43 Days Alone at Sea: A Journal (Week 3)

Day #15

It’s day 15 and I’m not even 1,000 miles away from Tarrafal. It’s a little embarrassing, I must say. But I’m officially east of Brasil and being at sea is my most favorite thing, so I can be nothing but grateful.

I got the new/old mainsail up yesterday at 2pm. I had this funny feeling as I was lashing it on to the gaff that I was hanging out with an old friend. We had a nice time. Both this boom and main are much stronger than what I was flying before so I feel pretty confident we will make it intact from here on out… as long as we can hold a course of 220° or less, otherwise this is all for nothing. So far so good.

After I put the sail up, I lounged in its shade, eating leftover pasta and drinking the single cold beer left in the fridge from Cabo Verde, when I witnessed one of the most incredible things I have seen at sea. I had been moving so slowly I suppose, that in Mara Noka’s shadow, and following in our wake, was a large school of dolphinfish and rainbow runners. They were everywhere. The fairly calm sea sparkled yellow, green, blue, and silver. It was mesmerizing. They stayed with me a long while, even through my pointless tack to the east. At sunset I got to see them all hunting flying fish with impressive leaps.

At 1am I got out of bed to tack back towards the southwest, and I noticed that the fish were still with me. But instead of lighting up the water with their carnival colors, they sparkled like the cosmos, being illuminated by fluorescent plankton. I could see their outlines almost perfectly. Incredible. I looked for them this morning but I have yet to see them…

Day #16

What a dreary day… It has been raining since last night. And after every squall, the wind dies. Funny how heaven itself can become hell in just 100 miles…

One of the patches on the main we stitched on during the last Atlantic crossing started tearing, so during the last lull I brought the main down for the time being. I need it to dry a bit before I can tape it up, and hopefully that will be sufficient. But for now it’s raining and I’m just bobbing around…

This morning I thought a terrible thought: “I’m not going to make it.” But I did not mean it as a general statement. It’s just that there are a few possibilities: that I will be stuck in the doldrums forever; that I won’t have any sails left; that I will get pushed too far west to be able to beat into the trades; or that I simply won’t make it in time to see my brother, or spend Christmas with my father, or New Years with friends, or to renew my Brazilian residency — the primary reason for the timeliness of this voyage. Needless to say, I had an anxiety-ridden morning, and lost sorely to the rain when I tried to compete with my tears.

The sun eventually came out to save me from myself. I had a dance party, ate breakfast, and washed dishes while the mainsail dried, and then taped up the tear before pulling it back up. I noticed a pretty bad tear starting on the foresail also. I’d need to pull it down to patch because the tear is at the top, and technically it would be possible to do it right now as there is barely a breeze, but unfortunately the lack of wind is only due to the giant looming back cloud coming my way.

Day #17

Another rainy day out at sea. My phone’s GPS won’t load because of the cloud cover, but the compass has been pointing 210°-215° all night, and we did have a bit of movement, so I hope that we made some progress. Maybe we’ll even get a whole 50nm in 24 hours…

This sail mending thing is fast becoming a daily chore. Last night’s furling action during a squall must have really done it, because when I unfurled the sail this morning, the barely-there-tear now ran two and a half feet along the Sunbrella seam. All I could really do then was hope for a respite from the incessant rain…

The afternoon brought some sunshine and enough of a lull that I was able to bring down the foresail for some ZipTape doctoring. It was an easy enough job in those conditions, but still one I hope I won’t have to do again on this trip.

I had the most wonderful lunch of sautéed sweet potato in leftover sausage grease, cucumber and tomato salad with feta cheese, brown rice and quinoa, all topped with garlic onion yogurt dressing. Oh, and a hard-boiled egg.

I’m getting hit by a pretty nasty squall right now, so I will leave more writing for tomorrow.

Day #18

I think it’s safe to say that the trades have stiffened my sails. After last night’s squall, a nice breeze kicked up from the southeast and I’ve been flying along at five and a half knots.

It was difficult to sleep last night not knowing if I was in the clear of any strong gusts, but it’s now lunch time and the wind has been steady.

I have never been happier to beat into the wind.

I am due east of the Amazon river now, and almost in line with the São Pedro and São Paulo rocks. I only have about 80 more miles until the equator, and if I keep up this pace I will arrive in Sao Paulo in three weeks, in time for everything.

I feel very lucky, and more so, very proud of Mara Noka.

Day #19

What a day. What a lovely, full day. The sun was out bright and early, and it would have been a sin to waste any time being anywhere but outside after all these previous days of clouds and rain.

So I hung my sheets and pillows out in the sun for some UV dry cleaning, and washed dishes. I also built a new hatch for the galley to replace the one that flew away, although I must say, the tarp that I’ve been using to cover the companionway has worked far better against the rain than that old hatch ever did. I baked butternut squash in the solar oven and ate it with garlic buttered pasta. It was outstanding, if I may say so myself. That solar oven has been a life changer.

I’m less than two miles away from the equator right now and it’s a party out here. I have a school of giant rainbow jack hunting alongside the boat right now (I suppose I am going slow enough for it to be the same school), and the sky is speckled with what appear to be petrels, shearwaters, and Noddy terns. Hundreds of them. I’m in the best of company for this occasion.

I will cross the equator at 26°7W.

Day #20

I shared wine and a nice chat with Neptune yesterday, and just thanked the sea for allowing me to be here and for always being so graceful to me.

As I slept last night (still setting the alarm to go off every hour), the wind picked up. When I woke up this morning it was gusting 20 knots. Before I could reef the foresail (which should have been done last night), I heard flapping. The halyard chafed through, leaving no uphaul for the foresail and the tensionless top of it flogging in the wind. I quickly furled it halfway. I don’t see any real way for me to be able to fix that as I’d need to run a new halyard through the top of the mast. So for now I’ll sail slowly and carefully on this reefed foresail, grateful if I’m making four knots.

Right now I’m approximately 600 miles from Recife, 1,000 miles from Salvador, and a little over 1,500 miles to my rounding point off Cabo Frio.

Today this trip feels like it’ll be never ending.

Day #21

Three whole weeks… Time at sea is the strangest phenomenon. The past three weeks have felt like one strange day, yet at the same time like eternity.

Today I’ve been feeling what I’ve heard called “boredom.” With no desire to read, write, or listen to podcasts, and not being able to spend time outside without getting splashed by a wave, I laid in bed and fantasized.

I imagined my arrival, and the various possible scenarios, and I thought about the past and how quickly it came and went. I reflect on how lucky I am to be able to put a pause on “the real world” and go out to sea where all that exists are the present moment and my faraway dreams, with no in between.