I waved at the dock with one hand and pulled our bowline free from the mooring with the other... It was Wednesday, February 4th and we were leaving the Caribbean and headed west. There were tears in my eyes as JB waved back from the dock and finally turned away and walked off with his backpack on his back. After three adventurous months at sea, JB was going back to his real world. UNICEF was calling and he would probably be headed to Myanmar (Burma) soon. Selfishly, we would miss his presence and quick wit on Urios, but JB will do great things for children in Myanmar. And now there were just three of us sailing the 1,200 miles across the Caribbean Sea to Panama.

The lights of Guadeloupe disappeared over the horizon during my night watch. It was wild to think that we wouldn’t see land again for at least 7 days, and even wilder to think that crossing the Pacific Ocean could take quadruple that time! Bluewater sailing is probably a phenomenon like no other I´ve ever experienced – to be out there, just a tiny blip in the midst of massive amounts of blue water, inching your way to another country and port of call. As much as I love it, my stories of cruising the oceans on a sailboat will probably just make you appreciate being on land. You’ll have to let me know...

Sailing is a 24/7 activity. The sailboat is only travelling at 7 knots of speed, so 1200 miles is a lot of sea to cover. Because the boat is in constant irregular motion, rocking back and forth and side to side, you have to be very careful with everything you do. Safety is paramount. You never know what is going to happen and there is no Coast Guard, or anyone else around for that matter, for backup. We wear safety harnesses/lifejackets every time we come up onto the deck and hook onto a solid piece of steel somewhere... just in case. There is a very very slim chance of being saved if you go overboard when the boat is sailing away from you at 7 knots and you’re literally lost in big swell and current. Scary, but realistic. You always have to think one step ahead on the boat - when you walk (time your step with the movement of the boat), put things away (secure everything away because a tack or jibe will send things flying), sleep (your bunk becomes a very comfy crib thanks to a safety net to keep you from rolling out), cook (safety hinges on the stove for pots, no hot food/drink on rough seas), move anywhere (always hold onto something – one hand for you, one for the boat), and do anything. For instance...

I was out in the cockpit on a particularly bright hot sunny day, taking a salt water shower. Four days into the trip, just the smell of shampoo, even though it didn’t lather up in seawater, was enough to make me feel clean. I was leaning over the guardrail to grab a bucketful of water and the next thing I know, the bucket was drifting quickly away from the boat, my arm was throbbing and I was slightly bleeding from a cut on my face. I was OK, just slightly embarrassed and feeling pretty stupid. The sentimental value of that bucket itself made me feel the worst. I had somehow managed to lose a bucket that has survived years of water retrieval in galestorms and ocean crossings. Strangely though, I mostly felt scared. I don’t think I truly realized the power of the ocean and what it could do until that moment. Heck I was just trying to get some water by lowering a bucket with a rope, something that I’ve done so many times. But, when you’re out on the ocean, everything really gets magnified – the amazing sights but also the inherent dangers. That bucket of water got 100 times heavier and acquired a force that I never knew it could have when you’re moving at 7 knots and have huge waves and current around you. I literally could not hold on... So, after the infamous “Bucket Incident,” I owe Urios a bucket and am much more aware.

Otherwise life is pretty normal, as normal goes. Days are filled with chores and watches and eating and catching up on sleep and reading and sitting around and talking. You would think that boredom would come quickly with so many hours at your disposal, but I’m amazed at how little I accomplish each day at sea, whether it’s trying to read a book, play the guitar, learn French, or write. For some reason I seem to spend a lot of time in the cockpit, staring out at the ocean. Days can be long but they also pass fairly quickly, and before you know it it’s another sunset on the horizon.

