move with all that stuff on. Fortunately it’s a bit warmer during the day, but we’re both looking forward to the part of the trip where we switch to shorts, tee-shirts and flip flops.

My other issue of the moment is a big, fat lip from whacking myself in the face with the winch handle! I was up at the mast putting in a double reef, as the wind had jumped up. This requires (among other steps) winching the reef line tight to stretch the bottom of the sail. Well, the piece of stinking excrement West Marine winch handle didn’t lock as it should and as I pulled with all my might on the winch, it slipped out and whacked me good. I could easily have broken a tooth or worse, so I grudgingly consider a swollen and abraded lip “lucky”.

By the way, on another subject – for anyone who might actually be plotting our course and wondering; “what the hell are they thinking” as you look at our course take a look at the GRIB files as well. We’re going quite a bit east of the rhumb line for two reasons. One – the winds where we are at present only allow us to go that direction (or on the other tack, maybe head for New Caledonia) and Two – southeast trades winds are forecast to fill in in a day or two and we don’t want to be too far to the west when they kick in or we have a very hard time getting to Fiji. Our hope is in a day or so we make a (approx.) 30 degree left turn, catch the trades and ride blissfully downwind all the way. At least that’s the plan. Mother Nature usually throws a curve so keep a watch to see if it works!

Position: 32 degrees, 20 minutes south; 177 degrees, 42 minutes east

We did 120 miles in the past 24 hours with just the jib up. But, the wind has changed. It’s coming around to the west and we need the mainsail to keep our northerly(ish) heading so put up the main with two reefs and the stays’l. We’ve been alternating between furling the jib and just leaving the double reefed main and stays’l. We’re maintaining speed above 6 knots.

Last night was grey. Just dark and grey. No stars, no moon, nothing but shades of grey. In fact the lack of visual cues made my hearing all the more acute and it got me thinking about all the sounds of Charisma at sea as a type of symphony.

So, here are my thoughts on the “Tayana Variations On A South Pacific Theme” by Charisma.

First off, I think Debussy or Grieg would have been good composers for this symphony because each is exceptional at evoking the lyrical beauty and magic that is present here. However, the emotion goes deeper. If Gustav Mahler had ever come this way he would be the one who could capture the essence of what we’re doing and feeling. Depth, mystery and beauty.

Mahler would have understood the enormity of the ocean, invisible below the surface reflections yet teeming with life just under the surface that occasionally and quite suddenly explodes out into the daylight. And he would have played with the feelings of the infinite reach of the stars and sky – tonight hidden behind the clouds – but there waiting nonetheless to burst forth and delight.

Charisma’s symphony at night is a cacophony of sounds in the greyness of a cloudy night. Some, familiar and comforting. Others, new and disturbing.

The first movement is set at 15 knots of wind. Strings, mostly cellos move to the fore. Pianissimo as Charisma slides through the waves, a constant ebb and flow against the hull as we crest a wave, then coast down, water rushing past and then slice into the one in front, water gurgling around the hull as Charisma gathers herself for the uphill climb and then yet another slide down the next one.

While the strings describe the motion, percussion in the background drives the constant beat of the journey (in ¾ time) with a syncopated rhythm as counterpoint to the lyrical rise and fall of the strings. Tick, Tick, Tick – Tick, Tick, Tick – Clang…Clang.

Suddenly a cymbal crashes out of nowhere, reverberating violently in your ears. A rogue wave, 90 degrees out of phase just crashed against the hull, slamming the boat sideways, water bursting into the air and then falling back on itself sizzling like bacon on a hot griddle.

In the background you can hear the timpani announce a gust of wind, swirling across the water, reaching the deck then searching out voids and finding every opening with a dull relentless hum.

Just a little off the beat, we can hear a few comical notes from an oboe. Ahh, the cockpit drains burbling little giggles as the water passing under the hull tickles Charisma’s toes.

