I am now 624nm from Hawaii, which is roughly 1200km… Or, in more practical terms, possibly six days of sailing… Mostly things are going well, however I am somewhat disappointed in my progress, and a little annoyed at the tradewinds. There is of course no point in being annoyed, however when one has expectations, I guess it becomes disappointing when things don’t go as hoped. Which of course, is why ridding oneself of expectation and assumption is always a step in the right direction! Easier said than done.

I’ve spent many days playing with rig combinations to maintain Constellation on a straight course for my destination, yet nothing is ever perfect. Every boat has its best point of sail, yet I’ve not yet found Constellation’s most favourable downwind configuration. Which is kind of amusing, because I spent about 25 days in the Atlantic going downwind, and I’ve just spent over a week now in the Pacific doing the same thing… The problem here is, I have some daft belief that I can go downwind comfortably and quickly. Unfortunately, those two things don’t go hand in hand, although I do continue to try… I’ve tried ‘wing on wing’ (twin jibs) in varying combinations, mainsail plus wing on wing, and the the standard calm-seas downwind rig of the ‘butterfly’ which is the mainsail sheeted right out, and jib (in my case, poled) on the opposing tack. So what works? Nothing really. But, to be honest, the technicalities of all this are probably tedious if not boring for most – Besides, it all just gives me something to do during the day.

Day to day, nothing much of interest has happened… No more whale sightings (I did see some near the coast of California), no more dolphins, and only one, mocking bird (not in a literal sense): A rather large bird that appears whenever the squalls do, and flies in circles above me, dipping and arching its wing in contour with the waves, as it vanishes beneath the crests… I’m not sure why it visits during squalls, but, it has done so like clockwork.

While on the topic of squalls, I have to say the Pacific has thrown up its fair share. Compared to the Atlantic, where squalls also frequented, the ones in this ocean come more frequently and are more unpredictable. My Atlantic squalls were always generally rather placid. The trades were blowing at 20kts consistently, and the squall would blow through with an additional 10kts of breeze and be done. Out here, I can never tell how hard it will blow, and just yesterday a small looking cloud set, kicked up both foam and spindrift, which I haven’t seen in awhile. Today, squalls have come through in varying force, but most of all, they’ve wrecked the trades and kept me from going many miles done… The Pacific trades have also been light and inconsistent just generally – The NOAA GRIB data reports usually around 15kts in my area – They always over-report, and I would expect it’s more like 12-15kts. This is all due to the Pacific high, and maybe it just hasn’t properly settled yet… Or maybe, this is just how it is.

All in all, I don’t have too many complaints, although I am looking forward to a quiet sleep at anchor or tied up somewhere, and maybe some fresh fruit…

Thanks as always for the nice messages people send me. Hello to the Waddle family, and for those sending me email addresses to reply to, I will do so from land.

It’s been a long time coming… I haven’t had much motivation since my last post. The weather tended light for several days, and then turned right on my nose – So I sailed close hauled for several days, and dealt with the corresponding change in swell direction and wind, as it swung back around to the north west. Rainy miserable weather prevailed, and Constellation and I beat upwind, and then beam-reached through a cross swell… And eventually made it out the other end into the tradewinds. I think I spent two full days lying in my bunk with my face in the pillow, whining to myself. The price of sailing above about 30degrees north is that one has to sail back through the variable/horse latitudes, and find the sometimes elusive stable winds and weather… Nevertheless, we’re here, and as I speak, Constellation is powering along with twin jibs set and a full mainsail up. During the nights so I can sleep, I reduce sail, but we still seem to be managing about 120nm days, depending on how eager I am to maintain decent sail area.

Several things have broken onboard, but none that could hold us still. The track for the port sheet has lifted, and water is coming in from the deck. Two of the newly bedded stanchion bases also appear to be leaking, and so I have towels all around the place trying to keep things dry. It’s annoying, but nothing much beyond that. Today, for the third time on this trip, the boom flew off the maintrack. It was a stupid design to begin with, but I guess one must remember the majority of this gear was not meant to be put under such stress loads, 24hrs a day, for weeks at a time… Poor Constellation, she was just meant to daysail around the Solent… Anyway, I permanently center bolted the maintrack, and then distributed the load to the boom through two blocks instead of one. I think now it is fixed for good… Not pretty, but fixed.

Otherwise there is little else to report. Tradewind sailing is… Incessant swell kicking the boat left and right, and the practice of balancing sail, windvane, and whisker poles (thanks Roya!) while maximising speed, and minimising stress on the boat, and on the living environment… There is nothing worse than flying along at 6.5kts and careening sideways down waves in the name of progress, while you try to sip your tea.

Thank you so much to everyone who has been sending me messages – They’ve been very amusing, and keep me going – I really appreciate it.

