Dear Friends;
The winter solstice has now passed and we are looking forward to lengthening days here at 48 degrees north where our mostly-cloudy maritime climate makes many days seem shorter than the statistics would suggest. Rain here at sea level means the mountains that surround us are frosted with snow that glitters brilliantly when the chilly winds of the Arctic clear our skies. Now tied to the dock at Kingston, WA in the USA, at least for now, we are staying cozy aboard as we turn our attentions to Carina after spending the fall working on our home. The park at the head of the dock and many boats glow with holiday lights that bring lots of smiles to tots of all ages.
Halyard, our kitten, is growing fast and his antics warm our souls. He'll never step into the boots of the fat cat but is developing his own distinct and endearing personality.
As we reflect upon 2017, we are thankful we safely endured the four month, 6,000+ nm journey home where we are nearer to our family and our oldest of friends. We have thousands of memories of good people all around the Pacific that are being renewed as we begin to tell our story and revisit our photos. We miss these faces and their smiles, which makes us realize the impact they have had on our lives. We are indeed very fortunate people.
Happy holidays with love,
Your friends of the yacht Carina,
Philip, Leslie and our fuzzy young crew, Halyard
website: www.sv-carina.org
At 11/2/2017 and 14:49 UTC (GMT) our position was: 47°47.68'N / 122°29.92'W
ps:. PLEASE, if you wish to respond to our emails, DO NOT hit the "reply" button as it sends our original message back to us OR, if you do, please delete our original message before sending.
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Sunday 24 December 2017
Sunday 24 September 2017
Meet Halyard
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Sunday 17 September 2017
//WL2K - Carina Has Arrived Home
Dear Friends;
On Thursday September 14, 2017 at 1115 local, Carina rounded the breakwater at the Port of Kingston in Appletree Cove. The sun was shining brightly and the mountains were all "out". There to meet us was our good friend Richard Smith who saw us off over 14 years ago. Our trip log reads: 41,223 nautical miles.
We have an address and have started collecting keys; a post office box, our home, and soon, a serviceable old car. It still feels like a dream...
Your friends of the yacht Carina,
Philip, Leslie and the spirit of the fat cat, Jake
website: www.sv-carina.org
At 9/15/2017 and 3:42 UTC (GMT) our position was: 47°47.68'N / 122°29.92'W
ps:. PLEASE, if you wish to respond to our emails, DO NOT hit the "reply" button as it sends our original message back to us OR, if you do, please delete our original message before sending.
----------
radio email processed by SailMail
for information see: http://www.sailmail.com
On Thursday September 14, 2017 at 1115 local, Carina rounded the breakwater at the Port of Kingston in Appletree Cove. The sun was shining brightly and the mountains were all "out". There to meet us was our good friend Richard Smith who saw us off over 14 years ago. Our trip log reads: 41,223 nautical miles.
We have an address and have started collecting keys; a post office box, our home, and soon, a serviceable old car. It still feels like a dream...
Your friends of the yacht Carina,
Philip, Leslie and the spirit of the fat cat, Jake
website: www.sv-carina.org
At 9/15/2017 and 3:42 UTC (GMT) our position was: 47°47.68'N / 122°29.92'W
ps:. PLEASE, if you wish to respond to our emails, DO NOT hit the "reply" button as it sends our original message back to us OR, if you do, please delete our original message before sending.
----------
radio email processed by SailMail
for information see: http://www.sailmail.com
Sunday 10 September 2017
//WL2K - Carina Almost Home
Dear Friends;
We are now in the Gulf Islands of British Columbia, Canada after making our way south over 1,000 miles along the classic route of the inside passage from Sitka AK through British Columbia, Canada. Except for a very few rare moments, this has been a motor boat trip into southerly winds with long days of monotonous hand steering watching for traffic and huge, potentially-damaging flotsam, in the cockpit under all weather conditions, for up to 16 hours per day. We spent many days in fog or rain seeing nothing but grey, with a handful of glorious clear days when every mountain, cascade and glacial sparkled. We understand this is unusual and that the summer weather in Alaska and northern BC has been nasty this year, even while the southern coast enjoyed continuous sunshine, record-breaking heat and devastating fires. There was one amazing sunny warm week in early August in "southeast" and we truly enjoyed it, though we have spent most of the last two months in fleece, gloves, jackets and hats - not what we expected. Our journey pales in comparison to friends Jay and Danica aboard s/v Alkahest, a 42' Tartan. They will eventually be traveling the inside passage but first, they have to finish the NORTHWEST PASSAGE sailing east to west. We believe they are now in Nome. We can't imagine the conditions they have endured and are so looking forward to catching up with them once they safely reach Seattle.
The first gale of our trip was on 30 July and then things seemed to keep getting worse weather-wise; long days of strong wind on the nose, rain and cold air. We lost count of the number of gale warnings. At times the the wind and current conspired to stop Carina dead where our GPS registered almost no boat speed. Thinking we had missed the season, we have pushed hard every single day for three weeks since leaving Prince Rupert until we reached the southern Gulf Islands yesterday. Thankfully for most of this push, we had the camaraderie of Amante, a catamaran we met while waiting out a gale to cross exposed Dixon Entrance between AK and BC. At Quadra Island, we also caught up with Sidewinder, good friends from many southsea adventures. That being said, weather and current gods smiled on us as we rounded Cape Caution, crossed Queen Charlotte Strait and started down the Johnstone Strait, a place you do not traverse under adverse conditions. The weather improved dramatically once we rounded Chatham Point into Discovery Channel from Johnstone Strait on Labor Day weekend, where the sun suddenly turned warm and the hull stopped sweating inside.
The upside of this trip were the breathtaking views of mists, cascades and glaciers, and pristine isolated and uncrowded anchorages visited by wildlife - bears, eagles, loons, kingfisher, porpoises, orcas and humpbacks. There is no place like the Pacific NW - Alaska and British Columbia - where we learned to love cruising. Another compensation was the good company of new and old friends we met or hope yet to meet along the way - Martina & Larry, Kristy & John, Joel & Alice, John, Chuck, David Dorothy Wade Kevin Rusty & Rascal, Melanie & Ed, Dan Linda Lamby Gus & Shelby, Naomi & John, David & Suzi, Gary & Maggie, Terry & Mary, Jim & Sharon, Darlene & Floyd of The Great Northern Boaters Net, Roger & Pearl, Ross & Karen, Chuck, Jim & Jan - and countless friendly helpful people in the various ports and anchorages. In the Johnstone Strait we serendipitously spotted Lyric of the Port Madison Yacht Club, with Tad & Joyce aboard, whose circumnavigation in the late 90s helped inspire us to cruise the wider world. It was wonderful to see them - we circled each other taking photos and catching up - and the chance encounter made us realize we were really getting close to home.
On Wednesday, we stopped in Comox on Vancouver Island to buy some fuel and food. While we were off the boat provisioning, a local sailboat smashed into Carina's forward bow section and destroyed our lifelines, stanchions and teak toe rail. The two men aboard the other sailboat left a note of apology and contact information and promised payment for the repair. All well and good, but we'll still have to stop in Port Townsend to get an estimate and try to schedule a time for the work to be done. This incident is particularly ironic as we have sailed over 41,000 nautical miles on our journey and the only serious mishap happened so close to home.
We still expect to reach our home port of Kingston WA mid-September, weather and currents depending. We know it will be a bittersweet experience; the exhilarating end of a tremendous adventure of exploring tropical islands and distant countries with the pleasure of meeting and knowing diverse peoples, tempered by the reality and hard work of reintegration into the US.
Thank you to all of you who followed our adventures, those who helped make our journey happen, and those who gave us encouragement along the way. Fifteen years ago, Joyce and Tad urged us to dispense with the material possessions and trappings (such a descriptive word!) we had acquired, because when we returned from cruising we would be different people with altered values. Their words were prophetic and true.
Your friends of the yacht Carina,
Philip, Leslie and the spirit of the fat cat, Jake
Clam Bay, Kuper Island, British Columbia, Canada
p.s. When we acquire internet access we will update our website's photo-journals from this incomparably beautiful and wild cruising ground.
At 9/8/2017 and 22:36 UTC (GMT) our position was: 48°58.94'N / 123°38.97'W
ps:. PLEASE, if you wish to respond to our emails, DO NOT hit the "reply" button as it sends our original message back to us OR, if you do, please delete our original message before sending.
----------
radio email processed by SailMail
for information see: http://www.sailmail.com
We are now in the Gulf Islands of British Columbia, Canada after making our way south over 1,000 miles along the classic route of the inside passage from Sitka AK through British Columbia, Canada. Except for a very few rare moments, this has been a motor boat trip into southerly winds with long days of monotonous hand steering watching for traffic and huge, potentially-damaging flotsam, in the cockpit under all weather conditions, for up to 16 hours per day. We spent many days in fog or rain seeing nothing but grey, with a handful of glorious clear days when every mountain, cascade and glacial sparkled. We understand this is unusual and that the summer weather in Alaska and northern BC has been nasty this year, even while the southern coast enjoyed continuous sunshine, record-breaking heat and devastating fires. There was one amazing sunny warm week in early August in "southeast" and we truly enjoyed it, though we have spent most of the last two months in fleece, gloves, jackets and hats - not what we expected. Our journey pales in comparison to friends Jay and Danica aboard s/v Alkahest, a 42' Tartan. They will eventually be traveling the inside passage but first, they have to finish the NORTHWEST PASSAGE sailing east to west. We believe they are now in Nome. We can't imagine the conditions they have endured and are so looking forward to catching up with them once they safely reach Seattle.
The first gale of our trip was on 30 July and then things seemed to keep getting worse weather-wise; long days of strong wind on the nose, rain and cold air. We lost count of the number of gale warnings. At times the the wind and current conspired to stop Carina dead where our GPS registered almost no boat speed. Thinking we had missed the season, we have pushed hard every single day for three weeks since leaving Prince Rupert until we reached the southern Gulf Islands yesterday. Thankfully for most of this push, we had the camaraderie of Amante, a catamaran we met while waiting out a gale to cross exposed Dixon Entrance between AK and BC. At Quadra Island, we also caught up with Sidewinder, good friends from many southsea adventures. That being said, weather and current gods smiled on us as we rounded Cape Caution, crossed Queen Charlotte Strait and started down the Johnstone Strait, a place you do not traverse under adverse conditions. The weather improved dramatically once we rounded Chatham Point into Discovery Channel from Johnstone Strait on Labor Day weekend, where the sun suddenly turned warm and the hull stopped sweating inside.
The upside of this trip were the breathtaking views of mists, cascades and glaciers, and pristine isolated and uncrowded anchorages visited by wildlife - bears, eagles, loons, kingfisher, porpoises, orcas and humpbacks. There is no place like the Pacific NW - Alaska and British Columbia - where we learned to love cruising. Another compensation was the good company of new and old friends we met or hope yet to meet along the way - Martina & Larry, Kristy & John, Joel & Alice, John, Chuck, David Dorothy Wade Kevin Rusty & Rascal, Melanie & Ed, Dan Linda Lamby Gus & Shelby, Naomi & John, David & Suzi, Gary & Maggie, Terry & Mary, Jim & Sharon, Darlene & Floyd of The Great Northern Boaters Net, Roger & Pearl, Ross & Karen, Chuck, Jim & Jan - and countless friendly helpful people in the various ports and anchorages. In the Johnstone Strait we serendipitously spotted Lyric of the Port Madison Yacht Club, with Tad & Joyce aboard, whose circumnavigation in the late 90s helped inspire us to cruise the wider world. It was wonderful to see them - we circled each other taking photos and catching up - and the chance encounter made us realize we were really getting close to home.
On Wednesday, we stopped in Comox on Vancouver Island to buy some fuel and food. While we were off the boat provisioning, a local sailboat smashed into Carina's forward bow section and destroyed our lifelines, stanchions and teak toe rail. The two men aboard the other sailboat left a note of apology and contact information and promised payment for the repair. All well and good, but we'll still have to stop in Port Townsend to get an estimate and try to schedule a time for the work to be done. This incident is particularly ironic as we have sailed over 41,000 nautical miles on our journey and the only serious mishap happened so close to home.
We still expect to reach our home port of Kingston WA mid-September, weather and currents depending. We know it will be a bittersweet experience; the exhilarating end of a tremendous adventure of exploring tropical islands and distant countries with the pleasure of meeting and knowing diverse peoples, tempered by the reality and hard work of reintegration into the US.
Thank you to all of you who followed our adventures, those who helped make our journey happen, and those who gave us encouragement along the way. Fifteen years ago, Joyce and Tad urged us to dispense with the material possessions and trappings (such a descriptive word!) we had acquired, because when we returned from cruising we would be different people with altered values. Their words were prophetic and true.
Your friends of the yacht Carina,
Philip, Leslie and the spirit of the fat cat, Jake
Clam Bay, Kuper Island, British Columbia, Canada
p.s. When we acquire internet access we will update our website's photo-journals from this incomparably beautiful and wild cruising ground.
At 9/8/2017 and 22:36 UTC (GMT) our position was: 48°58.94'N / 123°38.97'W
ps:. PLEASE, if you wish to respond to our emails, DO NOT hit the "reply" button as it sends our original message back to us OR, if you do, please delete our original message before sending.
----------
radio email processed by SailMail
for information see: http://www.sailmail.com
Friday 28 July 2017
//WL2K - Carina in Alaska
Dear Friends;
As all of you know by now, we sailed into Sitka Alaska, USA on July 1, 2017 after a passage of 4,689 nautical miles from Pohnpei in Micronesia. And though we remember the trials most vividly, we had some glorious sailing and inspiring moments too. The stellar performance of our little vessel, the amazing display of energy in the enormous expanse of ocean, and the gorgeous and sometimes goofy wildlife made the trip memorable.
Unfortunately, our last days at sea were challenging physically and emotionally and neither of us were a pretty sight when we arrived. Many aspects of the trip - the battle to stay dry and warm when the inside of the boat was the temperature of a very damp refrigerator (41 degrees) and every line we touched was wet with cold seawater, the dearth of fresh water, the few serious breakdowns and the niggling trivial ones like cold seawater dripping on the settee or sloshing on the cabin sole - tried our skills, resilience, patience and sanity, but the closest we came to despair was two days out of Sitka as a stalled low pressure system continued to cast its frontal bands in our path and easterly winds made it impossible to sail to Sitka Sound's Cape Edgecumbe. We questioned our karma more than once during those last days of our journey, when nature sent us tall, choppy, confused seas and head winds gusting to gale force. When we were able to sail, it was as hard on the wind as we could squeeze - a bash into unforgiving cold seas that frequently, as in every few minutes, brought green water aboard. Green water made it difficult to stay dry, and staying dry was the only way we could stay warm, as our only heat was that generated when we used our galley stove or with our bodies.
