We’re now home from New Zealand with great memories and new friends. My original goal of bringing West Wind II back to Canada was not realized, but the foundation for that voyage was well and firmly laid at the end of this year. In lieu of that goal we spent several months in NZ interrupted by one quick trip home and back for business reasons.

I caught up with old friends I had first met in NZ in 1969 when I was travelling with my long time friend Mike Lemche. Our Australian mate Andy McLellan whom we had also met in 1969 joined us in NZ. I feel very lucky to have had the opportunity to get together with both of them once more for old times sake. Once they left, I got down to the serious preparations for leaving NZ .

Our daughter Claire, who lives and works in Auckland, decided she would like to join me on the sail home, so I gladly waited until she got her affairs in order and was able to join me on West Wind II for the leg to Tahiti with one stop in the Austral Islands. She and I got provisions, gave our 72 hour notice to the Customs office and set out one morning around 11:00 am. We found a good breeze after leaving the Bay of Islands and were making good time in some fairly heavy seas when I noticed we were taking on more than a healthy amount of water in the bilge around the forward keel bolts. This was more than a little disconcerting and I decided to turn back to NZ to try and solve the situation.

When we arrived back in Opua, I was able to take West Wind II out of the water and sit her up on the hard. During the next week to ten days,  I consulted with local experts and pursued many theories. I realized the problem was not the catastrophic failure of the keel bolts but a combination of several not so obvious symptoms. West Wind has almost 20,000 nautical miles under her keel since leaving Victoria in Sept 2013, all of which are open ocean miles. She has sat at the wharf in both Fremantle and Opua for almost two years waiting patiently to return home, and at the moment she is in need of some TLC. She has many stubborn deck leaks that allow water to build up in several areas of the bilge and behind bulkheads which release a steady flow of water when she heels over and tacks. This, I misconstrued as leaky keel bolts. That is not to say that the forward three bolts, as a result of failed caulking in the leading edge of the keel where it meets the fibreglass hull, were not susceptible to allowing some water up through their threads. I was able to remedy this in the yard and it is no longer the source of water in the bilge. The hawse pipe, which the anchor chain passes through at deck level as it turns out along with the chain locker was also holding a fair bit of this water and was the source of bilge water which I originally thought was coming from the keel bolts. Once I plugged the hawse pipe at deck level and caulked some of the deck fittings the so called keel bolt leaks subsided. That was the good news.  

The bad news was it meant Claire and I would be leaving NZ past the middle of December instead of mid November as I had originally planned which had us arriving in Tahiti at the beginning of their cyclone season in an El Nino year. Not a good idea. We made the decision not to go which left both of us feeling very disappointed.

The good news was that MaryLou and Nicola could join us in NZ and fulfill our family dream to do some cruising in New Zealand.  We set off to explore as many of the islands in the Hauraki Gulf as we could. Here’s a peek at some of them.

This turned out to be an adventure beyond what any of us could have imagined. We found great anchorages,

had lots of fabulous hikes on the islands,

swam every day,

and enjoyed a fine amount of NZ’s best wines and fresh food. Best of all, we met so many great Kiwis who were proud to show us their favourite spots.

I should also mention that we did have a few problems – the starter motor went on the engine which I replaced, and we ran hard aground in the mud, all of which we recovered from but will not soon forget. New Zealand is one of those places that’s difficult to visit because it’s so damned great even when it rains for two days and blows the dog off the chain.  You soon forget all that once the sun comes back out and dive over the side into that lovely green blue water or walk up a gorgeous trail and come upon a flock of sheep dotting the rich green fields.  “It’s all good” as the ever optimistic Kiwis say, and it is.

The plan is for me to return to NZ in November to try again to do what I thought I was going to do – bring West Wind II back across the Pacific and home to Victoria.

We all sat in the cockpit one afternoon and realized that WW II is our magic carpet and that she still has many adventures left in her …as do we.

We hope you’ll join us again in November for the adventure of the voyage home.

Thanks for being there.

       

Dec 28 7:15 am.   Kettle’s on and we’re anchored off Port Fitzroy in Kaiarara Bay on Great Barrier Island. Beautiful anchorage with natural wild hills and trees down to the water’s edge.

