mandag 15. februar 2010
"Safe"
We're "safe"! We're done with pirate-zone and are now in Yemen! The middle-east is still cool! ...And on a serious note: Yemen is not that bad, friendly place, really!
Up through Pirate Alley Salalah to Aden, Yemen
Six days of sailing. Not much happening. Some cool nocturnal dolphins in waters loaded with phosporescence. One pirate scare, lot of chatting in code on the radio.
That was it really. First two days held little or no wind and we ran the engine continuosly. The crew on "Thira", Cedric and Mike, had agreed to come along for mutual support. We had agreed to maintain a minimum speed of four knots, which saw us running the engine for 48 hours straight.
By the second day we were approached by some larger local boats with speedboats in tow. Three to every mothership. This is something we've never seen before, and being were we were we were naturallay a bit edgy. Normally we have pretty good intel about what to expect as of local peculiarities fishing-wise, and the only people we had heard about operating with motherships and speedboats in these waters were the pirates. Unfortunately not those from that "Vivid" production we all know.
When the alleged pirates even looked to be coming straight for us there was nothing for us to do than try and run at an angle that would optimize our sailing performance. Pretty hopeless really, but it might buy us some time. One of the boats came twice up to about 1000 metres behind us before it stopped dead in the water. Both times we expected to see them man the speedboats, but nothing happened.
The whole ordeal was over in about four hours, during which we were frequently in contact with Thira (who were a couple of miles away, also running from some other boats). All we could do was keeping them updated with our position, speed and heading. All in a pre-arranged code in case people should be listening. We even tryed calling the coastguard on the VHF. We had seen them just a few hours before it all broke loose, but no response, from anyone really.
In hindsight they were probably just fishermen acting in ways that we haven't seen before, and didn't expect, but they got our pulses racing for a little while. Fun exercise.
On the entertainment-front the dolphins have given us a few nightly performances. The water here is loaded with phosphorescence. Sometimes they will come from the back, heading straight for the boat. When they come four or five abreast they look like a hand of glowing fingers reaching out for us. As soon as they reach the boat they will take turns playing in our bow-wave. There you can stand in the bow, watching the body of the fish like a black shape in impressive detail against the glowing green backdrop of the turbulent water around it.
That was it really. First two days held little or no wind and we ran the engine continuosly. The crew on "Thira", Cedric and Mike, had agreed to come along for mutual support. We had agreed to maintain a minimum speed of four knots, which saw us running the engine for 48 hours straight.
By the second day we were approached by some larger local boats with speedboats in tow. Three to every mothership. This is something we've never seen before, and being were we were we were naturallay a bit edgy. Normally we have pretty good intel about what to expect as of local peculiarities fishing-wise, and the only people we had heard about operating with motherships and speedboats in these waters were the pirates. Unfortunately not those from that "Vivid" production we all know.When the alleged pirates even looked to be coming straight for us there was nothing for us to do than try and run at an angle that would optimize our sailing performance. Pretty hopeless really, but it might buy us some time. One of the boats came twice up to about 1000 metres behind us before it stopped dead in the water. Both times we expected to see them man the speedboats, but nothing happened.The whole ordeal was over in about four hours, during which we were frequently in contact with Thira (who were a couple of miles away, also running from some other boats). All we could do was keeping them updated with our position, speed and heading. All in a pre-arranged code in case people should be listening. We even tryed calling the coastguard on the VHF. We had seen them just a few hours before it all broke loose, but no response, from anyone really.
In hindsight they were probably just fishermen acting in ways that we haven't seen before, and didn't expect, but they got our pulses racing for a little while. Fun exercise.
On the entertainment-front the dolphins have given us a few nightly performances. The water here is loaded with phosphorescence. Sometimes they will come from the back, heading straight for the boat. When they come four or five abreast they look like a hand of glowing fingers reaching out for us. As soon as they reach the boat they will take turns playing in our bow-wave. There you can stand in the bow, watching the body of the fish like a black shape in impressive detail against the glowing green backdrop of the turbulent water around it.
Roadtrip Oman
Two days of camels, desert, deep valleys, local cafe's, military checkpoints and some other random words to make up a catchy subtitle.
søndag 14. februar 2010
Initiative test: Machining and installing custom-made parts
There are two ways of approaching the act of moving about the globe in a 50 year old (51 this year actually) vessel:
The natural pessimist approach: All the equipment on board is 50 years old (51 this year) and should be changed ASAP as it is probably going to break any time soon.
The natural optimist approach: Everything on board has lasted for 50 years (51 this year) and is not likely to choose this year to break. That would totally suck.
Being naturally broke we are forced to choose the natural optimist approach. The theory has worked pretty good so far, but on our way to the Maldives from Thailand (were we'd just finished fixing everything that was not working) Egil spotted a tiny crack in our 50 year old (51 this year actually), bronze backstay deck-fitting. In other words; the metal thingy on deck that holds the only wire that keep the mast from toppling forwards when we have the wind from our back. The crack wasn't big, and has probably been there for some time, but you don't get second chances when these things decide to break, so immediate action was called upon. After planning, drawing and making backup-plans to have the part machined in Norway and shipped (not as easy and straightforward as it may sound!) we were able to have it machined in Salalah, Oman. And after fighting with an angle grinder against fibreglass in enclosed spaces for a while too long; mounted! 
