SHTP stories - July 12. First day with Clandestino

July 12 will turn into a fabulous day for me. I get up feeling super rested, I swallow breakfast and get set up for the day. I rush to check position report as I am obsessed by the fact that I might have lost miles and miles to competition. I don't see the day's report so I will have to check later in the day. I take a fix and update my ETA, although not much of a change really.

When I go up on deck, it is already hot even though, it is shortly after sunrise. The moon is still visible.  I snap a couple of pictures. 

I am still on port pole but looking at my position, I will need to spend some time heading further North so I gybe the main before I put up the spinnaker.

The sun rises quickly and as it emerges, Libra is already up. The wind picks up nicely and I can see that the swell is going to be well formed for the day. I am looking forward to a great day of surfing. I am feeling completely anew and ready to take on the day, the ocean, the world.

I hoist Libra. It has a small tear at the top but I figure that if it breaks before I get to Hawaii, I'll take it down and replace it. It was all packed and ready to go. The boat doesn't go much faster initially as the wind is still light. Boy, it feels good to have a kite up again.

I check the batteries and tilt the solar panels so they get a better exposure to the morning sun. Their combined 60W (nominal, not true) is starting to do wonders for the batteries. I am still full of anguish in the event that my AP breaks but I am feeling so happy that day, that I decide to run the autopilot as much as I can. It looks like a beautiful day and in the morning, the autopilot will be able to drive the boat very comfortably, allowing me to check position reports, update my strategy to the islands, etc...

The wind picks up even more and I am starting to enjoy some really  nice acceleration. This promises to be a fantastic day. All the dark thoughts of rig coming down, whale attacking the boat, autopilot breaking down seem to vanish in a minute as I feel the power of the spinnaker descend upon my soul...



I feel like one huge smile. I decide that it is time to clean up. The boat is super clean and tidy since that's all I did the day before...It has a powerful psychological effect on me though. It  brings order into the day - and that tidy little house below is a huge barrier to the uncertainty of the immensity of the ocean. A frail but powerful protection.

I strip down entirely, fill up a bucket with sea water and have a series of salt water showers with the REI soap. Then, I fill up the buckets with a gallon of fresh water. I wash my hair. I still have a TON of water left on the boat so I can spare some for my pleasure that day. I play like a baby in the water and rinse off with fresh cold water. I apply moisturizing cream all over, brush my teeth, clip my nails, shave my legs. The whole nine yards.

When I am done, I am a new person.

All cleaned up and ready to take on the day. I grab the satellite phone and check the position reports. Nathan SMS'ed me the day reports as they came in. I am still ahead of Libra in the rankings but we are now within 5 miles of each other to the finish boat for boat. Phew...what a relief.





After all, maybe taking that day off was the fast thing to do. The batteries are charging up (I put battery one on Mister Fusion and I leave battery 2 on solar only) so I continue to run the autopilot in the slightly lighter air. I enjoy a newly found freedom. I am still worried about the AP failing but since I am so close to the finish, I figured that I'd power through the last few miles if I had to, and I am not worried about not having more than one AP at this point. The hydraulic ram seems indestructible at this point...I make a mental note to really have double of everything so that I have full AP backup next time I do the race again. I will make sure that every major performance affecting failure will have an easy planned fix that won't require hours of sweat and hard thoughts to fix. A spare goose neck, a reinforced boom and metal strips to fix a break, spare high performance autopilot so I don't worry about running the autopilot as much as it can take the load.

The sun is now high and it is super hot again. I drink a ton and I use my sunbrella. Skip had mentioned this in his writeup and I thought it was a great idea. It provides shade the entire way. The autopilot is driving so I am mostly trimming the kite which I can do with one hand. If I need to move the pole (as the wind increases a little bit later in the day, I can square the pole more and drive down a bit), I snug the umbrella between my shoulder and neck.




I call Nathan to reassure him and tell him about my night. All is good and I am feeling great. There is excitement in my voice. I can make this comeback and place 2nd in my division. I will need to race hard but it is still possible. I can't contain my joy.