The sounds of the birds breaking the silence across the mirror smooth bay as the sun comes up over mount Hobson through light morning cloud.

 The smell of the forest is sweet in the air. There are several sail and motor boats scattered in the bay all pointing in different directions with their anchor chains hanging directly down from their bows. Very peaceful and still.

Yesterday morning we left our lovely anchorage and went up into Whangarei harbour past the oil refinery and the commercial docks to the Florida canals style community call Marsden, where we topped up with fuel then headed back out and across Parry Channel through the Hen and Chicken Islands with 40 miles to Great Barrier Island. All the islands we pass have steep volcanic terrain and scrubby natural green coverage and are uninhabited.

There were many rocky outcroppings which all seemed to have the face of an angry or sleeping man carved in them.  The crossing was a straight line over a moderate sea with a very light headwind and clear sky with fluffy white sheep clouds. We motor sailed from noon till we made land fall around 6:30 pm. Along the way, Jurassic Park peaks of Little Barrier Island kept our eyes occupied on the starboard side most of the way. This island resembles the ones of French Polynesia with steep mountain ridges and valleys and foliage that looked like it had been draped over it in one big blanket.

This was one of Claire’s must see spots in New Zealand. Along with seeing a place for the very first time from a sailboat, it was very exciting for her and for me. Everyone we talked to said that the islands many sheltered anchorages would be packed with boaters at this time of year but so far that has not been the case. 

Last night we were treated to another magical entrance by the moon, its bright white face rose above Mount Hobson the highest peak on the island, through the trees that fringe the mountain top before breaking out above their canopy and filling the bay with bright moonlight. Half an hour before that, the sun filled the horizon on the other side of the bay with many shades of red silhouetting the jagged landscape and sending its fiery light reflecting across the water of the bay to West Wind II.

This is a magical place and we feel lucky to be here. Our plan for today after breakfast is to row ashore, climb Mount Hobson and explore this amazing island.   

Love and fond regards from Claire and Glenn

 

Happy New Year All

Lat 34 52. 41S Long 172 08.51E Course 80 T Speed 6kts Wind N Waves NE 1 m Temp 18 C Cloud 100% Baro 1013 Miles in last 24 hrs: 130 nm Miles to Cape Reinga: 33.3

All is well

Dec 30

It’s truly amazing how the slightest change in wave pattern has such an impact on WW II’s  course as well as her health and well being, not to mention the crew’s health and well being. Last night I was caught with a rising wind around midnight. The trauma from WW II’s 6+ knots of speed crashing through the big seas that were slowly and stealthily being lifted by the approaching northeast gale, was way too much for both me and the boat. I had a double reefed yankee and triple reefed main presented to this building force and in my head the first option was to get rid of the main then slowly roll the yankee in till I felt comfortable. Although the atmosphere below was hard to take during the build up to this point, it was nothing like those forces I faced when I slowly worked my up through the hatch and out into the storm.

It is after midnight and the air is filled with spray and wild howls, very dark but for a halo of light from the mast head running lights. I snap on my safety tether and make my way to the mast on my hands and knees, waves constantly breaking over the high port side deck. Standing up at the mast I snap on to my pad eye on the port side.I slip free the two sail ties on the deck level grab rail and put them in my teeth ready to tame the flapping mainsail as I release the main halyard and bring it down hand over hand, one hand always holding on to the mast, I take the main halyard and doubled it around a cleat below the main headboard and snugged up the halyard and flipped the handle on the clutch that secures the halyard and also the head of the main so it will not be snatched by the gale force wind that screamed at me like some great beast’s intimidating roar. I flip to the other side of the mast and work my way out on the boom making sure my footing is secure. The first tie comes easy from my mouth and I lasso the hysterical main in quick order and synch it up nicely. The next tie had to go further out on the boom and to the very limit of my safety tether.  I have to bear hug the rest of the main and slip the tie from my mouth and secure it before the wind grabs the free end and pulls it out of my reach.  All the time I am coaching myself out loud very controlled and forcefully saying, ” You can do this Glenn, you can do this.”