Of course things were not as easy as to just rip off the old (50 years old, in fact; 51 this year!) fitting and bolt on the new one; that would simply be too easy. 
The natural pessimist approach: All the equipment on board is 50 years old (51 this year) and should be changed ASAP as it is probably going to break any time soon.
The natural optimist approach: Everything on board has lasted for 50 years (51 this year) and is not likely to choose this year to break. That would totally suck.
Being naturally broke we are forced to choose the natural optimist approach. The theory has worked pretty good so far, but on our way to the Maldives from Thailand (were we'd just finished fixing everything that was not working) Egil spotted a tiny crack in our 50 year old (51 this year actually), bronze backstay deck-fitting. In other words; the metal thingy on deck that holds the only wire that keep the mast from toppling forwards when we have the wind from our back. The crack wasn't big, and has probably been there for some time, but you don't get second chances when these things decide to break, so immediate action was called upon. After planning, drawing and making backup-plans to have the part machined in Norway and shipped (not as easy and straightforward as it may sound!) we were able to have it machined in Salalah, Oman. And after fighting with an angle grinder against fibreglass in enclosed spaces for a while too long; mounted! Of course things were not as easy as to just rip off the old (50 years old, in fact; 51 this year!) fitting and bolt on the new one; that would simply be too easy.
fredag 5. februar 2010
Maldives, Holiday in paradise
We stayed on the Maldives for six days, and making the most of that time. The rush to get home before the ocean freezes over has started. We have planned for the machining of the new backstay deck-fitting that we need to get made after Egil discovered a crack in the old one.
We have sent off Kjell on a 12-stage journey to get back home to Kirkenes. ...and we have enjoyed ourselves going on a trip with the other yachties in the harbour. We were the second boat to arrive, and by the time we left there were almost 20. 
We have also sampled the various watersports available, such as surfing (as well as alternative uses of a surfboard) and freediving and spearfishing. Good times, the pictures speak for themselves. 
Next up is Oman's second biggest city Salalah, and then a rush over to Aden in Yemen. Hopefully both legs will be completed without encountering people with wooden legs, eyepatches and hooks for hands, otherwise known as pirates. The odds are on our side anyway. Last season two of the 120+ sailyachts to go through there had any problems, guess we can live with that.
Next up is Oman's second biggest city Salalah, and then a rush over to Aden in Yemen. Hopefully both legs will be completed without encountering people with wooden legs, eyepatches and hooks for hands, otherwise known as pirates. The odds are on our side anyway. Last season two of the 120+ sailyachts to go through there had any problems, guess we can live with that.
Passage Diaries, Thailand - Maldives Pt.3
Day Fourteen, Tuesday 12 January 2009
The last three days have been nice, bluebird days with light, but not all too light winds. ...Apart from right now, in the evening, when we have been drifting in no winds for two or three hours. We're still in the current that pushes us in almost the right direction though. We thought we had lost it for a while, but now it's back. We have about 170 miles (a little more than 300 km) left until we are at the Maldives, and we're growing a little restless.
We're making plans for our time in the Maldives. Egil discovered a crack in the plate that is the attachment for the backstay of the mast. The crack might have been there a long time, but we can't risk anything. If the backstay breaks in a blow from the back we will, without doubt, lose the mast. We need to have a machine-shop make us a new piece, and we need to spend some time taking measurements and firing off emails east and west.
Yesterday evening and night was a good one! The wind stayed between 3-5 knots, and we kept on gliding. The evening was rounded off by a good number of cardgames and a few glasses of wine. In our lack of a fridge we have finally discovered that we don't have to force down lukewarm beer, you can do the same with wine instead. It took us 7-8 months to figure out that one...
When I got up at midnight for my watch there was not a cloud, and no moon. In other words a perfect view of the stars. I had six or seven shooting stars, one of them one of those really good ones that leave a shining trail behind it. After two hours or so, just as I was getting a bit sleepy, the dolphins came to cheer me up. They played in the dark in our bow-wave for about 15 minutes, then they were gone. ...only to return as we were changing watches. Me and Egil stood silently in the bow watching the shining lines of phosphorescence crisscrossing in front of the boat and listening to their breathing. It was way too dark to see the actual animals, but the lightshow they were making were more than good enough a substitute. I left Egil alone with the dolphins and said goodnight, going down to spend four extremely comfortable hours sleeping. I've grown used to erratic sleeping-patterns by now, and four-plus-four hours is plenty. Normally I'm fully rested after four-plus-two, weird, I used to be such a sleeper...
Day 1, 15 January, Friday 04.15
Anchored outside Uligamu, Maldives! Not seeing land for a couple of weeks makes your concept of claustrophobia a bit screwed. I almost decided against going in here in the dark because the entrance was a bit narrow. ...It's about a mile across. It felt like we were walking a tightrope though, with up to 15 knots of wind and a bit of current to help keep us on our toes.
