Distance sailed in last 24 hours: 111 nm
Distance to Hilo, Hawaii: 3202 nm
Position: 12 19.32 N
Longitude: 100 16.926 W
COG: 250 M
SOG: 8.4 kts under sail
Wind: 12 kts NNE
Seas: 2 ft swell, 2 ft wind waves
Weather: 35% Cloud Cover
Barometric Pressure: 1009.4 steady
Sea Temperature: 88 F
The wind, although still light, was steadier yesterday. We decided to set the spinnaker to try to get our boat speed up a bit. Samadhi came with three different asymmetrical chutes in her sail locker, but because of space concerns, we only brought the largest, lightest one (a 1/2 oz. radial by UK) on our cruise. It has the sail area of our other two biggest sails, the main and the 155% genoa, combined--a truly massive quantity of wispy nylon sailcloth. This has proved to be exactly what the doctor ordered for the light winds of this passage. To ease handling by a short-handed crew of two, the a-sail is in a "sock" so that setting it can be done very methodically, attaching lines while it's still in the forepeak, hoisting it in the sock, double-checking everything, and only then opening it up to fly. The only thing better would be to have it on a continuous line furler, but that wasn't in the cards this time around.
We set the sail right after sending out the morning's update. There were no problems, and soon we nearly doubled our speed in the light wind. Unfortunately, no sooner had we started to enjoy life under spinnaker than a new batch of squalls popped up. At one point, we were surrounded by four simultaneous squalls. Oddly enough though, the rain from the squalls never came close, and we were able to leave the boat open the entire day. This was especially important because it was one of the hottest days yet.
Sailing with the spinnaker near squalls proved tiring for Phillip & Kelly. There were constant course changes and sail adjustments as the wind came from different directions. Brief bursts of higher wind pushed Samadhi over 9.5 knots which, discretion being the better part of valor, caused us to sock the chute. No sooner would we take down the sail, it seemed, than the wind would drop, and it was time to put the sail back up again.
We had the chute down at lunch, and after, we took the opportunity to repair two small tears in the fabric with tedlar patches. They're the first on the sail since we left on this cruise almost two years ago and seem to be holding up very well. There were already some from the previous owner, but we had them repaired properly by the sail loft in Point Richmond just before we left there in July of 2007.
In the late evening on Phillip's first watch, he dropped the mainsail as it was constantly slatting in the waves and light wind, and continued under spinnaker alone. We were doing pretty well averaging around 4 kts until about midway through Kelly's watch when the wind started to freshen. By 0230 we were moving along at a steady 6 or 7 kts with occasional runs up over 10 knots surfing. It's fun going faster, and we have been using every trick we know to keep the boat moving at a fair clip toward Hawaii.
There was a question to Pat this morning about two of the acronyms in the summary at the top of our updates: "SOG" and "COG". We figure that if one person is bold enough to ask, there are probably a dozen more with the same question on their lips, so please allow us to discuss them briefly. You old salts following along can skip the next two paragraphs.
"SOG" is short for "speed over ground", which is distinct from "speed through the water". SOG is the speed that we move over the surface of the earth. For us, this is computed by any of the several GPSs aboard. We measure our speed through the water with a small paddlewheel which protrudes through the hull just forward of the mast. The difference between them shows us the apparent current, or the speed of the ocean current affecting us relative to our course. At times, due to tides or current like Kathy experienced when she went around Punta Mala, Panama with us, we've had our SOG vary from our speed through the water by as much as three or four knots. We've clocked Samadhi at 17 knots (nautical miles per hour) SOG when surfing on waves approaching Barillas Marina Club in El Salvador. The closest we've ever come with speed through the water is 13.5 kts.
"COG" is our "course over ground". This is the direction of our course, again, as measured by a GPS. A magnetic compass may read something slightly different due to the effect of ocean currents, tides (when closer to land), or waves. The one we care about, of course, is our COG. We feel incredibly privileged to live in an age where the technology to have all of these figures computed for us can be fit in a tiny handheld device. Hurrah again for not living in the former "age of sail".
One side affect of sailing under the spinnaker is that we're no longer hosting our fleet of hitchhikers aboard "Motel Samadhi". The six boobies, yes that's right, six of them, who slept on the bow pulpit last night, left just as we put the tacker around the furled jib, and they haven't managed a return yet. Each time they come in on approach now, they veer suddenly when the chute wiggles a little at them. Though they always seemed fearless around us, there's something about the big sail that makes them nervous and keeps them at bay.
We had a small tragedy aboard in the early afternoon. Phillip was working on the aft deck when he came across the body of one of the small swallows that had been with us off and on for two days running. It showed no signs of trauma but had very clearly shuffled off its mortal coil. Phillip brought it forward to the cockpit to show Kelly and the boys and then said a few words before giving it a burial at sea.
Later in the day, we saw another swallow flitting through the peaks of the small waves that have been our constant companions since the wind picked up. It did not approach the boat. We wonder what these land birds are doing so far out to sea. Acapulco, the closest point of land, is over 250 nautical miles off our starboard beam. Are there any ornithologists in the crowd (or Internet-savvy googlers) who can shed some light on this for us?
The dolphins only made one appearance late on Kelly's watch in the night, but we have seen an abundance of sea turtles, including several "birdles" (sea turtle with a bird sitting on it). One of them even put its head up and started swimming toward the boat as we sped, yes sped!, by. So adorable! There are still plenty of flying fish of ever increasing size to watch soaring over the swells.
This was the third day running that we've trolled without luck. Early in the day, Kelly rerigged the lure that landed us our last yellowfin, a jet head with a blue and pink skirt. Even running it and another subsurface lure, we didn't have a single nibble. Nicholas is hoping things will be different today.
Food continues to be one of our chief sources of entertainment aboard. In between times spent babysitting the big sail, we cooked up a lunch of fettuccine bolognese, tomato salad, and garlic bread and ate tacos for dinner. We've been having fresh chilled pineapple for snacks, but the last of it will be served today. After that, we'll move on to some of the other tropical fruits we've brought. With the water temperatures remaining in the upper 80's and low 90's, keeping chocolate solid is an issue even hidden away low in the bilge. The boys don't seem to mind coming away from dessert with sticky fingers.
We've been enjoying quiet afternoons as a family. Alexander has been creating his lego vehicles, complete with customized rotating stands. Nicholas and Kelly put the finishing touches on the little "dragster" model that they've been working on for the last week. Without all the usual, modern, shoreside distractions, we find there's lots more time to spend together, and what could be better than that?
We are looking forward to a continuous, steady breeze that is measured in double digits. For now, we'll just be happy with a day where our average speed was well over 4 kts.
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