And Then There Were Two...

Saturday 30 April 2016

Today we bade farewell to our intrepid crew Bruce who, knowing full well what he was getting into, helped us sail Cinnabar 3,000 miles across the Pacific Ocean. No doubt about it, our trip was a heck of a lot more pleasant with Bruce on board to lend his expertise and experience. Plus, we got to sleep more with an extra person on watch which is always a huge plus. Bruce returns to the SF Bay Area to do it all over again in 2 months, but on the 2016 Pacific Cup Race from SF to Hawaii (on Hobie 33 AERO). Thanks Bruce and good luck in the race!

Landfall at last! Beautiful Taiohae Bay in Nuku Hiva.

Bruce's last night, happy hour with local legend Rose (here since '72) at her restaurant. And just-arrived singlehander John from the UK (40 days from Panama and no squalls!). We meet lots of interesting people.

Waiting for Bruce's taxi at Le Snack

Mexico - Marquesas Passage - Stats/Notes

GPS track from Baja to the Marquesas, Note position relative to other territories.

(TC)
Just for the record, here are some stats on the trip:

Route:                     La Paz to SJ del Cabo, then direct Fatu Hiva, Marquesas
Distance Traveled:    3000 nm (taking an average of 3 diff stats: route dist:                                                      2768; GPS track 3349;and Knot log 3239)
Dates:                     2016, Apr 3 (Sun) to Apr 21 (Thu)
Duration:                 18.2 days (436 hrs) (17 days from Cabo)
Avg Boat Speed:       6.88 kts
Avg Dist. per Day:    165 nm     (lowest = 140 nm; highest = 210 nm)
Highest TWS:           35 kts
Engine Runtime:       102.2 hrs (equals 4.2 days, or 613.2 nm @ 6.0 kts BSP, 
                                               or 20% of the total dist,)
Genset Runtime:     19.1 hrs (mostly to run the (1) reefer, (2) autopilot, and
                                            (3) boat electronics powered on for 24 x 7)
                                            (Avg time = 1.4 hrs /day, discounting engine hrs
                                               (when the genset doesn't run), for 14.0 days)
                                            (Est. Avg AH / day = 286 (220 A for 1st hr, 
                                              165 A for 0.4 hr)
Solar Runtime:        Daily when sun present
                                        - (Est Avg AH / day = 120 (est. 8 hrs sun / day x
                                             est avg 15 A /hr = 120 AH)
                                        - (max solar capacity = 410 watts, or 34 A / hr, 
                                             but I de-rate it to be realistic/conservative)
Beers Consumed:    <12    (Not much desire for this while on passage)

We used a lot of DC power on this trip, more than we typically do. I estimate the extra was due to the autopilot driving most of the time and having to work hard in the challenging conditions. Also, I was not too frugal on power usage because I enjoyed the benefits of it and our engine, genset, and solar systems were running well enough that I expected they could handle the load - and they did.

Breakages:
In general, we luckily had few failures. Other boats had problems with autopilots, radars, and torn sails,
1. Mainsail de-lam and tears - We expected some of this because the sail needs replacement, which we've been preparing for. Still, the sail got beat up pretty hard in the jerky swells and gusty squalls.
2. Jib sail chafe - The foot of jib chafed on the forward part of the pulpit; needs restitching. The new jib should be cut higher in order to miss the pulpit altogether.(Follow up - chafe not extensive - repaired)
3. Lots of water leaking into the cabin from around the mast - Not sure why yet - looks well sealed. (Follow up - root cause was due to halyard blocks crushing the deck's balsa core. Water entering through bolt holes. Deck needs solid repair).
4. Cabinet drawer frame broken - This cabinet held a drawer of heavy stuff. In the constant healing, the frame/facing broke and no longer holds the drawer. Needs repair. (Follow up- the facing was originally underbuilt. It has now been reinforced and repaired).
5. VHF remote microphone - This Standard Horizon mic under the dodger lost its display and buttons functionality. Speaker and lights still work. (Follow up - broken wire found in back of connector on panel - repaired).
6. Dinghy lifting ring tore off - (in port) - Looks like a mfg defect due to not enough adhesive. It's a 3-day repair process with 2-part hypalon adhesive, sandpaper, and toluene.

Pics of Trip from La Paz to French Polynesia

Wanna see more pictures???



ALBUM: La Paz to French Polynesia

One of our last sunsets at sea.

Navigating into our anchorage.

Pic - Cinnabar in Taiohea Bay, Nuku Hiva

Cinnabar relaxing at anchor after the 18 days and 3200 nm miles from La Paz, BCS, Mexico

Day - 18 - Land Ho! and Arrival Nuku Hiva, Marquesas

Sylvia monitoring the kite

(TC)

With the wind speeds remaining low throughout the night, 6-8 knots TWS, and our need to keep the daily mileage up (in the 150 nm range) in order to reach the barn the quickest, we motorsailed most of the last night and into the next morning. When the wind finally filled in, we shut down the engine and sailed. Mind you, we worship our Yanmar engine all the benefit it provides, however, the return of the "sailing silence" was blissful.

By late morning, the distance to go was less than 100 nm (72 actually); another exciting milestone reached. After a discussion considering whether to push hard and get to anchorage at dusk or slow down, spend another night at sea, and arrive in the early morning, we elected to "race the sunset" to the finish line. The wind continued to blow from a good angle (broad to beam) and with good pressure (12-17 TWS), so this tempted us to deploy our most powerful sail, the spinnaker. We took the bait and deployed "the kite", knowing it had the highest speed potential of any of our options.