The last three days have been nice, bluebird days with light, but not all too light winds. ...Apart from right now, in the evening, when we have been drifting in no winds for two or three hours. We're still in the current that pushes us in almost the right direction though. We thought we had lost it for a while, but now it's back. We have about 170 miles (a little more than 300 km) left until we are at the Maldives, and we're growing a little restless.
Yesterday we had finally worked up the motivation to look into the problem of our navigation lights that stopped working about a week ago. Sure enough, after about six hours of work we had established that the leak that finished off our ships library also corroded the wires to the lights. A little playing around with some tape and tools and; whips(!); we yet again had a light in the top of our mast. Halelujah! The job that had been progressing at a leisurely pace took a frantic turn towards the end, when some bad weather, with heavy winds and rain seemed about to hit us. Us at this stage included a boat with odds and ends ALL over the place. Having such a small boat sort of guarantees that if you wanna do something, anything, you're bound to move a lot of stuff to other parts of the boat, and yesterday we were working in three our four different places simultaneously. After our panicky finishing off and cleaning up, the weather passed behind us, without hitting anyhow. Well, well, it got the job finished.
Day 15, Wednesday, January 13th, noon; 126 miles left to Uligamu, Maldives
Most of yesterday afternoon and the evening in its entirety was spent drifting slowly, slowly towards our target. At midnight we resigned to motoring and have been since. ...Apart from a short spell this morning when there was a hint of sailwind, just enough to take a break from the engine-noise and set sail. Didn't last longer than a short hour though... So more motoring it was. We motored on for a few hours until we had a bit of wind again. This time it held out, and we could glide silently along at about 2,5 knots.
The big event the last 24 hours happened around ten in the evening. I was on watch and Egil and Kjell were Asleep (yes, with capital A). I was listening to an audiobook and watching the stars, waiting for shooting star number five of the evening when I thought I heard someone gasp for breath. Not very concerned I kept up the pace of what I was doing without missing a beat. After all it could have been something with my earphones, or it could have been someone gasping for breath. My dad was after all sleeping two metres away from my position.
Then, ten seconds later, and this time surely coming from outside the boat: PFFFFFF! - UUUUUUUH! After cringeing, taking cover in the bottom of the cockpit and frantically tearing off my headset, I risked peaking over the cockpit coaming. I heard the noise again, sounding like someone who's in the habit of sucking down 50-60 a day and has held their breath for a particularly lengthy visit to an english public toilet. After doing some rational thinking about the probability of being attacked by chainsmoking axe-murderers in the middle of the Indian Ocean I chanced a glance over the side of the boat. It took about a minute before I saw them when they surfaced again. There were two of them. Perfecly dinner-sized brownish whales of about four or five metres gliding slowly next to the boat. Whenever I shone the light on them they would dive and resurface on the other side of the boat.
We watched them until they took off for somewhere else after about 30 minutes. Finally we've had our first official whale-sighting. We've had another one, but Egil refuses to acknowledge it since he never saw it. Between you and me though, it wasn't much. Just a big, dark back several hundred metres out, visible for about 1/3 second. This on the other hand, was a close and definite encounter we could both enjoy.
Day 16, Thursday January 14th
Tomorrow morning we will arrive! For sure, unless the wind dies down AND the motor explodes and we're too far out to swim. Guess the odds say we'll arrive then... We're 50 miles off, and we're doing 4-5 knots in comfortable 7-8 knots of wind and agreeable seas, rested as they are after not having been moved by the wind for a few days. Four knots of speed means four miles pr. hour. In other words we can be there already in 10-12 hours, around midnight that is.
We're now at the stage of the passage where we are preparing our arrival a little. We're taking the anchorchain up from where it's been stored below, and putting it back in the chainlocker. The anchor goes the same way.
We're making plans for our time in the Maldives. Egil discovered a crack in the plate that is the attachment for the backstay of the mast. The crack might have been there a long time, but we can't risk anything. If the backstay breaks in a blow from the back we will, without doubt, lose the mast. We need to have a machine-shop make us a new piece, and we need to spend some time taking measurements and firing off emails east and west. Yesterday evening and night was a good one! The wind stayed between 3-5 knots, and we kept on gliding. The evening was rounded off by a good number of cardgames and a few glasses of wine. In our lack of a fridge we have finally discovered that we don't have to force down lukewarm beer, you can do the same with wine instead. It took us 7-8 months to figure out that one...
When I got up at midnight for my watch there was not a cloud, and no moon. In other words a perfect view of the stars. I had six or seven shooting stars, one of them one of those really good ones that leave a shining trail behind it. After two hours or so, just as I was getting a bit sleepy, the dolphins came to cheer me up. They played in the dark in our bow-wave for about 15 minutes, then they were gone. ...only to return as we were changing watches. Me and Egil stood silently in the bow watching the shining lines of phosphorescence crisscrossing in front of the boat and listening to their breathing. It was way too dark to see the actual animals, but the lightshow they were making were more than good enough a substitute. I left Egil alone with the dolphins and said goodnight, going down to spend four extremely comfortable hours sleeping. I've grown used to erratic sleeping-patterns by now, and four-plus-four hours is plenty. Normally I'm fully rested after four-plus-two, weird, I used to be such a sleeper... Day 1, 15 January, Friday 04.15
Anchored outside Uligamu, Maldives! Not seeing land for a couple of weeks makes your concept of claustrophobia a bit screwed. I almost decided against going in here in the dark because the entrance was a bit narrow. ...It's about a mile across. It felt like we were walking a tightrope though, with up to 15 knots of wind and a bit of current to help keep us on our toes.