Back in the cockpit I take a moment to savour the storm that fills my space. Now the yankee has to be rolled in. This is done fairly easily in the cockpit, but the furling line does not lead well and I can see it’s going to chafe on the furling drum. This means a trip up into the bow to put a come along around the line and pull it away from the drum and secure it to the deck. This is a hands and knees job slowly but surely up the windward side of the deck and into the pulpit. The bow is pitching 10 to 12  feet every 15 seconds and scoops swimming pools full of water and pitches them at me, and finds its mark every time.

I have my head down trying to thread a line around the the furling line and through a loop welded to the bow fitting. It’s awkward and takes several tries. I can feel the water running back down my rain pants and into my boots as I struggle to brace myself against the pulpit. After a considerable struggle I’m satisfied that the line will not chafe through during the night. The last thing I need is for the yankee to completely unfurl into the clutches of the gale where in very short order it would be shredded by the lethal talons of the gale.  My mouth is as dry as parchment and I have worked up a good head of steam in my rain gear.

Down below, I give myself two ‘atta boys’ (sp?) and a cup of hot chocolate. After pumping the bilge I hit my bunk and try very hard to drown out the noise and find some peace.

Editor’s Note: Too much information! 

 Lat 35 13. 698 S Long 169 18.153 E Course 94 T Speed 6 knots Wind NE 15 Waves NE 2m Cloud 100% temp 18 C Baro 1016 Miles in last 24 hrs: 130 nm Miles to Cape Reinga: 158 nm

All is well. Thank you very much for being there for me. It is much appreciated.

 

Dec 29
Progress here is painfully slow and it’s beginning to wear on me so I’m trying to keep occupied. The wind has just stopped completely and we are becalmed. Once upon a time I could take this, no problem, but not so much now.

I have been doing some research about these quick little birds that are the only birds around the boat for the last few days. I have finally identified them as Fairy Prions. Identifying pelagic birds is a bit more difficult than terrestrial birds because they never land or stay still. I have three sea bird ID books on board and the Prion is in two of these books. Identifying then by site of course is first, but it is amazing how close the different types of birds are. There were three different types of Prions but only the Fairly Prion was shown on the identifying maps as being any where close to the northern end of New Zealand. They are  smaller than our sea gull at home and a little bigger than a Bonaparte’s gull, similar in colour, but with more light grey than white. Their flight is some what erratic but they have no trouble with the big waves darting back and forth. They also are the only birds I have run into that make a sound. Its a cheep cheep and sounds like a young chick rather than a mature bird. They always seem to be together with at least one other and often three or four.  Their wing tips and tail have black bars on them. At the moment they are it for the birds around the boat and are very welcome. I imagine when and if I ever get closer to shore there will be many other types of birds.

The dolphins around the boat last evening were Striped Dolphin according to my Princeton Field Guide to Whales and Dolphins. I thought there were two different types because of the size difference but the guide suggests they are a combination of adults and juveniles, which makes sense.  Their distinctive markings are a pale grey stripe leading from their bill back down their body which is almost black. This stripe looks like it was air brushed in place.

The other thing I saw in one of my deck watches last night was thousands of illuminating red eyes switched on by WW II’s wake. This I imagine could have been krill. I also passed a shark the other day just lazily swimming along this tell tale fin cutting the water in a lazy pattern.

The fickle wind is back now and we are coming your way slowly but surely. Life can be very interesting and beautiful out here but one thing is for sure you must take it as it is – sometimes beautiful, sometimes becalmed but always all around you. I sure could do with a chip of choclate. Maybe I can settle for a graham cracker and Nutella.

 

Thanks to Michael VK3LAN, ham radio operator 100 km north of Sydney, Australia who just sent me a message after chatting with Glenn on the radio. He reports his latest position, ever so slightly closer (at least on the map shown above).  

To all the ham radio operators who are chatting with Glenn, I can’t tell you how much I appreciate what you do for him while he’s at sea. You all do a fantastic job of ‘being there’ for him and for those of us waiting on shore. You have my heartfelt thanks and appreciation. All the best, MaryLou.

Position: LAT 35 deg 0 min S, Long 164 deg 36 min E.