Our last night at sea was spent hove-to with winds finally abating and moving southerly as morning approached. Seas were slower to subside. Being almost 80 nm from the port of Sitka, we fired up the old diesel early in the morning at our change of watch and then pushed as hard as we could - as hard as we ever have pushed the engine and as hard as we dared - racing daylight through blinding rain and fog, motorsailing with canvas pushing too, feeding each other warm drinks and encouraging words as we hand steered for 17 hours, continuously monitoring radar, AIS and VHF for traffic when we could often not see through the fog. Nearing Cape Edgecumbe, our AIS and a securite message on the VHF helped us to avoid a cruise ship on a reciprocal course, proving once again what a valuable tool this is for pleasure yachts. A hail on the VHF shortly after from old friends Randy and Gayle on SV Otter (from Ecuador 11 years ago!) brought a big smile to our faces and helped to ease the stress of the drive to arrive.
At nearly 9 pm we were finally inside Sitka harbor, lowered our mainsail and dropped the anchor as daylight faded rapidly with the heavy cloud cover. When Philip was happy with our set and we turned off the engine, the feeling of calm was like a big thick cozy blanket gently enveloping us. Forty six days and some hours of constant movement, of constant attentiveness, of constant worry and it seemed impossible to believe, at least for a moment, that we had done it and that it was done. We had brought Carina back across the biggest, coldest, most capricious piece of ocean either of us had ever encountered - the not-so pacific, North Pacific. NOW what do we do? Not tomorrow, now. The titer of adrenaline in our bloodstream was way too high to just fall into bed, so we just wandered around the cabin and deck that both looked like something you'd see in a disaster documentary, wrote critical things into our log and finally toasted our little boat and each other. With no other dry place to sleep, we both squeezed into a single sleeping bag on the port-settee, hugged tightly, and slept like we had not in over six weeks, happy to be safe and anchored in Sitka.
The difference between Pohnpei, our departure point at latitude 07 North, and Sitka at latitude 57 North, could not be any more dramatic than it is. When we left Micronesia, the temperature was a steamy 80-85 degrees F during the day. In Sitka, the temp was about 55 degrees and, when we arrived, raining. No bare feet, palm trees, bamboo, yellow fin tuna, fresh tropical fruit, and no sweating in the tropical sun. Just foulies and boots and layers of polar fleece and gorgeous mountains frosted with snow fields, salmon-berries and fireweed, pods of whales, ambling brown bears, leaping salmon and reclining sea otters.
Early the morning after our arrival, we tied to the transient dock and were immediately greeted by friendly folk - Joel of The Boat Company, bringing mail of warm bedding, repair kits, and charts, Randy and Gayle of Otter, and Chuck the one-and-only and very friendly US Customs and Border Patrol officer who welcomed us with a quick flurry of paperwork and a sincere smile. Bundling up, we closed up Carina and waded off towards town in search of friend John who had flown from Whidbey Island WA in for a brief visit. Half way down the long dock of Sitka, we spotted his smile in the shadow of a big brown foulie and all got hugged hard. A slosh into town and we settled into a luscious lunch and great conversation inside the warm, dry and friendly Sitka Hotel. It was a great homecoming to America! Thank you so much, John!
We have dozens of people to thank for the loving support on our journey - the preparation, the execution, and the arrival - including the ever-diligent amateur radio operators of the PacSeaNet who stood by for our call every single day. And, where the hell would we be without Ken and Audrey? We won't try to name all of you for fear of an oversight, but you know who you are - those who helped us prepare and saw us off, those who watched our progress and who sent weather, parcels, advice or just kind words our way, and those who helped us when we arrived - please know we love you all and sincerely appreciate your help and encouragement.
Our stay in Sitka was glorious, despite our weather acclimation (brrrr) and our long list of must-dos that dominated our daily existence. We did countless loads of laundry as every textile on the boat was wet (including most of the cushions), opened up and sopped up every locker, gave away unimaginable pounds of stores, and simply slept as long and hard as we could during the sunny summer nights. There were critical chores, like repairing the genoa, servicing the HF radio, and recommissioning the diesel cabin heater, but it was all good. We were warm and dry and safe in the company of old and new friends in a lovely, friendly place with an abundance of supplies - John R, Randy & Gayle, Kris and John F of Mew (thank you Kristy & John T of Raynad!), Martina & Larry of Aldo (thank you Nola & Jerry of Moonsong), Joel & Alice (thank you Ken), Patrick & Wyvonne of Andante and fisherman John Erp on F/V Keet. Sitka is a great town with lots going on and we hope to see more of it and the tiny wild nooks around the west coast of Baranof and Chichagof Islands on our next cruise north.
On Wednesday July 19 we reluctantly pushed out of Sitka and began our summer passage down through "Southeast" towards the Puget Sound, anxious to get going on the last chapter of our journey home which will be the subject of our next note.
Your friends of the yacht Carina,
Philip, Leslie and the spirit of the fat cat, Jake
website: www.sv-carina.org
At 7/25/2017 and 0:23 UTC (GMT) our position was: 57°11.90'N / 134°50.96'W
p.s. PLEASE, if you wish to respond to our emails, DO NOT hit the "reply" button as it sends our original message back to us or, if you do, please delete our original message before sending.
----------
radio email processed by SailMail
for information see: http://www.sailmail.com
As all of you know by now, we sailed into Sitka Alaska, USA on July 1, 2017 after a passage of 4,689 nautical miles from Pohnpei in Micronesia. And though we remember the trials most vividly, we had some glorious sailing and inspiring moments too. The stellar performance of our little vessel, the amazing display of energy in the enormous expanse of ocean, and the gorgeous and sometimes goofy wildlife made the trip memorable.
Unfortunately, our last days at sea were challenging physically and emotionally and neither of us were a pretty sight when we arrived. Many aspects of the trip - the battle to stay dry and warm when the inside of the boat was the temperature of a very damp refrigerator (41 degrees) and every line we touched was wet with cold seawater, the dearth of fresh water, the few serious breakdowns and the niggling trivial ones like cold seawater dripping on the settee or sloshing on the cabin sole - tried our skills, resilience, patience and sanity, but the closest we came to despair was two days out of Sitka as a stalled low pressure system continued to cast its frontal bands in our path and easterly winds made it impossible to sail to Sitka Sound's Cape Edgecumbe. We questioned our karma more than once during those last days of our journey, when nature sent us tall, choppy, confused seas and head winds gusting to gale force. When we were able to sail, it was as hard on the wind as we could squeeze - a bash into unforgiving cold seas that frequently, as in every few minutes, brought green water aboard. Green water made it difficult to stay dry, and staying dry was the only way we could stay warm, as our only heat was that generated when we used our galley stove or with our bodies.
Our last night at sea was spent hove-to with winds finally abating and moving southerly as morning approached. Seas were slower to subside. Being almost 80 nm from the port of Sitka, we fired up the old diesel early in the morning at our change of watch and then pushed as hard as we could - as hard as we ever have pushed the engine and as hard as we dared - racing daylight through blinding rain and fog, motorsailing with canvas pushing too, feeding each other warm drinks and encouraging words as we hand steered for 17 hours, continuously monitoring radar, AIS and VHF for traffic when we could often not see through the fog. Nearing Cape Edgecumbe, our AIS and a securite message on the VHF helped us to avoid a cruise ship on a reciprocal course, proving once again what a valuable tool this is for pleasure yachts. A hail on the VHF shortly after from old friends Randy and Gayle on SV Otter (from Ecuador 11 years ago!) brought a big smile to our faces and helped to ease the stress of the drive to arrive.
At nearly 9 pm we were finally inside Sitka harbor, lowered our mainsail and dropped the anchor as daylight faded rapidly with the heavy cloud cover. When Philip was happy with our set and we turned off the engine, the feeling of calm was like a big thick cozy blanket gently enveloping us. Forty six days and some hours of constant movement, of constant attentiveness, of constant worry and it seemed impossible to believe, at least for a moment, that we had done it and that it was done. We had brought Carina back across the biggest, coldest, most capricious piece of ocean either of us had ever encountered - the not-so pacific, North Pacific. NOW what do we do? Not tomorrow, now. The titer of adrenaline in our bloodstream was way too high to just fall into bed, so we just wandered around the cabin and deck that both looked like something you'd see in a disaster documentary, wrote critical things into our log and finally toasted our little boat and each other. With no other dry place to sleep, we both squeezed into a single sleeping bag on the port-settee, hugged tightly, and slept like we had not in over six weeks, happy to be safe and anchored in Sitka.
The difference between Pohnpei, our departure point at latitude 07 North, and Sitka at latitude 57 North, could not be any more dramatic than it is. When we left Micronesia, the temperature was a steamy 80-85 degrees F during the day. In Sitka, the temp was about 55 degrees and, when we arrived, raining. No bare feet, palm trees, bamboo, yellow fin tuna, fresh tropical fruit, and no sweating in the tropical sun. Just foulies and boots and layers of polar fleece and gorgeous mountains frosted with snow fields, salmon-berries and fireweed, pods of whales, ambling brown bears, leaping salmon and reclining sea otters.
Early the morning after our arrival, we tied to the transient dock and were immediately greeted by friendly folk - Joel of The Boat Company, bringing mail of warm bedding, repair kits, and charts, Randy and Gayle of Otter, and Chuck the one-and-only and very friendly US Customs and Border Patrol officer who welcomed us with a quick flurry of paperwork and a sincere smile. Bundling up, we closed up Carina and waded off towards town in search of friend John who had flown from Whidbey Island WA in for a brief visit. Half way down the long dock of Sitka, we spotted his smile in the shadow of a big brown foulie and all got hugged hard. A slosh into town and we settled into a luscious lunch and great conversation inside the warm, dry and friendly Sitka Hotel. It was a great homecoming to America! Thank you so much, John!
We have dozens of people to thank for the loving support on our journey - the preparation, the execution, and the arrival - including the ever-diligent amateur radio operators of the PacSeaNet who stood by for our call every single day. And, where the hell would we be without Ken and Audrey? We won't try to name all of you for fear of an oversight, but you know who you are - those who helped us prepare and saw us off, those who watched our progress and who sent weather, parcels, advice or just kind words our way, and those who helped us when we arrived - please know we love you all and sincerely appreciate your help and encouragement.
Our stay in Sitka was glorious, despite our weather acclimation (brrrr) and our long list of must-dos that dominated our daily existence. We did countless loads of laundry as every textile on the boat was wet (including most of the cushions), opened up and sopped up every locker, gave away unimaginable pounds of stores, and simply slept as long and hard as we could during the sunny summer nights. There were critical chores, like repairing the genoa, servicing the HF radio, and recommissioning the diesel cabin heater, but it was all good. We were warm and dry and safe in the company of old and new friends in a lovely, friendly place with an abundance of supplies - John R, Randy & Gayle, Kris and John F of Mew (thank you Kristy & John T of Raynad!), Martina & Larry of Aldo (thank you Nola & Jerry of Moonsong), Joel & Alice (thank you Ken), Patrick & Wyvonne of Andante and fisherman John Erp on F/V Keet. Sitka is a great town with lots going on and we hope to see more of it and the tiny wild nooks around the west coast of Baranof and Chichagof Islands on our next cruise north.
On Wednesday July 19 we reluctantly pushed out of Sitka and began our summer passage down through "Southeast" towards the Puget Sound, anxious to get going on the last chapter of our journey home which will be the subject of our next note.
Your friends of the yacht Carina,
Philip, Leslie and the spirit of the fat cat, Jake
website: www.sv-carina.org
At 7/25/2017 and 0:23 UTC (GMT) our position was: 57°11.90'N / 134°50.96'W
p.s. PLEASE, if you wish to respond to our emails, DO NOT hit the "reply" button as it sends our original message back to us or, if you do, please delete our original message before sending.
----------
radio email processed by SailMail
for information see: http://www.sailmail.com
Thursday 27 July 2017
Sitka
Dear Friends;
We sailed into Sitka Alaska, USA on July 1, 2017 after a passage of 4,689 nautical miles from Pohnpei in Micronesia. And though we remember the trials most vividly, we had some glorious sailing and inspiring moments too. The stellar performance of our little vessel, the amazing display of energy in the enormous expanse of ocean, and the gorgeous and sometimes goofy wildlife made the trip memorable.
Unfortunately, our last days at sea were challenging physically and emotionally and neither of us were a pretty sight when we arrived. Many aspects of the trip - the battle to stay dry and warm when the inside of the boat was the temperature of a very damp refrigerator (41 degrees) and every line we touched was wet with cold seawater, the dearth of fresh water, the few serious breakdowns and the niggling trivial ones like cold seawater dripping on the settee or sloshing on the cabin sole - tried our skills, resilience, patience and sanity, but the closest we came to despair was two days out of Sitka as a stalled low pressure system continued to cast its frontal bands in our path and easterly winds made it impossible to sail to Sitka Sound's Cape Edgecumbe. We questioned our karma more than once during those last days of our journey, when nature sent us tall, choppy, confused seas and head winds gusting to gale force. When we were able to sail, it was as hard on the wind as we could squeeze - a bash into unforgiving cold seas that frequently, as in every few minutes, brought green water aboard. Green water made it difficult to stay dry, and staying dry was the only way we could stay warm, as our only heat was that generated when we used our galley stove or with our bodies.
Our last night at sea was spent hove-to with winds finally abating and moving southerly as morning approached. Seas were slower to subside. Being almost 80 nm from the port of Sitka, we fired up the old diesel early in the morning at our change of watch and then pushed as hard as we could - as hard as we ever have pushed the engine and as hard as we dared - racing daylight through blinding rain and fog, motorsailing with canvas pushing too, feeding each other warm drinks and encouraging words as we hand steered for 17 hours, continuously monitoring radar, AIS and VHF for traffic when we could often not see through the fog. Nearing Cape Edgecumbe, our AIS and a securite message on the VHF helped us to avoid a cruise ship on a reciprocal course, proving once again what a valuable tool this is for pleasure yachts. A hail on the VHF shortly after from old friends Randy and Gayle on SV Otter (from Ecuador 11 years ago!) brought a big smile to our faces and helped to ease the stress of the drive to arrive.
At nearly 9 pm we were finally inside Sitka harbor, lowered our mainsail and dropped the anchor as daylight faded rapidly with the heavy cloud cover. When Philip was happy with our set and we turned off the engine, the feeling of calm was like a big thick cozy blanket gently enveloping us. Forty six days and some hours of constant movement, of constant attentiveness, of constant worry and it seemed impossible to believe, at least for a moment, that we had done it and that it was done. We had brought Carina back across the biggest, coldest, most capricious piece of ocean either of us had ever encountered - the not-so pacific, North Pacific. NOW what do we do? Not tomorrow, now. The titer of adrenaline in our bloodstream was way too high to just fall into bed, so we just wandered around the cabin and deck that both looked like something you'd see in a disaster documentary, wrote critical things into our log and finally toasted our little boat and each other. With no other dry place to sleep, we both squeezed into a single sleeping bag on the port-settee, hugged tightly, and slept like we had not in over six weeks, happy to be safe and anchored in Sitka.
