At sea, South Pacific Ocean
Generally life at sea is one where we are in harmony with nature – her wind moving us along, sunshine charging our batteries (both metaphorically and literally) and rain showers giving our salt encrusted decks much needed rinses. We relish being back in the clear blue waters of the Pacific, and not seeing a single piece of floating plastic, a frequent sight when cruising the US East coast and Caribbean seas.
As we traverse along this beautiful blue ocean, however, we sadly must talk about the inevitable road kill that is a matter of course for seafaring yachts. First there are the flying fish, who jump out of the seas in schools, either being chased by predators or being startled by our oncoming bow, or both. This flight all too frequently ends in a “thwack!” – a rude, ignominious end to their graceful flight as they hit the deck of our boat, flail around for a few minutes, and eventually gasp their last breath. This abrupt and unnatural end to their otherwise magical existence makes me think of Marisa Tomei’s perfect description of “the sweet little fawn, minding his own business, licking dew off a blade of grass, and then “BAM!” he gets shot!” (My Cousin Vinnie movie, for you males who mostly communicate in movie quotes). This flying fish death-by-deck comes with the shedding of scales, blood, and the occasional wing elements. The worst (for us at least, not sure it matters to the fish) is when it either lands in a dorade (hello stinky fish smell for days), or as has happened once, it shoots through an open hatch and lands right on Jen’s chest as she sleeps. Talk about a rude awakening!
This, our third time crossing the Pacific Ocean, is a new section for us to be sailing through, and as such we have had some new species of road kill. There are these amazing squid with fantastic iridescent blue eyes, about two to six inches in length. Not entirely sure how they make it onto our decks each night, but sure enough for the first week or so out of Panama and around the Galapagos Islands they outnumbered the flying fish on our morning cull. And I guess we sort of have to count the python, although he was more of a kill due to stowing away, and his life ended when he was tossed into the sea, becoming a sort of maritime “tur-duck-en” since he had a meal within his bulging body. Not our fault he decided to come aboard Kailani.
And then there are the whales. As in, yes, we have hit them, and at least we have survived to tell the story. The first was in the Indian Ocean on our first boat Manu Kai. We were having an atypical slow day barely moving along, so both of us were in the cockpit doing repairs to lines, etc. Quiet work. Then out of nowhere the entire stern of our boat started to lift, and lift, and lift. We both stood up, looked around (there were no seas to speak of) and then a giant humpback whale fluke lifted majestically out of the sea, so close to our port quarter we could have touched it. Then the whale dove down, but not before evacuating his bowels. A massive, yellow-brown, stinky mess coated the surface of the sea upwind from us … a feature of our encounter that stayed with us for quite a while. Definitely not part of any whale watching tour brochure.
The second (and hopefully last, touch wood…) whale was also in the Indian Ocean, just off the east coast of South Africa. We were southbound on Kailani, and were moving along at about 9.5 kts in the middle of the night when we side-swiped a giant humpback whale, and the sound he made was purely awful. Not the nice “wha-a-a-a-ale t-a-a–a-a-lk” from Finding Nemo (again, so you guys can relate), but more like a long prolonged cry and moan of agony. It’s possible that whale did not survive our glancing blow as the next day we heard ship reports of a whale carcass as a navigational hazard. But we’d like to think he swam away and that one of the many container ships heading to or from the Cape hit one of the many humpback bound for their Antarctic summer feeding grounds and that vessel was the culprit.
So yeah, we are in harmony, but occasionally we kill stuff.
On the flip side to all this collateral damage resulting from sailing the high seas, we have hitchhikers in the form of birds. Many birds. Sea birds see us as a refuge from their endless flying about and often will attempt to land on our moving boat for hours, and once finally settled on our bowsprit or spreader, they tuck in for the night or day and rest away. We don’t mind so much, as long as they won’t harm any of our gear, and the rain eventually comes to clean up the inevitable brown droppings they leave behind. And we figure this offsets the road kill, right? We once had a booby that tried to land on the steering wheel in the cockpit, came in for the landing, missed the moving wheel and landed on Harley instead! All this was caught on video : Booby lands on Captain Harley. That was funny. We almost were going to have t-shirts made up for Harley with two webbed foot prints on the chest of the shirt, which would say “I love boobies” … a side hustle that never quite got launched.
