Winds of fortune

Sunday 7th April - Monday 8th April

I have had this romantic notion of being on the sea, which I think is probably the vague product of various stories from books, friends, and strangers. The picture in my head is one of a world removed from the everyday, where there is a deep and necessary connection to the ocean, born of an an immersion in it and dependence on it for success and survival. Weather and fortune determine which of the two will be your goal for the day, and it can vary wildly and quickly from one to the other. The experience of life at sea also sounded so different from what the life I knew. Time slows down, progress is measured in days, rather than hours, and the sky, the sea, and the life that inhabit them - from the bizarre to the magical to the downright dull - become your reality. The next 7 days at sea were to fulfill some of these romantic notions, and dispel others.

The night before we set off, Jay and I had a nervous dinghy ride in choppy water with my bike balanced precariously on the prow. The image of my bike falling off and sinking to the bottom, and the idea of what I would do if that were to occur, were not pleasant to contemplate. However we made it to the boat without incident, and soon Derek was strapped to safely to the deck of Wind Raven, an Islander 44'.

Derek, on the deck of Wind Raven, and holding on tight.

Home for the next week.

I wasn't the only Australian on board!

Jay, and La Paz in the distance

The next morning Sunday, we set off under beautiful but windless weather, so we ended up motoring a lot of the way. It turned out the propeller was fouled for some reason, and we went much slower than planned. As a result, we didn't get to a good anchorage by night, and Jay decided to sail through the night, as he had done many times before. Before night fell, I enjoyed a beautiful sunset, watching the manta rays jumping out of the water. They jump up, sometimes metres into the air, flip, and land with a slap. This amazing sight, described by some as like watching popcorn, is apparently to rid themselves of parasites. So cool. As dark fell I was excited to see some of the phosphorescence in the water I had heard so much about. There was faint green glow to the water where it is churned up by the boat, and it it has this supernatural quality that made me just keep staring at it.

Wind Raven's big sail

Derek getting splashed with seawater. Hm. Beginning to wonder about the wisdom of taking my bike to sea for a week.

You will have to imagine the manta rays and phosphorescence. They are really hard to photograph.

That night we took turns at the helm, with Jay taking a much greater part than I. In the early hours of the next morning, the winds really picked up. It got up to around 30kts at times, and I didn't feel confident sailing through the San Jose channel, at night, with those winds, and with my experience. So I left much of the sailing to Jay. I was amazed at how little any of that seemed to bother him. I particularly remember one moment several hours before dawn, when, with my life-jacket and safety harness on, strapped to the deck with a safety line, I was woken up by yet another large wave crashing onto the boat. I remember looking up and seeing Jay, sailing as if it were still a sunny calm afternoon, as if he hadn't missed a wink of sleep. Respect dude, I thought, I could definitely not do that. 

As fatigue began to overtake me again, I wondered how wise this whole gambit had been. I was here, in the middle of the night, strapped to the deck of a boat in a windstorm, with a fibreglass hull and this guy who I hardly know as the only things standing between me and the bottom of the ocean.

Somehow, I fell asleep.