Pacific Ocean 5 April 2010 11.5863N 122.0144W
We’ve turned south now. I’ll give some weather 101 background for those unfamiliar with winds at sea between the tropics. In the northern hemisphere at sea level, there’s a belt of steady northeast winds, with a matching belt of southeast winds in the southern hemisphere (a.k.a. Tradewinds or Trades or Alizees in French). Those winds collect moisture from the ocean, and when they reach the hot equator, they dump some of their moisture before turning straight up into the sky creating a relative calm at the earth’s surface (but sometimes a squally, wet calm). The dumping ground is called the ITCZ (inter tropical convergence zone a.k.a. the doldrums, or the sailor’s affectionate “equatorial embarrassment” where even skilled sailors are humbled). The dreaded doldrums are actually about 5 degrees north of the equator here, since the southern Trades are stronger than the northern. That dumping ground get’s these cells of low pressure (with rain). The cells generally flow on an east to west track like bunnies on a shooting gallery belt. Another mental model, if you’ve done any kayaking or canoeing, are the eddies and whirlpools that you see at the sides of a river where the current and counter current meet (only upside down and backwards). So the goal is to shoot the gauntlet BETWEEN these cells (I’ve never been one for shooting bunnies anyway). When we get to the other side, the wind should be southeast, directly on our beam, a beautiful point of sail on our boat, pure joy, and it’s all downhill to the Marqueses from there.
With that background, and looking at our path you may see that since our departure, we had about 3-4 days of weather driven by northern pacific and coastal conditions (some north, some calm) before catching these Trades. For the past 5-6 days the Trades have steadily pushed our boat southwest, with the NE winds coming about 45 degrees off our stern. As we gradually approach the dumping ground (ITCZ is approx. 500 miles from us now), we’re faced with the decision of where to turn due south to avoid the largest of these cells – although we will get some rain one way or another (otherwise the tropics wouldn’t be…well tropical). According to Frank generally the best place to cross is a little farther west of our current position, but our forecasts are showing an opening between big cells, due south of us in a couple days, so we’ve turned south early, to run this gauntlet. As a result the weather is feeling moister and warmer by the hour. And look at that latitude number drop!
After my own review lesson of all this with Frank last night, I was feeling extra on my toes looking for these infamous squall cells. When they come you need to be ready to take in sail, presenting them with less surface to push you around. When I first came up on watch at midnight, the sky was dark with millions of stars, there was a big even darker low cloud to the east of us, with what looked like an eerie brighter white light below (rain?). Wind was 15-18 knots, so blowing pretty good and the cloud was coming on fast. The wind started to shift more to our beam than our stern (this has the effect of causing the boat to heal over more. Normally this is no big deal, you head off the wind (turning so the wind stays at that 45 degree angle from your stern), but keep in mind that we’ve barely touched the sails or the helm in 5 days, so steady are these trades. But, you know that feeling you get when you’ve been driving for hours on the straight roads of Nevada, and as you approach the mountains that first turn is completely disorienting? For a moment you have that sensation of wonder, “Do I still know how to turn?” or “Will the steering wheel still work?” So here we are after days on the plains, moving toward the mountainous weather terrain of the ITCZ; and I have to wake Frank up, to make sure it’s OK to turn the boat. It was not a squall cloud, just a thicker than normal cloud, enough to affect the wind a bit. And that eerie glow? The moon rising, soon it emerged from the clouds, drowning out all the pretty stars; but brightening my own outlook.
It’s a gorgeous day today, with beautiful sailing, and the air feels soft. We sighted dolphins, and the ever present millions of flying fish. Speaking of, I’m convinced it’s me they’re organizing against. One flying fish leapt 10′ out of the air to land on my head; luckily he landed on the bimini over my head instead. Then one tried to jump through the hatch to attack me in my bed; luckily the mosquito netting caught him first. Kennan wants to get out full riot gear to fight off the onslaught. Logan keeps wishing they’d come closer and sticking his head out whenever there’s a wave of them – no joy yet. Frank amused himself (and Logan – not me), by placing a little one on my hat for me to find on my keyboard when I tipped my head down. So yes it’s me they’re after…all of them.
xoxomo
P.S. Yes, as my correspondents informed me, my loose brain can’t spell gait properly. Thanks Chris for fixing on the web!