May 7

Written by:
5/7/2010 10:35 AM 

Tuesday May 5th, 2010 Woke just before the dawn to turn off the tricolor light and drop my jet head tuna lure over the side. Before doing so I added some extra incentive to the hook. While I was dressing out the mahi mahi a small strip of meat came off with the skin about 5 inches long. I trimmed it to a symmetrical shape, patted it dry with a paper towel, salted, and left it out overnight to cure. This morning it was very tough and made the lure much more desirable. Sure enough, I got a strike almost immediately, but alas, it only took the bait strip and not the whole hook. No worries, by then a little squiddy had landed on deck and he now adorns the hook as well. I would love some sashimi tuna for dinner. Wasabi, rice, and soy sauce are just waiting for the fish.

While the over arching goal has always been a circumnavigation I’ve never presumed it was a certainty. I’ve never looked much past the immediate goal ahead which, for a long time, was the Panama Canal. Now it is the Marquesas soon to be followed by New Zealand by December 1st. At each milestone I’ll take stock of Jargo’s condition and ability to carry on along with my own. It would be a lie to say I don’t often question my desire to carry on. Lately, I’ve been planning a 2 – 3 month motorcycle cruise of New Zealand. I think I need a break from my beloved boat and a little time to explore the islands of NZ while looking for hobbits from the saddle of a cheap metric motorbike.

Eventually I’ll have to make the decision as to what route I’ll take from New Zealand. West to Australia and the Torres Straight which will be at least another two year commitment to get stateside, or North to Hawaii and the US West Coast. My gut has mostly driven my course over the past 15 months and it always lets me know when I am forcing a decision I don’t like. New Zealand is still many thousands of miles away and so the decision has time to stew.

GPS says exactly 1,900 nautical miles to go. For you lubbers that 2, 185 of your statute miles.

Thursday May 6th, 2010 The sun set behind a huge bank of billowy grey clouds dipping silently and colorlessly below the horizon. Eight days in and night and day have become a fine line blending slowly one into the other with little to separate the two. The days work resulted in two beautiful, dense, golden brown loaves of home made bread. Fresh, hot, and steaming from the oven two Texas thick slices where whacked off and drowned in butter and kiwi marmite, a salty yeasty spread that looks much like the West System epoxy hardener. Fresh, hot bread is one of those things that can bring joy into the heart of any sailor.

My thoughts feel like those of a schizophrenic and I can’t find words to relate a single cogent thought I’ve held today. The leeward side of the boat is piled with books and charts that should help me pick a route through the thousands of Pacific Islands, but have only left me more confused. Images of loves and lovers from days past grace my thoughts often, but are as intangible as the wind that drives me onward. Always, the question festers, at 34, how is it that I find myself in one of the most remote, isolated points in the whole of this great earth?

I can’t remember the writer, but the words of a poem keep coming to mind, “I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep. Miles to go before I sleep.”

Friday May 7th, 2010 Jargo charges forward through the swell like a freight train on a twisted and tormented track. Winds have picked up to 18 – 22 and for the sake of making miles I am still carrying all sail. All I can bring myself to do today is to eat the bread with cheese, butter, and ham from yesterday and lie in my bunk with a book. I used to hear or read stories about trade wind passages where crew would set the sails and run for weeks without touching a sheet. I never thought they were true, but other than taking in and shaking out a single reef in the main I haven’t trimmed a sail in five days.

Clevis pins seem to be my biggest enemy at the moment. If you are fitting out a boat, make sure every clevis pin has a locking pin or throw it overboard. 15 months of sailing and it seems every nut, bolt, and pin is backing itself out. I walk the deck with pliers tightening random bits of hardware with every round up top.

Just short of the halfway mark. I fear it is really just now going to become challenging. Thanks to all for the Sat Phone messages. You can’t imagine how nice it is to receive them.