The difference between Pohnpei, our departure point at latitude 07 North, and Sitka at latitude 57 North, could not be any more dramatic than it is. When we left Micronesia, the temperature was a steamy 80-85 degrees F during the day. In Sitka, the temp was about 55 degrees and, when we arrived, raining. No bare feet, palm trees, bamboo, yellow fin tuna, fresh tropical fruit, and no sweating in the tropical sun. Just foulies and boots and layers of polar fleece and gorgeous mountains frosted with snow fields, salmon-berries and fireweed, pods of whales, ambling brown bears, leaping salmon and reclining sea otters.
Early the morning after our arrival, we tied to the transient dock and were immediately greeted by friendly folk - Joel of The Boat Company, bringing mail of warm bedding, repair kits, and charts, Randy and Gayle of Otter, and Chuck the one-and-only and very friendly US Customs and Border Patrol officer who welcomed us with a quick flurry of paperwork and a sincere smile. Bundling up, we closed up Carina and waded off towards town in search of friend John who had flown from Whidbey Island WA in for a brief visit. Half way down the long dock of Sitka, we spotted his smile in the shadow of a big brown foulie and all got hugged hard. A slosh into town and we settled into a luscious lunch and great conversation inside the warm, dry and friendly Sitka Hotel. It was a great homecoming to America! Thank you so much, John!
We have dozens of people to thank for the loving support on our journey - the preparation, the execution, and the arrival - including the ever-diligent amateur radio operators of the PacSeaNet who stood by for our call every single day. And, where the hell would we be without Ken and Audrey? We won't try to name all of you for fear of an oversight, but you know who you are - those who helped us prepare and saw us off, those who watched our progress and who sent weather, parcels, advice or just kind words our way, and those who helped us when we arrived - please know we love you all and sincerely appreciate your help and encouragement.
Our stay in Sitka was glorious, despite our weather acclimation (brrrr) and our long list of must-dos that dominated our daily existence. We did countless loads of laundry as every textile on the boat was wet (including most of the cushions), opened up and sopped up every locker, gave away unimaginable pounds of stores, and simply slept as long and hard as we could during the sunny summer nights. There were critical chores, like repairing the genoa, servicing the HF radio, and recommissioning the diesel cabin heater, but it was all good. We were warm and dry and safe in the company of old and new friends in a lovely, friendly place with an abundance of supplies - John R, Randy & Gayle, Kris and John F of Mew (thank you Kristy & John T of Raynad!), Martina & Larry of Aldo (thank you Nola & Jerry of Moonsong), Joel & Alice (thank you Ken), Patrick & Wyvonne of Andante and fisherman John Erp on F/V Keet. Sitka is a great town with lots going on and we hope to see more of it and the tiny wild nooks around the west coast of Baranof and Chichagof Islands on our next cruise north.
On Wednesday July 19 we reluctantly pushed out of Sitka and began our summer passage down through "Southeast" towards the Puget Sound, anxious to get going on the last chapter of our journey home which will be the subject of our next note.
At 7/26/2017 and 19:36 UTC (GMT) our position was: 57°04.50'N / 134°49.62'W.
We sailed into Sitka Alaska, USA on July 1, 2017 after a passage of 4,689 nautical miles from Pohnpei in Micronesia. And though we remember the trials most vividly, we had some glorious sailing and inspiring moments too. The stellar performance of our little vessel, the amazing display of energy in the enormous expanse of ocean, and the gorgeous and sometimes goofy wildlife made the trip memorable.
Unfortunately, our last days at sea were challenging physically and emotionally and neither of us were a pretty sight when we arrived. Many aspects of the trip - the battle to stay dry and warm when the inside of the boat was the temperature of a very damp refrigerator (41 degrees) and every line we touched was wet with cold seawater, the dearth of fresh water, the few serious breakdowns and the niggling trivial ones like cold seawater dripping on the settee or sloshing on the cabin sole - tried our skills, resilience, patience and sanity, but the closest we came to despair was two days out of Sitka as a stalled low pressure system continued to cast its frontal bands in our path and easterly winds made it impossible to sail to Sitka Sound's Cape Edgecumbe. We questioned our karma more than once during those last days of our journey, when nature sent us tall, choppy, confused seas and head winds gusting to gale force. When we were able to sail, it was as hard on the wind as we could squeeze - a bash into unforgiving cold seas that frequently, as in every few minutes, brought green water aboard. Green water made it difficult to stay dry, and staying dry was the only way we could stay warm, as our only heat was that generated when we used our galley stove or with our bodies.
Our last night at sea was spent hove-to with winds finally abating and moving southerly as morning approached. Seas were slower to subside. Being almost 80 nm from the port of Sitka, we fired up the old diesel early in the morning at our change of watch and then pushed as hard as we could - as hard as we ever have pushed the engine and as hard as we dared - racing daylight through blinding rain and fog, motorsailing with canvas pushing too, feeding each other warm drinks and encouraging words as we hand steered for 17 hours, continuously monitoring radar, AIS and VHF for traffic when we could often not see through the fog. Nearing Cape Edgecumbe, our AIS and a securite message on the VHF helped us to avoid a cruise ship on a reciprocal course, proving once again what a valuable tool this is for pleasure yachts. A hail on the VHF shortly after from old friends Randy and Gayle on SV Otter (from Ecuador 11 years ago!) brought a big smile to our faces and helped to ease the stress of the drive to arrive.
At nearly 9 pm we were finally inside Sitka harbor, lowered our mainsail and dropped the anchor as daylight faded rapidly with the heavy cloud cover. When Philip was happy with our set and we turned off the engine, the feeling of calm was like a big thick cozy blanket gently enveloping us. Forty six days and some hours of constant movement, of constant attentiveness, of constant worry and it seemed impossible to believe, at least for a moment, that we had done it and that it was done. We had brought Carina back across the biggest, coldest, most capricious piece of ocean either of us had ever encountered - the not-so pacific, North Pacific. NOW what do we do? Not tomorrow, now. The titer of adrenaline in our bloodstream was way too high to just fall into bed, so we just wandered around the cabin and deck that both looked like something you'd see in a disaster documentary, wrote critical things into our log and finally toasted our little boat and each other. With no other dry place to sleep, we both squeezed into a single sleeping bag on the port-settee, hugged tightly, and slept like we had not in over six weeks, happy to be safe and anchored in Sitka.
The difference between Pohnpei, our departure point at latitude 07 North, and Sitka at latitude 57 North, could not be any more dramatic than it is. When we left Micronesia, the temperature was a steamy 80-85 degrees F during the day. In Sitka, the temp was about 55 degrees and, when we arrived, raining. No bare feet, palm trees, bamboo, yellow fin tuna, fresh tropical fruit, and no sweating in the tropical sun. Just foulies and boots and layers of polar fleece and gorgeous mountains frosted with snow fields, salmon-berries and fireweed, pods of whales, ambling brown bears, leaping salmon and reclining sea otters.
Early the morning after our arrival, we tied to the transient dock and were immediately greeted by friendly folk - Joel of The Boat Company, bringing mail of warm bedding, repair kits, and charts, Randy and Gayle of Otter, and Chuck the one-and-only and very friendly US Customs and Border Patrol officer who welcomed us with a quick flurry of paperwork and a sincere smile. Bundling up, we closed up Carina and waded off towards town in search of friend John who had flown from Whidbey Island WA in for a brief visit. Half way down the long dock of Sitka, we spotted his smile in the shadow of a big brown foulie and all got hugged hard. A slosh into town and we settled into a luscious lunch and great conversation inside the warm, dry and friendly Sitka Hotel. It was a great homecoming to America! Thank you so much, John!
We have dozens of people to thank for the loving support on our journey - the preparation, the execution, and the arrival - including the ever-diligent amateur radio operators of the PacSeaNet who stood by for our call every single day. And, where the hell would we be without Ken and Audrey? We won't try to name all of you for fear of an oversight, but you know who you are - those who helped us prepare and saw us off, those who watched our progress and who sent weather, parcels, advice or just kind words our way, and those who helped us when we arrived - please know we love you all and sincerely appreciate your help and encouragement.
Our stay in Sitka was glorious, despite our weather acclimation (brrrr) and our long list of must-dos that dominated our daily existence. We did countless loads of laundry as every textile on the boat was wet (including most of the cushions), opened up and sopped up every locker, gave away unimaginable pounds of stores, and simply slept as long and hard as we could during the sunny summer nights. There were critical chores, like repairing the genoa, servicing the HF radio, and recommissioning the diesel cabin heater, but it was all good. We were warm and dry and safe in the company of old and new friends in a lovely, friendly place with an abundance of supplies - John R, Randy & Gayle, Kris and John F of Mew (thank you Kristy & John T of Raynad!), Martina & Larry of Aldo (thank you Nola & Jerry of Moonsong), Joel & Alice (thank you Ken), Patrick & Wyvonne of Andante and fisherman John Erp on F/V Keet. Sitka is a great town with lots going on and we hope to see more of it and the tiny wild nooks around the west coast of Baranof and Chichagof Islands on our next cruise north.
On Wednesday July 19 we reluctantly pushed out of Sitka and began our summer passage down through "Southeast" towards the Puget Sound, anxious to get going on the last chapter of our journey home which will be the subject of our next note.
At 7/26/2017 and 19:36 UTC (GMT) our position was: 57°04.50'N / 134°49.62'W.
Monday 26 June 2017
Update
Dear Friends;
NOTE: this update will be sent to our Dispatch List once we get a Sailmail connection...
Greetings from the Gulf of Alaska Seamount Province! Our GPS advises us that on our rhumb line, there are 499 nautical miles to our waypoint at Cape Edgecumbe at the entrance to Sitka Sound. As you may imagine, we are beginning to anticipate landfall after 40 days (so far) at sea. During our voyage we crossed the International Dateline and discovered the day we lost in Fiji eight years ago. We also gave back three hours borrowed while adventuring.
The sea around us is mostly a gun metal gray and the sky, completely overcast, the color of old pewter. We spot bits of giant kelp and logs that remind us we are no longer in the tropics where we would more likely see flotsam of bamboo and bobbing coconuts. The cold continues as we head north in spite of the emergence of summer in this beautiful corner of the world. It seems the high latitude trumps all. Yesterday, by contrast, we had almost perfect sailing - a broad reach with brilliant sunlight and a sparkling sea - and huddled under the dodger out of the wind and, like lizards on fLat rock, let the sun warm our faces as we watched the magnificent sea slip by.
The nights are short here where the earth's circumference is diminished, and there has been no true darkness - where the sea surface is invisible in an inky blackness - for days now. The north Pacific is cold, though the hull temperature is actually rising (up three degrees from a low of 41 F) and that's made a difference in the comfort level in the cabin. We are still bulging with layers and layers of undergarments and polarfleece and have piles of gloves in various stages of dryness hanging about the cabin, but getting out of the warm bunk to a mug of hot tea isn't quite as hard as it was 1,000 nm ago. We are sharing a hooded fleece-lined "great coat" and have a change of watch routine wherein we pass the coat, often in the red glow of the confined cabin. The off-watch then scampers for the bunk before it loses the warmth left behind by its previous occupant. Thus we are truly "hot-bunking".
We are STILL eating well, thanks to Philip's diligence, but we've probably shed a pound or two keeping warm despite our continuous eating. There is still a corner of red cabbage in the fridge, and a potato or two, but otherwise we're dependent on preserved food. We bake fresh bread every few days and look forward each morning to high-fat comfort-food peanut butter on toast. We have also become capable nappers, with skills rivaling those of cats or newborn babies.
With only a little under 500 nautical miles to our destination, you would think that we only have an additional 4 or 5 days or so until we reach Sitka. However, we hesitate to speculate given the fact we just discovered a tear in the belly of our much-beloved and hard-working genoa that's been on duty nearly non-stop for the entire passage. We can unfurl perhaps one third of the whole sail before the tear appears; this limits the effective sail area significantly. Coincidentally, we are just coming into the influence of a forecasted low pressure system that will give us stronger winds for at least two days, so we are running with staysail and reefed main and making about 4 - 4.5 knots. If we need a bit more headsail, we can still use the undamaged portion of the genoa, so there is no serious issue with making headway. Should we get calm or lighter winds before we reach Sitka, we can effect a repair or swap the sail out with our spare. If not, we'll do so in port.
So that is the latest issue to be dealt with. Other recent problems we have successfully tackled, during the daylight hours under benign conditions include: replacing a broken engine starter, exchanging a failing v-belt to the raw water pump, soldering a capricious radar power cable and replacing a sheared stainless steel bolt securing a padeye for a fairlead block at the port side of the coaming. Yesterday, we were completely surprised to discover damage to the SAME cotter pin holding the latch pin of the Monitor wind vane and had to replace it once again, though it only involved one of us hanging over the stern this time.
On the other hand, our KISS wind generator has been humming away, giving us ample power when the wind is blowing, a plus when the slanting sun is rarely visible through clouds or fog. Our AIS unit has also been a godsend, warning us of huge cargo ships that are passing nearby; ships with flags of convenience from Panama, Malta, Cyprus and Liberia bound for exotic west-bound destinations of Singapore, Japan, China and east bound to the considerably less exotic port of Everett, WA. One ship's mate actually called us on the VHF radio as we passed three miles away and inquired as to our well-being, indicating we were brethren of the sea. That brought a smile to our morning.
Our current position is 53 degrees 45 minutes north and 149 degrees 13 minutes west and we're heading 066 degrees true. Our best guess now as to when we might make landfall is this coming weekend, probably July 1st or 2nd. All this depends on the vagaries of the sea and weather.
Your friends of the yacht Carina,
Philip, Leslie and the spirit of the fat cat, Jake
website: www.sv-carina.org
At 6/26/2017 and 15:10 UTC (GMT) our position was: 53°53.90'N / 148°36.15'W.
We were traveling 069T degrees true at 4.4 knots.
NOTE: this update will be sent to our Dispatch List once we get a Sailmail connection...
Greetings from the Gulf of Alaska Seamount Province! Our GPS advises us that on our rhumb line, there are 499 nautical miles to our waypoint at Cape Edgecumbe at the entrance to Sitka Sound. As you may imagine, we are beginning to anticipate landfall after 40 days (so far) at sea. During our voyage we crossed the International Dateline and discovered the day we lost in Fiji eight years ago. We also gave back three hours borrowed while adventuring.
The sea around us is mostly a gun metal gray and the sky, completely overcast, the color of old pewter. We spot bits of giant kelp and logs that remind us we are no longer in the tropics where we would more likely see flotsam of bamboo and bobbing coconuts. The cold continues as we head north in spite of the emergence of summer in this beautiful corner of the world. It seems the high latitude trumps all. Yesterday, by contrast, we had almost perfect sailing - a broad reach with brilliant sunlight and a sparkling sea - and huddled under the dodger out of the wind and, like lizards on fLat rock, let the sun warm our faces as we watched the magnificent sea slip by.