I wonder what this place looks like in daylight?
Passage diaries, Thailand-Maldives Pt. 2
Day 6, Jan 4, 2010
The lack of an entry yesterday has its explanation in something as ordinary as the weather. Yesterday there was an awful lot of it. For an awful lot of the day.
To put it another way; it is now almost 6:30 in the afternoon and the sun should set around now. However we haven't seen the sun for the last two days. What we have seen is gale-force winds from north-east (incidentally north-east is almost exactly where we want to go..) and torrential rain.
To top it off, my earplugs were full of water and incapable of reproduce any form of bass. Anyone who has listened to a vicious iPod refusing to play anything but Sissel Kyrkjebø without bass for five hours will understand the urge for for a quiet, padded room with nice people in white coats.
A-hannyway, that's almost over now. The weather seems to be clearing. It has (almost) not rained today, and the wind has hardly touched the 25 knot-mark, and I can yet again operate my iPod and the earplugs are dry.
Ok, this is obviously turning into a bi-daily entry thing, I'm sure you don't mind. Yesterday was nothing spectacular, same ocean, different day. Weather pretty much the same as the day before. The day was spent reading, chatting and eating. We even had the time at the end of the day to throw in a game of cards. That was yesterday.
Today on the other hand, brings change. Not a helluva lotta change, but change anyhow. During night the wind died down quite a bit and it has been like that for the day as well. It is less than 10 knots now, typically around 5 knots. That's just about the minimum of wind we need to keep going. We can still sail in 3-4 knots, but that require flat water. Luckily the waves died down together with the wind, so we are still making good speed in a lot more comfort than the last days. We still haven't done less than 100 miles towards the target per 24 hrs. since the first day.
Today we upgraded our fishing-gear with some stuff that my mom brought with her to Thailand. Thank you mom! Hopefully now we'll catch plenty of fish. The retired lure we were using were something we made ourselves after Joseph showed us how on the island of Anuta. (See the "Anuta" blogpost under "Solomon Islands"). Other than that I have made bread and we have collectively put off trying to find out why our masthead light suddenly didn't work when we tried turning it on last night. The joy of having a boat, something always breaks down... Too bad it didn't happen before we left Thailand were we had a "fix-almost-everything-that-don't-work session". Not Everything of course. We wanted to be able to leave before easter...
Speaking of thing that don't work. I listened to our radio this morning. "Listened" is a keyword here because that's all our radio is good for. We can only receive, not send.
I often get up in the morning (or in the middle of the night, according to the schedule) feeling like I've taken a turn in the spinner, and maybe even the tumbledryer. The difference being that I don't at all smell like the fresh washing you normally pick out of these appliances. Also when we're beating there's a bit of water getting thrown up over the bow, which means we need to keep the forward hatch closed, which means no ventilation in the sleeping quarters, which contributes to the general discomfort.
However last night seemed like a night for perfect sleeping. The weather was nice all day and into the night. Gently rolling waves, wind just strong enough to keep the sails up, all hatches wide open. UNTIL I BLOODY WENT TO BED GODDAMN IT! I had just fallen asleep with a contented smile on my lips when the wind picked up to 15-20 knots from the front, the bow started doing the rumba and, just in case I was under narcosis and hadn't woken up yet, Murphy threw in (literally) a good bucket of seawater through the hatch and onto my disconsolately sobbing person in the bunk.
So after a night of stubborn sleep I got up this morning not exactly feeling like a million bucks, but maybe like five cents. Anyway five cents are slightly better than two cents and three mugs of coffee had my eyes opened to the point I could actually take in the world around me which today consisted of a big, blue ocean, ten metres of boat and a clear blue sky. From trying to relieve myself on the northern side of the boat I could also establish that the wind was blowing about 12 knots from about that direction. Marvellous morning.
Today was spent doing the normal stuff which can be summed up with one word that rhymes with "failing". The spice that faith decided to garnish our day with came in the form of seawater. Funny how that seems to come in abundance in these neck of the woods. This particular batch of salted H2O were brought to our attention when we got wet feet by treading around the cabin bunk which also doubles as our library; there are two lockers under the mattress where we keep a couple of hundred books. A further investigation led us into our library lockers that had now turned into our pulp-storage.
A leak somewhere had collected itself under the cabin bunk and started attacking our reading material. About half of our books were a total loss, the other half was divided into "dry", "almost dry, can be saved" and "hopeless, but let's try and save them anyway".
