Dancyn

June 22, 2004: Ehhh, wow. The booby has landed! We got in on the 19th just before midnight, a total trip of 21 days and 8 hours. We are still wide-eyed and dumbfounded, weeks at sea already melting away to a distant memory. That last day felt like Christmas as I kept anxiously scanning the horizon for land ready to bellow "land ho!" We could see the heavy cloud bank over the island for most of the day but it wasn't until we were 30 miles away that we caught a glimpse of land. After 3 weeks of mindlessly following the numbers on our GPS across miles and miles of oceanic abyss, we were going to make landfall! As we got closer throughout the day, the island looked more and more like the back of some beast born of volcanic rock bursting out of the sea and reaching for the heavens. We unfortunately didn't make landfall before nightfall, but we could smell the damp earth mixed with honeysuckles as we came in. Ahhhh. It is pretty magical to wake up the next day in paradise after coming in after dark. We had no problem anchoring, which is always a plus. Nothing like a safe passage ending in a shipwreck on shore! Like long lost friends, our friends on Wind Rose and Waterdragon safely guided us in, picked us up within moments of dropping the hook and brought us over to Wind Rose for homemade pizza and cold beer. Thank you, lawd. We anchored amongst abstract shadows of rock cliffs and woke up to towering black pillars of volcanic rock glowing with green. GREEN. Unreal. We are flanked by cliffs on 3 sides, some rising to heights of 3000 feet. The bay was renamed Baie des Vierges, Bay of Virgins, after some outraged missionaries hastened to add an "i" to Baie des Verges, Bay of Penises, because of the phallic protuberances studded around the bay. Heehee. We beelined it immediately through the small town of Hanavave, about 200 people, to the 200 foot waterfall about an hour from town. We were accompanied by about half of the town's kids. Being Sunday, they had the day off, although I get the feeling that there is a lot of free time here. Sure enough, some steep climbing through dense tropical forest along moss-covered rocks led us to a waterfall with an idyllic swimming hole. Along the way were ancient drawings graffitied into the rocks attesting to a civilization older than French Catholic missionaries and television. In the pool was a 3 foot long lung fish. A very old fish, perhaps the link between amphibians and fish. A bit daunting to be swimming with a creature like that. But no one crushed their skulls jumping off the 20-40-60 foot rocks into the pool and no one got eaten by the monstrously large lung fish, so it was a good day! There are about 15+ boats in this little bay. French, American, British, German and Italian, most of them making their first landfall after weeks of ocean. The locals cruise around in outriggers, long thin canoe-like boats with an outrigger attached to the side for stability. The town is gearing up for the big festivities on Bastille Day, July 14th. Its not necessarily to pay homage to the French, which there seems to be some resentment of by the Marquesans, but more just to party, bar-b-q some goat, hold dance contests and boat races. We heard them practising last night, drumming and singing. The town is muy tranquillo. Modest little houses shaded by tropical flowers and exotic fruit trees. The town survives off art and copra, dried coconut meat used in everything from make-up to soaps and just about every other household product that we see in the States, so there are all these sheds with coconut insides scattered on the floor to dry. Its frustrating not to be able to speak the language. My crash course in recalling the French I learning in high school and college was just that, a train wreck. But I speak the international language of charades and sand drawings well enough and some how get a point across. Probably not the right one though. When all else fails, I just speak Spanish, and they pretend to understand. Didn't realize how good by Spanish had gotten. Their first language is Marquesan which is pretty cool to hear. Lots of artists in this little town--tattoos, wood carvings, tapa cloth, which is a dying Marquesan art form usually done by women. Yesterday, I cruised around and met some boys walking down the street with some roosters, so of course, had to follow them up the hill to a house with about 10 more roosters in the yard. I guess they are all for cockfighting and watched some mean ol' chickens go to town on one another. Then I ran into my friends on Wind Rose as I was talking to the second chief of the village who does beautiful tattoos and bone jewelry and followed them to another house where they were trading a roll of film and a pair of sunglasses for a carved rosewood mask. For some reason the carver gave me one too even though I was just along for the ride and so today I will return to his house with some gifts of nail polish and earrings for his wife and a knife for him. We can also get bananas and pompomousse, like giant grapefruit, for some fishing line and hooks. I like the idea of trading my junk for someone else's junk. And everyone is happy. I have detected some resentment, not much, but a little from a couple of folks in town. Apparently, they don't like the idea of having to open themselves up all the time to people who will be gone in a week. Wish we could stay here for months! But for the most part, people have been very warm. The big kids are back from school, so the town is filled with lots of noise and laughter. Grades 7 and up have to go to the larger island of Hiva Oa because there are no school facilities here for the big kids. So roosters beware! I'll be writing periodically, but not as often as I have been, so check the website out from time to time. Much peace. And so the adventure continues!

June 18, 2004: Not much news to report from the high seas, only that as I type this we are 128 miles away from our first anchorage in the Marquesas, Fatu Hiva! Perhaps that's some of the most exciting news of this entire trip. But no news is good news on a small boat bouncing around in the middle of the ocean. I may be able to wake up tomorrow and stand bare breasted upon the bow as I yell, "land ho!" (Note: In the days older than these, women were bad luck on boats, that is, unless they were bare breasted upon the bow. And red heads, well, forget about it. Silly, silly boys.) The tall peaks of the islands can be sighted 80 miles away. We are fighting boredom, ear infections, shaggy haircuts, so we are definitely in need of a change of scenery. The table fare has been less than inspiring these past two days. Hard to cook when 75% of your living space, including the galley, is taken up by a sail. So yesterday was cereal, some strange tuna-grated carrot-sweet pickle concoction, and ramen. Bleak days indeed for Dancyn's galley. And no fresh fish. At least I finally soaked some beans last night, so we had tasty bowls of red beans and rice today. We already have the champagne chilling for when we snag some dirt to hang on to. There was a special at the Price Club in Panama City, two bottles and two flutes. Of course, every sailboat needs a pair of champagne flutes. I'm thinking of a potato-pumpkin gnocci for our celebratory meal. It will be nice to finally sleep together after 22 days of sleeping in shifts, and we can finally open the hatch that we siliconed shut to combat the persistent leaks on our bunk. To smell the earth again! To air out and lick some dirt! Waterfalls and old stone tiki statues hidden in the brush. There is a 200 foot waterfall an hour or two from town. Wow, all that fresh water just pouring down the gullet of the island. I have been listening to some French cds in hopes that my long forgotten lessons will come back to me. Otherwise its hand signals and stick figures in the sand. Back to basics. We are humping it to make it by nightfall tomorrow, but with adverse currents, light winds, sloshy seas, we may end up anchoring at night much to the dislike of a sailor's good sense. We have a heads up though from another boat ahead of us, and it seems rather straight forward. Green isles in an endless sea of blue. Glad there are still some mysteries left that can be reached by hard work and persistence. You can thank us for doing our part to spread good will and friendly American diplomacy to the far reaches of the globe. Lush tropical islands, mai-tais, flowery loin cloths, its tough living! Please, people, peace.

