Sailing The World's Oceans

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Tuesday November 15th, 2011 14:35 New Zealand Local Time (+13 UTC) - Day #10 of crossing from Tonga to NZ

I think there should be a psychological study about the emotions and attitudes associated with passage making.  The array of feelings and emotions goes from sheer bliss to pain and frustration and sometimes-sheer terror.  The simple fact of moving in the direction of your goal or not moving in the direction of your goal brings about an incredible array of emotions.  This particular passage has proven to be challenging because of that.  With the exception of about 3 beautiful days of sailing the rest of this passage has been fighting to windward that has constantly kept us from sailing in the direction we want. 

We spent almost two days sailing back and forth across latitude 30 degrees south.  We’d sail for five hours, turn around and sail the other direction for five hours, never were we able to make our way in a southerly direction which is where we need to go.  Finally, when the winds calmed enough the sea swells were too big and pushed us away I fired up the engine and pushed south.  Even though the expense of burning diesel rose with our rpm’s so did our spirits rise by knowing that we were going south.

Jake had made a comment on the radio that I was like “Mario Andretti and just floored it and went forward”.  Yes that’s true but my reaction was this.


Now that sounds nuts but that was my reaction.  We were heading south.  I could go south pushing us with the engine and by God we were headed in the direction we needed to go.  All glory be to the man who invented the internal combustion engine.  We powered ahead for four blissful hours and all was happy aboard when…

“Solstice, Solstice.  Hokule’a, do you copy?”

“Hey Jake, go to one, seven.”

“One seven,” he replied.

“Hey Jake how’s it going?”

“Good.  We think we’re going to start sailing again.  I don’t want to burn up that much diesel and we still have a long way to go to get there.”


“Oh!  Okay.” I replied.  I held the transmission key down and hesitated.  I wanted to say something else…. or did I? 

I didn’t agree with Jake’s choice.  I didn’t agree with it at all.  We had only been motoring four hours.  I wanted to keep motoring.  I wanted to make some progress South.  I needed to.  Not just for me but for Randy too.  We had both grown very frustrated aboard Solstice and it was wearing on us.  Choosing to continue motoring meant that we’d keep going south.  We needed to go south.  Sailing meant no southerly way.  We were still hundreds of miles from shore and Solstice motoring south and Hokule’a sailing east also meant that every moment the boats would getfurther and further apart.  It would be the first time since we left LA that I’d be making a conscious decision to separate the two boats.  I spoke up.

“That’s fine, Jake.  I’m gonna keep heading south.  I need to do that for the psyche of all aboard.  If I can keep motoring all night, I’m going to.”

“Okay.  We don’t have that much fuel,” Jake’s response surprised me.

“Okay, honestly Jake, I have enough fuel to motor all the way to Opua.  I don’t intend to do that.  I just can’t risk sitting out here not making way.  Everything I’ve read about this passage says be prepared to motor the last two hundred miles.” 

We still had close to 300 miles to go.

“How much fuel do you have left?”

“I’ve got 120 gallons left,” I was proud that I had that knowledge before me.

“Did you just calc it or did you check it with the dip stick?” Jake asked.

“Both.  I’ve got 70 in my port tank and 50 in the starboard.  Plus another 15 on deck.”

The more information Jake has the better.  He’s an engineer after all.  I went on.

“My estimate is a very conservative one, Dude.  I have enough fuel to motor all the way to Opua.  I won’t do that I don’t intend to do that but my fuel situation is fine,” I said.

An honest feeling swelled within and I knew that this was a difference of opinion with Jake and I.  I respect Jake with all my heart.  He’s the best sailor I know.  He’s also one of the smartest people I know.  I don’t take it lightly when we disagree on something.  I look at what it might be that I’m missing that gives me a different opinion.  In this case I saw nothing.  It was the best choice for Solstice.  I know Jake didn’t want the boats to separate, neither did I.  But I couldn’t beat my head against latitude 30 anymore.  We needed real progress.  I didn’t agree with Jake’s choice but I respected it.  He was doing what he felt was right for them.

“Jake, you guys need to do what’s right for you.  We need to do what’s right for us.  I respect your choice to sail, but we’re gonna keep motoring south.”

“Okay, no worries.  We’ll bare away then and we’ll see you when we see you.  Going back to sixteen,” the radio clicked quiet as he turned the channel.

“Solstice going back to one six,” I said.

