Pacific Odyssey - Leg 3

I didn´t write yesterday as I wasn´t feeling very good when I concentrated on something below decks.  We had a cloudy, rainy, stormy day; we were making our way through the tail end of a trough.  It came up at 0600hrs, September 4 after a rather calm night.  We had already lowered the trysail, anticipating a squall that never came. At about 0700 hrs Karen was on watch and spotted a baby humpback swimming underneath and alongside the ship.  After 10 minutes, Chase, Leslie and my three boys who were also enjoying the show, thought the baby humpback whale had left.  But, after quite awhile, it returned with a mother and the spectators realized it had probably been following them for more than an hour.  When it reappeared, the baby was within 50 ft. from the ship, an incredibly exciting event for those few who saw it.  From that point on, it was a day we don´t really want to relive too often. One that afforded beautiful impressions of the sea, of the elements, one you live through together, create stories around, one on which we all had thoughts of home   Winds blew about 30 knots up until the night, grey skies all around, not a chance of a clearing. The wind blew like a wild thing through the rigging, across the big seas with whitecaps, and the wind blowing the tops off them.  As far as one could see, there was spewing spray, with steady rain pelting down, soaking us, hitting our faces like hail, drenching everything.  The waves were quite mixed up, coming from all directions.  Some measured 25 feet.  All day they hit the portside of the hull; it sounded as if a log had hit the ship, as if something may have broken, but it was only the wave, which would continue to spray over the entire ship.  The wheel person was doused regularly as was anyone who tried to crawl cautiously from the foc´sle to the stern seat lockers.  The bow went under regularly.  Mid-day anyone on deck was required to wear their harness and be clipped in when moving or sitting.  Those feeling seasick or tired of being below hunkered in their raingear in the stern, bravely taking hits from the sea. People´s attitudes were good, what else can one do but try to make the best of it.  Initially trainees love a stormy day, hanging out in the bow, laughing, jumping, getting wet, and excited by all the movement and sound.  It soon wears off though; one gets wet and cold settles in.  Sam brought up his snorkel and Elske, Bec and Arwen sang Raffi songs in the stern to keep morale up.  We had to keep all hatches closed, the boat was completely sealed against seas entering.  It made for a very stuffy and warm space below decks.  The sound was incredible; a furious howling, insistent. Very intense, as if intent on proving something.  The dory and zodiac tarps were vibrating and flapping madly, every tie-down line, especially those of the anchor and dories, was checked.  The motion was severe; rolling side to side, with very deep rolls that knocked every item on board loose if it wasn´t secured.  I gave up trying to keep the contents of our bunk in its place. Gillian was heroic in the galley all day.  It´s potentially a very chaotic place to be, and it takes a lot of energy to keep spirits up and to physically create a meal with everything sliding side to side, cupboard doors opening, pans flying out, gimballed table bottoming out etc.  Carolyn helped her make a delicious lunch of foccacia bread and humus.  In one of the many rolls, Carolyn and the chickpeas slid across the galley and intoGillian, chickpeas scattering everywhere.  It will be a good story.  The boot-top on the mainmast wasn´t doing what it should be and with all the water coming over the side, gallons made it´s way down the masthole and into the galley, reeking more disaster.  Like I said though, everyone chipped in to help, to clean, to steer a steady course in the rain and wind, and everyone had the right attitude.  It´s always encouraging to see this and to live amongst trainees such as these. We spent a good part of the day below, in our bunks, playing games, listening to music, chatting, sleeping, reading etc. It was a stressful day for Skipper.  At 1500hrs we had to alter course from Rarotonga to Aitutaki further north.  The wind had gone more southerly making it difficult to keep our course and avoid a small group of islands.  We were disappointed to have to miss Rarotonga, it sounds like a very interesting island and the cooks were hoping to take on more food.  Once we changed course, the motion was still intense, but the waves and the wind were now more aft.  We were already sailing under just foresail and continued to do so making 8-9 knots until the evening.  At 2030 hrs the wind began to weaken and Skipper was smiling more, feeling somewhat more relaxed, though still very tired; he´d had only 2 hours of sleep the previous night.  He laughed at himself, at how ironic it was that he was relieved to have to turn on the engine by 2130hrs.  He altered course again and we are now on a course for Rarotonga after all.  For him there are constant decisions and observations to make, especially in any kind of contrary weather.  The motion improved by early morning, offering all of us a better sleep. On a day like yesterday, any job one does becomes a major feat.  We all felt that just to use the head was exercise, just to go below and get something or refill a water bottle required a good deal of energy.  Today has been a day of comfortable sailing with a more pleasant motion. The sun is shining and the temperature is somewhat cooler.  Trainees and crew are on deck resuming what they started 2 days ago: continuing work on the Cook Islands flag, reading, writing, laundry, work watch, SUDOKU puzzles, rope work, and our all-time favorite, just chatting with each other.  Life has returned to normal.  Our ETA at the moment is 2200 hrs tonight if we continue at this speed.  This is it, until tomorrow, enjoy your still beds,
Bonice.
PS  In the last email I wrote that Cook Islands were 50 nm away. That´s incorrect, the passage is 500 nm.