It's a bit of a process to get the giant sail deployed - more lines, blocks, connections, communications, coordination, etc. , but with the need to correct a minor twist in the sail before hoisting, up it went, off the sprit, unsocked, into full-pull mode. The boat took off and sailed reassuringly FAST through the early- and then mid-afternoons.

About the time we were marveling at the power of the kite zipping us along, Sylvia shouted "Land Ho!". And just like magic, there it was - a faint, dark lump of an island to our southern side. "Wow - how about that?!". It's always a euphoric moment to spot an expected landfall after many days or weeks of seeing only the ocean and the sky, and the video-game-appearance of our electronic navigation screens in which we place so much trust. I'm continually impressed with the utility, accuracy, and reliability of the GPS system and technology, both on the satellites side and on the receiver side. Outstanding! We are close!

From its bearing, I knew the spotted island was not our destination island, Nuku Hiva, but one nearby (Ua Huka ). We raced on, with s/v SCOOTS keeping close tabs just a few miles behind us. We had an exhilarating 4 hrs run running under the spinnaker, getting in lots of mini-surfs in the medium-sized following swells. In the distance off the bow, Nuku Hiva started to take form under a pile of clouds as we closed in. It soon became early evening and the wind softened, so we doused the spinnaker and put her in her lair for another long hibernation.

The sun was dropping fast so we motorsailed toward the dark shadowy, looming mass. As we got near it, the jagged island form came into focus - vivid green carpets of jungle, steep hillsides, tall cliffs dropping into the sea, whispy clouds hovering close to the slopes. As dusk turned to darkness (2000 hrs, local), we turned into the Baie Taohaie, and dim lights from onshore and from anchored boats twinkled. We picked up the 2 red flashing range lights which guided our way deep into the bay. We selected our anchoring spot between the 50-odd vessels present while the moon started to shine brightly above the steep ring of peaks that comprise this ancient volcano. It took about another hour to re-assemble our anchor system out from its ocean-passage-storage location and deploy it in 43' of mud/sand.

Anchor down! Finally, we have arrived!

And within an hour, so did our pals on SCOOTS.

What a great feeling of relief and elation.

After a good sleep in the calm and safe clutches of the anchorage, the legendary beauty of this tropical paradise became clear as morning dawned.

Happy Days are Here Again and "Fish On"!

After I got the grim news from Scoots that we were in a gigantic rectangle of squally doom (500 mi x 200 mi) I went off watch at 9:00 p.m. and hit the pillow hard. It was still pouring rain but I had to ignore the drips in order to rest. I got up 6 hours later for the 3:00 a.m. to 6:00 a.m. watch and I was surprised to observe that the rain had stopped and I could see...wait for it...FIVE stars in the sky! It was pleasant outside, a bit damp, the sky was still filled with clouds, but I could see part of the moon peeking out between some clouds which was encouraging. I never bothered to wear my jacket during that watch, just my foulie longjohns with jog bra and I was perfectly comfortable. At 6:00 I went below to start the radio net and Vandy on Scoots had just downloaded updated weather info - the black wall of squall had moved and we were popping out of the bottom. Hooray!! Bruce, just coming on watch, was happy to hear the news. Later, when it was time for Tom's watch he stumbled by and read my 6:00 a.m. log: "Pleasant weather. No rain. Some stars and a moonset. Is this for real?" Better believe it baby, our weather had improved and the sun was out.

A couple of hours later Tom and I raised the mainsail above the 3rd reef to inspect the damaged mainsail. Wonder of wonders, the patches held. They weren't beautiful, and a couple of the corners weren't sticking down (not a surprise as the sail was rather damp), but miraculously the patches seemed to be holding the most important parts together.

We all perked up a bit after some rest and nice weather. The fishing lines went out, a bit of boat clean up was in order, and we enjoyed showers on the back deck. Divine!!

As the day was cooling off (from 95 to 93) I was even planning to have a real dinner again, Mac 'N Cheese and cole slaw. I got the slaw made and was just starting in on heating up the casserole (already prepped and frozen) when I heard yelling from the back of the boat. "Fish on!!!" Well, that got everybody hopping. I was out of the kitchen and Tom was out of his bunk as Bruce was on the stern reeling in his catch. Not a huge fish, but a 4' wahoo which would make at least three meals for us. Hooray!! Out came the gaff and filet gear, out came the camera, the Mac 'N Cheese went back in the freezer, and out came the prepped and frozen Jambalaya. Interesting food chain note, we found a baby blue fin tuna inside Mr. Wahoo's stomach.

By the time the guys had cleaned the fish I was ready to dredge the filets in blackening spice and throw them in the pan. We thoroughly enjoyed our dinner of 2 hr old Wahoo, blackened, on Jambalaya with cole slaw. It was delicious! I even managed to miss my evening radio net for the first time as I was preoccupied with stuffing my face and enjoying the sunset. We splurged and enjoyed some ice cold Negra Modelos with dinner.

Pic - Cinnabar Pacific Puddle Jump Crew

A blog reader pal requested more people pics.
Well, here's the three principals all in one shot and about to devour some delicious fresh-caught wahoo. Nothing like a fresh, beautiful, high quality fish to brighten one's spirits!