I switched back to sixteen.  The airwaves were silent and a feeling of emptiness arose within me.  I looked back to see Hokule’a roll out her headsail.  She fell off the wind and headed east.  A good 90 degrees or more off from our course.  I watched while the two boats moved further and further apart.  I went below.

Randy was lying in his bunk and I could tell immediately that he was happier.

“Well they’re gonna sail.  They’re headed east,” I told him.

“They’ll turn around,” he said.

“You think so?”

Randy nodded.  “Absolutely, they will,” he insisted.

His confidence made me think.  Suddenly I thought about Jake’s crew member, Jackie.  I’m sure she has something to say about it.  And I know she’s not going to want to keep going east.  Hmmm….

“Well, we’ll see.  If we can make good progress south I’m going to motor until sunup.  Then we’ll see what the wind has for us then,” it felt good be assured of my decision as I explained it to Randy.

“I think that’s a good plan,” Randy confided.
As the latitudes on the gps increased the attitudes aboard improved.  It’s an interesting study of the human psyche.  It seems that if the crew sees progress towards the common goal, especially good progress, the attitude is light hearted and happy.  If there is little or no progress frustration looms, patience wanes, second guessing starts and arguments ensue.

With the drone of the engine I was actually able to sleep soundly during my off watch.  This I found to be the biggest single best thing of not single handing.  When I layed down to sleep there was a comfort factor knowing that somebody was topsides keeping an eye on things.  I could close my eyes and not worry about What if a ship comes?  What if the wind picks up?  What if we go off course or run into something? I actually could let those worrisome scenarios slip away and find some time to ease my brain so that I could get real restful sleep.

I awoke and went topsides to relieve Randy of his watch at 4am.

“Look, there they are,” Randy pointed to the horizon behind us.

A small white light bounced on the horizon in the distance.
“That’s Hokule’a?” I asked.

“Yep, they’ve been there all night.  See I told you they’d turn back,” he said.

“I guess you were right, Randy,” I replied.

I turned on the radar and picked up the small blip over 6 miles away.  Well perhaps they sailed for an hour or more before giving up and motoring.  By sunrise they had fallen further behind or decided to start sailing again as they disappeared from sight and I couldn’t find them on the radar.

A sense of loneliness filled my heart from not seeing Hokule’a on the horizon.  And it got me thinking about all that we had gone through.  We have traveled thousands of miles together since leaving California and the two boats are drifting apart.  Maybe I should kill the engine.  We’ve been motoring all night.  We’ve made good progress.  How’s Randy gonna react to that?  There’s something special about these two boats I can’t explain.  They seem to have a relationship with each other that is separate from Jake, Jackie and I.  It’s a strange feeling that I can’t put my finger on.  What I do know is that I’ve motored for about 18 hours straight, it’s time to sail again.

“Hokule’a, Hokule’a, Hokule’a. Solstice, do you copy?” I hailed on the radio.

“Hey Bill, go to six, eight,” it was good to hear Jake’s voice.

“Six, eight.”

Jake explained to me how they motored all night and then began sailing again a couple of hours ago.  We exchanged position information and I told Jake that I too was going to start sailing and that I’d try and match his take and narrow the gap between us.  I think we both felt better about this decision.

After that exchange, I shut the engine down and rolled out the sail.  I wasn’t sure what Randy would think.  I know he liked us heading South as much as I did.  We still have hundreds of miles to go but it was time to sail.

The wind finally began to shift in our favor.  A little at first and then more as the next couple of days past.  And not too soon, Randy and I were completely exhausted.  With exhaustion comes frayed nerves and it’s easy to get frustrated with the situation and with each other.  We were both done, we both wanted to make landfall, but as long as the wind was in our favor we’d sail.  Besides all that I needed to plan our arrival at daylight.  And right now that meant slowing the boat down.

Right now, we’ve got 70 miles to go.  We’re sailing beautifully under a clear blue sky, a sleepy deep blue sea with a cool crisp Antarctic bite to it.  We only have about 7 knots of wind but with no sea to stop Solstice’s hull she slips over top easily moving at a very comfortable 4.5 knots.  And we’re on course.  The forecast calls for these winds to hold so with luck we’ll be checking into Opua tomorrow morning.  My next entry will come from somewhere in New Zealand.  Until then….