Dec 24

Fairly calm afternoon so I managed to get the main stitched up. I have come around to starboard tack and am heading north for the night to see if I can use the Northeast wind to get  some northing.

…

It’s almost 9:30 and the day has flown by. The wind died early this afternoon so I tackled the main sail and fortunately was able to do it from the cabin top sitting down while the boat sailed along, albeit very slowly along. Lots and lots of stitches and my finger tips are now sore from pushing and dragging the big needle through the heavy sail cloth, but it’s up and holding and pulling well. I tacked around and am heading north trying to take advantage of the shift in the wind to the east.

Lots of thoughts about being out here away from you tonight.  Merry Xmas. Looking forward to seeing you soon.

…

I now have a cup of tea in the cup holder beside me and I have just done 3/4 of and hour of  yoga – yes I know …hard to believe but true. It felt very good to focus on my breathing and feel my body stretch through all the exercises I made up along the way.

I’m working through some head games here. First of all being here and not with you three, but the other issue I have come to grips with is that I am going to be out here a week longer than I had planned just because the wind is not what I thought it would be, nor is it coming from the direction I thought. I made such great time getting here.

As in life, the solution to problems may not always be a straight line but one that takes a longer route but nonetheless gets you there. In order for me to get 600 miles closer to you I will have to sail 1200 miles. The most important thing to focus on is that I will get there, it will just take a little longer.  The thing I found difficult was to accept that it is going to take longer and I may as well get on with it because I won’t get there any other way.  I think the yoga will help me get through each day.

 

Dec 23  Position: 37. 52 S, 157.37 E

The wind has been blowing hard here all afternoon and is supposed to increase before it lets up. The wind has pulled the sea up with it and the ride is very physical. I am exhausted and my nerves are a little frayed. There seems to be no let up. In one way it is fantastic as our progress across is meteoric. We have just about 700 miles to go now. That is still a long way and when the wind starts to come on the nose, my progress will slow right down but till then I am trying to make the most of this opportunity.

The through hull fitting for the depth sounder has started to make a fair bit of water so I am pumping the bilge every couple of hours. Can’t do anything with it while we are pounding along like this so I will pick my time when things settle down a bit. 

Surprisingly I made a new stew this afternoon with one hand. I am going to put on some quinoa  now and have dinner.

I still have great boat speed and my course is about 90 T.  I’ll hold this course right through until tomorrow and when, or if, I get headed, I’ll tack north.

At noon tomorrow Dec 24, I should be at lat 37 55 S, long 160 30 E. That is if the North wind holds. That leaves me at about 600 miles from the Cape. I will
decide then which is best, but for now I will stay on this course. All is well! Happy Solstice!

Course 100 T Speed 7 knots Cloud 100% Temp. 18 C Baro 1021 Falling Miles in last 24 hrs: 133 nm Miles to Cape Reinga: 744

Dec 21
Position:  38.07.966 S, 154 35.656 E

I’m having my fresh squeezed lemon in warm water to start my day. West Wind II has a very lively motion this morning as we are hard on a Northwest wind tearing along into a small <1 meter wave pattern making a steady 5.5 knots with full yankee and double reefed main. I have not had a chance to repair the torn reef point in the main yet. It’s a two foot long tear and at a structural point so will take some time to repair. I am trying to figure out if I can do it in situ because removing the main is such a big job and would require a very calm day. So till then we have a very functional main but  somewhat reduced in size, which if I am looking for any consolation makes the ride a little nicer but the speed a little less. 

The sun is shining through thin cloud and it is warm. We are sailing on the edge of a high that is moving southeast. I have no cricket on the radio so I’m not sure I can make it through the day. Very steady progress and all is well.

Course 76 T Speed 7.5 nm Wind NW  15-20 Waves Nw 1 M Cloud 10% Temp 19 C Bar 1020 Steady Miles in last 24 hrs: 126nm Miles to Cape Reinga: 888nm

It is Saturday night 9:00 I have just cooked up some Quinoa and heated the stew. tastes great but is a bit too hot to eat. The west wind has kept the sea up all day and us scooting along at breakneck speed.