Day 15, 16 - "Shaddup-a-ya face!" - (SS)

Location: 4 S, 135 W
DTF: 396 nm

(SS)

My perspective should be titled "Shaddup-a-ya face!" It seems like every time I whined about something my wish would be granted. In spades. The day that we crossed the equator we had unusually welcome wind (we were expecting dead calm); yes we were going upwind instead of the expected downwind, but we were really moving! All good. Around midnight the winds dropped into the low single digits and we had to turn the motor on. "What?", I whined, "all that great wind and now nothing? I really wish we had a bit more wind for sailing." Less than 12 hours later my wish was granted and then some. The perfect conditions from the day before were now magnified into winds that were in the high 20s and low 30s as squall after squall engulfed us over the next 2 days. Our beloved auto-pilot would have a hard time maintaining course when the winds immediately jumped into the 30s, so hand-steering was required to get back on course. Ugh. (We had been experiencing squalls off and on which was to be expected, but every time I piped up with "This is the biggest squall I've ever seen!" another, bigger, badder, squall would materialize as if to remind me that Mother Nature can be bigger and badder than imagined. This became a running joke and I was instructed to shaddup-a-ya face.)

On day #1 of Squall Days while Bruce was driving in the worst winds yet (and I remained on watch for moral support) we looked up and saw a tear and de-lamination starting in our mainsail between the 2nd and 3rd reef. Uh oh. We babied the sail as much as one can in those kinds of winds and waves, with plans to attempt a repair if the wind ever abated. When we were able to (when the wind and seas abated somewhat), Tom and I rigged the 3rd reef (lowered the sail and reduced sail area) to hide and protect the damaged area on the mainsail. This worked well. Later on the sun came out, the winds lessened temporarily, Tom and I dropped the mainsail to the deck, and we attempted to patch the tear(s) with some dacron sticky tape. This stuff is magic, but would it hold in these windy, wet conditions? Time would tell. The rest of the day and night we were either on the 3rd reef (damaged area protected) or we dropped the mainsail altogether, sailing (or motor-sailing) with jib only. And still going fast.

During this time another boat was very close to us. We had met Eric and Vandy aboard Scoots (52' sailboat) in La Paz before they traveled to Puerto Vallarta to prepare for this trip. They left PV a day before us, and coincidentally we ended up in the same patch of ocean just prior to the weather turning bad. We spoke to them on the VHF radio a few times, and also over the HF (Single Side Band) radio a couple of times per day when we got too far for the VHF. I wouldn't have wished our bad weather on anybody else, but it was very reassuring to have another boat close by. At least we could commiserate and share squall war stories. We weren't alone!

Day #2 of Squall Days was wet wet wet with constant, unceasing hard rain throughout the day. (And yes, I had stupidly commented that Cinnabar would need a good washing after yesterday's salt spray was all over the boat.) When we bashed for 3 days out of Kauai in 2010 we thought we'd found all of Cinnabar's leaks. Ha! Nothing like sitting under a waterfall to help one find more little areas where water can enter, not to mention the pools of water at the bottom of the companionway steps with all the comings and goings of crew on and off watch. I was dismayed to see water collecting in the folded mainsail where the patch was, drooping heavily and slowly leaking onto the boat. Also, with all the windows closed and temps in the high 80s, Cinnabar was like a sauna. With the galley funhouse on extreme overdrive, dinner that night would be a simple meal of Molletes (Mexican grilled cheese and refried bean sandwiches, they're excellent, try them!) and jicama sticks in lime juice. Easy to eat, hot comfort food, protein, and no plates needed. Oh, and chocolate truffle brownies of course.

This day we even pulled out our foul weather gear for rain protection. This is normally cold weather gear, so under my foulie longjohns I wore only my dainties which turned out to be a perfect combination. And I didn't have to coordinate my outfit!

That night I spoke to Scoots on the radio. They had just downloaded the most recent weather info and they reported we were in the midst of a huge area of strong convection (squall making weather) which was 500 miles wide by 200 miles tall. And we were only 20% of the way through it! Could we stand another 2-3 days of this stuff? Oh, to see the sun, the moon, a few stars. I was tired of mopping up water, worrying about my sail patch, and being sideways, but I dared not wish for a thing. Tomorrow would be another day.

Days 15,16 - Dreaming of Tradewinds but Receiving More Bad Weather - (TC)

(TC)

Just when we should be entering the southern trade winds and enjoying a fast sail to the finish, Mother Nature taught reminded us a key lesson. It can always get worse - and it did. And bad weather is still often unforecasted.

The nightly squalls got really bad - as in continuous and no longer intermittent, and the rain came in a constant deluge. Moreover, it didn't clear up during the day either. It just poured and poured. Grey, gloomy overcast, winds from all directions, 8-10 fts seas, a 1/10 mile visibility. I had to laugh. It was like those exaggerated ocean conditions you see in the movies - sideways spray, pitching decks, howling winds. hard men crawling on all fours across the slanted ship decks. I'm not kidding - it was just like that. If it weren't for the warm air temp, I would've thought we sailed into the Gulf of Alaska or some other known storm zone. At times, the water blanketed the ocean so hard it momentarily reduced the size of the waves.

To add to the anxiety, a 'mystery' tuna fishing boat came from nowhere and got close (1.7 nm). He was not transmitting any AIS signal. A VHF call confirmed that he was from Ecuador, 22 days at sea so far, and that he'd stay clear. Don't they have a ton of fish in Ecuadorian waters - what's he doing way out here? The presumed skipper of this vessel said of our sailboat voyaging - "I wish I was doing what you are doing. Perhaps someday". Was he nuts? I wanted to get on his much larger and stronger boat right then and there!

Then, sometime later in the day, when the visibility was a only couple of boat lengths in the midst of the "monsoon trough" storm, another ship target appeared, this time on AIS but on a collision course, in about 2 hrs. A VHF call confirmed that this 695' freighter was headed to Japan and they would keep clear. I was relieved to see the ship's track make an early 20 degree course correction to take our stern. I thanked the skipper for his clear action and he said "It was his duty". Our cordial contact ended with us each wishing each other a safe journey.