June 16-17, 2004: Days quickly melting into one another as the Cruise-heimers settles in. Hard to keep up with the details, they seem to get lost in our wake, well, that and really not a whole hell of a lot going on out here. Another calm, sunny day. Flew HARRY. I love the red-orange-yellow shadow that it casts over the boat. Drying fish, eating fish chowda' (hard to say if the bouillabaise or the chowder was better). Found maggots in the potatoes. Yummy. Spread out onto the deck again and relaxed, read, even had a mid-morning rum drink--hey, its gotta be afternoon somewhere. We are still on Galapagos time, but the sun is really 3-4 hours behind. But Neptune wasn't going to give us too many free days without a little more bleeding. The wind has continued to blow up our behinds so we have been flying the spinnaker during the day, taking it down at night and going wing and wing--headsail poled opened to one side, mainsail let out on the other side. Like a penguin trying to fly. We can get going but waddle a bit. During my watch, I heard a nasty sound as we rolled and the sails flogged, sure enough, we had ripped another panel in the mainsail. Again on the seam, but longer this time. We got it down without further damage, and immediately got out the needle and thread. Arg! John sewed all through his watch til the sun came up, then I took over and continued to sew all day. Finally got the f*%#er up around 9 p.m. Our sewing machine will only do straight stitch, so we have to hand sew all the booboos. No joy. And only 300 miles left and counting. Luckily we were still able to maintain 5-6 knots under headsail alone. Down to under 250 as I write this. Wired and tired.

June 15, 2004: Today was an exceptional day, one of those days that reminds us of why we subject ourselves to the mercy of the howling winds and rolling waves. Although when I was woken up in the middle of my sleep shift because John screamed "Fire!", I thought none the better. Come to find out, it was the other "F" word. John had tangled up the main halyard and couldn't get a flashlight to work and so the frustration level soared. Pretty easy to push that frustration level out here, tired from days of hard sailing and lumpy seas, tired of living uncomfortable in a small boat and tired from carrying the responsibility of maintaining this vessel in a harsh marine environment. Glad to know that I sprung to life out of a deep sleep though. But Neptune smiled down on us as the day broke and gave us a break. The day was clear, sunny and calm. We never did see those trades reinforced that the forecasting wizards predicted, in fact, today was our calmest day yet. And wouldn't you know, we even got to shake out all of our reefs; its probably been at least 10 days since the entire mainsail was opened. We threw up HARRY,our bright spinnaker and coasted through the day, a dot of red, orange, and yellow amidst an ocean of blue. And its soooo blue, too. Not much breath blown across the water, but we were able to etch out something with HARRY. Sometimes its the little things that can make such a difference. I made a kick ass, if I do say so myself, batch of bouillabaisse, french fish soup. It complimented the fresh bread that I also made rather nicely. I was feeling a little bleak about the food situation. Nothing inspiring to eat, so that lifted some spirits. I have a bit of a food obsession and so every season, I buy myself a cookbook with pictures so I can drool over the pictures as I eat my saltines. Sometimes, I can even make something that resembles the picture. I love cooking, but the two-burner wonder galley with limited supplies from limited latin american markets can be tricky. The best part of my day came after I was done sweating it out down below and I took a fresh water shower. Come to find out, we have an ample supply of freshwater on board. Guess the bright side of feeling ill a lot of the time is that the water supply is sure to last. Ahh, yes, life aboard. (We're also just saving up for when we can take ridiculously long showers back in the land of pressurized hot water without feeling guilty.) A moment if I may about fresh water showers. We have learned to be like the elven folk when it comes to scoping out a shower. In Panama, there was a T.G.I.Fridays (of all things) down the road from the anchorage. It just so happened to be attached to a hotel which just so happened to have a pool outside and some showers inside with hot, very hot, water. We would often sneak into the women's bathroom together to take showers. This seemed to piss off the lady cleaning the joint some, so I'm sure it was only a matter of time before we exhausted that resource. Beachside resorts are also prime targets, although usually lacking in the hot water. Scoring a place with a hot tub is like landing in heaven for a day. And then there is always the avenue of befriending locals and using their showers. But today has been the cleanest I have felt in over 2 weeks. John pretends he doesn't mind the salt showers, but I know he's just being a tough guy. We spent the late afternoon lounging on deck, the first time we have been able to spill out onto the deck since we left. We spread the cockpit cushions in various spots in the shade, relaxed and read. Its the simple stuff sometimes. Tonight's sky is fantastic. The stars are noticeably higher in the sky as we move south. The southern cross hangs reverently above and Scorpio, my favorite, curls its tail around the heavens. I don't think Scorpio is visible in most of the U.S., maybe the tip of Florida, but its a huge constellation. The milky way splashes across the sky like spilt milk. Apparently there is a very unseasonable tropical depression forming down near Pitcairn Island. We'll have to check on its status tomorrow. It will either bring some strong winds from the south which might make it tricky to point west, or it may suck the wind towards it, leaving us out here to bounce around in windless seas. We slowed down considerably today, but should be in by the weekend.