It’s the second night that we have the company of the west wind for dinner and I can only take it standing up one hand on the grab rail over the stove the other with a spoon in my hand waiting to time my scoop of stew from a pot on the gimballed stove. And all the while trying to keep my footing. I am grateful for the miles under the keel and it is the reason I am able to put up with the motion. We just gybed so up into the cock pit disengaged the vane bring back on course and back down to keep an eye on dinner.

The steady west wind has brought us to within 1083 miles of the Cape (Reinga) so there is no complaint here.

I am always hungry so dinner is the big meal of the day. Westerlies will be replaced by northerlies some time after midnight so will be on deck to gybe into those, but before that it will go light till the north wind takes hold of us. These transition periods are always filled with opportunities to exercise patience, which after coming out of a deep sleep is often hard to find.  It may take several hours for the transition to take hold and if the sky is clear it is of course a gift to look skyward past the wind indicator on the mast head into the milky way.

As the wind makes its transition it is difficult to keep way on (forward  movement)  and the vane is uncooperative in light airs as is the seaway.

A fair bit of cajoling takes place and some innovative strategies are tested to try to keep us going in the right direction. Should the sky be black with cloud there is a distinct possibility we can do a few donuts, which is completely humiliating even if no one is there to see it but me.

The very hardest thing at this time as to have some sense of perspective and a good sense of humour. The ability to laugh at myself has been my only saving grace. At times like this it is easy to completely lose it and believe me it is not a pretty site. No matter how futile the situation might seem, in the end, it is always up to me to get on with it as there is no one else to blame or help. 

Well I have scraped the last bit of stew out of the pot and it’s time to wash the pot and get ready for a good night’s sailing.

Lat 39 07.000 S long 149 19.000 E Course 87 t Speed 6 kts Wind W10-15 Waves w 2mCloud 40% Temp 17 C Baro 1017 steady Last 25 hr 155 nm

Distance to Cape Reinga: 1142 nm

 

Dec 19
The sun is setting now on a very full day that started at 03:00 am with faint light showing on the horizon ahead of WW II just under the sails, and has ended with a spectacular blazing sunset as we leave Bass Strait in our wake.

The water in between was full of dark shadows that turned into beautiful rugged rock outcroppings scattered along the path out of the east entrance of Bass Strait. There was The Glennie Group, The Anser Group, Rondondo Island, East and West Moncoeur Islands, Forty Foot Rocks, Crocodile Rock, Cutter Rock, and the Hogan Group of Islands. The main Hogan Island looked like Ayers Rock or Uluru only with a grassy wig stuck on top. I was mesmerized as they came into focus – huge cliffs, scoured by millions of waves. Each island had a collar of scrubbed bare rock a hundred feet up from the incessant barrage of the Southern Ocean breakers.  

We had been running hard all night and were 30 miles from Wilson’s Promontory on the mainland of Oz. I had been up til after midnight not so much worried about being in the shipping lane but just couldn’t sleep.

As the morning revealed itself, it became obvious there would be no problem seeing or being seem by the commercial traffic. I was excited at the proposition of maybe getting out of Bass Strait and into the Tasman by the end of the day. We made a steady 6-7 knots all day running before the 15-20 knot westerly. The bird life was more than prolific, the sky was black with birds, swooping about the surface of the water like clouds of swarming bees.

By late afternoon I was feeling the sleep deprivation and the constant attention necessary to keep WW II before the wind with a big following sea. I had taken the first reef in the main as the wind filled in late in the afternoon and just as we passed the last island a big wave knocked us about and gybed the main. The force pulled the reef line out of its dog in the boom and with that all the force on the reef ties, it tore the reef point out of the main leaving a 16 inch hole in the main. I struggled to bring her back on course and then as quick as I could through the second reef to stop any more damage. Not a great way to end the day but I can still sail well with two reefs in the main, and if I get a chance I will mend it along the way.

I have sailed 2,053 nautical miles up until noon today and we have 1252 miles to Cape Reinga, so all is good.

I’m looking forward to the adventure of crossing the Tasman for the third time. First time west to east!

Editor’s note: Today’s blog post is coming to you from Auckland, New Zealand!

 

Dec 18

I am going a little slower than I would like but I am still going which is the main thing. 

