Rough Riding the Bluest Oceans

Our pilot boat chugged in at 7 am. Having engine problems and a dodgy outboard has some limitations when reversing out of a dock. Yes, Yoldia was small enough to take for a walk, but we couldn’t walk on water [yet]

Departure was delayed a day [which in the yachty world is technically an early departure]. Supply shopping, fuel top ups and immigration procedures always take longer than expected – and besides; it’s bad luck to leave on a Friday!

Our special services tug boat service courtesy of captain Kirk

It was sad watching Chaguramus fade away in the background as we chugged away at almost 2 knots – not because it’s a great place, but it symbolised the end of three incredible months of cruising the Caribbean and most importantly, 3 months on board Fiddler – a boat that will always be my home – and the world’s best captain! 

Boats sped past us left right and centre as we sailed towards the wind – wherever it was hiding. Along with it we found ‘the blob” which I saw as a whale and The Swede saw as a ginormous ray. And then we caught our first [and only] fish… 

We think it was tuna. We know it tasted great.

I'd braced myself for 2 weeks of hugging the rail and spewing my guts out, but the little 27 foot Albin Vega was the smoothest sailor I’ve come across so far. In fact all my worries were calmed as the wind picked up: sailing without a chart plotter or fancy instruments was great – you have to pay attention to your surroundings all the time instead of electronic representations. And as I got to know the crazy Viking captain, I realised that he was unlikely to keel haul me or sell me into slavery and I thought that was quite nice of him.

Strange sleeping habits of the captain

Strange eating habits of the captain: caviar on everything

While we may have missed many other important events at sea, Saint Patrick's day was celebrated with 18 hours straight of Irish folk music, the painting of ourselves green, and the only alcoholic beverage of the trip

Our gib and home made genoa configuration

 More flying fish suicide themselves on our deck than I have seen in all my former sailing experience combined. Over the full moon I had two nights of sitting on watch being attacked left right and centre: they get in your clothes and your hair and as much as I tried to wack them back to sea with the breadboard, there was no way I could keep up. Weirdly they seemed to settle down as soon as I handed over the watch to the captain.

Someone once told me that if you kiss a flying fish it turns into a prince... Sadly that didn't happen

 The best part of Yoldia, was her toilet - it has the best view in the world! Generally speaking you dont even need toilet paper thanks to the crashing of the waves on the little bow. In rough seas (day 4-8) it's one of the best adrenalin rushes imaginable as you cling on!

Yes, things were great and I think I was quite sad when the captain yelled land ahoy on day 10... I didn't think I was quite ready for it.

Aren't we a lovely crew hey??

The last night bought with it a ton of maintainance (everything on boats seems to break all the time - its half of the joy of sailing) but it also bought with it a plethora of dolphins and a hitch hiking bird that spend most of the night sitting on our tiller.

|On the 25th we finally sailed into Panama and prepared to anchor. After my limited sailing experience being on big boats, the fact that you can lift an anchor (that can secure a boat) so easily was a strange idea

10 days, 1 hour and 58 minutes after departure, I licked land hello.

With no contact while at sea, it was nice to find my ride across the Pacific hadn't left without me

S/V Eagle Dancer - My soon to be circumnavigation completing vessel

 I havent seen or done much since arrival and that I put down to beer being cheap and cleaning out the soggy wet interior of Yoldia being a bigger project than you'd expect!

Thank you Karl for the most excellent journey and for reminding me what sailing is all about - getting really really dirty in an abyss of blue water with only imaginations and creativity and the wind to propel you forward. 

Into the Abyss : But a Blip in the Ocean

"When I grow up, I wanna be a pirate." - Former me, age 5ish...
And I really did. I wanted to swing by ropes from boat to boat waving plastic swords (all swords are plastic when you're 5ish) demanding cookies and cake... that's what I wanted to be.

 But out in the ocean, the last thing you'd like to meet are them pirate types - especially when you're delapan ratus delapan pulah delepan (Indonesian for 888) miles away from the closest splotch of land.. There's no calling the coast guard or radioing a ship for assistance. There's nothing. And in the real world, pirates aren't nice. Or so I've heard.

Stocked up with canned vegetables, a freezer full of chillis, and enough tofu and tempe to circumnavigate the globe [and the rest of the planets] at least 27 times, we licked land goodbye (18:42 pm, Friday 26 October) and prepared for the great vortex of blue that awaited us.

Approaching our last wake point before 3512 miles in a straight line...

The wind whisked out of Bali just in time to celebrate captain Kirk's birthday, which was conveniently located the day before Halloween which was conveniently located the day before Christmas [island] - which you have to celebrate - which created a plethora of convenient celebrations to mark the start of our Indian ocean crossing.

All through the first week, dolphins leaped at our bow and spun through the air and awed us with their magnificent beauty as we chased the sunset. One tanker overtook us, one tsunami warning buoy beguiled us, one soap wrapper floated by. Apart from that, there was nothing.

And then the winds picked up and the dolphins were lost in the 3-5 meter swell; lee cloths went up because life became a constant 30 degree lean to the right, and it's hard to not roll out of bed at that angle. We saw one bobbing coconut and a plastic bottle, but for all we knew there may well have been treasure chests lurking nearby - the seas flamed like a furnace.

Bathing (by hanging onto the stern ladder) became restricted to holding on with both hands, and only when there were at least 2 people to supervise; it's not as easy as you might think to furl the gib, lower the main, start the engine and about ship to rescue fallen sailors.

The captain trying to ski swim off the back of the boat.... the captain was the only one crazy enough to try this... the captain was also almost lost to the sea...

Electronic devices died left, right, over board and centre. The deck became littered with flocks of flying fish (54 found dead - one rescued).

Storms came and went. Movie nights were either done verbatim, or moved indoors.  

One hand was constantly clinging on for dear life whilst the other caught falling people and produce and toilet seats. Make that falling everythings - things learned to magically fly every time we heeled at the mercy of a giant wave. Our bodies glimmered blue with bruises.

17 50 379 S; 086 45 777 E, Day 12, I flew across the galley and somehow succeeded in piercing my tooth through my chin. It hurt a lot. It bled a lot.

The healing of my pieced lip... and no it did not make me turn yellow... I think that may just be the camera.

White waves mesmerised us by day, shooting stars awed us at night. Our trusty swivel, sea force stove kept our stomachs well sated.

Shortly before our furthest point from any land (902 miles away from Cotos Keeling and 902 miles away from Chagos), we spotted a small fishing boat -- the last thing you expect to see out in the ocean. Another two vessels purpled on our radar. Pirates??We sat nervously watching... they eventually disappeared.

At 14:04 pm, Day 13, we hit the half way to La Reunion mark - 1756 nautical miles in. Pop pops and tom thumbs and a message in the bottle went off. Hugs did their rounds. And then we all sat back down and carried on being mesmerised. We still had a very long way to go.

The excitement that is beer oclock (especially on time zone change days, where 5ish oclock came around twice)