June 14, 2004: The miles tick down quickly. Hard to imagine there are some fairy green isles just beyond the horizon. Less than 700 miles to go. I could see them if only I was tall enough to look that far. We saw a frigate bird way up up up in the sky today. They are easy to spot, like witches on the wing. Evidence that land is nearby. Strange that a land-based bird would be so far out to sea. They are master flyers, swooping down on sea snacks and plucking them ever so effortlessly with their beaks without getting wet. If they get wet they won't be able to get back up again to fly. Guess he fell asleep at the wheel or something and rode the wind out to sea. Won't she be in for a surprise when she wakes up. We caught another monster skipjack tuna. A very tasty fish I might add. We ate it raw with some plain rice while enjoying the soft pink sky of the setting sun. WASABI! We bought like a one kilogram bag of it in Costa Rica so we gotta wasabi it up when we can. The wind has not picked up like we thought and has shifted around to the east, which means its blows up our tailpipe more than across our sails. Looks like it might be a downwind run to get there, one of the slower points of sail for a boat, hence the big sail area of spinnakers. Hopefully we'll get to fly HARRY again. We could use some color out here. We are shooting to make landfall in one of the southern islands, possibly Fatu Hiva, the southernmost island. I guess Fatu Hiva is the real gem. It lacks an airstrip so is the most traditional of all the islands. They still make the tapa cloth, some sort of fine wood tapastry with designs painted on it. Trading for such goods, like fruit and wooden carved tikis, will be the norm, as it will be throughout most of the Marquesas. Guess money is no good when a)there's nothing to spend it on, or b)things are just too darn expensive. I guess fruit abounds on the islands, but we have been advised never to pick fruit without asking first. Every bit of fruit, tree and land is owned by somebody, even if the fruit has already fallen to the dirt. We hear that they can get pretty aggressive with the bartering. We have plenty of fish hooks, line, little toy matchbox cars, and cheap make-up (which we heard were the biggest trade item hits, and the cheaper the better). Glad to know that we'll be helping the sisters out by bringing them some much appreciated style. We even have a trash can full of plastic--just in case those natives aren't up to speed with the modern world. If only we had some plastic coke bottles, it could be a newer version of "the gods must be crazy." I'm only joking about the plastic, of course they have it, the whole world has it! Ahh yes, better living through chemicals. The cruising season for us is the trading season for them. Thor Heyerdahl, the author of "Kon Tiki," wrote a book called "Fatu Hiva." It was his first book in which him and his wife fled Norway in their 20's for the "natural world of the Pacific island paradise." The back of the book reads "recapturing both the lush beauty and the excitement of such unexpected dangers as hostile natives, capsized boats, broken taboos, and poisonous and disease-carrying insects, its the story of a man and a woman learning to survive in an Eden full of hidden thorns." Yikes. That's not what the cruising guides say. Although they do mention that the bugs in certain places will be merciless. I guess they had upset some folks and had to spend their last weeks hiding out in a cave waiting for a ship to come. All the pictures show them swimming in the sacred taboo lake, or climbing the taboo tree, or exploring taboo ground, so no wonder they pissed off some people. We'll certainly try and be less intrusive and only run around on the taboo ground when they aren't looking. It will be very interesting to peek in on these remote communities with very little contact from the rest of the world save through the small band of cruisers, the odd tourist and the ever-watched television. I read today that little statues of the Eiffel Tower or the Statue of Liberty are very sought after trade items. Guess someone has to worship the monoliths because we certainly don't. I guess that's how a lot of the world interacts with one another. Some folks back home only knew of the Marquesas through the Survivor show. At least, I had never heard of it so it still evoked some mystery when I did first learn about the Marquesas. I heard that they gassed the place to kill all the bugs first and cut down a lot of trees just to film it. Some survivors. May we fare better with the natives and bugs.

June 12-13: We have reached the 3-digit mark on the GPS and less than a thousand miles to go. Starting to get that itch in our pants, but that might just be salt crust. Amazing how the sea blurs the days together. We had a fish bite the cedar plug, merely a piece of cedar wood but it gets 'em every time, especially the mahi-mahi, silly fish. It peeled off so much line that the reel was warm to the touch. John and the fish muscled with one another until the fish got off. It got close enough to the surface that John thought it was a yellowfin tuna, but whatever it was, it was probably too big for us. The weather has stayed relatively calm. Supposedly, the trades will be building and clocking around more to the south-southeast so we are making our southing now before we get caught having to beat into sloppy seas to get down to the islands. Not too much excitement going on right now. vegas. We watched Young Frankenstein and I watched for shooting stars while jamming out to some bluegrass and dreaming about beach dance parties with everyone dressed as pirates. That's about it for entertainment on Dancyn. We are getting plenty of reports of waterfalls and tall lush peaks from boats who have already made touchdown. I made some bread in the pressure cooker. Not bad actually. Probably getting a lifetime's dose of aluminum from it but I expect the sea to get me before the Alzheimers does. We live by our pressure cooker. Beans beans and more beans. It reduces the cooking time to a matter of minutes. And I've only fallen asleep with it on twice (not on this trip though)--wonder I haven't blown up the boat yet. I've made some pretty tasty banana bread with all the ugly shriveled bananas hanging in our cockpit like old men's droopy fruits. Surprising wonders with the pressure cooker. We use propane to cook with and only keep one 20-pound canister that's out in the cockpit. We haven't run out of gas yet in our travels, but we are careful with it nonetheless. It would be saltines, dried fish and peanut butter til we could get more. A canister lasts us at least 2 months. We have a propane grill outside as well and small canisters for camping that we could use in an emergency. I'm struggling to hold my eyes open so must be time to wake John up.

