2/26/12

Noon Position: 48 49' S, 30 11' W, SOG 5.5, COG 090, Day's Run 149nm.
This morning's entertainment has been a pleasing mixture of 20kts of
wind with scattered clouds and hourly 40kt squalls, the contents of
which would euphemistically described in New England as "wintry mix."
Here in the South Atlantic, I prefer to just call it snow... followed by
very cold rain... followed by snow. I've been up and down all morning,
furling and unfurling the jib, trying to catch a bit of rainwater
(snow-water?). This valiant effort on my behalf over the last 6 hours
has yielded me a grand total of one mug of tea's worth of liquid -
melted snow greatly diminishes in volume. On the other hand, we had a
fast night of bean reaching in 20-30kts of wind, which let us pull of
the best day's run since Valparaiso. Of course, the 6 foot beam seas we
were reaching in were full of all sorts of joy, not the least of which
was throwing me across the cabin while I was cooking dinner, leaving me
with a nice bruise on my arm, and, inexplicably, bits and pieces of
corned beef and potato all over the wall near my imapct zone.
Inexplicable because both the pan and the fork I was stirring with
remained on the stove, and we certainly didn't roll far enough for
anything other than me to get launched that far. Odd...

2/23/12

Noon Position: 49 03' S, 39 58' W, SOG 3.5, COG 035, Day's Run 128nm,
Weeks' Run 917nm. I've been thinking about the day that I rounded Cape
Horn. It was such a focal point of the trip up that point, all my
energy aimed towards it. Then suddenly there it was, rearing up dead
ahead out of the dawn. It seemed like such an appropriate way to round
the Horn - a gale the day before, clearing to beautiful skies as I
passed Tierra del Fuego. And then, all day long, the procession of
island and mountains to port, rising up out of the sea in turn like
dragon's teeth capped in snow. It was a vibrant day, full of life - the
seas alive with birds, albatrosses and cormorants and petrels,
everywhere circling and diving. Even alive with people - a fishing boat
the night before, a cruise ship and fishing boat headed to Ushuaia as we
left the clouds and land behind. Even the land seemed to quiver with
energy, spawning immense sheets of rain that drifted to sea in dismal
rows, obliterating the sun beneath a wall of darkness. And then, at
last, a final sunset to bid it all farewell, watching the sun sink over
Tierra del Fuego, just as it had risen over the Horn, and it was gone.
The next morning nothing remained to een hint at what had passed, no
birds, no land, just the unbroken horizon, stretching ahead 3500 miles
to Africa. South America may as well have been a dream, and was as
unobtainable, carried as Odyssey was on the rushing wind. Now there's
nothing, 9 days out and it might as well be a hundred, just an endless
blur of sun and squalls and wind and waves, receding down our wake into
memory.

2/21/12

Noon Position: 51 11' S, 44 44' W, SOG 6.5, COG 070, Day's Run 128nm.
It's a cold one today - the olive oil regained it's robust consistency
overnight, and even now, 1400 local, my toes and fingers are stiff with
cold despite the warm sun. Odyssey is rolling her way cheerfully
downwind wing-on-wing before WSW breeze, accompanied by a looming line
of darkness about two miles to the north, which seems to be content to
drift slowly parallel to us as it obliterates the horizon. In all other
directions, of course, there's not a cloud in the sky, and the solar
panels are soaking in the sun's rays, oblivious to the torrential
downpour just a few miles away. Sailing wing-on is not the fastest
point of sail, nor is it the most comfortable - the lack of stability
that reaching provides has Odyssey rolling consistently through about 20
degrees either side of vertical, but once the breeze gets up enough to
hit hull speed, it's certainly better than broad reaching 30 or 40
degrees off my desired course. The rolling makes moving about on deck
interesting - certainly not as bad as during a gale, when with just a
scrap of headsail up Odyssey seems to be rolling both rails underwater
at the same time as I crawl forward to secure some banging halyard, but
enough to make me appreciate being clipped in when working to leeward.
When on deck in anything but a flat calm I wear a webbing chest harness
with a pair of tethers, one 3 feet long and the other 6. Normally this
would be incorporated into an inflatable PFD of some sort, but with no
one else on board, if I get separated from the boat the extra flotation
wouldn't matter, so to save bulk and reduce snagging on various objects,
it's just a harness. On it I have a fixed blade sheath knife and a
winch handle on a carabiner, which lets carry it with both hands free.
In the cockpit are 3 padeyes to clip into, 2 at the forward end within
reach of the companionway, so I can clip in before going on deck, and
one by the wheel for working aft. For working forward, I've run a pair
of jacklines made of 3/16ths dyneema inside 1" nylon webbing. The
jacklines start at the bow cleats, cross just aft of the mast, then
terminate at the padeyes for the running-backstays near the forward end
of the cockpit. having the jacklines switch sides aft of the mast is a
bit of a pain, since it means I need to reclip to work on the fore-deck,
but the benefits are that if I'm on the 3 foot tether, I can't end up
over the side because the jacklines are near the centerline. The aft
end of the jacklines are far enough forward so that even on the 6 foot
tether, if I were to fall overboard I wouldn't drag behind the boat and
could still get myself back on board. The other important safety
feature that I've added is to connect the two lower shrouds on each side
with a piece of wood at the height of my lower back - this gives me
something to lean against while working at the mast, particularly if I
have to go to leeward, and goes a long way towards keeping me on my
feet. A last, unforeseen benefit that I gained by removing the canvas
dodger and building the small hard "hutch" over the companionway is that
it makes going forward a lot safer and easier - instead of having to
swing outboard of the running backstays with precious little room
between me and the rail, or jam myself through the narrow gap between
the runners and dodger, I can now just move forward over the cabin top,
with handrails to hang onto. I didn't really focus on it at the time
of construction, but this makes getting around the deck a lot easier -
I'm really glad to have ditched the dodger.