This type of direct collision avoidance makes the AIS gear so valuable to the maritime community.

We did not know how long the stormy conditions would last, but we kept trying various configurations to keep the boat as safe as possible and able to handle the rough conditions. We settled on carrying just a jib sail for most of the time. After a couple of days, the conditions abated to very little wind, so we resorted to motorsailing until we found more (good) wind, which we eventually did.

I record these thoughts so I do not forget the experience - what it can really be like. It is so opposite of the sunny, delightful, sandy-beach sailing mag covers.
I'm now tired of writing about the crummy weather we've had, but I wanted to record my perceptions in the moment. It will now cease to be a main topic.

The crew is all pretty exhausted and tired of the weather trials, but everyone keeps standing their watches and Cinnabar keeps holding strong.

Pic - Back to the Future

..The stormy weather caused the mad scientist from the classic movie Back to the Future (aka Bruce) to break out his skiing jacket/lab coat, expecting 6' of snow any minute.

Pic - Ecuadorian Tuna Seiner Fishing Boat

.crossing our stern, no AIS, in limited visibility. After I radioed sv Scoots on the VHF to give them a heads up about the vessel, the Tuna skipper come on the air and chatted us up. I didn't have the nerve to ask what his electronics engineer was doing at the moment.

Day 14 - Radio Communications - How Copy? Over?

Greetings all from SS, BL, and TC,

Date/GMT: 2016/04/18
Status: Enroute - all good enough
Position: Somewhere S of the Equator
Winds (T): Too much or too little from All Directions
Perf: Boat Speed Over Ground 6-10 kts COG 210 M

(TC)

I was a little surprised a while ago when Sylvia expressed an interest in getting her Ham/Amateur radio operators license. What? I thought that was for electronics nerds and geeks , of which she is neither. Turns out, for some radio bands useful for cruising on a boat (The Pacific SeaFarers Net, for example), a Ham license is required. She studied very diligently and got her General Class license a little while back. (So did I. I AM a nerd (of sorts) and I just couldn't be outdone here!).

A lot of long distance radio communications is still done by HF (High Freq) radio and boaters make use of this equipment. There are Ham bands and SSB (Single Sideband) bands. The SSB bands do not require a special operator license like the Ham bands, and so most boaters use SSB bands and do just fine. There are networks (nets) where boaters/cruiser agree to meet regularly to discuss stuff all things boating-related in a foreign lands. Where are the best anchorages, where to get fuel, wifi, groceries, etc. Where are people headed, what is the weather, are there any emergencies that folks can help with? Some nets are permanent, some are temporary, like when cruisers go on long passages (like this one), there's a daily check-in on the HF radio where essential info is exchanged (e.g. locations). If there were any emergencies, recent info could be given to rescue authorities if needed. Mostly, cruisers work to help out each other and authorities are seldom contacted.

Well, since obtaining her Ham license, Sylvia has been active on the airwaves, especially on this trip. She's on the HF radio about 30-60 mins, 2x each day on 2 different nets. Sometimes she's even the net controller, taking the rotating role of coordinating the daily/weekly call-in. She's been talking to folks from Tennessee to Hawaii to Mexico to New Zealand, sometimes all in the same night. Also, she's even talked with some of our shoreside friends, like Rich in San Jose, CA and Seth in La Honda, CA. You could even call us if you wanted to (details were provided in an earlier post). It's usually a real moral booster out here alone on a boat to hear friendly and familiar voices as well as some news over the radio.

Handling the radio is also another time-taking chore on the boat in addition to the myriad of other tasks to be done. People have commented that Sylvia has a pleasant radio 'personality'. calm, clear, and positive, even when the ocean conditions are often unpleasant. From my standpoint, I think she sounds good too and it seems like she's having fun connecting with others from our 'nautical tribe'. Now, I've become quite fond of Sylvia getting her Ham license and putting it to good use. Bravo Zulu, as our good friend from the Navy would say, from N6TJC to KK6NQT.

Pic - Sylvia at Radio Central aboard Cinnabar - the navigation station, in red-lighted night mode.

PS - Q - Why not use satellite comms?
A - It is very expensive, even in this day and age (like $1-$5 per MINUTE), it's very slow, and it is person-person private (no community broadcast).
It's great benefits are for emergencies and for getting weather data and low bandwidth email.

Day 13 - The Southern Hemisphere, Equator, and Shellbacks

Greetings all from SS, BL, and TC,

Date/GMT: 2016/04/17
Status: Enroute - all good
Position: 00' 00N 132 36' W (700 nm NNE of Finish/Nuku Hiva; 1924 nm SSE of Cabo)
Winds (T): 100 (E) @ 12-17 kts
Perf: Boat Speed Over Ground 7-8 kts COG 210 M

(SS &TC)

One of the numerous milestones we have been looking forward to on this journey is to cross the equator and change our status from Pollywog to Shellback. (A sort of Navy tradition.) Today it's official! As of 11:49:24 Zulu (04:49:24 Pacific Daylight Time) Cinnabar carried us into the Southern Hemisphere. Shortly beforehand, the moon set and the night sky became lit up by a stunning display of stars and planets to greet us into the new hemisphere. We were told to expect light downwind or no wind, a motor across the equator, and a jump in the ocean if we were lucky. Ha! We've been zipping along on a close reach (!!) since yesterday morning straight down the rhumb line at 7-9 knots SOG (speed over ground) without missing a beat. Who knew that we would cross the equator, upwind, in just terrific sailing conditions? What a treat, and Cinnabar couldn't be happier.


