From the Big Dipper to the Southern Cross

The stars are very bright out in the middle of the Caribbean. During our crossing from Jamaica to Colombia there were no city lights, buildings, or haze to block them out. One cloudless night, I came up on deck to take over watch from Alan. There had been no wind for almost a day and we were motoring on a heading of 180 degrees- due south. The first thing I noticed was a strangely familiar constellation off the port bow. "The Southern Cross," Alan (our star expert) confirmed.

The Southern Cross is a constellation which is mainly seen in the southern hemisphere, but was visible in the sky just above the horizon because we were in the tropical latitudes at 18 degrees north of the Equator. It is a very distinguishable constellation, with the form of a cross or kite. The top and bottom stars of the upright cross point towards the celestial South Pole, which makes it a useful constellation for visual navigation.

After Alan went below, I took my eyes off our compass and steered the course by keeping the cross ahead. It rotated slowly across the sky from East to West over the four hour watch, and I could even see it reflected in the calm and glassy water.

Two nights later was a different story. We had killed the motor and raised a lot of sails to harness the light breezes that appeared, then started taking down and reefing the remaining sails as the wind kept building. Eventually, we were sailing under our storm jib and double-reefed mainsail. The waves and swells were keeping pace with the wind, and we were now pitching, rolling, yawing, and heaving like a carnival ride.

I slowly crawled above deck for 4 AM watch, wearing foulies, life vest, and safety harness. The wind vane steerer was well set, so I did not have to adjust the wheel, and instead watched our course on the compass and chart plotter. I eventually tried to hide from the wind and waves in the bottom of the cockpit, facing backwards and looking north- our course was still almost due south.

Well above the horizon appeared the very familiar Big Dipper constellation, complete with the two pole-pointing stars at the end of the cup that pointed down at the horizon towards Polaris, the North Star. For the rest of the night I was able to watch the dipper dance around our mizzenmast, making sure that the waves and wind shifts were not changing our heading too much. It was interesting to glance from the stars to the chart plotter radar display, using both the old and the new to try to keep the boat safe and on course.

See Alan's Crew Journal post "Future Astronomers" for more information on Celestial Navigation and Stars!

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Surf's Up Mon

Yesterday Alan and I traveled from Port Antonio to Boston Bay. We bounced around in the back of an old white van, winding through banana trees, coconut palms, and houses on hills overlooking the coast. The steering column of the van was on the right side, British style, and each time we whipped around a turn and passed an oncoming vehicle to starboard it felt a little new.

We arrived after a 15 minute ride and paid the chauffeur $120 Jamaican Dollars each. Then we walked to the wooden surf shack/office, haggled with some authentic Rastafarians for a longboard and leash rental, and took turns surfing for around 4 hours.

Boston Bay is a small inlet with bluffs on either side that create swells big enough to surf. The water was blue, warm, and salty, and the bottom was (mostly) sand. I was not very well equipped (just shorts), but it was exciting: the first time surfing in a couple of years! I paddled out past the breakers, sat up, waited out the first swell of every set, and tried to catch the biggest ones without getting washing-machined.

Neither Alan or I are expert surfers, but it was a great time. Just one quick ride on a wave makes all the paddling, salty eyes, and nose water worth it. It is a pure sport that does not require complicated man-made equipment, and like sailing, is essentially about harnessing energy from wind and waves.

After the waves started to die down in the afternoon we returned the board, passed on lots of beaded necklaces, and caught a taxi that was headed to Port Antonio. Our driver stopped for some fish tea for lunch (it smelled better than it sounds), and turned down my offer to drive us back (insurance reasons). We unsuccessfully tried to decipher her Patois conversation with another Jamaican passenger. A slow improvement on this front has been noted.

Back in Port Antonio, we stopped by the square for our first Jerk Pork- served in tin foil with white bread, accompanied by a cold bag juice: a plastic bag of juice. We dined sans utensils sitting on some rocks under tropical-looking foliage along the road to the Marina. An excellent day. RESPECT.

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