Position: Lat 38 51.888 S, Long 140 26.782

Course 110T Speed 7 knots Wind  NW 15 knots Entrance to Bass Strait 140 nm

 

Dec 17

One of the most amazing days sailing ever! The gale force winds of the last few hours have blown new life into those big Southern Ocean swells I’ve been experiencing for the last week. 

Their beautiful, slow but determined energy that pushes them over the horizon was re-awakened by the force of a westerly gale.

It was like a call to war and they dutifully obeyed, turning their gentle rolling into full-on rogues with streaming white head gear that streaked the surface and filled the air with spray.  Their 8+ metre faces became so steep they toppled and crested like surf on the beach. Tripping over each other as they doubled and tripled up. The valleys became deep and the crests closer together. West Wind, with only a triple reefed main, struggled to stay on course working the Fleming self steering to the point of failure. 

I hand steered for three hours guiding her down the face of these rogues trying to keep a straight course and stop her from rounding up. The battalions of waves sweeping either side, at one point carried WW II on their backs at an astounding speed of 14.5 knots!!!!  The bow wave parted some ten, twelve feet either side as all of her 22,000 lbs. tore forward down the face and lifted as it hit the bottom of the valley below. “Fourteen point five knots!”. I should think you might have heard me screaming it out loud at home!

There are moments you will remember forever. That will be one of them. The sun was bright and the scene from the tops of the waves… incredible. The noise was deafening. The sea scape was a seething, living breathing confusion of waves and spray. Many different colours from deep indigo to glacier green of the foam tops.

Their was no escape. I was in it for the long haul. Waves crested alongside and spilled into the cockpit. Others broke in full crests right over the boat. Many times I ducked quickly as the roar came up from behind and broke over me, I shook myself off like a dog on a beach still fighting the tiller to keep her stern presented squarely to the rogues that pushed up from behind. Time flew by. I got cold as the water inevitably found its way to my skin. 

I re-fashioned the steering leads from the Fleming self-steering so it could be re-attached. This took many tries but I knew it had to work and I needed a break. Fleming agreed to take over and now that the wind was easing, it would not be so critical to dodge the rogues.

The wind has droped to 25 knots, and later this afternoon it will drop to 15 – 20 and back down to a souwester from a westerly. Although it is blowing hard, our speed has dropped to 4-5 knots so I can keep some control on the helm. This sea will not go down too fast and the wind is due to be back at gale force tomorrow night as I approach the entrance to Bass Strait. I definitely have my work cut out for me over the next few days. I’m glad the stew is ready to heat up tonight. The motion on board has been very conducive to lying down and reading a good book. Bill Bryson is keeping me laughing.  

All is well and West Wind is taking good care of me. Love, Glenn.  

P.S. I have my safety harness on as I go out the hatch …just to let you know. (Editor’s note: He promised.)

Position:  38.35.00 S, 139.10.070 E

Dec 16 @ 08:49 local time, 22:49 UTC

Position: 38.03.058 S, 137 02. 753 E Course 82 T, Speed 7.5 knots. 

Amazing morning here running before 30 knots of wind in 3-4 metre seas. The sun is shining through the clouds and the horizon is covered in white horses.

The sound down below of West Wind running through the water is a little hard to decipher from the howl of the wind on deck, but the overall feeling is one that causes some anxiety and tension. I have just finished making a pancake and cup of tea, all done in slow motion with a great deal of care.

I poked my head out the hatch in between full deck inspections and did see the stern lights of a carrier heading west. One thing I’ve noticed is the difference in the speed of these vessels. Usually 7 knots, some are flying along at 15 knots. From what I can see I think my footprint is definitely on their radar. 

There’s a low groan coming from WW II’s rigging as she strains against the big wind and sea.

Here’s a close up look at Bass Strait that Glenn will navigate through in a few days.

 

 

Dec 16
Monday night 8:49 pm South Australia time.

The rice is just about ready to go with a new stew I pulled together during a lovely warm day. We’re running before a 10 knot wind and a 4 metre swell from the SW. The afternoon was a nature encounter bonanza. I had two very curious Minke Whales along side the boat and  I mean hop on their backs close to the boat! I could see them eye ball to eye ball with their black and white bodies about half as long as WW II as they went down the port side of the boat after surfacing around the bow. Of course I am scrambling for a camera and they are saying see yah later.

