Written by:
3/27/2010 5:59 PM 

Written at sea on 3/24/10. Posting from Isla Santa Cruz, Galapagos.

They are always there. The numbers that are slowly being crunched in the back of my mind. Calculations and equations I didn’t know I had at my command unveil themselves after years of disuse. At the start of the trip, the boat was making 150 miles a day. A 900 mile trip @ 150 miles/day meant six days….maybe I could surprise s/v Coconut with an early arrival. In the doldrums, 2 knots an hour or 48 knots a day. With 500 miles to go that would be 10+ days remaining. I’d better start eating my produce because it is going to rot long before I even make Galapagos. Now, 210 miles left making 3 knots under main and spinnaker. That’s 70 hours or 2.9 days to go.

Two days ago the best course I could make had me 10 degrees too far North. Somehow, deep in the recesses of my mind I can recall that Silly Old Hitler Caused All Hell Through Out Asia. If I take my correct course as the hypotenuse and the opposite as the distance my 10 degree error will put me North of my landfall then sin10 = Error/300(miles to go) or Error = 300*sin10degrees or ~ 50 miles. 75 new hours on the engine…is that possible? The engine makes me sleep well so maybe so. At .5 average gallons per hour that’s 36 gallons of diesel + spillage. Too much. Thank god I am sailing now.

The ships compass shows a course of 200 degrees. The GPS shows a course over ground of 250 degrees. Looking for my protractor for a quick vector estimation I find it broken. Damn. Using only the outer portion I draw the lines back to where the zero point, where the middle of the circle should be found. From this a quick and dirty sketch shows a current of almost two knots. The error may be large, but this isn’t far from what I’ve seen in trying to hold my course as much to the South as possible.

Damn. Another wind shift coming more from the South forcing me West. With only six knots of wind and the current to fight I just haven’t made much headway to the South. It’s been the same struggle for the past five days. The spinnaker is just holding wind on a course of 270 or due West. It spills its wind every few minutes in protest only to refill with crisp pop as it begins to pull again.

My navigation skills are on par with the rest of us who learned to sail with eyes fixed on the GPS. For most, this will be all they will ever need or want. If I am going to do this I want to do it properly, even if “properly” is only my own judgment call. With my copy of Bowditch by my side I’ll add the knowledge that has eluded me thus far. Once I’ve paid my respect to Lonesome George and the flightless cormorants of the Galapagos I’ll set sail again for the Marquesas. On that leg, I’ll pull out my dusty, second hand sextant and begin to unlock the navigational secrets held in the stars.

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