June 10th and 11th: Life continues to glide on by here on Dancyn. Blazing a trail across. Almost down to the last third of the trip and at this rate we could have a 21-22 day crossing. The weather has quieted down, and we are finally figuring out how best to fly this old bird. The seas are still confused and jerky, although I guess we are pretty much used to it, but the wind is come down. Cooking is most certainly a challenge. I do most of the cooking, John in turn, deals exclusively with our honey pot--where all the magic goes! I'm in charge of putting the food in, and he's in charge of taking out the gar-bage, so to speak. Have I mentioned the honey pot before? Perhaps I should enlighten. Most boats have a bona fide toilet and can be flushed by pumping a handle. Its supposed to go to a holding tank, although don't be fooled, many cruisers who have left the civilized world of marinas and city anchorages behind don't bother with that step and just pump directly overboard. Careful swimming around other boats for fear of unwanted encounters of the doodoo kind-especially the French boats some would say. Its nice not being the most loathed country out here; French cruisers have bad reputations. "Most boats outfit their boats to go cruising, the French go cruising to outfit their boats." Or so the saying goes. Although our only interaction with them has been fine. One boat even showed up with a bottle of Martineque rum for our help in moving his boat. But the potty situation on Dancyn is slightly different. We have a pack-a-potti with something like a 5-gallon capacity. So when the magic bowl is full, we pack it out and dump it overboard so that we may add our stew to the offshore life. It gets tricky if we are anchored somewhere and its in need of some dumpin'. Many a time, John has gone out fishing, only to return with an empty head. But we are good to dump it away from the anchorage, on an outgoing tide if we can. I have basically been absolved from ever having to deal with it. While in Zihuatanejo, Mexico, I had to run offshore in the dingy for an emergency dumping because we had both come down with bad rear, but since John was the worst of us both I volunteered to empty our rather full pot. He was laid up with 104 fever for several days, while I only had 102 and recovered after 2 days. Because of my saintly deed, I haven't had to touch it since. Obviously things are going along okay out here if I'm carrying on about Dancyn's movements. We caught a mahi-mahi yesterday and today. Small fellows, but tasty tasty and perfect enough for dinner for two and then some. A little seasoning, tossed onto the grilled, cooked so that it's still slighty rosy and juicy. We had some radio issues and had to resolder the PL-259 coax connector coming out of the T-4 line isolator and into the AH-4 Icom automatic tuner. Uhhh, yeah. Not the easiest job with our dollar store solder iron though. John was pretty bleary-eyed figuring it out. We had such a strong signal afterwards we contacted the ol' ham fellers up in the states via the Maritime Mobile Service Net that runs almost 24 hours. Basically, some dudes operating some snazzy rigs from their homes as a service any maritime traffic--that's us. I got my amateur radio license last time I was in the states, so at least I got that going for me. This net will take any traffic from just about anywhere, to crazy hamheads driving around in their vans with mobile radios to people out in the middle of the pacific. Great resource actually. Should we be in need of anything, broken engine, broken bone, they will try and help us out or at least keep us company while we contend with the forces of nature that work to kill us. We also phone patched to John's family today. Pretty damn cool. The radio is also how we do email, a free service for licensed hamhocks. A dip in the kitty, but the $1700 was worth it. We heard a man checking in that is single-handing his way across the Atlantic. He has gotten beat up in 60 knot winds, has had some engine failure and has crushed his hand--new meaning to single handing, har, har. Someone phone patched him to his wife. He'll be in Barbados by daybreak. Amazing stuff. Probably one of our best chances of survival should something go critically wrong.

Half way song, June 9, 2004: We are over half way! Downhill from here. We are finally getting the boat dialed out. Flying the right amount of sail that is comfortable yet still maintaining crotch rocket speed. Fellow cruisers also making the big hop with single-side band capabilities have been meeting twice a day on a set frequency. Such a radio net allows us to keep up with one another, offer assistance when needed, and give local weather conditions. This last one is most helpful. We were on the tail end of the migration, so a lot of boats have already made landfall. We heard from a couple daring ones who headed further south to Pitcairn, the famous inbreeding hole of the Bounty mutineers, and the Gambiers, on the tail end of the Tuamoto island group that until recently was still subjected to French nuclear testing on nearby islands. Pitcairn is tough because there are not any fair anchorages that aren't subject to winds that can suddenly put a boat on a lee shore. Needless to say, the people still living there appreciate any visitors-and genes for that matter. These islands lie pretty far south, so it can be a bit of beat to get there. Everyone has to sing a half way song. So here is ours. It is Dancyn's first (and possibly only) country love sea shanty. Closer to You We're sailing across the ocean blue, we're sitting here naked, we got nothing else to do, We're sailing across the ocean blue, half way to nowhere but closer to you John Rand he bought a sports car, he hoped to sail the oceans, He met himself a redhead, convinced her of these notions, We pushed her to the limit to help her get us there, On the second day from port, the spinnaker did tear, He thought 32 feet big enough, she was light and she flew But now we know for certain, she just wants to make us puke We're sailing across the ocean blue, we're sitting here naked, we got nothing else to do, We're sailing across the ocean blue, half way to nowhere but closer to you Each day we find a new leak that slowly fills our bunk, We yearn for sun and calm seas to rid us of such funk, We always troll our lines in hopes we get a bite But the tasty little vermin eat our lures out of spite, And should we get a' lonesome, we got Whatever and Waterdragon They're close enough for talking 'bout politics and constipation We're sailing across the ocean blue, we're sitting here naked, we got nothing else to do, We're sailing across the ocean blue, half way to nowhere but closer to you Last email from my mama said the tax man was not pleased But he can keep on shuffling his papers, he'll get nothing out of me When we hit those distant shore, we'll be down to our last dime But we have every intention of spending it on overpriced french wine Or maybe we'll just keep keepin' on to that place beyond the sea We've got plenty of love to go around and at least the wind is free We're sailing across the ocean blue, we're sitting here naked, we got nothing else to do, We're sailing across the ocean blue, half way to nowhere but closer to you Yahoo--Obviously got a little time on our hands out here. It sho' does beat a desk job.