My track has been updated, and I sincerely hope it reflects my progress… I guestimate another 9 days of sailing, if I can maintain 120nm days…

Thanks Marty for getting this post up!

After many months of preparation, trucking Constellation across America, re-assembling her in California, and finally setting sail, it’s nice to finally announce that I’m 223nm (approx 440km) offshore, en route to Hawaii. No great speed records will be set on this voyage, having left on the 8th of June, it is now the 11th, and progress is meagre, to say the least (I expect at this rate, no better than 30days). The winds are light, and the Pacific is calm… Constellation is overloaded with gear, provisions, and water, and so light air sailing is definitely not her forte. ‘Windy the Windpilot’ tries her best, but I find myself jumping in and out of my bunk to re-adjust, and trim to keep up our slow pace. It’s the afternoon now, and the pace has ‘picked up’ from being becalmed all night, to trudging along at 1.5kts, and now we’re pushing 3kts at best. Of course, the worst thing about this progress is not so much the lack of it, but probably the racket Constellation makes in the process. The normal sailing sounds of a boat underway are calming, even if they’re just as noisy; the trickle under the hull is the sound of progress… However, the banging of the masts internal halyards, wiring, and flapping of the mainsail are enough to make you go mad. There is nothing I can to, which just exacerbates the problem, and so I glumly read and fret about the banging sail, which I refuse to pull down, due to the severe rolling that would occur without it raised to balance the boat. It’s bad for the sail, and probably not so great for the rig, but I just can’t bring myself to put up with a rail-to-rail roll which happens when under bare poles, in a small but still active ocean swell.

My sail out of Half Moon Bay was idyllic, with my friends whom I wrote about in my last post, coming all the way back down from San Francisco to visit and escort me out. I spent the week waiting in Half Moon for good weather, and it coincided with their visit. Rob, Ted, and Adam sailed with me for around 10nm offshore, before pairing off and leaving me to my devices. It was a nice foray into the multi-day tack I had setup, and as they petered off behind me, so did the coast of California. Being left alone, I slowly became mildly seasick. This always happens, and it doesn’t help that it’s been nearly a year since my last sail when I landed in New York. For the next 36hrs, I didn’t eat or sleep, as my nerves adjusted and my ear got used to the roll of Constellation: At 26ft, and weighted down, Constellation ‘hobby-horses’ about, and so I then begin to wish I had another 10ft of waterline to lessen the motion. Of course my wish never comes true, and so I remember we’re out here doing it, and we get back to dealing with our respective environments; mine of feeling ill, and Constellation’s of generally being a rock-star Contessa 26.

As I sit in my bunk, writing this, a tiny squall is overhead creating a ruckus in the sails, and a slight chill. The water of the Pacific is that gorgeous blue, akin to the Atlantic before one hits the gulf stream. I’ve spent the day reading, and fault finding an electrical problem with my tri-light, which I’ve finally repaired, in the usual & aesthetically unpleasing, but entirely utilitarian manner which Constellation has become used to.

I feel quite at home here, but I must say the Pacific has an aura of a vast and empty desert, quite unlike the Atlantic. The Atlantic ocean always felt like a ‘working ocean’ to me – A vast watery highway of trade and bustle. Even if I only did come across three tankers on my crossing, it just somehow felt different. I have no logical reasoning for any of this, but what’s a blog post without an expression of unfounded feeling…

So as I drift rather than sail, (which could possibly end up being be my hallmark maneuver) closer to home, I can’t help but feel somewhat melancholy about friendships made, and friendships now abandoned. In ‘A Voyage for Madmen’, Peter Nichols talks about the driving factors behind the men who raced in the first Golden Globe race – A race nonstop and singlehanded around the world; the first of its kind. He classifies the archetypal solo sailor as being driven by ‘imagination, self-discipline, selfishness, endurance, fear, courage, and social instability’. I don’t really call myself a solo sailor, and wouldn’t for a second put myself near the likes of the men that raced, however Nichols’ characterisations do ring true to an extent, and I think the Pacific will be a nice time to reflect on all the things that have put me here, and kept me going. I sometimes feel like I’m driving an old car around the world, and people run up to give me a push, whom I thank, and then roll on. I’m hardly on the ‘home stretch’, as technically we’re only half-way, but for some reason, there not being a continent between myself and Australia, makes this piece of water a better place to contemplate such questions.

And what better place to have such lofty thoughts, than in a 26ft boat with 6×8ft of livable space, and a sunning lounge of similar proportions (the cockpit)!

Nick.