Immediately after crossing, in the dark at 5 AM (local) we had our special crossing ceremony by red headlamp and it was just perfect, making our special toasts of grog to friends and family past (who have left us), present, and future; and of course, making it "a double" offering for Neptune's share! Per tradition, veteran crosser Bruce played King Neptune, bonked us on the head with a pool noodle (knighted us) and thusly welcomed Tom and Sylvia into the Shellbacks Club. We put a bit of a dent in our bottle of grog, but it was all for a good cause and don't forget that the real King Neptune got a couple of generously sized swigs himself that we splashed into the ocean in the hopes of continued primo conditions.

For the record, we saw no yellow line, or white bioluminescence, or other magic marker to denote the equatorial boundary. We only knew because now the water flushes down the heads counterclockwise; just kidding. We knew only because 4 of our GPS's told us so (and they agreed)! From now on we start gaining latitude, but in the SOUTHERLY direction.

A couple of hours later we were surprised by a hail on our VHF radio from our friends Vandy and Eric aboard the sailboat Scoots. They saw on their AIS that we were within range of a VHF radio call and it turns out they had also crossed the equator in the same area less than an hour before us. They have a 53' boat and left Puerto Vallarta around the same time we left La Paz, so it's quite a coincidence that we crossed the equator within one hour and 18 miles of each other.

Later this morning we had a special equator-crossing Sunday brunch to continue the celebration, and yesterday we made a big batch of chocolate truffle brownies for treats.

Onward to the Marquesas!

Pic - Dusk in the ITCZ

Will it be a mild or wild night?

Pic - SS and TC Take Cover

.during a deluge from a squall in the ITCZ.

Pic - Sailing Track and Spin During Squall

..as seen on the navigation program screen.

Mexico-Marquesas Passage Update - Day 11 - ITCZ Survival

Greetings all from SS, BL, and TC, (TC)

Date/GMT: 2016/04/15 1952 hrs (local) - Tax Day!
Status: Enroute
Position: 02 42' N 129 41' W (1675 nm SSW of Cabo; 938 nm NNE of Finish/Nuku Hiva)
Winds (T): 075(ENE) @ 12-17 kts
Perf: Boat Speed Over Ground 6-7 kts COG 220 M

It's been a rough few past nights since we entered the infamous ITCZ, or Inter-tropical Convergence Zone, where the sun heats the ocean all day, causing massive evaporation (convection), resulting in puffy, towering cumulonimbus clouds, which after dark, transform into black stormy squalls with heavy rain, strong gusty winds, angry seas, lightening, and thunder. The forecast before we entered literally said there was "NO ITCZ" at the time, which means that there was generally none/minor/moderate convection, but not enough general weather energy to declare a proper ITCZ.

So, wanting to believe in an easy passage, I thought we'd scoot on through and dodge the real ITCZ. Well, ahh.....NOT! The ITCZ formed as we were entering 8N latitude and continued through 4N latitude. So, we got smacked by the legendary bad weather. The first night, we had 'dry squalls' which give lots of gusty wind from varying directions, making the boat go fast, easier to break, and harder to control. But no rain. The next night we only had one small sail up (jib) and fared moderate squally weather with rain, but we paid in slow performance, and, without a mains'l up, the boat was really, really rolly. The third night, we kept up more sail area, jib and double reefed main, and got hammered! The winds were stronger, the seas bigger, the rain torrential, the night blacker, and the squalls angrier than any other night. It was a challenge to keep the boat under control for the duration. At one point, I thought I completely spun a full 360 deg donut to stay ahead of the rotating winds, but later review shows it was 'only' a 270 deg turn. (see track pic).

There's nothing good about this - except that like pain, it makes one knows ones alive. It's just an endurance mission.

During the daytime, the squalls would retreat into hiding as the sun came up and we could recharge our bodies and regroup. The sailing was quite good then, if not rambunctious.

Last night, we retreated to the single sail (slow, conservative) configuration and low and behold, it was an easy night with moderate winds and no squalls. Sleep! We all got some glorious sleep!

I've gotta give credit to my shipmates too - Bruce and Sylvia are both real troopers.

In the end, we were fatigued from 4 nights of squall battling but the boat came out unscathed. We are now at 2 deg N (120 nm) of the equator, in flatter water and moderate winds, and think we are free of the rotten clutches of the ITCZ. So long, sucker!

With light winds forecast ahead, we rigged up the spinnaker gear today in anticipation of flying the colorful beast. If conditions are right, it will help us get to the finish faster, now less than 1000 nm away (931, actually). We'll see!

Pics, if they come through, should show:
A. 14 nm wide squall as seen from the radar screen
B. Boat track - 270 deg spin
C. SS and TC hunkering during a squall
D. Editor's choice TBD.

Passage Update - Day 9 - Middle of Nowhere, Almost Literally

Greetings all from SS, BL, and TC, (TC)

Date/GMT: 2016/12/1934 hrs (local)
Status: Enroute
Position: 08 52' W 125 38' (1250 nm SSW of Cabo; NNE of 1347 nm from Nuku Hiva)
Winds (T): 16-22 kts @ 050-044 (NE)
Perf: Boat Spd 8.2 kts SOG 7.2kts COG 209 M

This is the 9th full day at sea since leaving Cabo and we are about 62 nm shy of the halfway mark. Hooray!
We are in really good winds and going almost straight down the rhumbline. Today is is sunny and very warm, puffy cumulus clouds building their ammo for tonight's energy releases. The boat is scooting along under a conservative smaller sail config (double-reef main, 15% reef jib); it's all we need. She seems comfortable swishing along at 7-9 knots, just under surfing speed. We are being cautious to preserve gear and crew, denying our racing roots to push, push, and push! (and possibly break)

It's hard to overstate the vastness of the ocean realm out here; for as far as the eye can see - 50 nm radius at sea level , a couple hundred miles if looking up into the clouds - there is nothing but water, waves, sky, zipping flying fish, and the occasional seabird. We are only ones out here - no AIS tracker targets for days - and we seem like the literal drop of water in the sea, a grain of sand on the beach, a single cell in the whole of the human body, a single sprinkle on a whole cupcake - have I used enough cliches yet to get the point across?

