In short, it was an ideal crossing. As the albatross flies, it is about 1000 nautical miles from Panama City to Wreck Bay on San Cristobal. However, to minimize number of miles spent crossing the Intertropical Convergence Zone (ITCZ- the often windless doldrums around the Equator), we took a more southerly route and then headed more westerly once the trade winds shifted into the South.
We had ideal wind for most of the trip and were able to let the wind vane keep us on course most of the time. We watched a movie on deck one night when we were heading downwind and there was not much spray.
The mangoes ripened nicely. I probably ate too many, around 37 of them over the course of the crossing. I would make a cut around the long end of the seed, and then lean over the leeward rail and smash my face into the orange meat, getting all the fibers stuck in my teeth and then chewing on the big seed. Then I would spit it and watch the almost day-glow orange blob disappear into the dark, deep blue water. On a scale from one to exquisite these mangos scored a 10, and the marginal utility of eating each one seemed to hold constant, breaking a fundamental assumption of microeconomics.
One afternoon we filmed a jam session in the cockpit- the video of us playing 4 songs is posted on the website as “The Cockpit Sessions.” Before Will started filming, we had a bite on the big fishing rod and as I tightened the reel we heard a loud “bang!” as the line snapped. The line had been mildly twisted the night before when our swivel stopped swiveling, and so was probably weakened. We lost a brand-new generic Mahi-Jet lure that looked like an appetizing green squid and featured a rattling noise and jet bubble action. After losing it, we had restocked the reel with 40-pound test line.
Just after we finished playing music, we heard the reel scream and saw it bend over. I twisted the reel tight and then let out line (having learned from the last time). It was an epic 30+ minute fight, with a total team effort- Adam, Alan and Will took the pole off the headsail, took down the headsail, stuffed it into the V-berth, passed me the pole around the spreaders and stays, slowed the boat down and prepared for the epic landing well after sunset. Adam saw the fish jump, but I did not see the monster until he shined the spotlight into the water as night fell. We could not believe our eyes! We landed it and jumped it on the bow and the coup de grace was dealt with our anchor windlass handle.
Alan cleaned and cut up the beast as I dumped buckets of water on it. Will battered and fried the first of 5 fish lunches and dinners while I took a shower and started my watch. The moon rose off the port side, bright red and almost full. It slid up into the flat bottom of a cloud bank that was a couple of degrees off the horizon and looked like a muted upside-down sunset. The fish dinner tasted delicious. That was April first.
As we approached the Equator a few days later, we gathered in the cockpit and prepared to buzz/shave our heads and swim a lap around the boat to mark the transition from ‘pollywogs’ to ‘shellbacks.’ I was initially not planning on buzzing my head and instead just shaving my irritating beard, but I think it would have been bad luck. Looking goofy is better than tempting fate.
The days flew by and it was definitely more restful with four people to take watch instead of three.
Finally, we approached landfall on Santa Cristobal and it was time for my last night watch- the easy 8-11. We were motor sailing because the wind had died earlier that day. The wind vane was not working very well so it was a hand steering watch behind the wheel sitting against the mizzenmast on the captain’s box. I wore shorts, my foully jacket, headlamp, glasses, pfd, safety harness, a new buzzed haircut and sketchy moustache.
Predictably, the stars were phenomenal. It looked like the sky was made out of a sheet of black construction paper and somebody had placed a bright white light behind it and poked holes in the sheet. I took my eyes off the compass and navigated our course of 240 degrees by keeping Sirius (the brightest star in the night sky) over our port bow in a visual triangle formed by the spreader, shroud, and mast. I also listened to a playlist on my IPod that is based on a Boards of Canada station that I made on Pandora Radio before the trip. Over the past month I have been smashing these tunes into my head with repeated listenings so that I will remember this trip when I listen to them in the future.
I realized that I was thinking about how to write this post instead of putting all my concentration on steering. I think there is a balance between mentally composing a narrative of what is happening and simply being present for the moment. As my time on the boat has been winding down over the past few weeks, I find myself writing more in my head so that I can post it before forgetting what happened. It was a unique crossing and I hope I’ll be able to look back at its positive memory for a long time.
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