Pacific Crossing, Days 11-15

The dreadful ITCZ, sailing through squalls, and HOPE

Day 11 - March 2

Distance sailed: 131 nm

Total distance sailed: 1,276 nm

Distance to Hiva Oa (as the albatross flies): 1,370 nm

Wind: NNE 15-20 kts

Weather: Clear, sunny, hot

Sail Plan: Wing-on-Wing with first-reefed mainsail and genoa. End-boom preventer in place. 

After 5 days of intense wave after intense wave, we are finally getting wave after wave of relief. 

Relief that we can finally raise the mainsail. 

Relief that all 3 of us survived the trade winds more or less unscathed. 

Relief we’ve already travelled more than 1,200 miles and only 9 of them have been gained through the use of our engine. 

Relief that we were finally able to replace the chafe guard on the Genoa, add chafe guard to the 2nd reefing line, change out the composting head, and empty the bilge of salt water. 

ESPECIALLY relieved we had spare screws for the 2 screws that went missing on our Genoa furler in the heavy weather. 

Relief that instead of the barrage of squalls we’ve seen fill the horizon the past few nights, the night sky is clear and full of stars. 

Relief from nice warm water and raspberry-scented shampoo washing off 5 days of salt and sweat. 

Relief for our rear ends as conditions are finally good enough to bring out the cockpit cushions, saving us from having permanent tattoos in the pattern of the non-skid-covered fiberglass in the cockpit. 

Relief that we’ve gone from galloping wildly to trotting at a nice clip of 5 kts on a great course towards our destination. 

Relief that tonight the Pacific is finally living up to its name and granting us a peaceful night. 

The Lingo

‘Reefing’ means to shorten sail or reduce sail area. As winds get stronger, you need less sail up to move the boat. As wind gets stronger, you want less

sail up to keep the boat balanced. Reefing isn’t for wimpy sailors, but for clever ones. A properly reefed sail can often improve your course without sacrificing speed. 

On Ana María we say ‘Reef early, reef often’ and we’ve been reefing often in these squalls. We use 2 reef points on our mainsail, the first reef reduces the sail by ~25%, the second reduces the sail by ~50%. We could reef our headsails but avoid it to spare the pressure on the furlers. 

Day 12 - March 3

Distance sailed: 120 nm

Total distance sailed: 1,396 nm

Distance to Hiva Oa: 1,277 nm

Wind: NE 15-20 kts

Weather: Squally

Sail plan: Wing-on-Wing with genoa and second-reefed mainsail. End-boom preventer. 

‘We were as far as we could get from anywhere without getting closer to somewhere.’ - Ulys K. Smith

We’ve made it halfway! 

Maybe not time-wise, but distance-wise we’ve already completed half our journey. 

We’ll eat Colombian chocolate tonight to celebrate. 

The Challenge 

We’re stuck in the ITCZ or Inter-Tropical Convergence Zone. This ever- metamorphosing area north of the equator is the meeting place/dueling grounds for the weather systems in the Northern and Southern Hemispheres. 

If the Tradewinds are famous for steady, reliable winds, then the ITCZ is infamous for its unpredictable weather, squalls and storms, and oscillation between extreme conditions and dead calm. It’s not a place you want to linger. 

You may have heard this area called the Doldrums. Honestly, we’re not sure what the difference is…if there is any…as we’ve seen the terms used interchangeably. 

We once read about a German couple making this crossing. At about our current position, the Captain put out a request for help to the Pacific Puddle Jump Rally, ‘My crew is done with this passage and wants off this boat immediately. She says the ITCZ was too much for her. Can anyone pick her up?’ The lady was ridiculed for making such an unrealistic demand and the captain ridiculed for even entertaining the idea. Though I understand she was crazy for thinking she could quite literally ‘jump ship’, now having experienced the ITCZ for myself, I can’t honestly say I blame her. 

Day 13 - March 4

Distance sailed: 131 nm

Total distance sailed: 1,527 nm

Distance to Hiva Oa: 1,145 nm

Wind: NE 18-22 kts

Weather: Squalls and rain with 100% cloud cover 

Sail plan: Wing-on-Wing with genoa and second-reefed mainsail. End-boom preventer. 

‘Will we be seasick like this for the entire 30 days?’ We wondered in the Cerralvo Channel. 

‘Will this 12 ft swell crash onto our beam the rest of the 2600 nm?’

‘Will we have these 32 kt winds pummeling us for the next 20 days?’ 

‘Will every night from now on be a continuous train of 40 kt squalls, lightening, and torrential downpour?’

And today,

‘Will we ever see the sun again or will it just be 100% cloud cover from now on? Will our batteries ever get charged again? Will it ever stop raining? Will we ever get out of the ITCZ?’

In Coastal Passagemaking, you know whatever discomfort you’re experiencing will be short-lived. You’ll be safely anchored by sundown. You’ll be docked in a marina tomorrow. Safe harbor is only 2 days away. 

Out here, it feels as though the discomfort of the moment could last an eternity. 

After I broke my leg, while convalescing, taking pain meds, and wondering ‘what in the heck are we going to do now?’, I read Option B: Facing Adversity, Building Resilience, & Finding Joy by Sheryl Sandberg and Adam Grant. The book introduced me to Dr. Martin Seligman’s research on optimism and his theories on our responses to adversity when we feel it’s personal, pervasive, and permanent. 

On an ocean passage every adversity feels permanent. 

Dr. Seligman’s research inspired me to spend all of 2022 studying, contemplating, and practicing hope. While I discovered optimism and hope are not one in the same, they both share this confidence: it will not be this way forever. 

