37.01.106N 124.54.230W

In case you didn't join me on earlier voyages, the numbers in the subject line are our position when I start to type. I just note 'em and put them here, so those who like to figure such things can see exactly where we are. The first is our Latitude, the second is our longitude. Plug those coordinates into any mapping app or software, and you'll see our location as of that moment.

We passed very close to the south of South Farrallon Island last night in the fog. It's just a giant jagged rock, devoid of vegetation, that pokes up out of the Pacific at the edge of the continental shelf. What Farrallon does have is birds and seals. Millions of them. So when you see it in the daytime, it looks snowcapped, but that aint snow! We passed close by on the leeward (downwind) side, and the smell and racket left no doubt we were close. Some obnoxious bird snuck up behind us in the fog, and blasted off a scream that nearly caused me to wet the inside of my foulies. Damn thing couldn't have been more than 10 feet behind me. Not sure if I mentioned the bioluminescence in the water last night. It was really, really dark out, so it showed up spectacularly. Plankton in the form of glowing sparklers a little greener than lightening bugs, that flash when excited or disturbed. It's really cool when you punp the seawater into the toilet and the water in the bowl is full of glowing glitter. Hard to get more magical than that! There are also jellyfish that blow up spectacularly when you hit em. It's a flash about the size and brilliance of someone dropping a lit lantern.


Headed for the deck for my 6:00 am watch and was told that the headsail furler was jacked up. It's a piece of equipment essential for furling (taking out of commission) or deploying the forwardmost of the two sails we use. So it's located on the very point of the bow (front) of the boat. So, chanting my best Mighty Mouse voice "'Here I come to save the day!" Sprang to the bow to fix it. Actually it'd be accurate to say i crawled, scooted, and tumbled since the wind was now sustained in the high 20's and touching 30 knots with appropriate waves, spray etc. The bow was plunging up & down through maybe a 8 foot range, requiring me to use most limbs to just hang on, and once to swat away a jellyfish that remained in my lap after the wave had subsided. My cowardly compulsion to remain on the boat caused what would have been maybe a 30 minutes to an hour repair at the dock to consume 2 1/2 hours. During most of that time, we were bareheaded, meaning we only had half our sailpower up. But in the end, the thing was made whole again and we redeployed everything to continue on our way. The only permanent damage being to our elapsed time, and to the comfort of my underwear, which absorbed whatever of the constant dunkings that my foul weather gear allowed to pass. This little episode, along with the black hole of wind we got stuck in yesterday, leaves us with a LOT of making up to do.


Things have settled down a bit. It's still overcast and gray, the effect being compounded by the way the open ocean really takes on the color of the sky. It's all steely gray as of 12:30 in the afternoon, but appears to be getting steadily lighter. Wind is 15-20, long open Pacific swells with a little wind chop on top. Every few minutes we'll get a big flush of water down the deck just to keep us on our toes. We won't dry out till Oahu now.

The crew is generally healthy, although one is eating very conservatively due to a very mild case of mal de mer that he'd rather not exacerbate. All are getting along great and having a ball. Well, that's all for now. Time to pull on the wet stuff and get on deck.

Whiskey Delta Bravo 2898 VALIS out