Code Zero Saga

Hearing a loud sound on a sailboat is rarely a good thing, and this time was no exception. The winds have been inconsistent, and causing the sails to "flog" or whip back and forth against themselves making a loud "thwapping" noise (particularly annoying during a night watch). The sound we heard was louder than the normal thwap. Bob looked up and our large Code Zero sail was no longer flying proud. Had it gone overboard? Was it wrapped around anything? Had it broken free? It didn't take long to see it trailing alongside Rhapsody, fully in the water.

Another night watch

The funny thing about night watch is the feeling of being in Backwards Land. A place where we need to maintain alternate times on watch and therefore wind up living in a rhythm opposed to our normal schedule of waking and sleeping. We are trying to get to our destination, yet we purposely slow down a little at night, for safety reasons. We can't easily see what might be coming our way, be it squalls or waves , boats or floating objects. Going slower also makes for a more comfortable ride and less wear and tear on the equipment.

Sights and sounds of Night Watch

3 AM The golden sliver of the moon is rising on the horizon behind Rhapsody. I can see the handle of the Big Dipper sticking up from the horizon off the starboard side of the boat, the bowl of the dipper is below the horizon. The Southern Cross is visible off the port side of the boat. Bob woke me at 2:30 to begin my watch. I was in a deep sleep and it took him a while to rouse me. This is unusual for me, usually on passage I wake easily, but I was deep in a very strange dream.

Well, that was odd!

Suddenly I hear a strange sound. Living on a boat makes you very tuned into sounds, anything new could be potential trouble. This was definitely a mechanical sound, an engine of some sort. I look around, trying to pinpoint the sound, and I look up. It is a helicopter. I think it is just flying by, but it is very low. Then it began circling Rhapsody, once, twice, three times around. I wave at them, they wave back. Bob comes up and waves, they wave back. Bob gives the OK signal, they give the OK signal back, and then they fly off. There was no communication on the radio, and I did not recognize the markings on the helicopter as any government or agency that I was aware of. You are never quite as alone as you think you are, even in the middle of the Pacific Ocean!
2700 nm to go.

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Day three, 8AM

Lousy last 23 hours. Wind died to nearly nothing. Still motoring when fouled fuel returned causing engine shutdown, and four filter changes later, no relief. Decided to wait for light to try again. Funky, rolling night with 2-4 knot gasps of wind. Mostly on the nose, sails flapping, even trimmed tight, so we headed 60 degrees south of our rhumb line to SSW, just to smooth things out a bit and ease abuse on our gear.

3:15 AM Lying in the cockpit, cussing dirty fuel again, it occurs to me it could be worse, it could be raining sideways on me. Two minutes later it begins to rain. Murphy's Law laughs again. Steady drizzle becomes light showers. At least the rain brings 5-7 knots of intermittent baby gusts and we return halfway back on course.

6:30 AM Wind reduces to 3-5 knots, no rain on us now, but dawn brought total overcast with very low clouds and visible showers all around us. Turned SSW again just to stay underway.

7:30 AM and we finally feel 10 knots of actual breeze since leaving. Back on course with scattered wetness. Generator charging, because so far, solar has the day off. Good to be moving over mellow, if gray, seas.

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Setting off to the Marquesas

After the usual prep frenzy and "what have we forgot" concerns, we hauled anchor and began motoring out of Puerto Ayora, Santa Cruz Island at 7:05 AM. With last glances back to the dark green shore, we weaved between the many live aboard charter boats, around the many shallows and out into open water. Sarah set up the new waypoints on our recently updated chartplotter, and announced only 3019 nm to go.

We saw the bottom few hundred feet of the island slipping away in our wake as the typically overcast morning sky obscured 90 percent of the volcanic peaks. Course set, WSW at 6-7 knots. Wind on the nose, of course. We will bear a bit south of our rhumb line in hopes of picking up the very favorable trade winds sooner. Good to be underway. You can't begin to get there until you leave.

Motor sailed until 4:30 PM with 7-9 knots. Winds now shifted to 140 degrees behind us. Brought out the genoa as winds picked up to 10..11 plus until 9PM. The winds calmed, and were very inconsistent, and the sails flapped a lot, so... rolled up the genoa and began motor sailing again. Sarah's up after some, unusual for her, early evening sleep. First try at off watch sleep-on-demand for me a dismal failure, so I read and write.

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Moving on

 The time has come to move to another place. There is still so much to share about the Galapagos, stories and pictures, but it will have to wait. I will post them when we return to the world of the internet. We are on our way to French Polynesia, specifically the Marquesas. This will be our longest passage yet, by far, 3000 nautical miles from the Galapagos to our next landfall in Nuku Hiva. 

That's a lot of blue!