In other words, we are in the middle of our passage, in the middle of nowhere, which if you must know, is also where the Clipperton Fracture Zone lies, in 3987 meters (13,080 ft) depth, according to NGA Chart Int 51. Muy fondo! (deep). I guess there be tectonic plates down there somewhere. If you ever wanted to truly get away from it all, I can personally recommend this place.

And I can finally check 'Middle of Nowhere' off my bucket list!

All remains well aboard. Spirits are good. The 24 hour operations/watches, fatigue, constant pitching, rolling, and yawing of the boat, and the excessive heat are all a bit taxing, so it's no resort club here. But I can't complain. The AP keeps driving, we continue to make water, electricity (w/solar and genset), the HAM radio and GPSs continue to function well, and the boat keeps on trucking. Looking forward to a continued favorable situation and good winds to keep pushing propelling us towards Nuku Hiva (for 'free'!).

Pic attached - A GoPro view of Cinnabar and hydrodynamics in action.

Listen to HF Radio over the Internet

Thanks to a helpful friend, here's the specific link to listen to the Seafarers Net HF Radio on 14.3 MHz.

http://14300.net/avlinks.html

Take a listen to the 8:25 PM (PDT) boat checkins and perhaps hear Cinnabar (currently about 1600 nm S of the SF Bay Area and approaching the halfway point to The Marquesas)

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Web Tracker - YOTREPs (Yacht Reports site) and HF Radio Schedule

Thought I posted this to our web page a week ago but maybe it didn't stick?
Trying again!
--TC

TRACKING

For tracking Cinnabar to the S. Pacific/Marquesas, this site should be posting our daily position reports and track:

http://www.pangolin.co.nz/xtras/yotreps/tracker.php?ident=N6TJC

(If that doesn't take you directly to our track, go through the main page and find the 'boat reports' page and look for the link to our track there. N6TJC is my (TC) HAM call sign and how the boats are indexed).

http://www.pangolin.co.nz

If there is no report showing up, DO NOT WORRY. We are OK and we are enroute.


HF RADIO

Cinnabar will likely be on these daily HF radio nets:

Time
PDT / UTC Net Channel

0800 1400 PPJ 8.297 MHz LSB ("8B")

2100 0300 Pac Seafarers 14.300 MHz USB Talk in/Chat

2125 0325 Pac Seafarers 14.300 MHz USB Roll Call

You can even even LISTEN OVER THE WEB to the nightly roll call of boats and net controllers whom are using their HF radios. There's a link to listen live on the web somewhere on one of these web pages:

http://www.pacseanet.com

or here ???

http://14300.net/

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The Boat is a Funhouse

(Sylvia)
When I was a little girl my father used to take me to Playland at the Beach in San Francisco. I loved it. I especially loved the Funhouse. I could stay there all day. I wanted to live in the Funhouse. Now, as it turns out, I do.

Traveling on a boat on the ocean with wind and swells is just like being in a funhouse. Really, it is.

1) Take for example the heeling. For the first four days we were on a starboard tack and heeled over to port. In Real Person speak that means the wind was coming from the right (starboard), hitting our big mainsail, and pushing it to the left (port). When the mainsail got pushed over the boat attached to it leaned over as well, so for four days we functioned in an environment that was not horizontal, but tilted significantly to the left. In order to walk we had to lean right. Just like The Funhouse with its moving floors.

2) The wind is not constant so our angle of tilt is not constant either. So we get to add some irregular swaying to the mix. Fun!

3) It would be easy to get used to a merely tilted environment, and some swaying too, but add waves (swell) usually from more than one direction, and the fun really begins. Not only are we tilting, but with waves we also get the added benefit of MORE swaying back and forth, plus irregular lurching as the swells hit the back and side of the boat. Tilting, swaying, lurching, it's just like walking through The Funhouse.

4) The Pinball Machine - Down below when moving through the boat that is tilting, swaying and lurching, we ricochet from handhold to handhold, sometimes bouncing off the table and/or walls on our way forward and back. The boat is the machine and the humans are the pinballs.

5) Fun in the galley - our refrigeration is on the right (starboard) side of the boat. So when the boat is really heeled over to port it's perilous to open the door lest all the contents of the fridge slide out onto the floor. So the fun is timing the door-opening to coincide with when the boat briefly sways right. Sway right; open the door; snatch out what I need; close the door; wait; sway right; open the door; snatch out the next thing I need; close the door; wait, and so on. Sometimes I time it wrong and everything in the fridge heads my way. Quick, close the door! Wait. Start over. Then reverse it to put things away. You see, it's just like a game. Fun!

6) More Fun in the galley - the stove is on a gimbal, which lets it sway back and forth in order to keep the pots level when the boat is not. It's ever so much fun to cook on the stovetop, bake in the oven, and even just boil water on a stove/oven that is constantly in motion. It's also fun to try to pour boiling water into a thermos or a cup while the boat is tilting all over the place.

7) The Playpen - You might wonder how we stay in our bunks with all the leaning, tilting, swaying and lurching going on. Our bunks have what's called a lee cloth, a long panel of mesh attached to the bottom of the bunk that goes up the open side of the bunk like the side of a playpen. It's this playpen that keeps us from being ejected from our sleeping quarters. A playpen for grownups.