Dancyn's Pacific Crossing Stradegies by John Rand: DANCYN's PAC Xing STRATAGIES At first we felt we would just go Southwest until we saw palm trees! It turns out to be a bit more complicated. The first obstacle is leaving the Galapagos which sits just below the equator, a windless band around the planet. You all know what a champ our Universal Atomic Four gasoline engine is but the possibility of a 5 to 8 hundred-mile steam along the rhumb line until the wind filled in around 3 or 4 degrees south was daunting and unpractical. These sought after winds are the trade winds running across the pacific. SOOOO! After picking up a few extra jerry cans at the hardware store, we stormed off in the back of a pickup truck through the heat of the lava fields to the gas station on Isla Isabella. Fuel in the Galaopagos is $1.02 a gallon as compared to $4 in French Polynesia. Stocked up and back on board DANCYN we filled the cockpit with gas cans! Our plan was to slowly motor southward to get to the wind as soon as possible. This would add miles to the trip but would limit the potential "week" of drifting around until far enough south to move along on the trade-wind highway. This sounded simple and so we motored out of Puerto Villamil south bound. The wind was a bit east of south and very light so we put the biggest headsail up and kept the wind slightly forward of beam, our fastest point of sail in the soft stuff. The wind shifted around in all directions but we motored when we could not sail. After six hours we killed the motor feeling we were pushing our luck and asking a bit much from the A4. We drifted that night for a few hours until the sound of the Air X wind generator woke me up. Err, I mean made me aware of the wind direction; ahh, yes that's it. It had picked up enough that on a close reach the apparent wind was enough to get us tugging along at 5 knots. It was an unexpected surprise but we sailed south to 3 degrees south where the trades had filled in prematurely. What great luck! With the first obstacle over come we went in search of the best wind for DANCYN and crew! She likes a bit more than we do. The pacific is nice in that there is a distinct gradient to the force and direction of the wind. From East to West she shifts from SE to E winds. From North to South there is a pronounced band of stronger winds and current. Finding the "SWEET SPOT" is the trick. Down South around 9 degrees the wind can be a steady 25 knots, close to gale if it pipes up in the afternoon or around midnight. Around 3 degrees, we had 8 to10 knots but it was SE so we could quickly beam reach SW looking for the groove. There is also a current gradient with the strongest band being 1.5 knots between 5 and 7 degrees. That is a free 36 miles a day! Early on day three or so we heard of gales down South. With those lurking around we were timid about the wind but really wanted those free miles. All you mass consumers can understand the quest for free miles! We pushed south of the rhumb line, the straight line between the Galapagos and Marquesas. With that understood we needed to beat the second obstacle, THE DREADED POTOTO PATCH. This is a zone where the currents bend. Water screams east bound around Antarctica at 40 to 50 degrees South and is uninhibited by any landmasses. Some of this dense cold nutrient-rich water peels off around Tierra Del Fuego and becomes the Humboldt current. It is wicked fast and runs north dominating the western South American coast then peels out toward the Galapagos where it meets the southbound Panama Current. These two go head to head but the big one wins, although the winner, the Humboldt Current, loses some of its coldness and heads more west. The spin of the planet helps too! This zone lays on the rhumbline to Polynesia and can make for a ridiculously uncomfortable ride in light wind sailing. Needless to say it is hard to make it past there without some bruising! DANCYN's light air performance is good enough that we could cheat to the north and avoid most of the mess. Relieved to be beyond the light air and the mess, we started the hunt for the steady trade winds. Things were great around 4 degrees. The angle was more south than east and a fast beam reach was maintained but we were still in search of the current. Twice a day, we met with fellow cruisers also crossing the pacific on the single-side band radio and from their observations, we noticed that 6 degrees was the first that folks stated to encounter the free slide west. We had recently crossed latitude 5 South and noticed a difference between the knot meter, which gives speed through the water, and the speed over ground on the GPS. One free mile every hour feels mighty good and there is no annual fee! With 15 knots from the ESE we have settled into the rhumbline groove and click away the longitudes as we scream west! Aside from small squalls and uneven seas, all is well and we will maintain the rhumbline until we get more wind than we can be comfortable with upon which we'll back off from the wind, steady the ride, and point more west than southwest. The wind slacks off close to the last quarter of the trip, so we want to be north enough to cut across the Easterly winds. This will give us more lift in the sails and will keep the ball rolling so that we can avoid 3 days of drifting within sight of the lush waterfall-filled volcanic peaks! We have settled into the Westing groove along the latitude 6th degree south line. Below us the wind is stronger with more frequent squalls. Today we are surfing along and hope to break our trip record for miles per day. I had the main down for an hour and a half stitching a batten pocket and small tear but we have made up for that by now. We need 250 miles of Southing but 1600 miles of Westing! With 270 dialed in on the compass and the breakers dead astern, we slide our way to COCKTAILS and COCONUTS! We are making around 150 miles a day and have put the 1000-mile mark behind us in the first week. We are traveling within VHF radio contact of fellow cruisers, THE WHATEVER and WATERDRAGON. We have chatted a good bit and enjoy the distraction. Three very different boats with different limits and spped yet we all came within sight of each other after leaving Puerto Villamil, Galapagos, on the same day over a week ago! We gave THE WHATEVER a pirate flyby, mustaches, bandanas, and deadly spatulas in hand! For the costumes, we were rewarded with giggles and Ice Cream!….and so the adventure continues.

June 8, 2004: We had to perform our first major at-sea sail repair after one of the top panels of the mainsail ripped. Better than an at-sea emergency dental extraction. Luckily, it was along the seams but it did go clear across the sail, about 4-5 feet. It could have been worse. The weather wasn't up too much so we decided to leave the headsail poled out--we attach the end of the spinnaker pole to the sheet of the head sail so that it holds the sail open. Very handy for when we are running far off the wind, or close to dead down wind. The mainsail shadows the headsail so that it wants to collapse but the pole keeps it open. We took off the mainsail, filled the salon with our impaired sail and got out the needle and twine. It took us 2 movies and a better part of the day to finish. It was getting dark so we decided to put the sail up the next day to give us more time to find any more boo boos. Mistake! The wind came up, probably close to gale force, 35 knots, and we were stuck with a poled out headsail that was oversized given the conditions. The seas started to stand up, a couple actually coming over the stern-a first. We wanted to get the pole down so that we could reduce headsail, but in order to do that, we have to douse the headsail completely. Since we had no mainsail, we didn't want to be completely without sail for the fear of turning beam to the seas and toppling over. Perhaps the most hair-raising sailing we have done so far. We were sailing close to a steady 10 knots, more like running out of control at 10 knots. Our biggest fear was losing the headsail or worse, breaking the wire that holds the headsail up. I took the tiller and John finally was able to bring in a little bit of headsail, despite the pole. This immediately stabilized things. We had put off doing this for fear of ripping a reefed headsail. Because we have roller furling for our headsail there are only a couple of sweet spots as we roll it up where its doesn't bunch up too much, thus it can take the strain of being under load. Yikes! I'll be honest, I had gotten a couple of "safety devices" ready. I'm trying to say mildly, we were a bit terrified, so I was gathering up the spare VHF, flares and GPS. What do we know. She is a tough broad, but our biggest lesson has been trying to find her sweet spots where we aren't overstressing the rig too much. Its so easy to go fast in this speed machine, actually any machine in 20+ knots, but we have to learn to temper things so we don't break anything. These long passages can be murder on a sailboat. Not to mention our nerves. The morning brought some relief. Some big lessons being learned. We are obviously in Neptune's good graces. Btw, the creaking in the mast is the mainsail halyard and is no big deal. We are so in tuned so all her moans and groans. Gotta be since we are literally out in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. NUTS AND GUTS!!!!