The nights are short here where the earth's circumference is diminished, and there has been no true darkness - where the sea surface is invisible in an inky blackness - for days now. The north Pacific is cold, though the hull temperature is actually rising (up three degrees from a low of 41 F) and that's made a difference in the comfort level in the cabin. We are still bulging with layers and layers of undergarments and polarfleece and have piles of gloves in various stages of dryness hanging about the cabin, but getting out of the warm bunk to a mug of hot tea isn't quite as hard as it was 1,000 nm ago. We are sharing a hooded fleece-lined "great coat" and have a change of watch routine wherein we pass the coat, often in the red glow of the confined cabin. The off-watch then scampers for the bunk before it loses the warmth left behind by its previous occupant. Thus we are truly "hot-bunking".
We are STILL eating well, thanks to Philip's diligence, but we've probably shed a pound or two keeping warm despite our continuous eating. There is still a corner of red cabbage in the fridge, and a potato or two, but otherwise we're dependent on preserved food. We bake fresh bread every few days and look forward each morning to high-fat comfort-food peanut butter on toast. We have also become capable nappers, with skills rivaling those of cats or newborn babies.
With only a little under 500 nautical miles to our destination, you would think that we only have an additional 4 or 5 days or so until we reach Sitka. However, we hesitate to speculate given the fact we just discovered a tear in the belly of our much-beloved and hard-working genoa that's been on duty nearly non-stop for the entire passage. We can unfurl perhaps one third of the whole sail before the tear appears; this limits the effective sail area significantly. Coincidentally, we are just coming into the influence of a forecasted low pressure system that will give us stronger winds for at least two days, so we are running with staysail and reefed main and making about 4 - 4.5 knots. If we need a bit more headsail, we can still use the undamaged portion of the genoa, so there is no serious issue with making headway. Should we get calm or lighter winds before we reach Sitka, we can effect a repair or swap the sail out with our spare. If not, we'll do so in port.
So that is the latest issue to be dealt with. Other recent problems we have successfully tackled, during the daylight hours under benign conditions include: replacing a broken engine starter, exchanging a failing v-belt to the raw water pump, soldering a capricious radar power cable and replacing a sheared stainless steel bolt securing a padeye for a fairlead block at the port side of the coaming. Yesterday, we were completely surprised to discover damage to the SAME cotter pin holding the latch pin of the Monitor wind vane and had to replace it once again, though it only involved one of us hanging over the stern this time.
On the other hand, our KISS wind generator has been humming away, giving us ample power when the wind is blowing, a plus when the slanting sun is rarely visible through clouds or fog. Our AIS unit has also been a godsend, warning us of huge cargo ships that are passing nearby; ships with flags of convenience from Panama, Malta, Cyprus and Liberia bound for exotic west-bound destinations of Singapore, Japan, China and east bound to the considerably less exotic port of Everett, WA. One ship's mate actually called us on the VHF radio as we passed three miles away and inquired as to our well-being, indicating we were brethren of the sea. That brought a smile to our morning.
Our current position is 53 degrees 45 minutes north and 149 degrees 13 minutes west and we're heading 066 degrees true. Our best guess now as to when we might make landfall is this coming weekend, probably July 1st or 2nd. All this depends on the vagaries of the sea and weather.
Your friends of the yacht Carina,
Philip, Leslie and the spirit of the fat cat, Jake
website: www.sv-carina.org
At 6/26/2017 and 15:10 UTC (GMT) our position was: 53°53.90'N / 148°36.15'W.
We were traveling 069T degrees true at 4.4 knots.
Friday 23 June 2017
Day 37 - 3754 nm Run
The summer soltice has come and gone but as we push north, the days are still, for us, getting longer and longer. Or perhaps I should say, the nights are getting shorter! As I write, we're inching towards 51N, hampered by NNE wind. Nights now aren't getting completely dark even with our continuously cloud-enshrouded sky. By 1 am (we're on GMT -11) there is a definite glow in the eastern sky though it has only been marginally dark a few hours.
We are now well east of Dutch Harbor and moving towards the Gulf of Alaska with about 878 nm to Sitka Sound. The water temperature has risen a couple of degrees and that's made a big difference in the comfort level in the cabin. It's still chilly but it doesn't feel as much like a walk-in refrigerated steam bath as it did 1000 nm ago.
For a few days we've been dealing with a high pressure system and its light winds. It has been a struggle to keep moving in the right direction sometimes. By this time tomorrow we expect to have better winds, but we will believe that when it happens. Meanwhile, we're dealing with maintaining our little vessel, getting sufficiently rested and well fed, and staying chipper.
On the list were a new V belt for the engine water pump, replacing the failed starting motor, and soldering a corroding shield wire line on the power cable of the radar.
With light winds at night we can hear the chittering nearby of a sea bird, perhaps a northern fulmar, whose stocky build we have seen in daylight hours. We were visiting again last night by a fur seal who frolicked in the shallow swell, zipping and reeling through the water like a torpedo, sending up a phosphorescent glow, and periodically surfacing and emitting a sharp POOF of air.
At 6/22/2017 and 18:04 UTC (GMT) our position was: 50°57.46'N / 158°30.14'W.
We were traveling 091T degrees true at 3.8 knots.
short-footer
We are now well east of Dutch Harbor and moving towards the Gulf of Alaska with about 878 nm to Sitka Sound. The water temperature has risen a couple of degrees and that's made a big difference in the comfort level in the cabin. It's still chilly but it doesn't feel as much like a walk-in refrigerated steam bath as it did 1000 nm ago.
For a few days we've been dealing with a high pressure system and its light winds. It has been a struggle to keep moving in the right direction sometimes. By this time tomorrow we expect to have better winds, but we will believe that when it happens. Meanwhile, we're dealing with maintaining our little vessel, getting sufficiently rested and well fed, and staying chipper.
On the list were a new V belt for the engine water pump, replacing the failed starting motor, and soldering a corroding shield wire line on the power cable of the radar.
With light winds at night we can hear the chittering nearby of a sea bird, perhaps a northern fulmar, whose stocky build we have seen in daylight hours. We were visiting again last night by a fur seal who frolicked in the shallow swell, zipping and reeling through the water like a torpedo, sending up a phosphorescent glow, and periodically surfacing and emitting a sharp POOF of air.
At 6/22/2017 and 18:04 UTC (GMT) our position was: 50°57.46'N / 158°30.14'W.
We were traveling 091T degrees true at 3.8 knots.
short-footer
Wednesday 14 June 2017
//WL2K - Carina Dispatch - Update - Day 28
Dear Friends;
We continue to make progress though we had a few days stuck in a sunny high pressure system with very little wind resulting in runs less than three figures in 24 hours. We made up for that the following day with the best run of this passage so far: 128 nm. We paid for those miles though; close hauled on a starboard tack, wind gusting over 30 kts, 3+ meter seas, rain and cold, Carina driving through the seas and often falling off the peaks, landing with a gathump that jarred every molecule aboard. An uncomfortable night for sure.
We have seen few vessels on AIS but only one visually as we've mostly been engulfed in fog. This morning we had our first official gale, winds generated by a deep low passing west of us on its way to the Aleutians. The hull temp is 46F. Our GPS says we have less than ~1,650 nm to go but, as all sailors know, it lies.
The Laysan albatrosses are back with us, wheeling across the sky and skimming the waves. We had a couple of days in a row where dolphins and minke or pilot whales visited. Philip muttered "I sure hope he knows what he is doing" when one whale surfaced and blew 20' from Carina's starboard quarter. Eventually, they disappeared and we haven't seem them since. Another surprise visitor was an eared pinniped (fur seal?), ~4' long, that swam up to Carina's side and frolicked around for about an hour. We were shocked to see such an animal so far from shore (we thought they stayed close to land). He obviously wanted to come aboard - he kept rising from the water and examining the deck - but our freeboard was too high and our lifeline netting prevented access. Eventually he too went away.
We have had a few instances of "issues" with which we've had to deal. This is pretty much expected on such a long trip. A few days ago, Leslie was was making routine rounds of the cockpit when she looked down at the paddle of our self-steering Monitor wind vane and exclaimed "Holy #@$&^%! - the hinge pin on the Monitor paddle is about to come out!" So in a flash we took in our genoa and staysail, hove to, removed all the impediments from the stern: sliced the lashings of the half-high Phifertex weathercloths, untied fenders, lifted the Danforth stern anchor inboard, moved throw cushions, etc., in order to gain unimpeded access to the Monitor. Philip reached over the stern on the port side and Leslie snaked her body through the narrow opening on the starboard side, one time thinking she might get swept overboard as Carina rose up and over a 3 meter swell, tilting the stern sharply downward. (She was tethered in so if she'd gone overboard she would have at least still been attached to the boat). Leslie jammed a screwdriver into the hinge assembly to try to align the pin/spring combination which was under pressure. As she would get it aligned in the pitching sea, many times up to her elbows in cold seawater, she'd shout "pound it" (meaning the pin) over the shriek of the wind. Then "stop" as a wave and a twist of Carina's hull sent the whole affair off kilter again. Then jam, align and "pound", again. Philip finally hammered the pin home and Leslie slipped in a cotter pin and after nearly losing cotter pin and screwdriver to waves, secured it by spreading the legs so it would stay in place. Even though we were hove to, waves came crashing up immersing us as we tried to work. Eventually, we got everything secure, though for a seemingly simple job, it took us about an hour. Adrenaline coursed through our veins for hours afterwards. Should we have lost this pin and the hinge, we would have had to bring the paddle aboard, replace the parts with our spares (not an easy task to do even on a calm day in port) and try to align and replace the pin holding the paddle. As Philip said then "I don't even want to think about it". The alternative of course is to hand-steer, which is not an alternative at all. The good news was that we discovered this at 1000 hours local and we had plenty of daylight in which to work. I'm not sure how we would have dealt with it if happened at 0200 on a moonless night. The bad news was that it was blowing 25-30 kts and gusting higher; one of the reasons it took so long to fix.
The day before yesterday, we noticed that the genoa was chafed near the luff about 6' off the deck - from the cockpit Leslie could see daylight through a small area at a crease. Winds were light so we rolled in the sail to the area of chafe, cleaned the cloth with acetone and applied adhesive Dacron on both sides. We will stitch the patch when we reach port.
During our rough night of beating we lost the contents of one of our water jerry cans on the side deck. We still have the can but it's empty. Our watermaker has developed a leak in its cleaning valve, too, so we're being even more cautious about our water supply.
We're still eating well - pasta puttanesca and marinated artichokes for supper, fresh bread in the oven - and sleeping well in our cozy, warm dry bunk. The fresh breezes make it too cold to spend much time in the cockpit despite our thickly layered clothing and we're keeping the cabin warm by keeping the windowed companionway cover in place.
All is well.
Your friends of the yacht Carina,
Philip, Leslie and the spirit of the fat cat, Jake
website: www.sv-carina.org
At 6/14/2017 and 3:34 UTC (GMT) our position was: 43°35.79'N / 174°34.15'W
p.s. PLEASE, if you wish to respond to our emails, DO NOT hit the "reply" button as it sends our original message back to us.
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for information see: http://www.sailmail.com
We continue to make progress though we had a few days stuck in a sunny high pressure system with very little wind resulting in runs less than three figures in 24 hours. We made up for that the following day with the best run of this passage so far: 128 nm. We paid for those miles though; close hauled on a starboard tack, wind gusting over 30 kts, 3+ meter seas, rain and cold, Carina driving through the seas and often falling off the peaks, landing with a gathump that jarred every molecule aboard. An uncomfortable night for sure.
We have seen few vessels on AIS but only one visually as we've mostly been engulfed in fog. This morning we had our first official gale, winds generated by a deep low passing west of us on its way to the Aleutians. The hull temp is 46F. Our GPS says we have less than ~1,650 nm to go but, as all sailors know, it lies.
The Laysan albatrosses are back with us, wheeling across the sky and skimming the waves. We had a couple of days in a row where dolphins and minke or pilot whales visited. Philip muttered "I sure hope he knows what he is doing" when one whale surfaced and blew 20' from Carina's starboard quarter. Eventually, they disappeared and we haven't seem them since. Another surprise visitor was an eared pinniped (fur seal?), ~4' long, that swam up to Carina's side and frolicked around for about an hour. We were shocked to see such an animal so far from shore (we thought they stayed close to land). He obviously wanted to come aboard - he kept rising from the water and examining the deck - but our freeboard was too high and our lifeline netting prevented access. Eventually he too went away.
We have had a few instances of "issues" with which we've had to deal. This is pretty much expected on such a long trip. A few days ago, Leslie was was making routine rounds of the cockpit when she looked down at the paddle of our self-steering Monitor wind vane and exclaimed "Holy #@$&^%! - the hinge pin on the Monitor paddle is about to come out!" So in a flash we took in our genoa and staysail, hove to, removed all the impediments from the stern: sliced the lashings of the half-high Phifertex weathercloths, untied fenders, lifted the Danforth stern anchor inboard, moved throw cushions, etc., in order to gain unimpeded access to the Monitor. Philip reached over the stern on the port side and Leslie snaked her body through the narrow opening on the starboard side, one time thinking she might get swept overboard as Carina rose up and over a 3 meter swell, tilting the stern sharply downward. (She was tethered in so if she'd gone overboard she would have at least still been attached to the boat). Leslie jammed a screwdriver into the hinge assembly to try to align the pin/spring combination which was under pressure. As she would get it aligned in the pitching sea, many times up to her elbows in cold seawater, she'd shout "pound it" (meaning the pin) over the shriek of the wind. Then "stop" as a wave and a twist of Carina's hull sent the whole affair off kilter again. Then jam, align and "pound", again. Philip finally hammered the pin home and Leslie slipped in a cotter pin and after nearly losing cotter pin and screwdriver to waves, secured it by spreading the legs so it would stay in place. Even though we were hove to, waves came crashing up immersing us as we tried to work. Eventually, we got everything secure, though for a seemingly simple job, it took us about an hour. Adrenaline coursed through our veins for hours afterwards. Should we have lost this pin and the hinge, we would have had to bring the paddle aboard, replace the parts with our spares (not an easy task to do even on a calm day in port) and try to align and replace the pin holding the paddle. As Philip said then "I don't even want to think about it". The alternative of course is to hand-steer, which is not an alternative at all. The good news was that we discovered this at 1000 hours local and we had plenty of daylight in which to work. I'm not sure how we would have dealt with it if happened at 0200 on a moonless night. The bad news was that it was blowing 25-30 kts and gusting higher; one of the reasons it took so long to fix.
The day before yesterday, we noticed that the genoa was chafed near the luff about 6' off the deck - from the cockpit Leslie could see daylight through a small area at a crease. Winds were light so we rolled in the sail to the area of chafe, cleaned the cloth with acetone and applied adhesive Dacron on both sides. We will stitch the patch when we reach port.
During our rough night of beating we lost the contents of one of our water jerry cans on the side deck. We still have the can but it's empty. Our watermaker has developed a leak in its cleaning valve, too, so we're being even more cautious about our water supply.
We're still eating well - pasta puttanesca and marinated artichokes for supper, fresh bread in the oven - and sleeping well in our cozy, warm dry bunk. The fresh breezes make it too cold to spend much time in the cockpit despite our thickly layered clothing and we're keeping the cabin warm by keeping the windowed companionway cover in place.