At this point we arrived in Opua, New Zealand.  There was much celebrating and happiness all around.  I spent 10 days in Opua and didn’t do any writing for updates or logs.  This void in the log marks the long dry spell and why there hasn’t been anything posted lately.  I was just too darn happy to be in New Zeland.  Besides there was and still is so much to do.  We rented a car for a few days and did some site seeing, hung out with friends, went to real grocery stores and bought real things, etc. etc.  It’s so great to be back in a developed country.  About 6 days after our arrival Randy jetted back to CA.  A few days after that, I sailed down to Gulf Harbour – Another 120 miles from Opua.  Once again, single handing, but content and filled with idea that I’ll be in a marina shortly for a couple of months.  Nice…..  And so that’s where I am now.

Much Aloha,


Monday November 14th, 2011 15:36 New Zealand Local Time (+13 UTC)
- Day #9 of crossing from Tonga to NZ

Frustration has set in as the last 300 miles have been a slugfest with the mother ocean.  A sloppy multi-swelled sea from three different directions and a wind that has perpetually blown hard from exactly where we want to go has left us exhausted and frayed.  This leg has turned into an endurance test and one that pushes our limits of emotion and patience. 

Every passage is an entity all its own.  An emotional arc accompanies every passage in the same way a good story does.  The beginning always sets out with a hope, excitement and apprehension of going out to sea.  The reality of life upon the sea during a passage presents itself bold and loud with the first series of deep ocean swells.  Suddenly all little task from brushing teeth to making a sandwich become a major undertaking.  It tests your limits.  On top of all that is the making way of the vessel.  When the boat is moving beautifully under sail spirits are high and things are good.  When the wind and sea combine to prevent you from making any forward progress in the direction you need to go, well that gets old quick.  Suddenly everything seems stuck and there is little to no movement forward.  It’s like trying to pursue a goal and in the end all attempts to move towards that goal not only fail but fail miserably.  In the end something happens, a slight wind change presents itself, the boat begins to move in a more favorably direction, it’s not perfect but it’s a step closer to where you want to go.  Hope starts to glow again and through your fatigue and exhaustion you try and imagine yourself arriving in port.  For us, it’s Opua, New Zealand.  And right now, we can’t be there soon enough.

The last 72 hours have been filled with frustration.  It seems we’ve been stuck in triple digits of miles to go for an eternity.  This afternoon there has been just a slight change of wind direction.  Solstice has harnessed it and is skipping along beautifully.  Not quite in the right direction but in a better direction than we’ve been traveling.  With 160 nautical miles still to go I’m hopeful that we’ll make landfall safely and happily in the next couple of days.  I hope so.  Both Randy and I need a break and some time to catch up on some sorely lost sleep.

Much Aloha,


Saturday November 12th, 2011 13:10 New Zealand Local Time (+13 UTC) - Day #6 of crossing from Tonga to NZ

The last couple of days have been a mixture of calm to no wind to 90 degree wind shifts and gusts up to 30 knots.  Yesterday morning we had calm winds with enough breeze to keep us sailing in the wrong direction.  Well mostly wrong.  We needed to get further west, that was good but the breeze was from the south and we could only steer a course of about 270 degrees, that’s due west for you non-compass types.  Therefore we made no southerly advancement.   I do a noon to noon plotting on the chart every day so I can keep an accurate record of what Solstice travels in a 24 hour period.  Yesterday was the worst 24 hour travel distance Solstice has had since we left California.  We did 72 miles.  But I’ll take slow progress over storms and low pressure systems that beat the crap out of you and the boat any day.  This passage is notorious for such events and I’m constantly on watch for a turn in the weather.  A week earlier there were several boats that ran into 35 to 40 knot blows for 36 hours that knocked boats down, tore mainsails and broke stays.  We’ve been very mindful of when to leave and have watched the weather like a hawk.  That’s why we waited so long before we left.  The only problem we have run into is light winds blowing from the wrong direction.  I’m hopeful we’ll get a little more breeze and in a more favorly direction so that we can make course.

This passage has marked a couple of milestones for myself and Solstice.  This is the furthest South we’ve been on the planet.  So every minute now we’re breaking that record.  The furthest south I’ve been before is the island of Kandavu in Fiji.  That was achieved on my last trip aboard Far Niente.  We also crossed the “official” 180 degree longitude.  The halfway around the world longitude from Greenwich, England where latitudes and longitudes were first laid out by sailors in the days of yore.  I am now in the eastern longitudes.  Basically we went from 179 degrees West of Greenwich to 179 degrees East of Greenwich.    Currently, we’re at longitude 175 East.