Archimedes, Bandicoot, Scaramouche and Frolic are scheduled to arrive tomorrow. I am still significantly reducing the gap between Elise and Archimedes but I would have had to average some 10 knots to beat hiim boat for boat (since we rate the same) which I knew was unrealistic. Still, over a week, I will have caught up by about 60 miles which is already huge.



In the afternoon, the wind picks up quite a bit and the boat is surfing handsomely, with a base speed of around 8 knots. The boat is loving it, and so is its skipper...I drive a bit but that's not just because the wind speed has increased and it would be difficult for the autopilot to recover when the swell throws the boat to the side...but because I enjoy it. I so wish all my friends and family could also enjoy that kind of surfing. It is just incredible. Even a ride back from the Farallones doesn't do it justice.





As the evening comes, the wind continues to pick up and the squalls start to appear. There will not be one night while in the trades without a squall. Most of them very manageable. Usually, I would gybe to port, however, that night, I check my position and I want to stay North, and I will welcome the 10 to 15 degree lift that the squalls will provide, allowing me to steer for longer on port pole the following day.

I estimate my ETA to be between 24 and 48 hrs. Less than a Long Pac.

As the squalls arrive - Elise sails into the sunset

Since the beginning of the trip, there had been several birds following me, some day after day. There was one with a grey color under its wings that seemed to really enjoy playing with the sails. I saw some beautiful white tropical birds with a long tail. None of them ever expressed the desire to stay on the boat. 

That evening, right after the sunset a scruffy but big bird starts hovering around the boat and seem to be heading for the broken autopilot windvane.

It tries to land there but I worry that it will break my VHF antenna - the only good news is that it messed around with the VHF antenna and frees up the starboard side of the windex so I can now get a better apparent wind reading...I make the boat rock violently by shifting my weight from side to side and by steering dead down wind which forces the bird off its improvized perch. We try this trick about three times until the bird decides it is time to figure something new.

It then decides that the top spreader would be a perfect new perch. I don't like this because I worry that the bird will get caught in the shrouds and unable to fly away to feed, will just die hanging upside down in my rig. I don't really want to climb up the rig to free up a bird that would most likely attack me while I am trying to save its life so I collapse the spinnaker and have it pop back out violently to try to get the bird to move off that second improvized perch.

The bird finally takes off and then decides to land on the top of the spinnaker. I collapsed the spinnaker again to make sure that it doesn't have any illusion that the sail will not be a good hammock for it. I worry that its beak will pierce holes in the sail.

The bird then lands right in the cockpit, right by winch...I am amazed at how close we are. It starts settling down. I move my arm to reach for my camera and snap a picture but the bird catches this and takes off.

I assume that I am now rid of the bird since I have established that this boat is not a safe harbor at all. To my surprise the bird comes back and lands on the solar panel.

I hold my breath and decides to keep doing what I was doing which is to trim the kite - and the bird stays there!!! even through the first squall which brings drizzle.

I decide that anyone who spends some time on the boat needs to have a name - I pick Clandestino (stoaway in Spanish) for Elise's new guest.

I had read Black Feathers and I remember the story of the boobie. Looking at the bird, I also think it is boobie, and given the color of the feathers, probably a juvenile. It would be so great if the bird stayed the night with me!

There is only a couple of squalls that night - and for a short moment, I see the full moon again, caught between two dark clouds. I try to capture it on video but it doesn't quite work. Anyway...my best attempt is here...

I steer as much as I can, then douse the kite and put again the blast reacher poled out. It is windy and the AP won't allow me to sleep. Clandestino does not seem to like at all when the autopilot drives but it stays on the boat.

I don't set up the timer anymore as any change in boat movement wakes me up. At times, I can deal with it with the pilot remote control. At times I need to emerge into the companionway. Regardless, every time I stick my head out, the bird is out there, either looking around, or sleeping, definitely not seasick.