Tyler on the helm.

SHIPS LOG POST #3

Day 5 - October 8th, 2009

In the PM hours of the 4th, the swell and wind increase from their NWerly direction. With the wind and waves behind us, we are given an extra boost and hold on for something that feels a bit like a roller coaster ride. This is welcome indeed in the face of the thought of the opposite, of course, battling against such conditions. It is such that before the sun goes down a couple larger than normal waves give us that momentary free feeling of surfing in a 44 foot boat. Of course, it is a forced surf, with the boat wanting to break free, but inevitably dropping speed after the wave and surfing opportunity have passed underneath. And now we are in the trough, again. And, oh, now we are trying to surf.

By midnight the conditions have worsened, or improved, depending on which side you're on, and we are being chased by 8-10 foot swell and 30-35 knot winds. Of course, the waves look bigger in the dark, and they sound larger than they seem. Patchy clouds with brief moments of stars overtake us and tease us at their effortless passing low overhead. Very cool clouds. They don't have the ocean to get in their way. We, of course, do.

Throughout the night 3 or 4 rogue waves slither out of the night from the east and wallop the side of the boat. Then slither off again like a snake in the darkness. These rogues are heard more than they are seen in the night and its really just a feeling that tells you they've arrived. A sudden - hmm, do i hear someth...- WALLOP! And then they're gone, raging like a bundle of squirrels gone bananas, off into the dark. In the direction of Japan or Russia, westward like the Tazmanian Devil they go. Completely aloof. Oblivious to the wind and swell. What do the other waves think of this?

1100 (Oct.7)

Boat speed is 8-9 knots with occasional exciting moments around 10. It was the next morning in discussing our top speed Jon asked, "Did anyone break 10.5?" Heading is 135-140 degrees, but in these conditions it is only a general suggestion. Seas as mentioned before. Some gusts into 45 knots.

0145

In the face of building winds we wrap the genoa to a smaller size. This takes a fair amount of work on the winch, granted the wind. It is the second time tonight that we have reduced the sail size and Elena notes that, in the dark, it is beginning to resemble that of a handkerchief. At this rate, we estimate an arrival in Humboldt by 1pm.

0800

A cold dawn arrives with an overcast sky. The storm has passed now and wind and seas much calmer. We roll out the entire genoa once more from its handkerchief cousin. It is about this time that we are visited by a gang of porpoise. Unfortunately for the blog, they said no pictures could be taken of them. We gladly complied, knowing that the photos with our inadequate cameras would undoubtedly be of poor quality with little or no porpoise-looking objects in them.

The porpoise dance is truly beautiful, and raises the sailor's spirits to great heights, even after a long night. They are so agile and quick under water, jumping out of the ocean simultaneously 4 abreast, or following each other in quick succession, flashing their white bellies. Under the boat, in front of the bow. Head-on, last-minute near misses with each other. Jumping, stopping, switching direction and zooming off all in one effortless moment. As with almost all marine life that are capable of it, we observe the porpoise love to surf down the faces of large waves, following the swell of a moving wave and jumping out, into the trough ahead and or dipping underneath, jockeying for position like surfers. The porpoise truly is a magnificent creature. At one point from the helm I can look 100 yards to one side, then 100 yards to the opposite side and in both instances see porpoise airborne at top speed heading directly for the Akimbo. Deities of the sea come to play, and man, does the heart bound out to meet them in their leaps.

The full genoa.

1200

We arrive in eureka around noon. Our timing coincides with the slack tide, allowing us safe passage through the jetty and into Humboldt Bay. Confirming this on the radio with the Coast Guard, their radioman takes peculiar interest in us and our safety. We assure him our personal floatation devices will be faithfully displayed about our persons and that we are indeed a sailing yacht.

We tie up at Eureka Public Marina and eagerly make use of the laundry and shower facilities provided. Having been on the sea for some days now it becomes clear that land, and especially confined rooms, have a movement and sway I didn't realize they had until I had left them for some time.

In celebration, we toast some tequila that was gifted before our departure of Seattle. Careful, however, not to drink too much in light of our empty bellies and states of exhaustion. Indeed, this is the smallest amount I have seen Jack be able to drink. Having been in and out of sea-sickness, his belly was indeed empty and not suitable for large amounts of tequila. Jon comments that Jack's case was the first time he had seen the scapalomine patch placed behind the ear not work for sea-sickness. However, it became more clear when Jack said that he had found his patch not long before, clinging to his shirt, dependably dosing his fleece with the motion sickness drug.

We spend the evening in Arcata, eating pizza drinking beer and watching the Thursday night intramural soccer.

In the morning, Jack would fly home to Seattle from the airport and the remaining three crew members would continue south with Akimbo to San Francisco.

Look, no hands!