Night watches are a sure indication that you’re travelling substantial distances and they kind of dictate life on the boat. Each crew member is “responsible” for the boat for certain blocks of time throughout the night, keeping constant vigilance for lights and boats and wind and weather changes. We rotate watch times so it’s a lucky day for me to get the 3am – 6am slot and have a full 6 hours of sleep before you’re roused awake for duty (plus you get the sunrise!). Naps during the day are inevitable. Thanks to a wonderful crew member/autopilot nicknamed Charlie, our lives are easier than they otherwise would be. Charlie works hard for us, especially at night! He does the driving and you just have to be his eyes and ears. The night sky does create a different environment and mood, but sailing in the dark is just as straightforward as doing it in the daylight, especially when it’s a full moon that lights up everything around you. And, when you get bored with steering off the compass or GPS, you just pick a star and head for it. I feel very Captain Cook-ish! Don’t get me wrong though, everything feels better for me in the sunshine, and I usually can’t wait for the sun to come up...

It was late night and I was up on deck listening to my Walkman and enjoying the bright moon overhead and a steady pace. I did my routine 360 degree glance around the boat and a black amorphous mass that wasn’t there 10 minutes ago was now slowly drifting towards me. The texture of the ocean was literally changing in front of my eyes as the wind blew across the water. I inched myself under the dodger as much as I could, put my hood up, and braced myself. I knew what was coming and there wasn’t a whole lot I could do about it. I felt the temperature drop for a second and then the skies opened up. Rain rain rain pelted down. The raindrops falling on the deck reverberated like drums and you realize how much people can sleep through on a boat, there was not a peep from anyone down below. I squinted through the water pouring down my face to keep an eye on Charlie, just to be sure he could cope with the sudden change in the wind strength and/or direction. We were rocking and rolling, the wind was howling, and I was soaked. And then, just as quickly as the rains came, it was over. I looked up at the sky again and there were stars as far as the eye could see and a bright full moon. Just another unpredictable night watch... Some nights are uneventful, some nights are anything but. It´s always interesting to see what you´re going to get...

There was a lot of white space on the nautical chart of the Caribbean and Central America when we started the journey. Navigation is a fascinating aspect of sailing, and is as much of an art as it is a science. It takes a lot of experience and knowledge to master it – taking in all the important pieces of data, from wind direction and strength to weather forecasts to current and wind speed, to be able to decide the best way to get from Point A to Point B. Navigation 101 is a bit like Geometry 101 as it all depends on angles and lengths of sides of triangles when it comes to Apparent Wind vs. Real Wind, distances, and course bearings. I feel a bit of awe and achievement to watch our progress, day by day, plotted out on the chart. You see just how far you’d come. We all placed bets on our Estimated Time/Date of Arrival in Panama, just for fun and to make things a little bit more interesting. The prize is a dinner out on the other crew, and there is always debate about the Captain’s ability to influence the outcome! :) As scientific as you try to be in calculating your bet using the bearings we would take, the average speed we would make, currents, weather forecasts, etc. in the end, it’s all kind of a shot in the dark. In the end, 1200 miles is a long way to try and nail down. But, you definitely find out whether you’re a pessimist or an optimist!

Some other random thoughts...
Sailing in three languages (English, French, Dutch) is not as complicated as it may seem. You just have to allow for the internal translation time delay or else learn what contra ecoute and balancine are.
Mal de mer (seasickness) is a horrible thing and there’s sometimes no escape other than sleep. Petra passed out for 16 straight hours after way too many consecutive doses seasickness pills combined with a scopolamine patch. You do whatever you can just make the horrible feeling go away.
There are lots of fish in the ocean. Most of it is edible, but you never know, so we always pull out the fish book and try to make a match. But, after the excitement of actually catching a fish and our anticipation of a meal that doesn’t come out of a can, sometimes almost looking like a recognizable/edible fish is good enough…
Being away from land means being away from the mosquitoes. As much as I love Caribbean harbors and palm trees, I just could not handle any more itchy bites and buzzing in my ear!
Baby wipes used to remind me of my little nephew Brent, but not anymore. Now they are forever part of being out at sea for me. There is nothing better than a baby wipe, especially when you’re salty and sticky and damp and it’s days to your next shower. What an amazing invention!