The most exciting thing that has happened so far happened on Thursday while I was writing a log update.

For safety reasons and also to keep in easy contact with Hokule’a I always monitor VHF Channel 16.  And I keep it up LOUD.  So I will be sure to hear it when somebody hails me.  I fired up the computer to write when…

“Gruffalo, Gruffalo, Gruffalo, this is New Zealand aircraft Orion calling on channel one, six.  Do you copy?”

I paid half attention as I was trying to fight through my exhaustion just to write something down.  Gruffalo is the name of a boat with friends of ours that left from “Big Mamma’s” the same time we did.  They were about 50 miles behind us now.

“Roger that,” the pilot’s voice cracked again through the radio.  We could only hear the pilot’s side of the conversation as Gruffalo was so far behind.  “ I have a few questions for you, could you switch to channel zero, six?” he said.

We had been in daily radio contact with Gruffalo since we left Tonga.  Our friends Armi (prounced “Army”) and her husband Darren are a nice English couple with two small children; a girl – 5 and a boy – 3.  They, along with our other friends Graham and Avril on Dream Away all left together last Sunday from Big Mamma’s.  I was wondering if I should get up and switch to channel six.  I was pretty tired and was comfortable in my bunk so opted not to.  I was dozing off about 10 minutes later when….

“Solstice, Solstice, Solstice this is New Zealand naval aircraft Orion calling on channel one, six.  Do you copy?

My eyes popped wide open and I immediately pulled myself from my bunk.  But before I could get up, Randy was at the helm and grabbed the handheld in the cockpit.

“This is Solstice, go ahead,” Randy answered.

“We have a few questions for you.  Could you switch to channel zero six? Over”

“Switching to channel zero six,” Randy seemed extra excited to be talking to a navy flyboy from New Zealand.  I was sort of bummed too as I figured maybe the owner should be talking to the navy.  Ego always has a way of creeping in.

“Solstice do you copy Orion?”

“Roger that, go ahead,” Randy replied

“Where is your destination?”

“Well…” Randy hesitated “We heard there were good lookin’ girls in New Zealand so that’s where we’re headed,” Randy smiled at the sound of his own voice.

“Well where would that destination be?” the pilot asked.

“You’re the navy flyboy, you must get laid a lot, we were hoping that you could tell us?”

“Randy what are you doing?” I asked.  Randy held up his hand to shush me.

“Give me the radio,” I insisted.

I lunged for it but Randy was too quick and easily avoided my lunge.

“Ha, ha, too slow skipper” Randy jumped up and ran out of the cockpit to the front of the boat.

“HA HA!” he exclaimed as I ran after him.

“Could you tell us your destination, Solsitce” the pilot insisted.

“No, not until you tell me where you’re going.  HA HA HA!” Randy blerted into the radio.  He was mad.

I chased him around the front of the boat and WHAM!!

My big toe smashed into a cleat.

“HA HA HA!  That’s what you get sailor boy,” Randy skipped joyfully back to the safety of the cockpit.

He keyed the radio, “Okay, here’s the deal flyboy, you tell us where you’re going and then we’ll tell you where we’re going….”

Okay, okay, it didn’t quite happen like that.  In reality Randy looked at me from above, I pulled my tired ass out of bed and grabbed the radio.

“This is Solstice, over,” I replied.

“We have a few questions for you would you switch to channel zero, six,” the pilot asked.

“Switching to channel zero six”….. “Solstice here, over” I replied.

“Good morning, could you tell us your destination please,” the pilot asked.

“Yes we’re headed for Opua, New Zealand,” I said.

“And what’s your estimated time of arrival?”

“We hope to be there……


I looked outside to see the glimpse of the navy jet flying only hundreds of feet over the water and past our starboard side.

“AAAAWWWWEEEESSSOOOMMMEEEEE,” Randy yelled from the cockpit.
“Uh, we hope to be there, in about 2 to 3 days,” I said.

“We have your advance arrival notice and you are expected.  This is New Zealand naval aircraft Orion going back to channel one, six.”

“Solstice going back to one, six.”

I went topsides to talk to Randy.  I was bummed I didn’t get to see the jet fly by clearly.  Together we watched him pull up and then make a hard banking turn in front of Hokule’a.

“Hokule’a, Hokule’a, Hokule’a,” they actually pronounced the name correctly.