8) The Roller Coaster - Sometimes at night, when it's windy, the boat goes hurtling through the darkness. When there are big swells it feels like going down a slope on a roller coaster. Sometimes, when there is no moon (like now), it feels like we're careening in a big circle. It's kind of like having vertigo, or being on a crazy roller coaster.

9) After four days I became used to leaning right, maintaining a low center of gravity, and holding on to things to keep from becoming a projectile. Then, two days ago while I was asleep the guys turned the boat on to the other gybe, so the wind was then on our left (port) side, and the boat was tilted to the right (starboard). I should have known when I woke up and wasn't plastered up against the backrest cushions as per usual. But I was tired and wasn't paying attention, so I got up in the usual fashion, leaning to the right (starboard) side of the boat, and nearly launched myself across the saloon (aka salon). Whiskey Tango Foxtrot?? The dudes announced they'd thrown in a gybe and from now on we would all be leaning to the left (port) side of the boat. Those fun tricksters! And since I was no longer a target for the refrigerator contents I cleaned it.

10) The Zoo -Each morning we traverse the decks, picking up suicidal squids and flying fish and flinging them over the side. We're sorry, little fishies, that we weren't awake for your visit. The booby birds are especially friendly and have made a daily activity of flying by and eyeballing the boat for a place to land. We've noticed that when they want to land they give their tail feathers a perky little shake which is our cue to 1) shout like lunatics, 2) honk the boat's horn, 3) brandish objects in their general direction. We plan to start an aquarium soon and hope to catch some tasty lovely fish to put in our freezer aquarium.

11) The Shooting Gallery - We gybed back over to starboard last night, so we are leaning left again, which means I am once again the target and the food is the bullets in the shooting gallery that is our refrigerator.

12) There's so much more that's fun in our topsy turvy world, but we hope you get the idea. And we haven't even had too very boisterous weather yet. Just think of the fun!

"Pacific Puddle Jump" Underway - Mexico to French Polynesia

Hi All, (TC)

Date/GMT: 2016/4/5 1220 hrs
Status: Enroute
Position: 21 34' N, 111 19' W (114 nm SSW of Cabo)
Winds (T): 005 @ 10-14
Perf: Boat Spd 6.2 kts SOG 5.7 kts COG 212 M

Despite conspiracy efforts (removing our prop, chaining the keel to the docks, etc.) by terrific and well meaning friends, Cinnabar checked out of the Palmira Marina after 3 fun years and departed for San Jose Del Cabo, Baja enroute to the fabled South Pacific.

Our 'cruising/bluewater' skills were a little rusty as evidenced by a couple of immediate issues:
- The always reliable W-H autopilot would not hold a course.
- We accidentally pumped a bunch of freshly fueled diesel overboard (amount TBD - 3-15 gals) through the port vent hose due to an inadvertent transfer manifold valve position.

We've never done either of those before. Ahh, the joys of cruising. Finding new ways to mess up!

Nevertheless, we hand steered and motorsailed all night around the East Baja Cape in 9-14 kts of variable wind and the next afternoon, ( 21 hrs, 165 nm) we pulled into SJ del Cabo to refuel.

The long empty fuel dock looked welcoming and indeed we got fuel, but after a few minutes, a knucklehead panga driver bonked our boat, dinged our paint job, and marina management wanted to charge us $50 to remain any longer at the dock. After such indignities, we gladly departed and slowly motored around the harbor's flat water for an hour while we made some final passage preparations (stowing the heavy anchor and chain below, midship). Sly relayed that the VHF radio became aflutter with Spanish chatter regarding us idling around the port, but nothing further came of it.

In the late afternoon, we set sail for the open sea, The Marquesas beckoning 2614 nm away.

The autopilot (AP) follow up: Like we knew it would be, hand steering all night was a royal PITA and not advisable for a 3000 nm trip sailing shorthanded. On watch, one is virtually imprisoned at the helm and can hardly move about the boat to perform other tasks (trim sails, navigate, check bilges, stretch, make a hot drink, etc.). Thus, the AP is an essential piece of gear. We were prepared to remain in port until the AP was fixed. After spending a few hours troubleshooting while off watch, it appeared that all AP elements were working except the AP fluxgate compass. I thought I would have to order a new one in port, an easy but delaying repair. As it turns out, the AP, miraculously recovered in the early morning hours. We think the root cause problem was inadvertent temporary magnetic inductance to the sensitive AP compass due to our poor storage practices. We have always been very careful about putting ferrous metal items near the compass. But in this case, apparently not careful enough. When we removed the heavy windlass motor, the canned goods, and spare stereo speakers, all in the bilges and more than 3-4' distance, the fluxgate compass regained its bearings and the AP was back to its old self again. Phew! Another valuable lesson learned!

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The Good, The Bad, The Ugly, and The Hopeful

The Good: In March we left the dock for a few days to give Cinnabar a shake-down and to anchor in beautiful Ensenada el Cardonal at Isla Partida. Our friends aboard Shindig suggested this place and it was perfect. We loved the solitude of being the only boats in the anchorage while sandwiched between the very crowded anchorages of Caleta Partida and Ensenada Grande. We did have one glitch when a plastic bag wrapped around our prop shaft and buggered up our line cutter blades causing a horrendous clunking noise from the prop. Tom had to dive the boat with his Allen wrenches to repair it. After that inconvenience we spent two happy days and nights socializing with our pals, snorkeling, dinghying over to visit other friends in their crowded anchorage, and just enjoying nature. 

The lovely Shindig at anchor in Ensenada el Cardonal

Nancy out for her morning SUP.