June 7, 2004 Rememberence: Weather has laid down considerably and we had some of the smoothest sailing yet. Favorable current pushing us along, we are holding 7-8 knots. The wind just blows and blows and blows. Only the shear waters, storm petrels, and of course the fabulous flying fish, are here to keep us company. My body has finally gotten used to the perpetual motion of the ocean. And so I even feel up to some ranting. We heard on the BBC that Ronald Reagan died. Man must have been old, what a long life! We were a bit dismayed at all the attention his death is receiving--not that anyone's life shouldn't be celebrated, but I find it ironic that someone who committed numerous crimes against humanity and the democratic process should be so exalted. The NY stock exchange is even shutting down for a day of remembrance. I suppose the Ministry of Making Money would honor such a man. But I suppose those very people don't want to remember the U.S.-funded death squads and massacres in El Salvador, the Iran-Contra scandal, the arms race. Ollie North sure was a fitting scape goat, but where were the Kenneth Stars who surely wanted to get to the bottom of such blatant lies and scandals? Certainly, if the country needs to know about the President's sexual relations outside of his marriage, we need to know about the CIA training the Contras to overthrow the democratically-elected Nicaraguan president by terrorizing and killing free citizens. We need to fully understand why the Reagan administration would give several billions of dollars to the El Salvadorian government, despite flagrant human rights violations and the eruption of a brutal civil war that ended up taking 75,000 lives over 12 years. The Iran-Contra affair certainly had to raise some questions that couldn't all be answered by Ollie North's obscure testimony. What was the U.S. doing soliciting $32 million from Saudi Arabia and using the proceeds from the sale of weapons to Iran to aid the Contras even after the U.S. Congress made it illegal to support military or paramilitary operations in Nicaragua? The list goes on: Grenada, Khadafi, Noriega, even funding for Al-Queda. And we mustn't forget the arms race. The U.S. participated in a Cold War that motivated the Soviet Union to build over 30,000 nuclear war heads to match our 20,000 something. Although we must give him credit for calling for a disarmament once his Star Wars plan didn't take off like the movies did. And so today, we remember Ronald Reagan because we are the ones left to figure out some way to dispose of all these nuclear weapons. The gift that keeps on giving. Why would the United States of America want to honor such an obviously power-hungry and paranoid man? Perhaps if we chose to remember more often, we would question current American policy that has us involved in an expensive escapade involving weapons, military force, and intimidation. Why don't Americans revere leaders who engage in the difficult process of using their heads first before their fists? After all, is not America founded on the principles of democracy, justice, and reason? What I have said here is not some classified top secret information, but is part of the recent history that has shaped our current events. Information has never been easier to obtain, yet we allow ourselves to remain in the dark. Read Howard Zinns' "History of the United States of America" and then go and read his sources, or read some books by the highly respectable journalist, David Haberstam, or the well-informed, Noam Chomsky. That's a good start. It is up to us to remember so it is up to us to educate ourselves of the truth.

June 6, 2004: Squally day. I woke up this morning, quickly jumped into my heavy weather gear, and went out to relieve one wired and tired John and tackle our biggest squall yet. Its wild to watch dark cloud masses chase down our tail bringing with it wind and sometimes rain. Its pretty easy to tell what is coming. Winds probably in the 30 knot range. The wind is not the biggest worry but the big seas that can be associated with such systems, especially after sustained winds. Had the most rain we have seen so far, although not enough to warrant soap and buckets. Dancyn is like a rocket ship and it definitely took me most of the day to begin to trust that she knew how to handle such nastiness. We had two reefs in the main and a hanky of headsail up for most of the day and we were still flying at 6-7 knots, breaking free and surfing at 9-10 knots. Dancyn is very sensitive, and its easy to tell when she has too much sail up because she heels over and rounds up into the wind, which makes the apparent wind even stronger which in turns makes us heel even more. If we allow ourselves to round up too much, we could turn sideways to the waves and run the risk of getting rolled. Rest assured though, we haven't seen any monster seas yet that could roll us. I think those are more Atlantic worries. It took us a while to dial things out, and for me to feel relaxed enough that she wasn't going to blast off into space. The wave surge picks our ass up and we ride the wave instead of the wave passing us by, thus we surf to the sound of water rumbling underneath the hull; its pretty exhilarating--and nuts, the fine line between control and out of control, or as John's black wetnurse would say, somewhere between lord have mercy and thank you Jesus. We basically have been running dead down wind and have actually lost some of our southing, slowly creeping to the north 15 miles over the past couple of days. But we are not too concerned because we sure do have a long way to go to the west. We rarely plot our position just to spare us the depression of how many more miles there are to go! It has taken us several days to get into a set schedule. We were just taking it easy at first, but now we are starting to keep more diligent watches, breaking the night up into 6 hour shifts. I do the first shift, around 7-1 a.m. The "John and Scott Show" comes up at 2 in the morning on the ham radio, so he has the second shift. Scott on Whatever and John tune in to talk about your standard sailor smack: politics, corporate corruption, electrical trouble shooting. Water Dragon doesn't have transmitting capabilities, but they can listen, so they usually tune in too. Its a long shift for sure, many boats do 3-4 hour watches. But if we cat nap during the day, we are getting used to staying up for such long periods of time. Its pretty easy to get sleepy as one does nothing but sit in the cock pit and look out into the night sky. We are certainly limited electricity-wise in what we can do, but we can typically afford a reading light. John is currently engrossed in Howard Zinn's "History of the 20th Century," so he can keep abreast of how big business has exploited the masses for personal gain. Just preparing for the revolution out here. The seas are uncomfortable to very uncomfortable and we are doing well to not so well at tolerating each other's crankiness.@