In short; the boat now smells like a cellulosis-factory and we have books in various stages of sogginess in half a dozen places. The half of our collection that was a total loss went overboard. Normally we bring ALL our rubbish ashore, but dealing with 60 kg of sodden books on board a small boat just called for desperate measures. Sorry nature.
The leak itself was the centre of a lot of attention. Rather, the location of the leak was. A number of theories was launched, investigated and rejected. After a couple of hours we were able to trace it to a disused seacock that is located so high up on the topsides that it only allows water to enter when we're well heeled. ...As we have been for the last week. Furthermore a clogged vent stopped the water from taking its intended route into the sump where it could easily have been pumped out, and instead allowed it to make paper-mache out of our collection of war-, crime- and classic, russian litterature. Remind me to strike Murphy of my christmas-card list.
Despite all, searching for-, and eventually finding and dealing with that leak was an exititing treasure-hunt. Also it proves that even though having a boat is a lot of unforeseen problems to be dealt with, they often come in a form that it is possible to gain the satisfaction of diagnosing and dealing with yourself. ...I still wish my NZ Whitewater Guide and Mt. Cook Climbing Guide weren't dripping wet though.
Day 11, 09 January 2010
Last night was in its entirety spent employing an advanced sailing technique called "drifting". This nifty little technique is normally pulled out of our big bag of tricks when there's absolutely no wind. It works by taking down all sails and relying on a kind current to take you towards your goal. In this case we moved at around 3 knots in almost the right direction, not bad at all.
However after I had taken a svim around the boat, cut my toenails and done whatever I could think of to pass the time, I woke up the others by starting the engine. We motored through most of the day. Even that wasn't too bad. Almost welcome hearing the engine again. At lunchtime we motored straight through the biggest pod of dolphins ever. There were hundreds, perhaps thousands, jumping all around us, moving over to investigate the boat and play in front of the bow.
Then right after we started sailing again we met some other people for the first time in 11 days. We passed an Sri Lankan fishing boat quite close (oh yeah; we passed Sri Lanka somewhere beyond our northern horizon today...). They were laying their nets and we had just put up twin headsails, so none of us were very manouverable and unfortunately we couldn't take advantage of their offer to swap drinks for fish. We shouted across to each other where we were from, where we were going etc, then we were gone again...
The lack of an entry yesterday has its explanation in something as ordinary as the weather. Yesterday there was an awful lot of it. For an awful lot of the day.
To put it another way; it is now almost 6:30 in the afternoon and the sun should set around now. However we haven't seen the sun for the last two days. What we have seen is gale-force winds from north-east (incidentally north-east is almost exactly where we want to go..) and torrential rain.
Yesterday was spent reefing and changing into smaller sails, as well as being soaking wet and slightly miserable.
We had winds of around 30 knots with an average of 20-25 knots for most of yesterday, last night and this morning. Today has been slightly better, and the weather might, just might be improving. So far our expectations of the "truly delightful passage" that the pilotbooks have promised us have been thoroughly shattered and ran through the grinder. Sleep has been a luxurious commodity for some of us. I moved my mattress on to the floor last night. That is the place in the boat where it moves the least as it is almost in the dead centre of the boat and as low as you can get. In addition to that I can just squeeze my shoulders between the toilet-door and the drawers on the other side, so I don't flop around as a flying-fish on deck an early morning.
I slept as a baby in other words.
My nightwatch however was wet and extremely miserable. My iPod was in a waterproof bag and because of this I couldn't properly operate the controls. The best I could do was to put it on "random" and then the damn contraption saw it fit to play Eurythmics, Bee Gees and Sissel Kyrkjebø for five hours straight as I was holding on for dear life, considering whether there was any point holding on for something as miserable that.
To top it off, my earplugs were full of water and incapable of reproduce any form of bass. Anyone who has listened to a vicious iPod refusing to play anything but Sissel Kyrkjebø without bass for five hours will understand the urge for for a quiet, padded room with nice people in white coats.A-hannyway, that's almost over now. The weather seems to be clearing. It has (almost) not rained today, and the wind has hardly touched the 25 knot-mark, and I can yet again operate my iPod and the earplugs are dry.
Day 8, January 6, 2010
Ok, this is obviously turning into a bi-daily entry thing, I'm sure you don't mind. Yesterday was nothing spectacular, same ocean, different day. Weather pretty much the same as the day before. The day was spent reading, chatting and eating. We even had the time at the end of the day to throw in a game of cards. That was yesterday.
Today on the other hand, brings change. Not a helluva lotta change, but change anyhow. During night the wind died down quite a bit and it has been like that for the day as well. It is less than 10 knots now, typically around 5 knots. That's just about the minimum of wind we need to keep going. We can still sail in 3-4 knots, but that require flat water. Luckily the waves died down together with the wind, so we are still making good speed in a lot more comfort than the last days. We still haven't done less than 100 miles towards the target per 24 hrs. since the first day.
Today we upgraded our fishing-gear with some stuff that my mom brought with her to Thailand. Thank you mom! Hopefully now we'll catch plenty of fish. The retired lure we were using were something we made ourselves after Joseph showed us how on the island of Anuta. (See the "Anuta" blogpost under "Solomon Islands"). Other than that I have made bread and we have collectively put off trying to find out why our masthead light suddenly didn't work when we tried turning it on last night. The joy of having a boat, something always breaks down... Too bad it didn't happen before we left Thailand were we had a "fix-almost-everything-that-don't-work session". Not Everything of course. We wanted to be able to leave before easter...