After Shindig left to continue their adventures we had one more glorious night of solitude. It was too perfect. (Cue ominous music.)


The Bad: Did I say too perfect?  Our last day at the island we smelled diesel. Not good. We checked the port tank and a lot of diesel had leaked out into the tank compartment. We originally thought we had repaired a leak at the top of the tank, a couple of months ago, but this was obviously much more serious than that. We siphoned about 4 gallons out of the compartment into bottles and started the engine to head back to the dock in La Paz about 3 hours away.

As we increased the engine's RPM to 1900 we got a nasty wobble in the prop; we had to re-anchor so Tom could adjust the cutter blades. He jumped in the water with his Allen wrenches and moved the cutter blades down just a touch which fixed the wobble. 

Tom with his wrenches getting ready to repair the prop.

Back to the tank - luckily we had an appointment with Cross Marine Works the next day (a Thursday), so Rob showed up bright and early, removed our tank, cleaned it off, pressure-tested it, and discovered the leak was a bad weld in the sump. 

Rob and Tom remove the tank, and we didn't even need to use a sawzall!

Rob and Carlos pressure test the tank.

They find the leak in a bad weld.

The welder arrived the next day to haul it off for repair. This was the Friday before Semana Santa (Easter week) where everybody takes the entire week off. We were worried, but the welder promised to have it back by Tuesday. Which he did. And Rob reinstalled it the same day! 

Ta daaaaaah!

It was unbelievable that this problem was fixed in such a short time (5 day turnaround) and during a holiday week. A huge shout-out to Cross Marine for doing this and for all the other work that they helped us with as well.


The Ugly: A "small" plumbing hose repair/replacement (to get rid of some nasty, stinky smells) turned into a complete replacement of all our plumbing hoses, due to the aft hoses being about 60% blocked with crud. (We have pictures and you should thank me for not sharing them.) It took days for Tom and Carlos to extract and replace all the hoses. Luckily Rob Cross had wisely brought the entire roll of plumbing hose from the marine supply store in town that would be closed the next week (due to the holiday) because we ended up needing at least twice what we thought we'd need. We used it all.

Good thing we had the entire roll of hose from Lopez Marine.

Poo hose pile-up.

What a shitty job, quite literally. In addition to replacing the hoses we also cleaned out the head pump and replaced various valves and things. Ugh. But now we've got all new hoses and it will be like a fiesta every time we pump the head.


The Hopeful: We decided that 2016 is the year Cinnabar leaves Mexico and heads for the South Pacific. Tom has been working on numerous projects and improvements to help get the boat ready for our next adventure. 

Tom worked with Hector the excellent canvas dude to pattern a jib deck bag for us.

I met weekly with other La Paz boats preparing to do "The Puddle Jump" to discuss various issues and concerns and to get to know them better. 

Sophie from Avatar is ready for her first trip across the Pacific.

Our crew Bruce showed up last Saturday and has been helping us do the final prep for our journey. 

I did a new chain splice on the anchor rode. Bruce displays the old, worn splice.

It's been several weeks of complete madness as we try to cram in our final preparations, do numerous trips to stores to provision food and stock up on supplies to last us for the next few months, make arrangements for our arrival in the Marquesas, and check out of Mexico. Neighbor Lola has been driving us around town daily to run errands. The day that we did Tom's errands she cried "Uncle" after 6 hours and after store #15. But he was determined to finish all his tasks so he had to walk to his last 2 stops and then walk back to the marina. 

Apparently it's a bit more complicated to check out of La Paz than most other Mexican ports as there is the added step of having to get a "Declaration of Health". Here is how it worked for us:

1) Go to Port Captain to get The Form. Make 2 copies, fill out all three forms and then...

2) Go to Immigration on the other side of town to register with them and hand over our passports, Mexican visas, copies of boat registration and TIP. If you are lucky enough to be the first in line like we were then you will only have to wait 40 minutes to complete this process and get your passports back. But you will have an official stamp on The Form, then...

3) Go to API which is on the municipal pier on another side of town to get our certificate to prove we don't owe money to La Paz and pay a fee for every time we entered La Paz, 100 pesos per entry, a few more official stamps. This only took 15 minutes, then...

4) Go to the Health Dept. which is 2 blocks from the Port Captain to get The Form stamped with a Declaration of Health for the three of us. We have now made a huge triangle around the city of La Paz. The Dr. was at a conference and wouldn't be back for another 1.5 hours so we went to lunch. After returning to the Health Dept. the Dr. still wasn't there and no amount of wheedling would convince the nice lady Lourdes to stamp The Form. Luckily, just then the doctors started pouring out of their post-conference taxis and we were able to get another official stamp on The Form. (Even though it was a Declaration of Health there was no exam or even questions about our health. So weird.) This was free and took 1.75 hours including lunch. Then...

5) Go back to the Port Captain to turn in The Form, pay the exit fee of 394 pesos by credit card (otherwise you have go to a special bank and then return for the Port Captain's signature) get numerous more official stamps and a spiffy official-looking certificate proving we've checked out of La Paz. After a short wait for the Port Captain to sign things we were finished. If you are the first in line like we were this will take about 30 minutes.

Total time: 4 hours including lunch. And a huge thanks to our neighbor Manny for chauffeuring us around town!

So now the boat is packed to the gills with provisions, our neighbors had a bon voyage gathering for us last night, and we have just a few more things to do before leaving the dock. We'll do a quick update before we leave today or tomorrow.

March album: HERE

We're really going to miss our neighbors. Manny (kneeling, center) and Lola (hugging me) have been our tireless chauffeurs.