Captains log: Milky stars

Date: July 20, 2022

Time: 21:34

Position: 23.52.406N / 148.31.988W

It looks like yesterdays post got the first two or so paragraphs cut off. It can be a bit challenging to write when the boat is bumping up and down. Please forgive. The text was not saved so I'll re-write. 

In 2008 I was living in Japan. I was sailing my boat constantly and decided to take an epic voyage across the pacific. I had my sites set on going to San Francisco from Japan. My original plan was to do the trip on my own. I had a beautiful 48 foot boat that I was sailing solo already. It was nicely set up for one person to handle everything. I told my mom about the trip and she was a bit worried about a trip so big on my own. She suggested I call and ask my brother Luke, who at the time, had no sailing experience at all. I gave him a call and explained the epic voyage. He told me he would have to think about it. I expected he would get back to me a day or two after he'd contemplated the severity of the voyage. Instead, the phone when completely silent. I thought I lost him. "hello, are you still there?", "yes, just a minute" after about 30 seconds of silence, Luke responded saying something like "yes, sounds amazing, I'm in!". My dad didn't want to get left out of this adventure, so he asked if he could join and the three of us were off. 

OK, you're caught up on the last blog...

Now for todays post. We had expected to be arriving between today and the 22nd. Instead, it's looking like the 25th. We're all doing well, but I do feel the crew and myself are starting to get a bit salty and turning into bearded pirates. Wind has been blowing constantly which has been tremendously uplifting emotionally and uplifting to our sails physically as they are full and carrying us towards these little stones in the ocean called Hawaii. Although the food has been great on the boat, when food conversations of what one wants to eat when they arrive, you know some cravings have started to appear. We burned through all of our fresh veggies in the first week or so. A quick run to the grocery store and even keeping the refrigerator on all the time are not options, so were starting to break into the boxes of mac n' cheese and things like that. I think the general conscious was that everyone was looking forward to a salad upon arrival. 

Last night was another picturesque sunset, followed by an equivalent sunrise. These are not normal morning fluffy clouds, they're glazed with gold trim and bursting florescent orange light behind them. Placed upon a canvas up deep blue sea and morning light-blue sky. Sandwiched in between these fluffy cloud buns is a night so dark, so expansive that the milky way, planets, and glows of stars you might mistake for distance city lights obscured by a cloud or two on the horizon. But no, there are no city lights, no lights of any kind....except for the moon, when it decides to come out and play. 

Last night was yet the usual pattern. I'm sleeping and suddenly the boat lurches or bucks in such a way that my instincts force me to nearly leap out of bed and run to the companionway to see what's going on. And as it's been on every occasion, the seas are not a treacherous as I thought, the wind is not howling as I suspected and either Joe and Gene or Joe and Nick (depending on whos on watch) are there taking care of everything. So on this occasion last night, I jumped out of bed and went and stuck my head out the door into the cockpit to see what was going on. Joe and Nick were calmly looking at these glorious stars and the moon had just hidden behind a cloud, but it's light shone all around like a bulb behind a lamp shade, offering just the perfect light for our living room sky scattered with millions of stars. It feels like a spiritual experience, but maybe we just realize like never ever before, how tiny we really are. Weeks at see now crossing day after day, a sky so large, a horizon so fast, but day after day it looks the same. We realize our smallness and the vastness that surrounds. 

Last night before settling in for bed we needed to do another sail change. We're getting much better at this as one would expect. Handling the spinnaker pole is certainly the most daunting task on the boat. This nearly 100lb best is dangerous as hell, so trying to hold this thing with two people while the boat is bucking up and down is not the easiest thing. So roles are assigned on the boat, other things we've just settled into a routine. The pole setting up, taking down, moving, etc. has become a routine that is of course a team effort, but the hands on part of moving this pole is always handled by Nick and I. Nicks family would be proud of him, not only for the great job he's doing, but really because he's wearing his helmet even though he's the laughing stock, he's not buckled under peer pressure and always wears this damn thing! But the reality is that this giant pole is dangerous and having a helmet would surely prevent a big thump on the noggin! 

At this point we're counting miles and really looking forward to that age-old yelp of "land!". Someone's got to be the first person to spot the islands and give the yelp. 

See you in Hawaii!