So, it turns out the ocean has a sense of humor. Apparently, you don't immerse yourself in fits of tearful laughter over a crew mates bunk-soaking without a bit of payback. I guess she decided that if I thought it was that funny, she might as well keep the good times rollin'. Wowwy -- what a bucket of water to the face will do for you at 4 in the morning!
December 3rd marked our not-so-doldrum exodus -- we'd entered the second Latitude! After all our trash talking, our last day was blessed by calmer winds and smoother sailing. Infact, it was calm enough to hear the incessant scheming of two men from my bunk..."Is it time for blue lightning?", "What about blue lightning?", "I think the wind's good enough for blue lightning!". Needless to say, Christmas came early for those two. In the heat of the day, all hungry, all tired, we clammered out onto the bow and made various attempts to unfurl and refurl a gennaker that had been thrown around one too many times. Now there have been a lot of things on this trip that could possibly test our patience as a team, but nothing compared to this. Why it was such a test, no one knows. On our 6th, and our agreed upon final, attempt, she cast herself out into the wind beautifully. And all in one piece! As we took shady reprieve, icy ginger brews in hand, we felt the fresh kiss of the trades lift and carry us along. Boy, did we bask in the beauty of steady movement! Of course no sooner than we finished said brews did I hear, "So, when do you think we'll raise the spinnaker?", "We've got the fly the spinnaker", "Do you think we can raise the spinnaker?". Haha, only the best for L'Obsession!
There was something magical about that day -- if only language weren't so limiting, or perhaps my own vocabulary so narrowly defined...
For several days, we'd found ourselves without the moon, and so had been sailing by the graceful light of venus. As we doused the gennaker that eve, the sun setting ablaze in wings of coral and gold, venus sat prominently above ushering us toward land. We revelled in the beauty of a clear sky that night -- constellations twinkling in displays we'd never before set eyes on, stories plotted in the sky we never knew had been told. We bore silent witness to many being rewritten as corners of themselves were cast out into the darkness, only a trail left behind in their legacy. Above the horizon where the sun had only recently drifted hung the faintest sliver of moon. For a small time she graced the night than followed behind in the footsteps of the sun.
A fast moving cyclone had formed upwind of us but moved at such an angle that kept it off our port. As we floated in complete darkness, the wind began to silently howl across a glassy surface, caught us in the outer limits of its disturbance, and got us flying at 9.5 kts. We agreed that while we had experienced many things, none of us had felt something quite like this (though Ed's experience of being tied the the top of a train came close!). We had entered the trades. Our equator countdown begun.
With our 25 kt wind constant and relentless, we crossed 212 miles in 24 hours.
1:56 am December 5th, a 26 kt wind pushing us through, I sat at our navigation desk and watched what was once North, click South -- Latitude 00'00.001 S! As an equatorial arrival gift, we found 5 squid on deck - attracted to the only light in hundreds of miles. Though the guys had requested not to be woken once we crossed, they were both drawn from their beds without prompting, and their company seemed as good a celebration as any until we could gather at a more opportune time.
When in conversation with other sailors prior to departure, we were often asked if we had planned our party upon reaching the equator. Ideas were thrown around, stories were imparted, but one stuck above the rest. Given the audience, I was preparing for something along the lines of three cigars and a glass of scotch with the good ol' boys. Apparently, when a discarded tube of lipstick had been found in the crack of the flybridge seats from a previous charter, it was seen as serendipidous encouragement. Question: Have you ever put makeup on two middle-aged men? If not, that's unfortunate. Chocolate cake and champagne may never have tasted as sweet through those freshly painted lips!
It's been a couple days since then, though their own rouge still stains their pillow cases. Bill's eye-liner is still missing.
Our goal to employ every sail on board was accomplished yesterday, and we've been cruising in the shady fortune of our spinnaker ever since (or practicing 2-man raising/dousing drills!). If you stand against the bow pulpit with a good song in your head, the movement on the water encourages your body to sway one way, the spinnaker the other. If you time it just so, it's as if the two of you are dancing (confirmed by our own bow-sprit, Edwardina, this afternoon). Bill's been dreaming of lobster. Ed's hallucinating mangos. I just want to climb a tree. And it's perfect timing because, though it's yet to come into view, waiting 50 miles out there -- is LAND! Our once 12/11 eta has shortened to 9 hours! Before we head to Nuku Hiva, we've been persuaded to look at the three most northern isles first. Motu One, Hatutu and Eiao are the only terrestrial nature reserves in French Polynesia -- and we're going to go cause a rucus. Not on land of course.
Amazing -- the crossing of an ocean. I'll let you know more about it when it finally sinks in. Until we've hit foreign soil, we love and miss you all.
Oh, and hey, by the way Aric, thanks for buying a boat in Panama. I will forever be in debt to you for not coming on this trip.
-The crew of L'Obsession
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