So today while it rained for hours on end and our solar panels made exactly zero power to charge the batteries, we did something we have never done before while sailing. We verified there were no ships within 50 miles, set up Paulita to steer for us and we both crawled inside the cabin, into warm, dry, comfortable sea berths, and we read a cruisers’ guide to all the delights that await us in the Marquesas. A land flowing with milk and honey. 

And that gave us hope. 

We will not be floundering forever in the ITCZ, but God willing, we will make landfall in Hiva Oa in the next 2 weeks. 

We will not be confined to this boat forever but will soon be hiking up to see French Polynesia’s biggest waterfalls. 

We will not eat ham sandwiches and granola bars forever but will soon be eating ‘poisson cru’ and fruit plucked right off the trees. 

We will not be washing our shirts and underwear in the sink forever but will be able to pay the laundry lady to wash, dry, and fold our clothes and sheets. 

We will not be surviving on 4-hour naps forever but will soon get a full night’s sleep. 

We will not be stuck under these clouds forever but we will see the sun again. Maybe not tomorrow. But hopefully the next day. 

And it will feel glorious. 

The Wildlife

We haven’t seen much wildlife since we left Socorro Island in our wake. Whereas we now see only the occasional boobie, we see tons and tons of flying fish. 

To my surprise, flying fish ACTUALLY fly. Did you know that?? Their name is not just hyperbole. They have real wings and are constantly leaping out of the water and flying over the swells. Some miss their intended destination and land on our decks instead. Every morning we pick up a few and throw them back into the sea. 

Day 14 - March 5

Distance sailed: 131 nm

Total distance sailed: 1,658 nm

Distance to Hiva Oa: 1,005 nm

Wind: NE 15 kts sustained, squall gusts to 40 kts

Weather: Overcast and squally

Sail plan: Wing-on-Wing with genoa and second-reefed mainsail. End-boom preventer. Ran engine for 3 hours. 

I’m very tempted to simply write ‘No good, very bad day,’ and leave it at that. But if you can’t join us in our sufferings, how can you join us fully in our celebrations? 

Things that went poorly today

• 40 kt squalls all night and all day meaning we spent 24 hours either cowering below hoping the sails wouldn’t rip to shreds or outside in the cockpit sopping wet. 

• The squalls messed up our watch schedule so we’re running on fumes.

• The squalls pushed us into a gigantic no-wind zone and left us there to languish in squall after squall.

• We were forced to use some precious fuel to motor west to find some wind. 

• We ran the watermaker while running the engine. The heel (or tilt) of the boat and the level of the tanks forced water to flood the bathroom - at least it was fresh water!

• As we were motoring a random fishing boat without AIS passed less than 2 nm in front of our bow. 

• The minute the fishing boat passed us and we thought we could relax a bit, we realized our wind instrument (which tells us the direction of the wind and the strength) was broken. This is the second instrument to break on this trip. 

• Fixing the wind instrument meant Andrés Jacobo climbing up/me hoisting him up 45 ft to the top of the mast. 

Things that went well today

• The bearings of the wind instrument had gotten clogged when the dust from a year in the Sea of Cortez mixed with the rain from the ITCZ squalls then dried in clumps. Andrés Jacobo was able to clean them up and grease them up. Wind instrument is back in business!

• Our batteries are mostly charged. 

• Our water tanks are full. 

• We ate a great lunch of potluck burgers and rice. 

• We did not catch any of the fishing boat’s nets in our propeller. 

• We have a great direct course to Hiva Oa, averaging 6 kts. 

• Right now we have no structural damage. We’re not sinking. Our rig and sails are in good shape. Our engine still works. Our autopilots are working. Both crew members are healthy and still *mostly* sane. 

The Entertainment

Audiobooks help the the watches pass quickly. I finished The Alice Network (thanks, Sissy!) and am loving Project Hail Mary (thanks for the Audible, Alexandra, and the recommendation, Matt!). Andrés Jacobo is listening to The Help (thanks Mom & Dad!). 

Day 15 - March 6

Distance sailed: 142 nm

Total distance sailed: 1,800 nm

Distance to Hiva Oa: 870 nm

Wind: SE 12 kts….from the south!! Could we be out of the ITCZ???

Weather: Hot and sunny

Sail plan: Mainsail, genoa and staysail sailing at 80° apparent wind angle

I sit here in the cockpit in the last 2 hours of my second night watch, amazed at the sight. 

Nearly due West, the glowing yellow full moon is setting on the horizon after I watched it unfettered by squalls cross the starry sky last night. 

To the North, thankfully at some distance, I watch an electric lightning display as all those squalls we left behind continue on their Northwest rampage. 

Opposite the moon and framed by the stern pushpit and bimini, the sun is rising in the East, turning the horizon bright orange, contrasting starkly with the dark gray but harmless wispy clouds. 

Completing the circle, I look to the South across our Port beam. I can’t see it. There is no sign pointing to it. But I know it’s there…

The Equator. 

Thank you to Mike H., Malia N., Karen R., Luke and Emily J., Garth on s/v Irish Diplomacy, Alexandra B., Daddy,   Carrie H., Laura R., Linda N., Pat B., Bobbie S., Ray N., and Mark and Christine C. for providing this week’s encouraging words and dinner time entertainment!

Thank YOU for reading and being on the adventure with us! 

Make sure to check our daily progress and read Andrés Jacobo’s log by clicking on the track at https://forecast.predictwind.com/tracking/display/AnaMaria