Saturday, May 21, 2016

Pacific Crossing Day Two

Bleary eyed we settled down into our daylight portion of the day, spending the time napping and snacking. The motion of the boat eased during the day but still, to go down below was to risk entering "the fun house." Here in the fun house, up is sometimes down and gravity varies from moment to moment. I watched Scott T. doing a good job standing down below in the cabin, his body at 20 degrees to the floor, his arms pin-wheeling around to keep balance. We stagger and we leap going from one end of the cabin to the other.

I'm wondering if Stan Huntingford, the designer of this boat, designed Traveler for passage making to Hawaii. Her galley is on the port side, as is her master berth. With a northwest, north, or northeast wind she will lean to the port all the way to Hawaii. Being on the low side, the galley is much easier to work in than if it was on the starboard side. As it is, you just fall into the galley instead of having to climb uphill to get there. Same thing for the master berth. Just fall into the stateroom and you are suddenly in bed! And thank you Stan, for giving us all those wonderful hand holds, nice fat solid things. I find myself being projected through the air and as I flail out with my arms inevitably I come in contact with one of those beefy marvels and it saves my noggin from crashing into the bulkhead.

Down below, the farther you go forward, the more fun-house effect you get. In the back stateroom or companionway, you get a heave and sometimes a twist. In the galley, you are more over the center of gravity of the boat so the motion is less. On the settee if you lay head to the stern you can feel your feet launching themselves into the air more than your brain. Scott Tobiason sleeps in the settee and so far he has not fallen up into the air and off the bunk. Forward in the fun house is the little tiny room where you poop against gravity. You might be able to hold yourself parallel to the earth's core by using your thigh and calf muscles but that porcelain bowl is gyrating madly. Make sure your aim is good, get-er-done, as they say, and get out of that hell house as soon as you can. As for the Vee berth... don't go there. It is wild in there. Up, down, sideways, twist, triple sal chow, toe loop, camel spin.

We are settling in, all proud of ourselves, when we hear the zinggggggg. Fish on! S.T. pulls in a wonderful looking yellow fin tuna. So beautiful. So elegant. She's about 4 pounds and provides us with a nice meal. Connie makes sushi rice to go with the tuna and it is a feast. What did we do? Was that an actual meal? Thus far we'd just grabbed whatever was handy to stuff in our mouths. Now we have a plate with two things on it. Now that's living!

I'm going on 2.5 hours sleep at this point and the crew notices that I'm not thinking too clearly so they hijack my shift and order me to bed. The wind and waves have abated somewhat so that when I fall downhill into the master cabin berth I cover myself in pillows and drop heavily off to sleep - my first deep sleep is wonderful. That night the stars are out, the planets align and we all (on our various 3 hour shifts) enjoy the IPOD and music as Traveler grinds through the night.

We decided to use noon as the start and end of each day's reckoning. We call it taking the noon sight, kinda like they do in Master and Commander. But we have not yet hauled out the sextant. Still, at noon, we take a reckoning, have a mini-meeting, and declare how far we have come and how far we have to go.

We mark the miles run, S.T. puts out the fishing lines, and we watch the four foot wind waves crash over the bow. We are not getting much done outside of clicking off the miles but that's ok. I'm just happy that my mind is starting to function and that the boat is holding together.

Scott and Connie and Scott, somewhere in the Pacific Ocean.

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