“This is the New Zealand naval aircraft Orion, do you copy”…

I was bummed that I had not connected the dots earlier and had seized the opportunity to get a great picture.  We had heard that the New Zealand navy monitored all the yachts off the coast here.  Mostly for safety.  Before departing to New Zealand, they require that you send in an “advance notice” of your arrival.  I guess this is how the Navy knew about us.  Anyway, it was an exciting fly-by.  Randy and I then laughed about “What if we didn’t tell them where we were going?  What would they do?”  We ran a bunch of different silly responses we could’ve given them and wondered what would have come as a result.  I guess we’ll never know.  I have known to be silly in my day, but I’ve never had the balls to be silly with a navy jet circling above my boat in the middle of the ocean.

That’s it for now.

Much Aloha,


Thursday November 10th, 2011 16:02 New Zealand Local Time (+13 UTC) - Day #4 of crossing from Tonga to NZ

The last 3 days have been beautiful sailing.  A 20 knot breeze on the nose the first day slowly drifted to about 10-12 knots on the beam where it stayed until last night.  Then the wind lightened and the seas layed down to no more than a 1 foot swell.  In 6 knots of breeze Solstice was still sailing at 3.5 to 4 knots.  With no swell to knock her off the wind it was easy to keep the sails full.  Finally this morning the wind has shut down and we’re motoring.  We’re trying to push the boats west so that we can get ourselves in a position to still be able to sail down to the Opua without a problem as often the wind can blow hard out of the south as you near New Zealand.  Friends of ours that left before us and who are still on their way have not made as much westward sailing as us and they are having a difficult time sailing into Opua as the winds are blowing hard on the nose.  We check in with them each morning on our high frequency radio during a regularly scheduled time of 0900.  Some of them are having to make way to Auckland as they can’t make course for Opua.  Hopefully the wind will shift for them and they’ll be able to tack back.

Overall things aboard are good but exhausting.  Passages are always exhausting, even in good weather.  Which is what we have right now.  Actually we have excellent weather.  I hope that it holds until we are safely in port in Opua.  There’s a bit of constant anxiousness in a passage like this too because of the unpredictability of weather.  The more I learn about weather the more confusing it becomes.  The reality is, after about 2 to 3 days out, even professional weather forecasters don’t know what’s going to happen for sure.  That’s why any passage over 5 days leaves a lot of margin for error, weather wise.  So deep inside, there’s always this constant anxiousness, “What if the weather turns bad?” feeling.   But you just “Nut up and drop in”. 

That phrase requires a short story.  Last January, Jake, John, Jackie and I went to Mammoth, CA to get one last great weekend in of skiing.  If you’ve ever been to that part of the country you know the Sierras are gorgeous, dynamic, foreboding and humbling.  We were riding down in the gondola and some well seasoned skiers were talking to a guy who made this day long hike with his pals up to this incredibly narrow gorge that was steep and scary.  The only access was by foot or perhaps helicopter.  The guy was pointing out the gorge they leaped into and skied down from the gondola.  The initial leaping point looked like about a 50 foot drop into this insanely steep run lined by huge granite walls only feet apart.  A guy on the gondola said “Man how do you even attempt to start such a run,” they skier replied in that relaxed slow skier attitude “You just nut up and drop in.”  That phrase has been with me ever since.

We’ve been eating really well.  Last night Randy made another excellent sauce.  This time pasta sauce.  Ground beef, eggplant, onions, fresh garlic, oregano, dried parsley and a pinch of cayenne made for a wonderful explosion of culinary excellence.  Fresh baked bread from Tonga toasted and topped with melted butter and garlic powder made a wonderful makeshift garlic bread and it was all savored with a glass, or should I say cup, of red wine.  Randy and I had dinner together in the cockpit and watched a beautiful sunset.  If only he were some beautiful woman it would’ve been very romantic.

We have marked the halfway point of this crossing but as of right now I’d say that having crew along to help is much better than singlehanding.   Oh gotta go, something is happening topsides.

Wednesday November 9th, 201116:02 New Zealand Local Time (+13 UTC)
- Day #4 of crossing from Tonga to NZ

We’re just starting to fall into our groove of this passage.  It took us a good 24 hours to get Solstice running strong and fast.  I liken her to a horse that’s been sitting in the barn too long.  The first day out was just stretching her legs, then finding her stride and now we’re finally galloping along strong.  She’s shaken her main free and we’re running with the wind.  We’ve knocked off 457 miles and we’ve got another 623 nautical miles to go.   It’s taken Randy and I couple of days as well to fall into the rhythm of passage making.  It always does.