All is well.
Your friends of the yacht Carina,
Philip, Leslie and the spirit of the fat cat, Jake
website: www.sv-carina.org
At 6/14/2017 and 3:34 UTC (GMT) our position was: 43°35.79'N / 174°34.15'W
p.s. PLEASE, if you wish to respond to our emails, DO NOT hit the "reply" button as it sends our original message back to us.
We usually have limited bandwidth that makes it difficult to receive lengthly messages.
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Sunday 11 June 2017
Morning Watch
Philip gently shakes me while saying "it's time". Dawn has come though it is just 0430 local time. The cabin is cool but because the wind is forward of Carina's beam, our dodger is deflecting it and the cabin temperature is moderate. Still, knowing I have to go out and face the wind, I begin to dress as I sip the warming tea that Philip has so kindly brewed. When I am done I am wearing: a polartec cap, long underwear, thick polartec pants and salopettes (rain bibs). Plus, an insulated top, a synthetic "Gap Kids" top, a "Jockey" light weight polartec jacket, a polartec vest and a magnificent long polartec-lined dive coat that extends below my knees. (Francesca, if you're reading this, your coat is amazing, thank you for letting me be its new owner!)
Finally, over all of this, I strap my Mustang Survival harness with its hydrostatically released floatation, clip onto a tether, and climb into the chilly cockpit. The sun is low and directly off our starboard bow. It sends warm rays through the dodger windows as it turns the beads of dew into sparkling gems. Directly in our wake, the bright waning moon is setting into powder grey cotton-candy clouds. A Laysan albatross, low to the water, glides towards us, then banks, exposing its creamy white underbody to the warm light of the rising sun.
Stepping back to admire the Monitor windvane perpetually on watch, the chill of the wind brushes my exposed cheeks. I quickly bring the vane towards the wind to adjust our course and duck back in the lee of the dodger.
At 6/11/2017 and 17:36 UTC (GMT) our position was: 40°47.66'N / 179°46.46'W.
We were traveling 050T degrees true at 4.4 knots.
short-footer
Finally, over all of this, I strap my Mustang Survival harness with its hydrostatically released floatation, clip onto a tether, and climb into the chilly cockpit. The sun is low and directly off our starboard bow. It sends warm rays through the dodger windows as it turns the beads of dew into sparkling gems. Directly in our wake, the bright waning moon is setting into powder grey cotton-candy clouds. A Laysan albatross, low to the water, glides towards us, then banks, exposing its creamy white underbody to the warm light of the rising sun.
Stepping back to admire the Monitor windvane perpetually on watch, the chill of the wind brushes my exposed cheeks. I quickly bring the vane towards the wind to adjust our course and duck back in the lee of the dodger.
At 6/11/2017 and 17:36 UTC (GMT) our position was: 40°47.66'N / 179°46.46'W.
We were traveling 050T degrees true at 4.4 knots.
short-footer
Time Travel
We've crossed the dateline into yesterday, going east into the west, from GMT+12 to GMT -12. We get to live Sunday June 11 all over again.
Since Philip refuses to play this game, let me ask you, if you had yesterday to live again, what might you do differently? (Not literally yesterday, but figuratively.) Would you... Read more poetry? Let fewer things/people cause you stress? Plant a bigger garden? Marry a different guy? Have a different career? Cuss less often? Donate more of your time to helping others? Adopt more pets?
Or would you just appreciate the extra time doing exactly as you have always done..
At 6/11/2017 and 17:22 UTC (GMT) our position was: 40°47.06'N / 179°47.49'W.
We were traveling 054T degrees true at 3.9 knots.
short-footer
Since Philip refuses to play this game, let me ask you, if you had yesterday to live again, what might you do differently? (Not literally yesterday, but figuratively.) Would you... Read more poetry? Let fewer things/people cause you stress? Plant a bigger garden? Marry a different guy? Have a different career? Cuss less often? Donate more of your time to helping others? Adopt more pets?
Or would you just appreciate the extra time doing exactly as you have always done..
At 6/11/2017 and 17:22 UTC (GMT) our position was: 40°47.06'N / 179°47.49'W.
We were traveling 054T degrees true at 3.9 knots.
short-footer
Friday 9 June 2017
By the Light of the Moon
June 9, 1127 UTC (2337 local). The barometer reads 1022 and the wind has dropped to about 5 knots; we've been engulfed by a promised high pressure system. The windvane silently pilots Carina oh-so-slowly ENE. Philip is cocooned in the warm bunk, only his sleeping face visible in the red glow from the navigation station. I bring my tea to the cockpit and sit to listen to the mesmerizing shooshing and gurgling of the hull as she gently pushes the sea, my mid-section swaying with the swell while my feet brace tightly against the roll. A cool breeze chills my face, the only part of me that's not covered in layers of fleece and foulies. The brilliance of the full moon makes the undulating swell shimmer as it rolls away to the south; silhouettes of small seabirds dart through the moonlight, their high pitched gossip complementing the soft squeaking of blocks. Saturn's glow penetrates the high thin cloud just below and left of the moon. To the right and down, Antares glows red, the only star of the constellation Scorpio visible tonight. Jupiter and Spica shine brightly above our wake. It's a rare peaceful watch and much too beautiful to be sitting in front of a computer screen...back top-sides for me with fresh warm tea to fight off grogginess...
At 6/9/2017 and 11:55 UTC (GMT) our position was: 38°52.94'N / 178°20.58'E.
We were traveling 063T degrees true at 2.6 knots.
short-footer
At 6/9/2017 and 11:55 UTC (GMT) our position was: 38°52.94'N / 178°20.58'E.
We were traveling 063T degrees true at 2.6 knots.
short-footer
Tuesday 6 June 2017
Dolphin Play
Overnight our winds returned and we have 25 knots from the SSW which propels us along our rhumb line at 5 knots. The sky is completely obscured and visibility at sea level is less than one half mile in fog. Still the dolphins play and we can hear their strobe-like squeaking through the hull. It's a great day to be a dolphin.
Late yesterday we had a small whale (or three) surface a number of times at less than one boat length! I guess these guys don't see too many sailboats out this way and were curious about us.
A Liberian registered deep draft vessel just passed 15 nm to our north.
At 6/6/2017 and 18:05 UTC (GMT) our position was: 36°58.51'N / 174°07.68'E.
We were traveling 048T degrees true at 4.5 knots.
Late yesterday we had a small whale (or three) surface a number of times at less than one boat length! I guess these guys don't see too many sailboats out this way and were curious about us.
A Liberian registered deep draft vessel just passed 15 nm to our north.
At 6/6/2017 and 18:05 UTC (GMT) our position was: 36°58.51'N / 174°07.68'E.
We were traveling 048T degrees true at 4.5 knots.
Monday 5 June 2017
//WL2K - Carina Underway - Update June 5
Dear Friends;
Day 19. Our GPS shows about 2,500 nm to go to get to Sitka; our trip log reads 2090 nautical miles, so we're not quite half way along the proposed route. At our current position of 36 degrees north and 171.5 east, days have been getting longer and decidedly cooler. Fog rolls by with the wind, misting the decks. And we still have to travel another 20 degrees north and about 62 degrees east so it's going to get a lot colder still. Our blood has gotten a lot thinner while we've been cruising in the tropics for 14 years, so we're bundled up even now as we approach the latitude of California's Big Sur.
We're long past the initial passage adjustment stage and have settled in to a routine that doesn't vary much from day to day. Our normal day starts when Philip wakes at ~0800 from his off watch. Meanwhile Leslie has been busy downloading emails and weather files using the radio and modem. No internet of course. This takes a bit of effort as she remains on watch so she's up and down the companionway managing the boat too. Once down, she must strip off her wet gloves and hover over the keyboard so as to not get it wet. The reason she's doing it at this time is this is the favorable time for radio propagation. Even with this, Sailmail connections have been difficult and some days we don't get Sailmail at all which means we also don't see what mail we have in the sv-carina.org inbox. For weather we're using the amateur radio network email called winlink; so far we've had reliable connections to winlink.
Philip, the foodie aboard, usually prepares meals: breakfast of some sort of creative egg concoction or what we euphemistically call "leaves and twigs": peanut butter toast or whole grain raw cereal (nuts, fruit) with homemade kefir. Lunch is pretty much catch-as-catch-can: snacking on sardines, almonds, dried fruit, cheese, etc. Dinner is an early (~1600) supper of a one-pot meal like beef stew, chicken soup, chili, pasta sauce and macaroni, Asian chicken in red curry paste.
We eat supper early in order to get a jump on our nighttime sleeping schedule: three hours on watch followed by three hours off. Our watch schedule does not depend on the clock, it depends on what's going on. Each off watch is however, 3 hours, from the time crew crawls in the bunk to the time he or she crawls out. Change of watch includes discussion of sailing and weather, position reporting, making a travel mug of tea and taking care of any chore requiring both of us, with a typical 25 minute turn-around time including the process of bundling up and unbundling foulies and bibs, warm pullovers, boots, harnesses,etc..
Before starting our schedule we get weather faxes and weather reports and download email again. Philip starts the first watch, usually at 1800. Leslie enjoys the last watch since she likes to see the sun come up in the morning (such as it is, it's been shrouded in clouds and fog for days now!). Throughout our routine, we try to find time to keep watch, read, answer emails, nap, bake bread, make repairs, adjust the sails and helm and monitor instruments.
At the risk of jinxing things, we've been pretty lucky so far; our "breakdowns" have been minimal: a leaking deck prism (temporarily repaired with duct tape during a rare calm spell), replacing a missing nut and lock washer and replacing a broken line on our Monitor windvane.
We have seen little wildlife though yesterday (and today again) we had dolphins buzz us whose chatter could be heard through the hull! Our earlier sighting of a tropic bird turns out to have been a Red-tailed Tropicbird. Black footed Albatross with their huge 7 foot wingspan and Sooty Shearwater are constantly about; earlier we saw one solitary Laysan Albatross!
On the first part of our trip, we spent most days beating to weather or close reaching. This point of sail is hard on both crew and boat; it puts a tremendous strain on the sails, standing and running rigging as well as our Monitor windvane steering device. For crew, the boat's motion can be quick and violent, requiring constant vigilance. Now, with wind more to the west or southwest, we are more or less running with the wind on either side of dead downwind which produces less pitching but significantly more rolling. The sea height has been between one and a half to three meters. Our daily average run is down to 109 nm in a 24 hour period due to some frustrating periods of calm.
Our weather resources have warned us on a few occasions of low pressure areas with concomitant gales and, so far, we've been able to alter course to try to mitigate the effort of these weather systems. We're also getting suggested routing in emails from a website called FastSeas.com . The direction of the wind, lots of sea room and lack of significant adverse current has helped, giving us options to sail either north, east or northeast and still maintain progress towards our goal. We've cleared the last geothermal hazard at the end of the chain emanating from Hawaii and now it's open water until we begin to close the coast of Alaska.
Your friends of the yacht Carina,
Philip, Leslie and the spirit of the fat cat, Jake
website: www.sv-carina.org
At 6/2/2017 and 21:17 UTC (GMT) our position was: 33°53.66'N / 168°40.43'E
p.s. PLEASE, if you wish to respond to our emails, DO NOT hit the "reply" button as it sends our original message back to us.
We usually have limited bandwidth that makes it difficult to receive lengthly messages.
----------
radio email processed by SailMail
for information see: http://www.sailmail.com
Day 19. Our GPS shows about 2,500 nm to go to get to Sitka; our trip log reads 2090 nautical miles, so we're not quite half way along the proposed route. At our current position of 36 degrees north and 171.5 east, days have been getting longer and decidedly cooler. Fog rolls by with the wind, misting the decks. And we still have to travel another 20 degrees north and about 62 degrees east so it's going to get a lot colder still. Our blood has gotten a lot thinner while we've been cruising in the tropics for 14 years, so we're bundled up even now as we approach the latitude of California's Big Sur.
We're long past the initial passage adjustment stage and have settled in to a routine that doesn't vary much from day to day. Our normal day starts when Philip wakes at ~0800 from his off watch. Meanwhile Leslie has been busy downloading emails and weather files using the radio and modem. No internet of course. This takes a bit of effort as she remains on watch so she's up and down the companionway managing the boat too. Once down, she must strip off her wet gloves and hover over the keyboard so as to not get it wet. The reason she's doing it at this time is this is the favorable time for radio propagation. Even with this, Sailmail connections have been difficult and some days we don't get Sailmail at all which means we also don't see what mail we have in the sv-carina.org inbox. For weather we're using the amateur radio network email called winlink; so far we've had reliable connections to winlink.
Philip, the foodie aboard, usually prepares meals: breakfast of some sort of creative egg concoction or what we euphemistically call "leaves and twigs": peanut butter toast or whole grain raw cereal (nuts, fruit) with homemade kefir. Lunch is pretty much catch-as-catch-can: snacking on sardines, almonds, dried fruit, cheese, etc. Dinner is an early (~1600) supper of a one-pot meal like beef stew, chicken soup, chili, pasta sauce and macaroni, Asian chicken in red curry paste.
We eat supper early in order to get a jump on our nighttime sleeping schedule: three hours on watch followed by three hours off. Our watch schedule does not depend on the clock, it depends on what's going on. Each off watch is however, 3 hours, from the time crew crawls in the bunk to the time he or she crawls out. Change of watch includes discussion of sailing and weather, position reporting, making a travel mug of tea and taking care of any chore requiring both of us, with a typical 25 minute turn-around time including the process of bundling up and unbundling foulies and bibs, warm pullovers, boots, harnesses,etc..
Before starting our schedule we get weather faxes and weather reports and download email again. Philip starts the first watch, usually at 1800. Leslie enjoys the last watch since she likes to see the sun come up in the morning (such as it is, it's been shrouded in clouds and fog for days now!). Throughout our routine, we try to find time to keep watch, read, answer emails, nap, bake bread, make repairs, adjust the sails and helm and monitor instruments.
At the risk of jinxing things, we've been pretty lucky so far; our "breakdowns" have been minimal: a leaking deck prism (temporarily repaired with duct tape during a rare calm spell), replacing a missing nut and lock washer and replacing a broken line on our Monitor windvane.
We have seen little wildlife though yesterday (and today again) we had dolphins buzz us whose chatter could be heard through the hull! Our earlier sighting of a tropic bird turns out to have been a Red-tailed Tropicbird. Black footed Albatross with their huge 7 foot wingspan and Sooty Shearwater are constantly about; earlier we saw one solitary Laysan Albatross!
On the first part of our trip, we spent most days beating to weather or close reaching. This point of sail is hard on both crew and boat; it puts a tremendous strain on the sails, standing and running rigging as well as our Monitor windvane steering device. For crew, the boat's motion can be quick and violent, requiring constant vigilance. Now, with wind more to the west or southwest, we are more or less running with the wind on either side of dead downwind which produces less pitching but significantly more rolling. The sea height has been between one and a half to three meters. Our daily average run is down to 109 nm in a 24 hour period due to some frustrating periods of calm.
