More grey – I can’t believe this! The sea is still heaving too. Where are the lovely blue skies and calm seas that I was promised as part of my Pacific crossing?
I look out of the window at the foot of my bed and see two tiny flying fish plastered to it, their transparent wings fanned out. They are less than one inch long and there are probably hundreds of them stuck to the whole of the outside of the boat.
I try to sleep to catch up on what I missed in the night but I think I fail. This may seem like a strange thing to say, after all, surely I should know whether I have slept or not, but I feel so unrested afterwards that I’m really not sure. I don’t know whether we are just not getting enough deep sleep, or whether our sleeping pattern (or the crashing of the boat) means that we are constantly woken when we are in a deep sleep. Either way, the watches are taking their toll, on me more than Mike because I have always needed more sleep than him.
For the first time we sail within a few metres of another boat, Noeluna. I call Matthieu on the VHF although we are almost close enough to shout to them. It’s lovely to have something to photograph as we have seen nothing but sea, sky, clouds, flying fish (ones that are actually flying and the stiff, dead ones littering the decks) and sunsets for days. I take quite a lot of footage of Noeluna skating over the waves as she comes from our starboard side and across in front of us, and Matthieu does the same for Jeannius. The realisation that he has his camera trained on us sends me scuttling below to put on some knickers and a sarong (the first clothes I have worn since we left the Galapagos) then our paths separate and they go to our port side and move further away again.
We now have three ripened plantains which I chop up and fry. We eat them with Ecuadorian cheese and honey. Delicious. Unfortunately I cook a bit too much again (I think I am still cooking for Jim as well) but we still eat it all. I must do something about my portion control otherwise we will end up with as much blubber as those sea lions we saw in the Galapagos.
The wind is mainly around 20 knots today so our speed averages around 8.5 knots as we skip across the waves. Walking around the boat is decidedly dodgy as you are sent lurching in all directions every time you have the stupidity to leave either a bed or a seat, but if you are seated in a good vantage point, especially at the wheel, it is a lovely roller coaster ride. When the huge waves come from behind you (the best ones are from behind) you are lifted up high onto the crest, where you literally hover for a second, speed rapidly reducing, before you skate down the other side. In sea conditions like we have now, the waves are coming from a more diagonal direction. This means you get the same lift and pause, but as you come down, the wave pushes the stern of the boat violently to the side and you go into a type of skid, like a car on ice. If it’s rhythmic, it’s wonderful; if it’s choppy (ie the waves are goo short), it makes you feel sick.
Mike sleeps in the afternoon as he has the two watches tonight. He is more successful than me. I go back down when he comes up (ships that pass in the night) and as I am lying there he calls me as we have a bite on the line. The line screams out despite his attempts to put the clutch on, but by the time he gets into his harness to reel it in, the line goes slack, and guess what, we have lost another line and lure. What is out there?
Our position is: 06 deg 52 min S, 116 deg 42 min W
Distance so far: 4260 nautical miles
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