Of all my passages with the crew in the past this one is the least structured as far as watch schedules go.  I’m always open to new ways of doing things and this was what Randy suggested.  Night watches only with nothing structured during the daylight hours.    Perhaps that’s because Randy’s an artist that he wanted nothing structured during the day, I’m not sure but I figured that sounds different, let’s give it a go.

I’m not sure if I like it or not.  It definitely makes things a bit more relaxed because there is no schedule.  All I know is that we’re having a blast.  In the past I’ve set up set watch schedules for everybody and we are all “On” or “Off” on set hours throughout the entire day.  With only night watches we each just take naps when we feel like it and the other covers the other whenever that happens.  So far this has worked out beautifully but I will add, Randy is getting a lot of sleep during the daylight hours.

Randy is also a racer.  He knows more about sail trim than I and I’m learning by watching him and picking his brain.  The process is fantastic and he’s helping bring me closer to Solstice than ever before.  And I’m pretty damn close to her already.  He’s taught me what to look for and how to change configurations with just inches of sheet adjustment.  I can feel the subtle change in Solstice as she uses the wind.  When these minor adjustments bring the boat into her groove you can feel the entire boat react.  It’s missed if you’re not paying attention but if you are you can feel every essence of the boat.  It’s like releasing a horse of her tightened reins.  It’s fantastic.

Still, my favorite thing about passage making, and the hardest thing is the night watches.  Last night I was rewarded with an incredible view that I’ll cherish forever.  I watched a near full moon set over the horizon and as she kissed the sea a shroud of light emanated out across the ocean like the beam of a lighthouse.  It was straight and penetrating and it lit up the sea as well as my spirit.  It was beautiful.  And when the moon sunk below the horizon all the stars grew brighter as the night sky darkened.  An hour later the sky slowly turned to a warm golden pink as the sun’s first rays lightened the eastern horizon. 
It was a beautiful night of sailing filled with 12 knots of breeze, star filled skies, falling stars and a flat moonlit sea.  I’m looking forward, too, to the next two nights as Friday will bring a full moon.

Until then, we sail gently upon this beautiful South Pacific sea.

Much Aloha,


Monday November 7th, 2011 10:42 New Zealand Local Time (+13 UTC)

We left about 22 hours ago headed for NZ.  We currently have 961.1 nautical miles to go to Opua.  That’s in the Bay of Islands near the north east coast of New Zealand.  This passage is already different than the last few months because Randy is aboard.  I think this trip will also give me a great idea if I’ll want to just single hand in the future or bring somebody along.  Don’t get the wrong idea, Randy is AWESOME to have aboard.  He brings a lot to this passage; it’s just different having another body onboard after sailing alone for so many months.  It’s somebody you have to worry about besides yourself and the boat.  Are they happy? Are they safe?  Are they having a good time?  What do I need to do to make things best for them?  It adds another dynamic.  Also right now we’re doing only a night watch schedule.  I think Randy likes that because he’s sleeping a lot today.  I’m pulling two night watches.  I’m on from 8pm to midnight, Randy’s on midnight to 4am and I’m on again from 4am to 8am.  It’s now nearing 11am.  I’ve been up since 4am and I’m pooped. 

One of the wonderful surprising things I’ve learned about Randy that I never knew was that he’s an excellent chef.  Last night Randy made an incredible dinner, which I rarely make for myself when sailing alone.  We had steak with a nice home made sauce, (the Dude makes home made sauces) grilled potatoes and onions with cheese and a salad with lettuce, tomatoes, cucumber, papaya and pineapple.  Delicious!

Currently I’m going through the 1st days at sea adjustment.  My body is exhausted from lack of sleep already.  I’m sure that’s why Randy is sleeping now.  It takes awhile to fall into this new routine of living.

It was sad to leave “Big Mamma” but we left with a promise to return in the fall.  The BBQ on the last night was a bit of a dud.  Most everybody there was shoving off in the morning so everybody went home early, including us.  So not much to report there.

Okay, enough for now.  I’m exhausted.  I need to get Randy to relieve me so I can sleep.  I get the fun job now of awakening a crew member who is blissfully sound asleep.  Wish me luck.

Much Love and Aloha,





Solstice Log