ICE CREAM! June 5, 2004: Against better reason and seamanship, "the Whatever" and Dancyn successfully pulled off an at-sea ice cream transfer. It took us the better part of the morning to meet up with them, having pulled apart by several miles during the night. We actually beat to windward a bit, sailing in the opposite direction of our destination, but we finally converged somewhere in the middle of the pacific ocean. A bit hair-raising, to tell the truth, to be that close to such a freight train. The Whatever is a beautiful gaff-rigged ketch, and she was flying all of her colors, 4 out of 5 sails. We pranced around them, John expertly sailing the bullet machine that is Dancyn, took pictures of each other dressed in our best pirate costumes, swapped a couple of gray poupon jokes as we glided by, and got close enough for Scott to pitch me a Magnum mint chocolate ice cream bar. ICE CREAM! Our first contact with fellow human creatures in a week. Not the smartest of moves, and we could have easily rammed a hole in the side of Dancyn from Whatever's bow sprint or boom, but its not everyday one has the opportunity to eat ice cream in the middle of the ocean. That is unless you have a boat with a freezer. The night picked up big time. Steady 20-25 knots, seas rising. We are both in need of some sleep which is hard to come by when the boat is pitching all over the place. She is holding up well though, probably better than we are. I have started "The Mists of Avalon" and so now enter the world of the Goddess and Druids and King Arthur and the Merlin, a world that has nothing to do with a rocking damp sailboat! Peace in the Mid-East!@

June 4, 2004: We definitely have a solid one knot current that we picked up sometime late in the afternoon/nighttime. We are flying! The swell and wind are starting to coalesce and come from the same direction. We haven't had to fly HARRY 'cus we have been doing a steady 7-8 knots. We are already a quarter of the way there, almost 800 miles, with an average speed of 5.8. That means the trip could be well under 25 days. I saw my first human sign of life this morning as the sun was peeking its head over the horizon. Some sort of fishing boat that blurted some Asian tongue on the VHF. Unfortunately, it sailed out of sight before we could get up close and personal to get a look at some nasty factory boat doing nasty things, like fishing with miles of piles of drift net gear or shark finning-cutting off the fins, throwing the rest away. Finning is a huge problem in the Galapagos where the lack of processing facilities, therefore jobs, makes selling shark fins to the Japanese at $8,000 for 100 pounds very attractive. Again, shark fin is believed to possess some sort of magic loin growler. We didn't run into any gear, or see any for that matter, which is always a plus since jumping into the middle of the ocean Commando-style to untangle gear from the prop or keel, although dramatic, is just plain scary. I had to jump in once, topless, knife in teeth (Johnny boy has a slight shark phobia-I think he is subconsciously guilty for all the mako that he has slayed-so I'm the swab that jumps in) to cut away a bottom set net that we pulled up with the anchor. Stupid us, the one gallon plastic milk jug and coke bottle buoys mean fishing gear in Nicaragua. We left port 5 hours behind the boat Water Dragon, fellow yuets in a 1968 33 foot sailboat, and an hour or so behind Whatever, some funky 55 foot steel barge sailboat. Amazingly, we have kept up with one another, remaining in VHF range the entire time which has allowed us to talk multiple times throughout the day about politics, conspiracy, food, fishtails, herbal remedies for constipation, etc. VHF has a much shorter range, 20-25 miles; the HF (high frequency), or single-side band, radio can have a range of hundreds or thousands of miles. We are light and fast in light air, but once you hit the steady 10-15-20 knot trade winds, speed is a matter of waterline, or length in the water. Not to mention, there is a whole lot of ocean and its quick to move out of site of one another. Surprisingly, Whatever is like a freight train, even in light air, and even more surprising is that we have been able to keep up with such a big boat. So late this afternoon, we all happened to be within sight of one another, the first time since we left. Water Dragon and Whatever danced around each other taking pics, but we were still a couple of miles off. We cranked up the Zepplin, donned the heavy weather gear, turned this bird to weather, and beat back towards them. We actually sail better upwind than we do downwind--argghhh, John had to go with the high-performance sports car! Unfortunately, the sun ended the day before we could get to them, so we resolved to meet up tomorrow. They have offered to attempt an at-sea ice cream transfer. They have ice cream!! We only have a small AC/DC reefer which just keeps the beer, cheese, excess fish cold. But they have a freezer! So we will attempt the pirate ice cream mission manana. HAR! I can barely get to sleep, I'm so excited. That and a new creaking noise coming from the mast is troubling enough to keep us both from resting soundly.@

We ducked under the 5 degree line to take advantage of a favorable 1-1.5 knot current. According to Don the weather man, the current is strongest between 5 and 7 degrees latitude, which means we get an extra 24-36 miles a day for free. Don, an old cruiser, is based out of California and is grand wizard of weather for cruisers along the western coast of Mexico and the run to the south pacific. Not sure if he even has a background in meteorology, but he gives excellent weather interpretations as well as personal weather routing advice which we greatly appreciate someone taking their time to help us out. He monitors specific channels throughout the day on the ssb/ham radio, and if the propagation is right, we can ask weather questions for our specific area. He downloads the same NOAA weather faxes that we can download via the ham radio and the sound card of our computer, but reading them is an art form in itself. This run from the Galapagos to the Marquesas is the longest offshore run, yet it's the easiest. We didn't even bother checking the forecast. We left, headed south for wind, and turned west once we found it. Low pressure systems off South America and the Southern Ocean can blow wind up our way, but nothing dangerous. Small frontal systems can be bothersome, like I've mentioned before, but if one pays attention, they aren't anything too serious. In fact, the whole down hill ride is called the Coconut Milk run and things don't start to get tricky until one is near New Zealand. Ahhh, coconuts and cocktails with little Polynesian umbrellas. In contrast to the Atlantic crossing; although shorter, one can expect several patches of 40 knot winds and frigid cold water. We were visited by a pod of striper dolphins. I think they may have been trying to get a glimpse of my necked-ness 'cus they sure were catching air. We didn't have much time to groove with them because soon after they arrived, our handline went tight and the reel started peeling out line. We lost the handline lure, lost the fish on the reel, and as we were recovering from all that excitement, our other reel went off. John muscled a 25-pound monster of a skipjack to the boat. Good lawd! A beast on rod and reel. Its no yellowfin but not as bad as the black, or Mexican, skipjack. Anyways, it all tastes good freshly wiggling with a light coat of soy and wasabi. We are marinating the rest for the grill and for drying into jerky. Sportfishing from a fast moving sailboat is oftentimes short of good times. We're thinking we'll just be trolling handlines from here on out despite John's rod withdrawal. People have a tendency to catch 50+ pound mahi-mahis and wahoos. We could shake a fish off easier and with less harm to the fish on a handline, besides what in the world would we do with 50 pounds of meat!...fish kebabas, fish chowder, fish steaks....pineapple fish, fish gumbo....I just realized that I had been sending the blogs incorrectly. Hopefully they'll be posted. This has become a good exercise for me and I figure I won't have too many more opportunities to cross the pacific, that is unless we get a bigger boat! I'm just young enough to be this uncomfortable but like the yachtie gurus say, cruise in whatever boat you can get off the dock the quickest. And as our friends, Hrai Roo, who crossed the pacific and back in a 20 foot boat say, to nuts and guts!@