Our weather resources have warned us on a few occasions of low pressure areas with concomitant gales and, so far, we've been able to alter course to try to mitigate the effort of these weather systems. We're also getting suggested routing in emails from a website called FastSeas.com . The direction of the wind, lots of sea room and lack of significant adverse current has helped, giving us options to sail either north, east or northeast and still maintain progress towards our goal. We've cleared the last geothermal hazard at the end of the chain emanating from Hawaii and now it's open water until we begin to close the coast of Alaska.
Your friends of the yacht Carina,
Philip, Leslie and the spirit of the fat cat, Jake
website: www.sv-carina.org
At 6/2/2017 and 21:17 UTC (GMT) our position was: 33°53.66'N / 168°40.43'E
p.s. PLEASE, if you wish to respond to our emails, DO NOT hit the "reply" button as it sends our original message back to us.
We usually have limited bandwidth that makes it difficult to receive lengthly messages.
----------
radio email processed by SailMail
for information see: http://www.sailmail.com
Friday 2 June 2017
Morning
At 0430 local it is already dawn. When the sun rises behind the dark clouds, it sends radiating rays out onto the grey sea, changing its color from stainless steel grey to platinum grey. Looking behind Carina, the sea is a milky turquoise. Storm clouds behind descend and change the color to smoke grey and then to a deep battleship grey. Cherubic cumulus clouds to the east are powderpuff grey with a frosting of blue. An albatross glides by, dipping and banking and rising again.
Switching on the fishfinder, it reads a hull temperature of 62 F - about twenty degrees cooler than Pohnpei. We're bundled up now, looking a bit like a cross between ski bums and those poor guys in the world's most dangerous fishery. The off-watch bunk is a cozy refuge; difficult to quit after the requisite three hour snooze.
We've run out of store bought bread and tortillas so we made our first bread of the voyage yesterday. One of our Kindles went spastic presumably from exposure to sea spray but Philip heroically saved it with liberal doses of contact cleaner.
Philip also climbed out on the side deck and bandaged up a leaking deck prim that of course was completely dry during our long wet Pohnpei stay. Getting the deck clean and dry was a trick as Carina flew down the 2 meter swells. We're hoping soapy water, fresh water and acetone washings sufficiently rid the deck of salt for enough time to allow the super strength duct tape to adhere.
This morning we are ~350 nm to the theoretical half way point...trying to reach there on this tack before we have to jibe and move away from the next weather system. Later this morning we will enter into day 18; our average daily mileage over 17 days was 112 nm. We're running away from the wind, at least for now, squeezing out as broad a broad reach as we can towards the statistical NW corner of the north Pacific high.
At 6/2/2017 and 18:42 UTC (GMT) our position was: 33°53.66'N / 168°40.43'E.
We were traveling 021T degrees true at 4.5 knots.
short-footer
Switching on the fishfinder, it reads a hull temperature of 62 F - about twenty degrees cooler than Pohnpei. We're bundled up now, looking a bit like a cross between ski bums and those poor guys in the world's most dangerous fishery. The off-watch bunk is a cozy refuge; difficult to quit after the requisite three hour snooze.
We've run out of store bought bread and tortillas so we made our first bread of the voyage yesterday. One of our Kindles went spastic presumably from exposure to sea spray but Philip heroically saved it with liberal doses of contact cleaner.
Philip also climbed out on the side deck and bandaged up a leaking deck prim that of course was completely dry during our long wet Pohnpei stay. Getting the deck clean and dry was a trick as Carina flew down the 2 meter swells. We're hoping soapy water, fresh water and acetone washings sufficiently rid the deck of salt for enough time to allow the super strength duct tape to adhere.
This morning we are ~350 nm to the theoretical half way point...trying to reach there on this tack before we have to jibe and move away from the next weather system. Later this morning we will enter into day 18; our average daily mileage over 17 days was 112 nm. We're running away from the wind, at least for now, squeezing out as broad a broad reach as we can towards the statistical NW corner of the north Pacific high.
At 6/2/2017 and 18:42 UTC (GMT) our position was: 33°53.66'N / 168°40.43'E.
We were traveling 021T degrees true at 4.5 knots.
short-footer
Tuesday 30 May 2017
Gurgle Gurgle
We're "moving" again under sail! The gurgling sound of the windvane paddle as it glides through water and the shooshing sound of the sea running past Carina's hull bring smiles to our faces. After a day and a half of light and variables, which incorporated a long night of listening to the drone of the diesel engine, and a full day of the hull galumping ungracefully with mixed seas rolling in from afar as we ghosted along just barely maintaining steerage, we have once again sailable wind. Not great but adequate to move us in the right direction. Wind at this latitude means weather systems are moving and we're watching closely a low pressure system that's passing north and west and pulling these winds with it. Each weather report shows something different which doesn't give us confidence in the accuracy of the predictions.
30 degrees north!
At 5/30/2017 and 13:12 UTC (GMT) our position was: 30°00.00'N / 163°13.48'E.
We were traveling 041T degrees true at 4.0 knots.
short-footer
30 degrees north!
At 5/30/2017 and 13:12 UTC (GMT) our position was: 30°00.00'N / 163°13.48'E.
We were traveling 041T degrees true at 4.0 knots.
short-footer
Monday 29 May 2017
Horse Latitudes
We were trying to remember if these "variables" are what the clipper ship guys called the horse latitudes. Doesn't really matter, we have no horses to put to sea to lighten our load. Wind predictions change with every iteration of the GRIBS so it's hard to tell what we'll get but I suspect it'll be a challenge to keep moving until we reach reliable westerlies.
Midday yesterday the wind evaporated. We motored all night towards our intermediate waypoint. At dawn a Taiwanese long liner passed 3.5 nm to our NW, the first vessel we've seen since the intrepid fishermen in the surf near Sokeh's Pass in Pohnpei.
The boat is covered in sweet dew and we in warm clothing...
At 5/29/2017 and 19:23 UTC (GMT) our position was: 29°35.73'N / 162°48.44'E.
We were traveling 039T degrees true at 5.0 knots.
short-footer
Midday yesterday the wind evaporated. We motored all night towards our intermediate waypoint. At dawn a Taiwanese long liner passed 3.5 nm to our NW, the first vessel we've seen since the intrepid fishermen in the surf near Sokeh's Pass in Pohnpei.
The boat is covered in sweet dew and we in warm clothing...
At 5/29/2017 and 19:23 UTC (GMT) our position was: 29°35.73'N / 162°48.44'E.
We were traveling 039T degrees true at 5.0 knots.
short-footer
Sunday 28 May 2017
Underwater What?
The big high to our NE has moved in and interrupted our tradewinds. By yesterday mid-day we were almost becalmed so we decided to run the engine for a couple of hours, heading NE in hopes of clearing the next blue smudge on the paper chart. As the sun began to side down (into a magnificent green flash for all you doubters!), sailable but light winds came up, but from the NE, which resulted in our hazard becoming a "lee shore". Our chart database (cm93) did have an object query which said: "underwater volcano, last eruption 1981" (!) It was pretty easy at that point to fall off NNW so as to sail, albeit slowly, to the west of the area. This morning finds us moving at a walking pace 7 nm to the west of the "position doubtful" mark.
The days are getting longer and the nights cooler. We've broken out gloves and socks and some of our cool weather clothing. Tonight we're adding a sleeping bag to the off-watch berth.
We're plowing through books and trying to keep up with emails (and naps). Sailmail connections have been difficult, so please bear with us. We've had no further maintenance items to deal with since our last report, though we're sure a few more tasks are planned by the gremlins to challenge us. The disgusting prehistoric creature is still MOB (missing on board).
At 5/28/2017 and 18:48 UTC (GMT) our position was: 28°07.89'N / 161°38.40'E.
We were traveling 354T degrees true at 2.1 knots.
----------
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The days are getting longer and the nights cooler. We've broken out gloves and socks and some of our cool weather clothing. Tonight we're adding a sleeping bag to the off-watch berth.
We're plowing through books and trying to keep up with emails (and naps). Sailmail connections have been difficult, so please bear with us. We've had no further maintenance items to deal with since our last report, though we're sure a few more tasks are planned by the gremlins to challenge us. The disgusting prehistoric creature is still MOB (missing on board).
At 5/28/2017 and 18:48 UTC (GMT) our position was: 28°07.89'N / 161°38.40'E.
We were traveling 354T degrees true at 2.1 knots.
----------
radio email processed by SailMail
for information see: http://www.sailmail.com
Turning the Corner
Philip gently nudged me from a cozy sleep and began preparing tea in our shared travel mug. He'd recently made a course change as we'd passed safely beyond a shoaly smudge shown, without any depth data, on the large scale paper chart in the area labeled "mapmaker's seamounts". This shoal did not show up on our vector charts - even when zoomed in - but we did not trust that it wasn't there. Emerging, groggy, into the cockpit and peeking up over the dodger, I could see that Carina now drove towards dawn, a peach blush on the horizon. The air hitting my face was crisp and dry, and the sea, was a deep blueberry blue with a grey-blue surface shimmer. Brilliant Venus, lonely in the sky, ascended sparkling to starboard. Weather reports suggest we're sailing into a high; which way it wobbles will determine whether we keep these favorable winds or lose them completely. For now, we relish the new feeling of pointing and moving towards Sitka, about 3200 nm away via a great circle route.
Just after changing watch, Philip sprung from the bunk and began attacking a large (flying) tropical cockroach; a stowaway apparently. Injured now - these prehistoric creatures move fast! - the creepy thing has gone back into hiding.
Breakfast will be raw mixed whole grain cereal with dried fruit, pecans and almonds, and kefir. And more honeyed tea.
At 5/27/2017 and 18:22 UTC (GMT) our position was: 26°46.07'N / 161°33.55'E.
We were traveling 030T degrees true at 4.2 knots.
short-footer
Just after changing watch, Philip sprung from the bunk and began attacking a large (flying) tropical cockroach; a stowaway apparently. Injured now - these prehistoric creatures move fast! - the creepy thing has gone back into hiding.
Breakfast will be raw mixed whole grain cereal with dried fruit, pecans and almonds, and kefir. And more honeyed tea.
At 5/27/2017 and 18:22 UTC (GMT) our position was: 26°46.07'N / 161°33.55'E.
We were traveling 030T degrees true at 4.2 knots.
short-footer
Wednesday 24 May 2017
//WL2K - I Can See Clearly Now
Dear Friends;
.the rain has gone.
Dawn today brought the first true squalls we've had on this trip. The screeching-to-weather, momentarily-scary, deluge kind of squall. Just one of those buggers, but plenty of littler ones. The good news is Carina got a washing and she really needed that. Crystals of salt encrusted most surfaces and the deck was slippery. Now the sun is out, the trades have returned and we're beating towards Alaska once again.
As I write we're downloading a weatherfax using our radio modem. This is a passive process that takes little power. Fax weather pictures appropriate to our passage are broadcast from Japan, Kodiak AK, Pt. Reyes CA and Honolulu. The only drawback to these weather reports is you can't miss the broadcast time and sometimes you're just plain busy (or forgetful). Emailed weather reports are somewhat time independent and we dial in twice per day and request computer-generated wind files called GRIBs.
Just about the time we were getting rained on, our trip log ticked over onto 800 nm. We are north of the latitude of Wake Island and 2500 nm due west of the big island of Hawaii. Our speed has been good, we're averaging about 116 nm per day but have had 24 hour runs up to 127 nm (about 5.3 knots). (Yes, yes, we can hear our friends who have catamarans or larger boats snickering at our slow speed.)
Approaching day 8, we've had a few minor issues; thumping anchors from loosened tie-downs, a broken bolt on our bimini, a missing nut and lock washer on the hull mount bolt of the Monitor windvane (not so cool but fixable by hanging over the stern while praying you don't drop the box wrench), a frayed windvane steering line (at the wheel but during the darkest part of the night and during our change of watch) and a shifting dinghy on deck that interfered with the mainsheet traveler.
Still no sign of human life on earth, and few sightings of animals, save a few more tropic birds. At night, we can see the Southern Cross to our stern and Ursa Major (the Big Dipper) to our bow.
After Philip's rise from his off-watch this morning, we're going to have mushroom egg tortillas with (re-constituted dried) amazing black fungus (Chinese mushroom) that was a departure gift. Last evening we finished off left-over beef stew, made and preserved in our pressure cooker.
We're keeping up with water by generating 3-4 L of fresh water for cooking and drinking each day. This helps to preserve the precious resource held in our water tanks. Our wind generator has been humming away 24/7, keeping our batteries well topped up.
Thank you to all who dropped us notes; we love getting them and will try to respond to all.
All is well aboard. 3000 + miles to go. But who's counting?
Your friends of the yacht Carina,
Philip, Leslie and the spirit of the fat cat, Jake
website: www.sv-carina.org
At 5/23/2017 and 20:10 UTC (GMT) our position was: 19°32.11'N / 159°56.03'E
We were traveling 018T degrees true at 5.1 knots.
p.s. PLEASE, if you wish to respond to our emails, DO NOT hit the "reply" button as it sends our original message back to us.
We usually have limited bandwidth that makes it difficult to receive lengthly messages.
----------
radio email processed by SailMail
for information see: http://www.sailmail.com
.the rain has gone.
Dawn today brought the first true squalls we've had on this trip. The screeching-to-weather, momentarily-scary, deluge kind of squall. Just one of those buggers, but plenty of littler ones. The good news is Carina got a washing and she really needed that. Crystals of salt encrusted most surfaces and the deck was slippery. Now the sun is out, the trades have returned and we're beating towards Alaska once again.
As I write we're downloading a weatherfax using our radio modem. This is a passive process that takes little power. Fax weather pictures appropriate to our passage are broadcast from Japan, Kodiak AK, Pt. Reyes CA and Honolulu. The only drawback to these weather reports is you can't miss the broadcast time and sometimes you're just plain busy (or forgetful). Emailed weather reports are somewhat time independent and we dial in twice per day and request computer-generated wind files called GRIBs.
Just about the time we were getting rained on, our trip log ticked over onto 800 nm. We are north of the latitude of Wake Island and 2500 nm due west of the big island of Hawaii. Our speed has been good, we're averaging about 116 nm per day but have had 24 hour runs up to 127 nm (about 5.3 knots). (Yes, yes, we can hear our friends who have catamarans or larger boats snickering at our slow speed.)
Approaching day 8, we've had a few minor issues; thumping anchors from loosened tie-downs, a broken bolt on our bimini, a missing nut and lock washer on the hull mount bolt of the Monitor windvane (not so cool but fixable by hanging over the stern while praying you don't drop the box wrench), a frayed windvane steering line (at the wheel but during the darkest part of the night and during our change of watch) and a shifting dinghy on deck that interfered with the mainsheet traveler.
Still no sign of human life on earth, and few sightings of animals, save a few more tropic birds. At night, we can see the Southern Cross to our stern and Ursa Major (the Big Dipper) to our bow.