The funniest and maybe most telling, are land birds that get blown way of course and need refuge. Birds landing on the deck and not really running away if we approach them is usually indicative of really bad weather – we had one such experience in the Indian Ocean when we passed through the eye of an extra-tropical cyclone. The eerie calm came with scores of birds landing on Kailani, resting up from having been blown far from their normal roost. One time at dusk 500 miles from the nearest landmass we had a small swallow-like bird fly right down the companionway and land on one of the lines we hang below to dry laundry on passage. We repeatedly shooed him back outside, but he persisted in coming right back down. We gave up, he locked his feet on that line, tucked his head under his wing, and slept through the whole night. As soon as dawn broke, off he flew. Imagine our surprise when the next night he returned with two friends. This time we put some paper under their line and the three slept through the night, departing once again at first light. Thankfully, upon the third night’s dusk there were no flocks showing up at our “Motel 6” of the seas.
And finally, yet one more booby story. First, harkening back to superstitions of we sailors, it is considered good luck to have sea birds around, but VERY bad luck to kill one. (Hello, Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner anyone?? – sorry guys, we have now moved away from movies and on to literature). So fishing one day near the Chagos Archipelago in the Indian Ocean, a booby dove down and took our lure. The hook went straight though his beak, and being pulled behind Kailani he was nearly drowning. We slowed the boat down, hauled in the booby, and with Sophia and me sort of “holding” the booby in place, Harley was able to cut off the hook. We released him back to the air. Pretty traumatizing for the booby, to say nothing of Sophia, who was nine at the time and had to reconcile the battle between her feelings of empathy for the booby and sheer shock and terror of the whole up-close and personal experience staring down a big and frightened bird. We all joked about the great tale this guy could now tell at the local booby bar. Sophia didn’t quite laugh as much as Harley and I did at that one, her innocence still quite intact.
So enough about boobies, flying fish and whales. At present, we are sailing with a full moon, making the night watches truly magical, notwithstanding the usual nocturnal squally weather that requires frequent bouts of hand steering as Kailani chases the clocking wind. We started this passage in the darkness of the new moon with the Southern Cross a beacon in our night sky, ever rising as we make our way southward. We have had a couple nights of truly remarkable bioluminescence, a phenomenon which occurs when the movement of Kailani through the water disturbs the phyto-plankton causing them to light up in their excited state. Viewed from above I imagine our boat looking like a tropical bird in flight, with its bow wakes flowing aft and outward like wings of iridescent greens and whites, followed by a long glowing tail highlighting her wake.
And so back to the sailing update. After battling counter winds, currents, and storms in order to get out of the Gulf of Panama and off the coast of Ecuador, we were finally able to head west and go around the top of the Galapagos Islands. We passed close enough to see some of the islands, but no strange sea life was noted. Then we were in the trade winds and making way! For those who may be paying close attention (go to the “Location” section of our website’s menu to see our tracking), we have actually taken a more westerly course, as we decided to bypass the Gambiers and go straight to Tonga, a mere 2,000 nm tacked on to an already 4,000 nm journey. The Gambiers are at 23S latitude, and as such are just out of the trade wind belt which makes them subject to more unstable weather. It being the southern hemisphere saddle season of tropical cyclones, we were concerned when watching the weather forecasts which showed semi-cyclonic activity routinely developing down there. The potential for adverse weather meant that we could be delayed in our arrival in Tonga, where Harley has a flight back to the States for work, returning with Sophia in early July. So for now, south and west we sail, enjoying our life at sea and ticking off the miles at a pretty good clip, having averaged 9.96 kts over the last 4 days.
All are well on board, minus the various road kill, or course.
10 06.6 119 28.8W
At sea, South Pacific Ocean
Day 20 of passage
3,202 nm to go to Vava’u, Tonga
PHOTOS disclaimer: all boobies consented to their inclusion on this website … their photos are included for reference only and were taken at Chesterfield Reef … just in case you’ve never seen one, and needless to say, we did not have a camera ready when removing the hook from the booby we caught.
Tonga here you come then. That makes sense then looking at your route on the Predict Wind. Happy sailing, with or without the ‘menagerie’ onboard. Enjoy those Trade winds.. ⛵👍😊
Ps. a couple of lame Whale jokes:
1. What do you call a group of whale musicians? An Orca-stra 😂
2. How do you get two whales in a car? Start in England and drive West (really that is a spoken joke….) 😁
And 1 bad bird joke: What is a polygon? A dead parrot 😉
Wishing I was there (after the Python became fish meal)
I am on the train back to Paris from Zurich where my friends are struggling with whether to withdraw life support or not. One heck of a decision.
Just another reminder to LIVE every day as they have and as you do chasing your dreams.
Jen will you stay in Tonga while Harley flies to and fro?
Hugs always
Fantastic all around, notwithstanding the “road kill.” Too bad the squid aren’t calamari caliber (I assume). Great photos and stories. Living the dream has returned!
Just catching up on your journey with one more post to read. Fair winds and safe travels to you both.