Speaking of thing that don't work. I listened to our radio this morning. "Listened" is a keyword here because that's all our radio is good for. We can only receive, not send.
Anyway, I listened to the "Indian Ocean-Net" where all or most of the yachts in the IO gossip about weather and fishing and sunburns and all those things that we yachties are extremely interested in. The point of pointing out that was that I heard from the other boats that none of the boats around us has got much wind either. Some of them were motoring, so I guess we're not that bad off anyway!
Day 9, Jan. 7, 2010
Last night I went to bed. Nothing spectacular, I know. I go to bed every night, some nights even twice if I have to get up at midnight to do my watch, as tonight. I'm actually on watch right now. Not that I'm watching much, apart from the horizon every ten minutes or so. The boat is handling itself and I can spend my time writing or whatever. BUT: Yesterday I went to bed at midnight, and I knew I had the rest of the night off. I was looking forward to a full night of good sleep. I haven't slept very good at all since leaving Thailand. In part because we have mostly been beating towards the wind, and when we do that the bunks up in the forecastle with me and Egil in them are being shaken around quite well.
I often get up in the morning (or in the middle of the night, according to the schedule) feeling like I've taken a turn in the spinner, and maybe even the tumbledryer. The difference being that I don't at all smell like the fresh washing you normally pick out of these appliances. Also when we're beating there's a bit of water getting thrown up over the bow, which means we need to keep the forward hatch closed, which means no ventilation in the sleeping quarters, which contributes to the general discomfort. However last night seemed like a night for perfect sleeping. The weather was nice all day and into the night. Gently rolling waves, wind just strong enough to keep the sails up, all hatches wide open. UNTIL I BLOODY WENT TO BED GODDAMN IT! I had just fallen asleep with a contented smile on my lips when the wind picked up to 15-20 knots from the front, the bow started doing the rumba and, just in case I was under narcosis and hadn't woken up yet, Murphy threw in (literally) a good bucket of seawater through the hatch and onto my disconsolately sobbing person in the bunk.
So after a night of stubborn sleep I got up this morning not exactly feeling like a million bucks, but maybe like five cents. Anyway five cents are slightly better than two cents and three mugs of coffee had my eyes opened to the point I could actually take in the world around me which today consisted of a big, blue ocean, ten metres of boat and a clear blue sky. From trying to relieve myself on the northern side of the boat I could also establish that the wind was blowing about 12 knots from about that direction. Marvellous morning.
Today was spent doing the normal stuff which can be summed up with one word that rhymes with "failing". The spice that faith decided to garnish our day with came in the form of seawater. Funny how that seems to come in abundance in these neck of the woods. This particular batch of salted H2O were brought to our attention when we got wet feet by treading around the cabin bunk which also doubles as our library; there are two lockers under the mattress where we keep a couple of hundred books. A further investigation led us into our library lockers that had now turned into our pulp-storage. A leak somewhere had collected itself under the cabin bunk and started attacking our reading material. About half of our books were a total loss, the other half was divided into "dry", "almost dry, can be saved" and "hopeless, but let's try and save them anyway". In short; the boat now smells like a cellulosis-factory and we have books in various stages of sogginess in half a dozen places. The half of our collection that was a total loss went overboard. Normally we bring ALL our rubbish ashore, but dealing with 60 kg of sodden books on board a small boat just called for desperate measures. Sorry nature.The leak itself was the centre of a lot of attention. Rather, the location of the leak was. A number of theories was launched, investigated and rejected. After a couple of hours we were able to trace it to a disused seacock that is located so high up on the topsides that it only allows water to enter when we're well heeled. ...As we have been for the last week. Furthermore a clogged vent stopped the water from taking its intended route into the sump where it could easily have been pumped out, and instead allowed it to make paper-mache out of our collection of war-, crime- and classic, russian litterature. Remind me to strike Murphy of my christmas-card list.Despite all, searching for-, and eventually finding and dealing with that leak was an exititing treasure-hunt. Also it proves that even though having a boat is a lot of unforeseen problems to be dealt with, they often come in a form that it is possible to gain the satisfaction of diagnosing and dealing with yourself. ...I still wish my NZ Whitewater Guide and Mt. Cook Climbing Guide weren't dripping wet though.
Day 11, 09 January 2010
I had the morning watch today. Dad woke me up at 0400 and I dutifully got up and out and resumed my duties. ...which basically consists of sitting around watching the sky and scanning the horizon now and then. As I was doing my business I recognized an old friend; The Big Dipper (Karlsvogna). I haven't seen it since I was back home the last time, more than a year ago, yet there it was, upside-down, but apart from that just as I remembered it. I located the Northstar from it, and there I was suddenly, with the Northstar to starboard and the Southern Cross to port. ....and then after a while the sunrise behind the stern as it always is. The sunrise always behind us and the sunset in front of our bow.