After Philip's rise from his off-watch this morning, we're going to have mushroom egg tortillas with (re-constituted dried) amazing black fungus (Chinese mushroom) that was a departure gift. Last evening we finished off left-over beef stew, made and preserved in our pressure cooker.
We're keeping up with water by generating 3-4 L of fresh water for cooking and drinking each day. This helps to preserve the precious resource held in our water tanks. Our wind generator has been humming away 24/7, keeping our batteries well topped up.
Thank you to all who dropped us notes; we love getting them and will try to respond to all.
All is well aboard. 3000 + miles to go. But who's counting?
Your friends of the yacht Carina,
Philip, Leslie and the spirit of the fat cat, Jake
website: www.sv-carina.org
At 5/23/2017 and 20:10 UTC (GMT) our position was: 19°32.11'N / 159°56.03'E
We were traveling 018T degrees true at 5.1 knots.
p.s. PLEASE, if you wish to respond to our emails, DO NOT hit the "reply" button as it sends our original message back to us.
We usually have limited bandwidth that makes it difficult to receive lengthly messages.
----------
radio email processed by SailMail
for information see: http://www.sailmail.com
Sunday 21 May 2017
//WL2K - Carina Underway
Dear Friends;
We are now in day 5 of our journey to Alaska. Ever since we sank the land after leaving Pohhpei, we have seen no other ship traffic, no bird life except for a boobie or two and three tropic birds. All around Carina, 360 degrees, is an expanse of cobalt blue seas, foamy white caps, blue sky, and puffy white clouds. Now that the waning moon lifts her head so late in the evening, the night sky is inky black with an explosion of stars and planets. Carina's radar screen, reaching out its maximum 24 nautical miles, is totally blank. If not for the occasional rain cell which shows up as an indistinct smudge, one would wonder if the unit was working at all. Our AIS, which was so indispensable on our last journey from Palau to Papua New Guinea, warning us repeatedly of near collisions with large tankers and container ships, also shows only a blank screen. It is times like these when you sit in the cockpit, staring up at the night sky and wonder if the rest of the world has gone away; are we the only two people left on the planet?
But, no, we are not alone; our connection to the world does exist as our computer, radio and modem allow us to send and receive messages although our send and receive rate is VERY slow. We also check in daily with the Pac Sea Net, a group of ham radio operators who monitor our progress (14,300 USB at 0300 UTC). No TV or internet of course; in these tumultuous times, we wonder just what is happening in the news. In port in the morning, we were news junkies glued to the internet reading all the fake news: CNN, Washington Post, New York Times, etc. But maybe this is a good thing; our world has collapsed into just necessary functions like keeping Carina sailing efficiently, cooking and eating meals, reading, writing, 3-hour watches and catnap-sleeping when we can.
We are reasonably pleased with our progress in spite of beating to weather in short choppy, 2-meter waves. Perhaps we have passed the first 10% of our trip with only a few bruises to show for it. Only time will tell. We will try to keep updates coming as we are able.
Your friends of the yacht Carina,
Philip, Leslie and the spirit of the fat cat, Jake
website: www.sv-carina.org
At 5/20/2017 and 19:31 UTC (GMT) our position was: 14°02.27'N / 158°08.70'E
p.s. PLEASE, if you wish to respond to our emails, DO NOT hit the "reply" button as it sends our original message back to us.
We usually have limited bandwidth that makes it difficult to receive lengthy messages.
----------
radio email processed by SailMail
for information see: http://www.sailmail.com
We are now in day 5 of our journey to Alaska. Ever since we sank the land after leaving Pohhpei, we have seen no other ship traffic, no bird life except for a boobie or two and three tropic birds. All around Carina, 360 degrees, is an expanse of cobalt blue seas, foamy white caps, blue sky, and puffy white clouds. Now that the waning moon lifts her head so late in the evening, the night sky is inky black with an explosion of stars and planets. Carina's radar screen, reaching out its maximum 24 nautical miles, is totally blank. If not for the occasional rain cell which shows up as an indistinct smudge, one would wonder if the unit was working at all. Our AIS, which was so indispensable on our last journey from Palau to Papua New Guinea, warning us repeatedly of near collisions with large tankers and container ships, also shows only a blank screen. It is times like these when you sit in the cockpit, staring up at the night sky and wonder if the rest of the world has gone away; are we the only two people left on the planet?
But, no, we are not alone; our connection to the world does exist as our computer, radio and modem allow us to send and receive messages although our send and receive rate is VERY slow. We also check in daily with the Pac Sea Net, a group of ham radio operators who monitor our progress (14,300 USB at 0300 UTC). No TV or internet of course; in these tumultuous times, we wonder just what is happening in the news. In port in the morning, we were news junkies glued to the internet reading all the fake news: CNN, Washington Post, New York Times, etc. But maybe this is a good thing; our world has collapsed into just necessary functions like keeping Carina sailing efficiently, cooking and eating meals, reading, writing, 3-hour watches and catnap-sleeping when we can.
We are reasonably pleased with our progress in spite of beating to weather in short choppy, 2-meter waves. Perhaps we have passed the first 10% of our trip with only a few bruises to show for it. Only time will tell. We will try to keep updates coming as we are able.
Your friends of the yacht Carina,
Philip, Leslie and the spirit of the fat cat, Jake
website: www.sv-carina.org
At 5/20/2017 and 19:31 UTC (GMT) our position was: 14°02.27'N / 158°08.70'E
p.s. PLEASE, if you wish to respond to our emails, DO NOT hit the "reply" button as it sends our original message back to us.
We usually have limited bandwidth that makes it difficult to receive lengthy messages.
----------
radio email processed by SailMail
for information see: http://www.sailmail.com
Saturday 20 May 2017
Pleasant Sailing
The last two days have been nearly perfect sailing to windward, though with a minor frustrations. The air is dry, the sun is bright with puffy white clouds and the sea is a beautiful blue jean color. The two squall lines we've seen have both missed us. At night we have only a few passing clouds, the most dense of which seem to steal our wind rather than accelerate it. Yesterday we shook out a reef and actually ran a full genoa for at least some of the day. Our average speed is down but life aboard is much more pleasant.
GRIBs (wind predictions) kept promising us easterlies but these never filled in until about latitude 13 north. With them, we can now point NNE towards our first "waypoint" at 21 N and 162 E. We have just passed into latitude 14 and at our current pace, this point is still over four days away. We are also a few hours away from regaining easterly longitude lost while beating north. Given all that, we have been blessed after our first (self-imposed) bashing.
All is well aboard. We're heeled to port on a starboard tack and our bodies are in constant motion. We're sleeping well, though in 3 hour blocks, and have begun reading now that boarding seas are rare: Leslie - No Mercy by Redmond O'Hanlon and Philip - Hiroshima Nagasaki by Paul Ham. We're slowly making our way through emails received before departure but will eventually respond to everyone who took the time to write.
Sailmail has been a bit of a disappointment in this part of the Pacific - when we can get a station to answer, the connection is slow even when propagation is "perfect" per the tables. If it weren't for the beloved Shadowmail....;-) Winlink stations in similar locations have been better with KH6UL being a standout, though there seems to be a lot of competition for it.
At 5/20/2017 and 19:30 UTC (GMT) our position was: 14°02.19'N / 158°08.66'E.
We were traveling 026T degrees true at 4.6 knots.
short-footer
GRIBs (wind predictions) kept promising us easterlies but these never filled in until about latitude 13 north. With them, we can now point NNE towards our first "waypoint" at 21 N and 162 E. We have just passed into latitude 14 and at our current pace, this point is still over four days away. We are also a few hours away from regaining easterly longitude lost while beating north. Given all that, we have been blessed after our first (self-imposed) bashing.
All is well aboard. We're heeled to port on a starboard tack and our bodies are in constant motion. We're sleeping well, though in 3 hour blocks, and have begun reading now that boarding seas are rare: Leslie - No Mercy by Redmond O'Hanlon and Philip - Hiroshima Nagasaki by Paul Ham. We're slowly making our way through emails received before departure but will eventually respond to everyone who took the time to write.
Sailmail has been a bit of a disappointment in this part of the Pacific - when we can get a station to answer, the connection is slow even when propagation is "perfect" per the tables. If it weren't for the beloved Shadowmail....;-) Winlink stations in similar locations have been better with KH6UL being a standout, though there seems to be a lot of competition for it.
At 5/20/2017 and 19:30 UTC (GMT) our position was: 14°02.19'N / 158°08.66'E.
We were traveling 026T degrees true at 4.6 knots.
short-footer
Friday 19 May 2017
Settling In For the Long Haul
47 hours into our journey...
Winds are down a few knots and a little more to the east, plus the seas are much more disciplined; there are fewer rogue waves boarding us now. Day 1 was rough with seawater finding its way into Carina even in places where we have no leaks. Water sloshed below onto the nav station and into our bunk at least three times. But despite the challenging sailing, the sun has been out and the nights have been starry with a waning moon joining us at near midnight. Day 2 has been easier, less wet, and we are still moving along well. Despite being reefed down, we have averaged well over five knots while surfing sometimes over ten. The sailing is fun, if salty, and Carina is in her element; neither the hull or the rig is complaining.
Midday yesterday, Philip emerged from mal-de-mer with a proclamation of "I am hungry". And so, we began to eat. Spicy Korean noodles with peppers and onions for supper and egg salad sandwiches for breakfast. Liters of hot, honeyed tea.
From our log: "1111 UTC 5/18/2017 Ursa Major to our port bow, dumping its celestial stew towards the horizon with Merak & Dubhe creating a pointer toward Polaris, just off Carina's starboard bow. Our starpath north! Behind us the Southern Cross is starting to set, while the "stern stars" of the constellation Carina are barely visible in the ground fog at the horizon."
Brilliant Venus is our morning star.
At 5/18/2017 and 22:31 UTC (GMT) our position was: 10°52.25'N / 157°36.60'E.
We were traveling 003T degrees true at 4.9 knots.
short-footer
Winds are down a few knots and a little more to the east, plus the seas are much more disciplined; there are fewer rogue waves boarding us now. Day 1 was rough with seawater finding its way into Carina even in places where we have no leaks. Water sloshed below onto the nav station and into our bunk at least three times. But despite the challenging sailing, the sun has been out and the nights have been starry with a waning moon joining us at near midnight. Day 2 has been easier, less wet, and we are still moving along well. Despite being reefed down, we have averaged well over five knots while surfing sometimes over ten. The sailing is fun, if salty, and Carina is in her element; neither the hull or the rig is complaining.
Midday yesterday, Philip emerged from mal-de-mer with a proclamation of "I am hungry". And so, we began to eat. Spicy Korean noodles with peppers and onions for supper and egg salad sandwiches for breakfast. Liters of hot, honeyed tea.
From our log: "1111 UTC 5/18/2017 Ursa Major to our port bow, dumping its celestial stew towards the horizon with Merak & Dubhe creating a pointer toward Polaris, just off Carina's starboard bow. Our starpath north! Behind us the Southern Cross is starting to set, while the "stern stars" of the constellation Carina are barely visible in the ground fog at the horizon."
Brilliant Venus is our morning star.
At 5/18/2017 and 22:31 UTC (GMT) our position was: 10°52.25'N / 157°36.60'E.
We were traveling 003T degrees true at 4.9 knots.
short-footer
Wednesday 17 May 2017
Underway!
Allain stopped in last night and stayed for supper. His house was empty as he is leaving for good on a big metal bird today. This morning we got a selfie and a hug from Kumer and Antonia and departed just after 0815 local as gracefully as possible without snagging the lines the water on the buoy to our lee. It was gusting over twenty knots right inside the marina and pushing us towards that hazard. Arriving at the commercial dock fifteen minutes early for our appt. at nine o'clock, we waited until after 10 before being checked out. Immigration forgot to bring their stamps but since we were departing for the USA, they said we didn't need exit stamps. We hope they're right.
By 1050 we were out the pass and sailing with a triple reefed main 2/3 staysail and about 1/3 genoa.
The sun is out and we're going almost north at five knots. It's a wet ride but at least we are moving! The occasional wave slaps us pretty well and at least one so far has sloshed a bit below.
At 4/17/2017 and 01:23 UTC (GMT) our position was: 07°06'N / 158°09'E.
We were traveling 359T degrees true at 5.0 knots.
All is well aboard.
----------
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By 1050 we were out the pass and sailing with a triple reefed main 2/3 staysail and about 1/3 genoa.
The sun is out and we're going almost north at five knots. It's a wet ride but at least we are moving! The occasional wave slaps us pretty well and at least one so far has sloshed a bit below.
At 4/17/2017 and 01:23 UTC (GMT) our position was: 07°06'N / 158°09'E.
We were traveling 359T degrees true at 5.0 knots.
All is well aboard.
----------
radio email processed by SailMail
for information see: http://www.sailmail.com
Saturday 13 May 2017
//WL2K - Departing Pohnpei. Soon.
Dear Friends;
Kaselehlie - kas eh LAY lee ah - or "hello" in Pohnpeian. The past months in Pohnpei have slipped blissfully by as we planned for our next journey, worked on projects, and just simply whiled away the days enjoying a gab with the eclectic collection of souls who live here or wash up on shore.
One such inspiring individual was Michael who has a literal floating dental clinic aboard his catamaran. A man of many careers, he ran a profitable dental clinic in Germany before deciding to sell it and use the proceeds to bring dental health care to the world. He and his partner, Birgit, spent nearly a year here in Pohnpei while Michael worked at the public hospital's dental clinic. In January they cast off their lines with 5,000 toothbrushes and ten or twenty pounds of toothpaste and floated downwind, stopping at remote atolls and treating hundreds of patients. For free. But not before Michael worked tirelessly to save the life of a Kapingamarangi girl with a kidney stone that would kill her within weeks. The local government used every possible deterrent to prevent her from obtaining care, but Michael would not give up. Records were "lost", promises made were forgotten, monies allocated dried up, but still he persisted, unearthed resources, made arrangements, and then personally put her on the plane to the US and followed her progress from afar. Happily, the young girl had the surgery on both kidneys and is now doing well. Michael and Birgit are an unusual couple - generous not only with their medical skills but with their culinary skills and we enjoyed many fine days on their boat sampling some great food and sharing a good laugh.
At Christmas a small race boat showed up packed with ebullient Italians. (We wondered where they all slept!) Passionate about pasta, they fretted over their offering at Christmas, calling everyone to start eating pronto because it was perfecto even though we hadn't yet returned from the house up the hill with the gravy and no one had yet cut into the turkey. Festive chaos! They subsequently floated downwind accompanied by a few boats and recently wrote saying they'd invented gnocchi made from breadfruit and would send the recipe along once they translated it. Fun!
Aboard Awenasa were Horst and his sausage dog mutt, Prince, with crew: sweet flower-child Judith and Fernando, a bearded Spaniard with a quick wide smile and a signature black cowboy hat. Another foodie, Fernando is cooking his way around the world. Unfortunately, Awenasa smacked a reef just after leaving the marina and damaged their rudder. They didn't realize the extent of the damage until they tried to anchor at a small atoll. The Italians aboard Kaitek came to the rescue. They unshipped the rudder and helped to do surgery ashore in the village at Lukunor in the Mortlock group.