2/19/12

Noon Position: 52 32' S, 50 52' W, SOG 4.8, COG 080, Day's Run 118nm.
The South Atlantic has chosen to smile upon me - yet another glorious
sunny day. If it wasn't for the cold, the view from Odyssey's
companionway this morning could have been mistaken for a nice day in the
trade winds - crisp blue sky, puffy white clouds, rich ocean flecked
with foam. Of course, it is cold, so theres not much risk of making
that mistake. Yesterday afternoon I thawed out my Olive Oil and soap in
the sun, and by extremely accurate and scientific observations, I have
discovered that last night, while cold, was not as cold as it was off of
Cape Horn. The oil only partially congealed overnight, but was still
pourable, while the dish soap has fully re-acquired its most frozen
consistency. Interestingly enough, I believe the water temperature is
warmer than the air temperature, at least at night, since the soap that
I store in the bilge, which due to proximity mimics the temperature of
the surrounding sea, has yet to congeal into the foamy white goo that
the soap in the galley has done. Complaining about temperature out of
the way, it truly has been a glorious few days since cape horn - only
one day was really miserable, with drizzle and clouds, and for the most
part it's been beautiful and sunny. It makes me wish I had an Open 60
and could stay with the nice weather a bit longer, but I'm content to
plod along at 5 kts and enjoy the sun while I can.

2/18/12

Noon Position:  53 36' S,  53 27' W, SOG 5, COG 090, Day's Run 120nm.  A cousin of mine from Chicago found a website, http://www.thedeepradioshow.com/Pages/circumnavigation.html, which lists present and past solo circumnavigation attempts.  The webmaster  offered to include me on the list, but kindly requested "a short paragraph explaining his mission or motivation for the journey."  Seeing as how I've been enjoying a lovely string of weather, with not much to do but sail fast, dry out wet charts, sails, and potatoes, and smear  grease liberally on anything that's even thinking about chafing, I thought I might oblige, since I realize that I never really posted anything along those lines in the first place.  The lack of such a statement is due to a combination of the fact that it seemed largely self evident to me why anyone would want to sail around the world, and that I didn't really have the time or motivation for any such vaguely public introspection before I left.  There are a number of reasons behind this journey, some of them which have faded into relative obscurity at sea.  Why Alone?  One of my goals was (and is) to really live life, to fully experience the highs and lows, to actually accomplish something difficult.  My life on shore, or even the relatively "civilized" life afloat that I led prior to this trip, is cushy and insulated.  I was rotting slowly from the inside, and didn't recognize the rot.  There were some hard moments, difficult times,  but in many regards they were more the exception that proves the rule, and in some cases the bad moments are enabled by the slackness that that life allowed.  I can't afford to screw up and do something stupid out here - Even if I do everything right, the sea can still kill me.  There's certainly grandeur and glory here, but it's tinged with and heightened by the ever present threat of the sea.  I need to be functioning at 100% just to break even and keep things together.  So much of what I found myself valuing ashore, whether wealth, success, power, is wiped away by a single day alone at sea.  Whether I have a car, or money in the bank, or the respect and adulation of friends and peers doesn't do a damn bit of good if the furling line chafes through, or a breaking wave puts the spreaders in the water.  There's a purity out here, which makes the living all the sweeter - the highs are higher, the depths are deeper, and every day I learn a little bit more.  I went to sea to save my soul, and this circumnavigation provides a powerful setting to do so.  I'm living richly, fully experiencing the grandeur and the terror of the sea. On a slightly less grandiose scale, I've always wanted to sail around the world, and also to round Cape Horn, ever since I heard my first sea story as a wee young lad, so combining both into a Southern Ocean circumnavigation seemed like a good way of killing two birds with one stone.  How's that for a daily dose of melodrama? ; )

2/15/12

Noon Position: 55 42' S, 62 35' W, SOG 6, COG 070, Day's Run 130nm. I
had a delightful early morning wakeup by the always popular 6 AM
hailstorm, Cape Horn reaching out to remind me that I'm not beyond its
arms yet. Not that I'd be likely to forget with the cold - Through some
judicious research into the state changes of olive oil, I've discovered
that the temperature down below has reached at least 40 F. I've also
learned that when cold, Nutella gains a delicious, fudge-y consistency,
and Dawn soap turns into a weird foamy paste when both chilled and
agitated for several weeks on end. I've had a pair of brilliant sunny
days, perfect for drying things out and recharging my batteries, and
with the sun out it becomes downright pleasant between the hours of
about 2PM and 8PM. After that, of course, the temperature plummets and
keeps my olive oil a inaccessible cube at the bottom of the bottle, and
my toes turn back into something resembling icicles. I just finished
reading Richard Byrd's "Alone", about the antarctic winter he spent
alone at a weather station at 80S, and I must admit that as much as I
like complaining about how cold I am, all I need to do is think about
how excited Byrd was on the rare occasions when the inside temperature
was high enough to keep the ice from creeping up the walls of his heated
shack. So I can't complain too much about a little bit of early morning
hail.

2/12/2012 addendum [Delayed Attachment: IMG_0159.jpg]

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