(My position on the tracking page has been updated, and the messaging page is back up for those who feel the urge to send a cheeky message)

I spent a fruitful and productive week in Sausalito, at Schoonmaker Point Marina, thanks to Rob & Adam. I spoilt myself to Mussels Bleu at the nearby French restuarant, thinking it might be my last nice meal for a very, very long time… However, I’m still on the west coast, so maybe it was a premature indulgence. I sat at the bar and recalled stories to the French maitre d’ of my most glorious time in Brittany, France. Still one of my most favourite destinations so far – Nights spent calculating the best time to navigate 8kt races or 10m tides, and gazing at the infamous lighthouse posters in every French tavern, depicting post card images of 30ft waves crashing over their tops.

As if the slip wasn’t enough, Rob & Adam kept helping with the many projects aboard Constellation – Mounting deck winches donated by my friend Bain at the Berkeley Marina, figuring out whisker poles, visiting the Latitude 38 headquarters, running me to and from West Marine for parts, backwards and forwards to many stores to get final provisions and all manner of other things – Three weeks worth of aimlessly running around doing things on my own, were done in a week… Rob even broke out the sewing machine to make Constellation a nice set of protective weather cloths to guard the cockpit and myself from incoming waves – A modification I’ve wanted to make since day one. LaDonna of Latidue 38 vacuum packed beans and rice for provisions – In my first meeting with this salty pair, they exclaimed “we’ll send you off with 25lbs of beans and rice” … And so they did! Thank you Adam for the PFD, safety line and everything else you parted with… I hope the motivation is even stronger to chase me across the Pacific and retrieve it all!

Without the assistance Marcello and Massimo of Bluemapia.com, no provisions would be onboard, and Hawaii and beyond may not have become an attainable possibility this year… Many thanks to my favourite Italians for not only employing me over the last six months, but for stepping up again and assisting in financing some of the many things that are required to do what I’m doing. These guys are passionate sailors who’ve built a great resource for the community – Use it.

Constellation has never been in better shape – She doesn’t necessarily look as Bristol as I might like, however from the point of view of what I’m doing, and what she’s already done, the sunbleached and paint stripped deck seem to represent nothing other the wrinkles found on a wise face. She’s sporting a re-cut mylar reaching sail, new luff tape on all sails for the Selden Furlex, and a pretty burgundy sailcover thanks to Mark at Doyle sails of Long Island – I exploded my genoa in Long Island sound last year in a line squall, and Mark generously expedited a replacement across to the Alameda Doyle loft two weeks ago – Thank you so much Mark.

Bain, whom I’ve lost contact with, (if you’re out there, email me!) ferried me around various chandleries, fed me, and just generally looked after Constellation and I in Berkeley – Along with Captain Ted I’ve been in great hands on the east bay. Thanks to Anthony and Jeff @ OCSC for the opportunity to do a talk on my trip, and to Karen for the helping fund the no-more-Ramen-diet I’m attempting this season.

After my brief stay in Sausalito, meeting the infamous Maria, and the not so infamous, yet humble and kind Buddhist monk Dawa, I set sail in the company of three other vessels for Half Moon Bay. Towed under the Golden Gate Bridge due to Constellations working but impossibly slow little diesel thumper, I was eventually untethered and let to roam free for the first time in the Pacific ocean. The weather was kind, and I set Windy the Windpilot on a nice tack heading West.

My friends in company eventually radioed and reminded me that we were actually supposed to be going south, but I was enjoying the sail so much, I setup a 2nm tack before bearing down on Half Moon. In light southerly winds, the other three boats needed to sail backwards and around in circles, so as not to leave me behind, before we eventually ghosted past the placid looking big wave surfspot, Mavericks, and through the breakwater into the bay.

Photo Courtesy Latitude 38 / LaDonna

Rafted up, and into town for clam chowder (one of my reasons for visiting America – To sail past the Statue of Liberty, and eat bowels of chowder), the next morning Captain Ted and I bought a Dungeness crab for brunch. I’ve never claimed to be a tough man. I couldn’t kill the crab, and so Rob did the honours, and I steamed the catch. Eating out of a bucket off the transom with butter, it was quite the occasion. My first Dungeness. LaDonna wrote a piece in Lectronic Latitude on the send-off party.

And so, as the now trio of boats motored out of the breakwater, I ran in circles and said my goodbyes over VHF. I thought in two days I would be gone… But here I am, waiting on the weather. I have a long and lonely six months ahead of me, as Constellation and I attempt to do virtually the entire Pacific (and then some), within six months. Actually, lonely isn’t the right word, but I will certainly be alone… And so the weather patterns are clearing, and the NW winds are set to resume their pattern, and I genuinly feel this weekend is going to be my departure window. I write to you from the anchorage at Half Moon Bay – These bits were posted by solar power.

I suspect my next post will be from the high seas – Remote updates will be zapped over satellite, thanks to Serversaurus.com.

Thanks for everything North America, now I have to get back to following the setting sun!

Nick.