Last night was in its entirety spent employing an advanced sailing technique called "drifting". This nifty little technique is normally pulled out of our big bag of tricks when there's absolutely no wind. It works by taking down all sails and relying on a kind current to take you towards your goal. In this case we moved at around 3 knots in almost the right direction, not bad at all.
However after I had taken a svim around the boat, cut my toenails and done whatever I could think of to pass the time, I woke up the others by starting the engine. We motored through most of the day. Even that wasn't too bad. Almost welcome hearing the engine again. At lunchtime we motored straight through the biggest pod of dolphins ever. There were hundreds, perhaps thousands, jumping all around us, moving over to investigate the boat and play in front of the bow.
I never get tired of watching them, and today the ocean was dead flat because of the lack of wind and you could look down at them as through the wall of an aquarium. They posed for a few photos, and then were gone after an hour or so. Later a few stragglers paid us some visits, but we never saw the rest of the gang.
Then right after we started sailing again we met some other people for the first time in 11 days. We passed an Sri Lankan fishing boat quite close (oh yeah; we passed Sri Lanka somewhere beyond our northern horizon today...). They were laying their nets and we had just put up twin headsails, so none of us were very manouverable and unfortunately we couldn't take advantage of their offer to swap drinks for fish. We shouted across to each other where we were from, where we were going etc, then we were gone again...Passage diaries, Thailand-Maldives Pt. 1
Day 1, 30th. Dec.
and Hanging Sidetwists. 
To all who have not tried them: They burn! 
Not only because we're in terrible shape at the moment, but also simply because they are damn good exercises! Try it. For additional workout of stabilizing core-muscles; do exercises on a small vessel running before twin headsails in moderate seas.
Next out on the New Years day programme was "The Return of The Dolphins". A water-ballett show for a pod of 10-15 small whales. I would personally have preferred a cabaret, but hey, you can't be too picky. The show was particularly welcome as we haven't seen dolphins since way back in the stoneage, like in eastern Indonesia or something. We have been talking about were they've gone off to and when they would be back. 
Then it was time for dinner. Egil had the rice and veggies ready and was just about to dump in a can of tuna when we actually caught a fish. Incidentally about 15 seconds after Egil had claimed I would "sooner catch a bird than a fish" on my line, and Kjell, my dearest father, had nodded his approval. Me: 10 points, the others: 0.
The fish was a big bastard. No, let me rephrase; it was a big green bastard! Looked like something from Mars, but tasted delicious!It was the biggest one we ever caught, and to put this into perspective for you: We have caught three fish since New Zealand. One on my birthday, another random one and a sucking-fish that I speargunned when we were becalmed and it thought we were a whale it could attach itself to. Sucker indeed.
Today we have finally abandoned the twin headsails, and have been running with the mainsail and jib. We have gone as far south as we need in order to pass clear of Sri Lanka, and now we're headed due east. Other than that we ran into a thunderstorm today. A couple of lightnings about 1000 metres away, plenty of rain (I had the chance to wash today also!) and about 30 knots of wind saw us reefing down the main to the second reef and changing into a smaller headsail. Nothing dramatic really, it was all over in 45 minutes, but it was good to run through the motions again. It has been a while since we have done any real sailing. 
We've been sailing for almost six hours now and we have already made 30 miles towards the waypoint just south of the Nicobar Islands. That is the first first of three waypoints along our 1245 miles route. The other two are just south of Sri Lanka and the next one at Uligamu in the Maldives: the finishline.
The sun is shining through a layer of thin clouds, so it's not too hot. The waves are not too big and coming from the back, the wind is a comfortable 10-12 knots and also coming from behind = comfortable sailing in close to maximum speed the entire day. Yes, we have been playing perfect day by Lou Reed.
We were going to start sailing last night after fixing various things and picking up everything we forgot last time we were in Phuket, but all three of us were tired from last night's passage from Krabi. We had sailed back to Krabi to clear out and to pick up some flour and Norwegian foodstuffs that Egil's mom had sent with some extremely kind holidaymakers from back home. So, bottom line, we have sailed from Phuket back to Krabi, then back to Phuket. In Phuket we were going to meet Øyvind's friend Pål, who unfortunately didn't make it because it was snowing a little in Oslo and the planes didn't fly. So no Pål, but we did pick up Kjell's forgotten Visacard, Øyvind's forgotten netbanking password-generator and get some parts remachined after we had found out that they didn't fit because our measurements were off by 0,5 milimeter!
OK, so after doing all this we were supposed to leave in the evening, but since there were no wind and we were tired we decided to wait until the morning, and voila; got up at six this morning raised the anchor in a fair breeze and set off. Smiles all over!
I was just about to lose my sanity over the constant noise and lack of progress when, after about 24 hours it started blowing somewhat decent this afternoon. Now we're cruising at about 5 knots again. However as of 10 minutes ago the waves are getting bigger and we are rolling more, causing the sails to slat again. ...the joys of sailing.