Bruce and Laura of Pacific Highway floated in sometime in the late fall. They never intended to come here and never intended to stay. But they did and we are glad for it. Veterans of chartering their previous boat for others in the Virgin Islands, they are enjoying retirement entirely alone sailing leisurely around the world. They were a great help to us in our big series drogue project, sharing tips and showing us their ready-bag. Passionate about reading and sailing we had much in common - including friends.
Every once in awhile you really connect, as we did with John and Diane of Konami. They had actually contacted us by email years ago when they were still land-lubbers hoping to cruise. Our website and our insights helped them to get going - or so they said. It was great to finally meet them in the flesh here in Pohnpei and tip a glass or two while comparing and sharing resource and experiences. Cruisers have a lot of crazy stories.
In fact it was John and Diane, and the big hearted "nasty" woman Jeanine, who marched with us on the day of the Women's March. Atop of Sokeh's Ridge, Leslie in a pantsuit and all of us in pink ears, posed for photos to document our effort. It felt GOOD.
The magnificent cold-molded yacht La Cardinala visited here twice. With two owners and their guests, the crew is kept hopping. Carlo, Luisa and Frederico, the crew, were fine and funny and we shared with them intel on the Solomons and Papua New Guinea, two of their upcoming destinations. They even agreed to stow away gifts and letters for our friends in Ninigo. Such is the way of the cruising community - wacky, smart, and giving.
While here in Pohnpei, we also connected with friends from the College of Micronesia. Smart and perky Yen-ti & Ray Verg-in have led the most interesting life as educators in rural Alaska and also ran a purse seiner and a bush plane. Yen-ti still teaches at COMFSM where we were colleagues. It was great to see them again and spend time hiking and lunching together. THEY have lots of stories to tell. We also connected with Allain, a professor of oceanography at COMFSM who helped us by watching Carina when we flew off for a vacation in Thailand.
http://sv-carina.org/OurPicturesPages/OurPicturesThailandBangkok1.htm
http://sv-carina.org/OurPicturesPages/OurPicturesThailandChiangMai.htm
Through Yen-ti (who was born in Taipei), we met pretty, kind Helen who is the Chinese language instructor at the COM and then Eddy & Carol, he Korean and she Chinese. Carol and Eddy are also foodies and we spent a lovely Sunday in Kitti enjoying Ray & Yen-ti's view of the lagoon while Carol prepared a feast of cold noodles with all the trimmings. We came away with a package of green tea and fantastic dried mushrooms personally imported from Carol's home town.
Also spicing up our lives was the local March for Science that we organized. We only had twelve marchers but Rey and Emma Garcia and family, science instructors from the college who hail from the Philippines, joined us. This day we also met former Peace Corps volunteers Denise & Mark, she a passionate educator who earned her Ph.D. as a single Mom in her forties.
Most recently, yacht Deviant sailed in with our old friend Chuck aboard. He's parked Deviant in the adjacent slip and is flying out to Orcas Island WA where we hope to catch up and maybe meet his dog. Just down from Deviant aboard another Mason are Kathy and Noel and their daughter Saoirse. Leslie took over Kathy's chemistry classes when she went on maternity leave four years ago. It has been wonderful to watch Saoirse grow into a perky, happy beauty.
Our world is full of such interesting, and good, people!
Most of our escapades are captured in our photo journal at:
http://sv-carina.org/OurPicturesPages/OurPicturesMicronesiaPohnpeiRevisited.htm
But it sounds as if we do nothing but socialize. Most of our days are actually spent working - on Carina or for friends including John
Ranahan who's also starting Laidenki Divers, a laid back fun group whose snorkel trips we've joined.
The biggest projects we tackled here - other than fabricating and installing yet ANOTHER set of chainplates - were sewing projects: canvas, sail-repair and upholstery. Many of our projects were ones we'd dreaded - such as a cover for our very-oddly shaped anchor windlass, a Jordan series drogue and a mainsail cover - but could not be avoided any longer.
Pohnpei is a rainy place; a local band is called "Wetter than Seattle" and that name is apropos. This is why an offer by our gracious hosts Kumer and Antonia of Mangrove Bay Hotel/Marina/Bar & Sushi to relocate Barney (the Sailrite Sailmaker sewing machine) to their private gym made our project work possible. The gym gave us a cool dry space to work and a large floor for measuring and cutting. To move ourselves and our supplies to and from their home, we bought one of their little old employee cars that had been idle. Philip calls it "Silver Streak" or just Streak for short - it is a cosmetically-challenged, right hand drive Toyota Starlet and was just perfect for us.
As we write we are days away from departing for our longest crossing ever - about 4500 nautical miles - weather depending. Some of you may know - though others may not - that we plan on sailing from Pohnpei direct to Alaska. Our intended port of entry is Sitka but we will see how that goes. It's a bit daunting for us so we've been checking EVERYTHING that we can think of for soundness before we cast off the dock lines. Our list in now short but includes one critical thing that's in short supply, vegetables. Living on a lush volcanic island does not guarantee vegetables - ask frequently frustrated Saimon, of his namesake Saimon's Market, who, as head of the local farmer's organization, struggles to motivate his peers to produce veggies for sale locally. Today a container ship is promised, so tomorrow the shelves should once again be green. Given veggies, then it will just be goodbyes to many friends and at least one kitten. That's going to be hard.
To follow our trip, visit http://sv-carina.org and click one of the links next to WHERE ARE WE NOW? We plan to talk with the Pacific Seafarers Net each day on HF radio - http://pacseanet.com - there is a link to listen if you are interested.
Your friends of the yacht Carina,
Philip, Leslie and the spirit of the fat cat, Jake
website: www.sv-carina.org
At 4/17/2017 and 0:58 UTC (GMT) our position was: 06°57.51'N / 158°12.07'E
p.s. PLEASE, if you wish to respond to our emails, DO NOT hit the "reply" button as it sends our original message back to us.
We usually have limited bandwidth that makes it difficult to receive lengthly messages.
----------
radio email processed by SailMail
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Kaselehlie - kas eh LAY lee ah - or "hello" in Pohnpeian. The past months in Pohnpei have slipped blissfully by as we planned for our next journey, worked on projects, and just simply whiled away the days enjoying a gab with the eclectic collection of souls who live here or wash up on shore.
One such inspiring individual was Michael who has a literal floating dental clinic aboard his catamaran. A man of many careers, he ran a profitable dental clinic in Germany before deciding to sell it and use the proceeds to bring dental health care to the world. He and his partner, Birgit, spent nearly a year here in Pohnpei while Michael worked at the public hospital's dental clinic. In January they cast off their lines with 5,000 toothbrushes and ten or twenty pounds of toothpaste and floated downwind, stopping at remote atolls and treating hundreds of patients. For free. But not before Michael worked tirelessly to save the life of a Kapingamarangi girl with a kidney stone that would kill her within weeks. The local government used every possible deterrent to prevent her from obtaining care, but Michael would not give up. Records were "lost", promises made were forgotten, monies allocated dried up, but still he persisted, unearthed resources, made arrangements, and then personally put her on the plane to the US and followed her progress from afar. Happily, the young girl had the surgery on both kidneys and is now doing well. Michael and Birgit are an unusual couple - generous not only with their medical skills but with their culinary skills and we enjoyed many fine days on their boat sampling some great food and sharing a good laugh.
At Christmas a small race boat showed up packed with ebullient Italians. (We wondered where they all slept!) Passionate about pasta, they fretted over their offering at Christmas, calling everyone to start eating pronto because it was perfecto even though we hadn't yet returned from the house up the hill with the gravy and no one had yet cut into the turkey. Festive chaos! They subsequently floated downwind accompanied by a few boats and recently wrote saying they'd invented gnocchi made from breadfruit and would send the recipe along once they translated it. Fun!
Aboard Awenasa were Horst and his sausage dog mutt, Prince, with crew: sweet flower-child Judith and Fernando, a bearded Spaniard with a quick wide smile and a signature black cowboy hat. Another foodie, Fernando is cooking his way around the world. Unfortunately, Awenasa smacked a reef just after leaving the marina and damaged their rudder. They didn't realize the extent of the damage until they tried to anchor at a small atoll. The Italians aboard Kaitek came to the rescue. They unshipped the rudder and helped to do surgery ashore in the village at Lukunor in the Mortlock group.
Bruce and Laura of Pacific Highway floated in sometime in the late fall. They never intended to come here and never intended to stay. But they did and we are glad for it. Veterans of chartering their previous boat for others in the Virgin Islands, they are enjoying retirement entirely alone sailing leisurely around the world. They were a great help to us in our big series drogue project, sharing tips and showing us their ready-bag. Passionate about reading and sailing we had much in common - including friends.
Every once in awhile you really connect, as we did with John and Diane of Konami. They had actually contacted us by email years ago when they were still land-lubbers hoping to cruise. Our website and our insights helped them to get going - or so they said. It was great to finally meet them in the flesh here in Pohnpei and tip a glass or two while comparing and sharing resource and experiences. Cruisers have a lot of crazy stories.
In fact it was John and Diane, and the big hearted "nasty" woman Jeanine, who marched with us on the day of the Women's March. Atop of Sokeh's Ridge, Leslie in a pantsuit and all of us in pink ears, posed for photos to document our effort. It felt GOOD.
The magnificent cold-molded yacht La Cardinala visited here twice. With two owners and their guests, the crew is kept hopping. Carlo, Luisa and Frederico, the crew, were fine and funny and we shared with them intel on the Solomons and Papua New Guinea, two of their upcoming destinations. They even agreed to stow away gifts and letters for our friends in Ninigo. Such is the way of the cruising community - wacky, smart, and giving.
While here in Pohnpei, we also connected with friends from the College of Micronesia. Smart and perky Yen-ti & Ray Verg-in have led the most interesting life as educators in rural Alaska and also ran a purse seiner and a bush plane. Yen-ti still teaches at COMFSM where we were colleagues. It was great to see them again and spend time hiking and lunching together. THEY have lots of stories to tell. We also connected with Allain, a professor of oceanography at COMFSM who helped us by watching Carina when we flew off for a vacation in Thailand.
http://sv-carina.org/OurPicturesPages/OurPicturesThailandBangkok1.htm
http://sv-carina.org/OurPicturesPages/OurPicturesThailandChiangMai.htm
Through Yen-ti (who was born in Taipei), we met pretty, kind Helen who is the Chinese language instructor at the COM and then Eddy & Carol, he Korean and she Chinese. Carol and Eddy are also foodies and we spent a lovely Sunday in Kitti enjoying Ray & Yen-ti's view of the lagoon while Carol prepared a feast of cold noodles with all the trimmings. We came away with a package of green tea and fantastic dried mushrooms personally imported from Carol's home town.
Also spicing up our lives was the local March for Science that we organized. We only had twelve marchers but Rey and Emma Garcia and family, science instructors from the college who hail from the Philippines, joined us. This day we also met former Peace Corps volunteers Denise & Mark, she a passionate educator who earned her Ph.D. as a single Mom in her forties.
Most recently, yacht Deviant sailed in with our old friend Chuck aboard. He's parked Deviant in the adjacent slip and is flying out to Orcas Island WA where we hope to catch up and maybe meet his dog. Just down from Deviant aboard another Mason are Kathy and Noel and their daughter Saoirse. Leslie took over Kathy's chemistry classes when she went on maternity leave four years ago. It has been wonderful to watch Saoirse grow into a perky, happy beauty.
Our world is full of such interesting, and good, people!
Most of our escapades are captured in our photo journal at:
http://sv-carina.org/OurPicturesPages/OurPicturesMicronesiaPohnpeiRevisited.htm
But it sounds as if we do nothing but socialize. Most of our days are actually spent working - on Carina or for friends including John
Ranahan who's also starting Laidenki Divers, a laid back fun group whose snorkel trips we've joined.
The biggest projects we tackled here - other than fabricating and installing yet ANOTHER set of chainplates - were sewing projects: canvas, sail-repair and upholstery. Many of our projects were ones we'd dreaded - such as a cover for our very-oddly shaped anchor windlass, a Jordan series drogue and a mainsail cover - but could not be avoided any longer.
Pohnpei is a rainy place; a local band is called "Wetter than Seattle" and that name is apropos. This is why an offer by our gracious hosts Kumer and Antonia of Mangrove Bay Hotel/Marina/Bar & Sushi to relocate Barney (the Sailrite Sailmaker sewing machine) to their private gym made our project work possible. The gym gave us a cool dry space to work and a large floor for measuring and cutting. To move ourselves and our supplies to and from their home, we bought one of their little old employee cars that had been idle. Philip calls it "Silver Streak" or just Streak for short - it is a cosmetically-challenged, right hand drive Toyota Starlet and was just perfect for us.
As we write we are days away from departing for our longest crossing ever - about 4500 nautical miles - weather depending. Some of you may know - though others may not - that we plan on sailing from Pohnpei direct to Alaska. Our intended port of entry is Sitka but we will see how that goes. It's a bit daunting for us so we've been checking EVERYTHING that we can think of for soundness before we cast off the dock lines. Our list in now short but includes one critical thing that's in short supply, vegetables. Living on a lush volcanic island does not guarantee vegetables - ask frequently frustrated Saimon, of his namesake Saimon's Market, who, as head of the local farmer's organization, struggles to motivate his peers to produce veggies for sale locally. Today a container ship is promised, so tomorrow the shelves should once again be green. Given veggies, then it will just be goodbyes to many friends and at least one kitten. That's going to be hard.
To follow our trip, visit http://sv-carina.org and click one of the links next to WHERE ARE WE NOW? We plan to talk with the Pacific Seafarers Net each day on HF radio - http://pacseanet.com - there is a link to listen if you are interested.
Your friends of the yacht Carina,
Philip, Leslie and the spirit of the fat cat, Jake
website: www.sv-carina.org
At 4/17/2017 and 0:58 UTC (GMT) our position was: 06°57.51'N / 158°12.07'E
p.s. PLEASE, if you wish to respond to our emails, DO NOT hit the "reply" button as it sends our original message back to us.
We usually have limited bandwidth that makes it difficult to receive lengthly messages.
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Friday 24 March 2017
Thailand!
Click on What's New?
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Tuesday 21 February 2017
Thailand by Big Metal Bird
Thanks to Mangrove Bay and good friends who made it possible.
At the airport we happened upon Antonia and Euphie traveling to Guam
with Melinda. Antonia adorned us in mwarmwars - traditional headbands -
of the most fragrant flowers.
In Guam we had a whirlwind overnight stay with Chuck and Ivy Heberle and
their great kids, Carla and Charlie.
A bounce to Manila and then onto Bangkok and into Friday commuter
traffic jams.
Some scenes...
Sunday 1 January 2017
Philip's 72nd
Bay who shared in apple pie and ice cream.
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