Next encounter I was ready with the camera, this time it was a young wandering albatross and he was curious as well eye ball to eye ball back and forth over the waves and around the boat several times me calling out ” Hi Al” and him almost into the rigging. I had the video camera on or so I thought, ducking and weaving from side to side, keeping in mind the we are off the wind with a following sea, 4 meter swell, and I am trying to film this guy and carry on a conversation at the same time. I think the conversation went well, very one sided mind you, but the video did not happen. I have so much respect for the people who can pull that off. Maybe next time I will concentrate a little more and talk a little less.

Next was a Black Browed Albatross  – ones with the eye liner make up air brushed on. Of course how could I forget them I caught one in my fishing line on my last voyage and held its drowned body in my arms before I gave it up to the deep. Still feel bad about that.

There is a very pretty little bird called a storm petrel that dances on the waves flitting to its own music on very long thin black legs. There have been several of these around us today. What is even more extraordinary about these birds is that while I am on deck in the middle of the night, my head light occasionally catches them dancing in the dark. How on earth do they do that without a light?

It is dark now and I have Ron’s latest weather update which calls for wind increasing to 34 knots early tomorrow morning from the west which will work well with that 4 meter swell coming up from the southwest. This should be quite a night! Running before 30+ knots of wind could be a real handful. I think I’ll get ready early with a triple reefed main and a very small jib poled out, may be even the staysail. We shall see how it goes.

I will let you know in the morning. Hope you have quiet night. 

Dec 15

The spectacular galaxy show is long gone and a soft grey curtain has been brought down on an equally grey stage that I find myself sailing along this lovely cool morning. It was a night of many feelings – wonder and frustration.

Frustration, as the wind danced around the boat like a cat sleeping on the couch. The sea on the other hand danced feverishly all night to a beat similar to hip hop, which had me running all over the deck trying madly to eek out  2-3 knots in as straight a line as possible.

I think I could, without any coaching, have won a spot on one of those TV talent shows with my spinnaker pole performance on the foredeck to the hip hop beat of the southern ocean, percussion provided by the rigging and sails slapping an erratic cacophony while trying to knock me off me feet.

Can you picture it? The foredeck heaving from side to side, and me with only a two point stance and a sixteen foot pole in my hands at waist level. I felt like one of the great Wallendas on a wire going across Niagara falls. I had a topping lift in the grip of my teeth and a down haul in one hand while grasping the pole and some how trying to stop the sheet from swinging out into the darkness with the motion of the deck going up and down and back and forth. I did not have a smile on my face! I may have, at times, steadied WW II for about half an hour at a time on a course that if drawn on a chart would indicate consumption of large amounts of alcohol by the helmsman.

My trusty steering man ‘Fleming’ had the whole thing sussed out from the beginning, or I should say the end of the afternoon breeze, he went into a kind of hibernation and would have nothing to do with my pathetic attempts to keep up my previous day’s run of 150 miles. So I employed ‘Raymarine’ to help me – and on short notice – he definitely stepped up to the plate and as a matter of fact he is now on the tour permanently.

The rest of the evening was about everything that was happening off the boat.

I had a front row seat to the best show in the galaxy, on for only two nights of the year, The Falling Meteor Shower Show. The conditions were perfect till about 01:00 when the moon showed up in a beautiful pastel orange gown and slowly climbed up on stage. It was like the one you see just before the movie comes on with the boy sitting in its lap with his fishing pole out.

I was dazzled by long and short streaks burning across the screen from all different directions.

I took a seat on the rolling foredeck for a while and laid down to take in this galactic light show and while I was there my attention was piqued by the distant sound of heavy breathing. I listened even harder trying to zone in on the sound and after a while I heard that familiar exhale of a whale in our neighbourhood. Hoping I could see his fin or tail through the darkness. I did not see him or her but just knowing it was there was a great comfort, I was not alone!

We are reaching along at  a respectful 6 knots and are on course for our entry into Bass Straits in the next few days.