Then it has been a good day because the youngsters and captains of the ship have had a good ab-workout on the foredeck. Todays exercises have been The Shrimp, 
As you all know we've had to invest in some new foresails (you do know, don't you? Because you DO read our blog don't you? All of it!?!) With the new sails on board we now have a double set of jibs and double set of genoas (yes, that is sailspeak and if you don't understand it it doesn't really matter, it's for the sailingeeks only). This means that we can now fly double genoas where we previously had to fly jib and genny. So that's what we been doing since leaving Phuket 5,5 hours ago; enjoying the sight of double genoas filled with wind.
Day 2, Dec. 31st. New Year's Eve
Yesterday's bliss lasted until the afternoon, when the wind died and our speed went down to about two knots and the sails started slatting. The day was spent trying to focus on our respective books and some adjustments of sailtrim.
I was just about to lose my sanity over the constant noise and lack of progress when, after about 24 hours it started blowing somewhat decent this afternoon. Now we're cruising at about 5 knots again. However as of 10 minutes ago the waves are getting bigger and we are rolling more, causing the sails to slat again. ...the joys of sailing.Today being the last day of 2009 we have had a fairly decent dinner. The exact menu I'll keep to myself in order not to appear too miserable, but it did taste OK. ...at least not bad enough for the others to risk my fury by complaining. At least the cake I made for dessert was good! Other than mediocre dinners and good cakes we plan to mark the coming of the new year at the watch change in one hour and 15 minutes. We plan to send up a rice-paper hot-air balloon at midnight thai-time. Even though our longitude dictates us to be one hour later we will be on thai-time for a good two or three more timezones to keep things simple.
HAPPY NEW YEAR!!
Day three, 01.01.10, 25 NM south of the Nicobar Islands
First of all; the balloon-launching was - after a lot of work and organizing (after all you don't wanna set your brand new sails, or even better; the boat you're living on) on fire - a success on the second attempt. The first ballon crashed into the waves, but the second one skimmed the ocean like a second world-war fighter-plane for about fifty metres before it gathered height and went up in to the great yonder. Our little baby! After that it was wishes of happy new year all around and everyone not on watch went to bed.
Today, the first day of the new year and the new decade has indeed been a good one. First of all we have had good winds from North-East and following seas. Speed-records all around. Twin headsails all day, double jibs from the afternoon on because the wind picked up a little.
Today, the first day of the new year and the new decade has indeed been a good one. First of all we have had good winds from North-East and following seas. Speed-records all around. Twin headsails all day, double jibs from the afternoon on because the wind picked up a little.
Then it has been a good day because the youngsters and captains of the ship have had a good ab-workout on the foredeck. Todays exercises have been The Shrimp, The Wheel
and Hanging Sidetwists. To all who have not tried them: They burn! Not only because we're in terrible shape at the moment, but also simply because they are damn good exercises! Try it. For additional workout of stabilizing core-muscles; do exercises on a small vessel running before twin headsails in moderate seas.Next out on the New Years day programme was "The Return of The Dolphins". A water-ballett show for a pod of 10-15 small whales. I would personally have preferred a cabaret, but hey, you can't be too picky. The show was particularly welcome as we haven't seen dolphins since way back in the stoneage, like in eastern Indonesia or something. We have been talking about were they've gone off to and when they would be back.
Then it was time for dinner. Egil had the rice and veggies ready and was just about to dump in a can of tuna when we actually caught a fish. Incidentally about 15 seconds after Egil had claimed I would "sooner catch a bird than a fish" on my line, and Kjell, my dearest father, had nodded his approval. Me: 10 points, the others: 0.
The fish was a big bastard. No, let me rephrase; it was a big green bastard! Looked like something from Mars, but tasted delicious!It was the biggest one we ever caught, and to put this into perspective for you: We have caught three fish since New Zealand. One on my birthday, another random one and a sucking-fish that I speargunned when we were becalmed and it thought we were a whale it could attach itself to. Sucker indeed.
Eventually, to top of a great start of a new year we had a wash on the foredeck. Now we're all clean and smell nice. Nice!
Ok, now I'll listen to a audiobook and watch the boat a little. The date has turned into the second as I've been writing. I've pulled the graveyard shift tonight. Smell ya later!
Day 4, Jan. 2, 2010
Day 4, Jan. 2, 2010
The progress continues! We're still doing 6 knots or thereabouts. We have done 410 miles in a straight line the last 3,5 days. We're really happy with this, it is more than we had expected, even though we had been expecting good conditions. We are probably experiencing a bit of current pushing us in the right direction as well. ...unless the couple of hours we spent diving and cleaning the hull just before leaving Thailand has affected our speed in ways that we could only have imagined in our most manic moments.
Today we have finally abandoned the twin headsails, and have been running with the mainsail and jib. We have gone as far south as we need in order to pass clear of Sri Lanka, and now we're headed due east. Other than that we ran into a thunderstorm today. A couple of lightnings about 1000 metres away, plenty of rain (I had the chance to wash today also!) and about 30 knots of wind saw us reefing down the main to the second reef and changing into a smaller headsail. Nothing dramatic really, it was all over in 45 minutes, but it was good to run through the motions again. It has been a while since we have done any real sailing.
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