Circumnavigators claim that day 4 of a long trip is the worst. Luckily for us, the seas straightened out, the wind was easy and steady, and the sailing fantastic. The wind remained a consistent 10-14 knots, not too hard, not too soft. We flew our second spinnaker, much smaller and heavier than the one we ripped, but it got us flying at 7+ knots. I tease John about what an impulsive buy the second spinnaker was-I can't imagine that many boats tote around two such lofty sails, but he was right in thinking that we needed one that could stand up to the 10-15 knot winds typical of the trades with the unexpected gusty surprise that can catch you off guard. And the price was right for a second hand sail in good shape. Its blazing bright red and orange material added a splash of color in the sea of blue. HARRY is sewn in giant letters across it. Having never seen the sail out of the bag before, we thought it simply said HAR which we speculated was pirate talk for haul ass or something. Kind of funny to be hauled around by this bright loud thing off the bow with HARRY scrawled across it. About as funny as some British folks we met who are sailing around the world on a boat named HOOTER, hooter being some sort of British racing term, that's plastered in bold white letters on the sail cover and cockpit wraps. The spinnaker is one of the trickiest sails. Its enormity makes it harder to control, especially if the weather picks up. And trying to douse it without ripping it, dropping it in the water, or being pulled overboard is even trickier. Fortunately, we recently bought a spinnaker sock, a long column of material that the sail fits up into that can be hoisted and doused by control lines thus opening or closing the sail at will. Don't know how we ever lived without one. Today's sky was magnificent. Big groups of exploded cumulus clouds spread out in all directions. We weaved our way through the dark rimmed squalls, dodging the more menacing looking ones. We were traveling west and the line of squalls was traveling due north so we would try to fall behind them or beat ahead of them. Nothing too HARRY--harhar-but some strong words of caution from a man who recently finished a circumnavigation was not to over stress the rig because fronts can come out of nowhere despite the best weather faxes in the world stating the opposite. We actually broke down and showered today--with soap even! Every couple of days, just gotta break down. I had been relishing my last fresh water shower for possibly weeks, but the funk was probably getting a little too funky. We always take salt water showers, fresh water being difficult enough carted around in 5 gallon jerry can containers. We have a wash down hose in the cockpit that makes it so nice for bathing, doing dishes, squirting sea lions out of the dinghy, etc. Believe it or not, salt water and soap, shampoo even, actually gets you feeling clean. If you dry off well enough, the salt will eventually brush off. I will say though that it doesn't beat fresh water and I get pretty tired of feeling damp after days of salt inundation. We are carrying about 75 gallons of water for the crossing, about 25 more than we normally carry. Figure a gallon or so a day gives us a 75 day supply. Of course, we have no intention of spending 75 days trying to cross the pacific, but we have to always be ready for the unexpected, i.e. a demasting that has wallowing around in the middle of nowhere. We're hoping to collect rainwater along the way. As we were lathering up, a billfish stuck its bill out of the water and swatted at one of the handlines. John had to play back and jerk the line real quick and then the sucker took off with our lure. Just bam, and then nothing. We did catch another baby mahi-mahi. But this time it went immediately onto the grill of death. Glad that day 4 has already given way to day 5 because the reality of spending weeks bouncing along in this small boat was starting to stir up a little anxiety.

Big ol' mashed tater lumps today, skins and all. Made for some rough riding. Swell and wind coming from two different directions bucking our little pony all over the place. Clear sunny skies and a fair amount of wind. We finally had to change head sails and were flying with two reefs in the mainsail. Reefing allows us to drop the mainsail and decrease sail area thus leveling out the ride. Our boat wants to heel a lot if we are going to windward with too much main sail up. We end up dragging our ass through the water which slows us down. Even though there is less sail area up, we gain speed and comfort by reefing. It was probably only blowing 15 knots, but because we had to sail closer to the wind, the apparent wind feels stronger. We actually lost some of our southing today as the strong wind from the south forced us to sail more west-north west. The weather finally came down some and we are comfortably trucking at 6 knots in a light wind forward of beam (beam is the side of the boat and anything forward of beam is considered upwind or to weather). The moon is brilliant. I guess its a day under full, although it already looks like it might burst or fall out of the sky. We had a record breaker today on DANCYN: The smallest Mahi Mahi yet, coming in at a whopping 14 inches, 2 pounds. We let the little babe go, although it was moments from ending up on the sashimi plate. Hordes of flying fish. They light up at once and big schools take to the air like storm troopers. A trip. Little things too, like less than 6 inches long. I saw one come out of the water, bank a hard left and fly up over the deck and back into the water. There were 5 dead on deck this morning as well as several squid that had committed suicide sometime in the night. Supposedly, we'll have nights where we are showered with flying fish and squid. Hopefully they'll just jump directly into my pot, save me the trouble of scraping 'em off the deck before the sun turns them into crusty boogers. We noticed a small rip in one of the batten pockets of the mainsail today, but that's what duct tape if for. Our bilge decided to go on the fritz and instead of pumping water out of the bilge and out of the boat, one of the valves in the hose was allowing water to trickle back into the bilge. So we took that all apart. Fortunately it was just some funk stuck in the valve (fishing line to be exact--John Rand!). Two years without incident and already we have 2 ripped sails and have taken the bilge apart and its only day 4 of the trip. We are in need of a new main and working headsail but that will have to wait until next spending season. There are several seasons when one is cruising: Working season, Spending season, Sailing season, Running out of money season, and around and around it goes. Ahhh, the boat, a hole in the water where all your time and money goes! The weather man is calling for winds up to 20 knots tomorrow associated with some weather brewing off the coast of South America. We won't get hit by any big storms this time of year, but we will get some wind and waves spilling off from the system. Hopefully it will be from the southeast and we'll be able to run downwind and really set this girl flying.