I am going to tune the radio in and send this message off and see if there is any mail waiting. At 01:00 zulu or UTC I will tune into 14.140 and have a chat with VK6APK Alek in Binningup and VK6NTE Ted just down the the track from Alek in WA.  

Bye for now. Love, Glenn   

Well, a great surprise this morning ‘an inbox full of mail’. It really makes my day. It takes a while to rally the troops and get the sail mail going but oh it is so nice to wake up to a screen full of mail.

Real newsy stuff about ordinary daily life and a good catch up on the time in between our last contact. It’s been two weeks since I left Fremantle. It feels good, and I definitely know I am a lucky man to have this opportunity to be out here again.

Looking back on the last two weeks I can see that there was an awkward transition from the sudden working life on land to the open ocean solitude and adventure of sailing in the southern ocean. Hard to quantify what a huge leap that was. It is such a dramatically different head space. The elements that make up  this environment, the Southern Ocean, are all so overwhelming and in your face immediately. It takes all your strength and concentration to, at best, meet them at their own level.

Being on your own and coming to grips with that really makes you think about what you’re doing, why am I doing this. For me I seem to have a romantic view of life and throw myself into it with all my heart only to find of course, the romance is there, but so is the reality. The reality is that I am alone, and yet I love to be with people. Some would say it is a control thing and there is a certain amount of truth in that. Control of your own destiny is very rewarding and there is no one out here to blame for where you find yourself.

I have to admit there are some amazing conversations that go on in my head about being out here alone. It’s scary, not the drowning or hurt yourself kind of scary, but how can I keep this together in my head and get the boat to New Zealand to meet Lou. I have all the same insecurities most people have. What will people think, how could I leave my wife. The very idea of surviving out here is a little daunting. Can I make the right decisions, for instance what the hell is for dinner? Am I going in the right direction etc. For a guy who is dyslexic, this question takes on some scary connotations.

But without fail I choose all or nothing. The world is made up of lots of different people and I think I might be a little different. One thing for sure is I am far from perfect, (I’m sure MaryLou can corroborate that).        

The other thing is, what the hell am I going to do with all that time?  For sure I’m not going steer the boat hour after hour and sit in the cockpit while the Southern Ocean dumps cold salty water on me every few seconds.  I spend most of my time down below doing anything that does not require standing up! Lying down is the best way to take the Southern Ocean and preferably with a very good book that takes you away from the madness of the noise and killer motion for at least twelve hours a day.

As in life, it’s the small things that make a day notable and touch our souls. A visit from an albatross the most graceful of god’s creatures. A sunset blazing into the ocean painting the sky with a thousand colours of red and purple. A moon rise at night all orange and blazing right out of the sea, the aurora of the night sky, the streak of a comet meeting its demise after millions of years of roaming the universe, a school of dolphin escorting you gracefully on your way, the tranquility and majesty of a whale surfacing alongside the boat looking at you with an acknowledging glance,  a clear contact on the ham radio with a dear friend I have yet to meet but know so well. The list goes on.

Once again the great part is to write about these feelings and sights and share them with you. Thank you for your thoughtful support and kind comments.

Cheers and fond regards, Glenn.

Today is the first day I’ve been able to sit in the cockpit and lie on the foredeck in the warmth of the obscure sun, as WW II pendulums her way downwind toward Bass Strait. Brings back lots of memories and very easy to give myself up to the moment for a long time.

Did some personal grooming and laundry as well as set out my rain gear to dry and air out.

I’ve just split open an orange and am enjoying the sweet citrus hit.

I spent a lot of time time on deck last night as the wind blew around the clock. I managed to keep her moving in the right direction even though the wind is very light. WW II and I are like a hand in a glove; she moves so well as long as she gets all the attention she needs!!

I will savour this day for as long as I can. Hope the weather is OK at home.

See you soon… but not soon enough.

Position:  35 54.480 S,  130 00.00 E Course 115 T Speed 3.5 -4 knots Wind SW 5-10 Waves SW 1.5  m Cloud 95% Temp 22 C Baro 1012 Miles in last 24 hrs: 125 nm Miles to Bass Strait: 585.