Right now it’s about 0300. In a couple hours, we’ll get to the second movement. A piano playfully foreshadows sunrise. Then if the clouds part a bit and make way for morning light – the horns. First a lone trumpet as the sun searches for a hold on the new day. Then as it pushes aside the grey of night, the bright triumphant chorus of horns pushes the quiet strings aside and proclaims a new day full of promise. Warmer, brighter, because we’ve moving north – leaving winter behind and seeing hints of the tropics ahead.

Position: 34 degrees, 19 minutes south; 176 degrees, 12 degrees east

We’re solidly in day two. We did 112 miles yesterday using only the jib. We’re taking it easy getting into the rhythm and have not even set the mainsail yet. No need since the wind is cooperating although we could have done an extra 20 miles or so if we had added the main, but with a lot more boat handling effort. It’s been blowing between 12 and 20 and we’ve been averaging 5 knots more or less. I’m guessing tomorrow will be mainsail set day. The wind is already clocking and we’ve gone from dead downwind to a reach (with the wind coming across the port side). Tomorrow looks to clock some more and lighten a bit, so we’ll need the main to keep course and speed. But in the meantime it’s been a pleasure to not do anything. We set the wind vane and jib when we left the coast and have pretty much not touched anything.

One distraction is the radio nets. They can be tedious but also fun. We’ve caught up with a few friends and yesterday did an interesting relay. Our friends on Astarte who went north to the Marshalls for the cyclone season are coming back south and heading for Vanuatu. On yesterday’s net they were 60 miles out from their destination and about 1200 miles or more from our location. The net control was in Hawaii. He couldn’t hear them but we could so we had a chance to chat with Astarte and do the relay between them at 1400 miles and Hawaii which is 3600 miles away. Shortwave radio is interesting stuff.

It’s been chilly – we’re wearing all our clothes, hats and gloves, but today was a nice sunny day. We’re hoping for stars tonight since the moon is about gone and without the stars there’s absolutely nothing to see.

Had a brief dolphin escort today around 1530 and an albatross sighting earlier in the day but other than that it’s been pretty basic. Rolling like crazy, bumps bruises, reading books, eating the last of the leftover first night stew, searching for those annoying noises that can keep you awake, but all in all it is nice to be back on a voyage. There’s something the just feels good about being out here just doing this. Maybe I’ll figure it out in the days to come and be able to tell you.

Position: 35 degrees, 26 minutes south; 175 degrees, 01 minutes east

We left Marsden Point at 1230 today just behind a little front that brought rain and a nice southerly wind to push us northbound on our 1200 mile journey back to Fiji.

We hate to leave New Zealand as it’s such a lovely place where we’ve made many new friends, but it’s easier knowing we’ll be back in November. In the mea time there’s so much to look forward to for the next five or so months back in the tropics.

As always, leaving the coast means dodging big ships and true to form we have just been passed by two very large cargo ships. One going north and one south. The southbound one was aiming right at us and I called them on the VHF and got an “English-challenged” mate. I was having a tough time communicating that we were at their 12 o’clock and did they see us, so finally turned on the engine – “just in case” and turned on our masthead strobe-light to aid in identification. I don’t think they saw us on radar, but they did see the strobe and passed a mile behind us which at sea when you’re talking about a large container ship, is very close.

It also means we’re back to living on a platform that’s rolling 30 degrees to each side over about three seconds. Hang on is all I can say. Some of them (the rolls) are easy and you can anticipate them, but others sneak up on you and if you’re not braced – look out!

Anyway, we’re doing about 5-6 knots with just the jib up in about 18 knots of wind and maybe five foot seas. It’s supposed to lighten tomorrow and we’ll probably put up the main but it’s nice to start a trip like this by easing back in and not having the main to worry about as the wind goes up and down is nice.

So that’s it for now, stay tuned for the next ten or so days and remember; your comments on the blog are our evening entertainment ; -) so keep ’em coming.