100 Days

January 13, 2019

Day 101

Noon Position: 46 26S  75 53E

Course(t)/Speed(kts): E 7

Wind(t/tws): WxN 10 – 15

Sea(t/ft): W 3

Sky: Overcast with drizzle

10ths Cloud Cover: 10

Bar(mb): 1018, stable

Cabin Temp(f): 59

Water Temp(f): 50

Relative Humidity(%): 83

Sail: Twin headsails, poled out; running.

Noon-to-Noon Miles Made Good (nm): 161

Miles since departure: 13,984

Avg. Miles/Day: 138

Days since Cape Horn: 44

Miles since Cape Horn: 6,341

Avg. Miles/Day: 144

Longitude Degrees Made Good (degrees minutes): 3 54

Longitude Miles Made Good (at Lat 46S): 161

Total Longitude Made Good Since Cape Horn (degrees minutes): 142 25

I woke to a W wind and doused the main in favor of the twin headsails before the second cup of coffee. There had been a persistent drizzle since first light, so the rest of the morning was dedicated to refining my water catchment system off the main sail cover. This entailed moving the drain on the cover all the way forward near the mast. By the time I finished, the drizzle had retracted back into the sky; a test of my success will have to wait.

In the afternoon, more brownie baking (it was too late in the day for bread) and the discovery of a new way to dry socks using the exhausting heat from the stove.

Quick thoughts on 100 days at sea…

How am I doing physically?

Beyond the minor cuts and bruises typical of life on a boat, I have thus far escaped injury. The leg cramps and headaches mentioned in previous logs have not returned, so were either one-offs or are being controlled by exercise (admittedly intermittent) or better hydration.

In recent weeks, I am wrestling with shoulder pain, however. Both are quite soar and gristly and can give me sharp starts if strained too much. Part of the issue is overwork/repetitive motion (winches) and part is poor posture during hours of sitting in the pilot house. I’ve incorporated stretching into my daily routine and am generally being more careful as both shoulders need to last the duration.

I feel minor but chronic fatigue. How much of this is physical and how much is mental (more below) is unclear, but I notice I move more slowly on deck than when in other latitudes and I seek rest between heavy operations. Given where I am and what I am doing, this is not unexpected.

Am I getting enough sleep?

Yes. My pattern is to start sleeping soon after dinner (9pm is normal) and to sleep in shifts until 6am. Shifts are one hour if I need to pay attention to weather or other boat issues overnight, or two and three hours if things on deck are stable. Occasionally, (e.g. last night) I’ll turn off the alarms and sleep the night through.

I take brief naps in the pilot house most afternoons.

How’s my appetite?

Non-pareil. I eat constantly. Beyond the Vitamin C forgetfulness of last month, my nutritional needs have been met fully. Except I wouldn’t mind a pizza right about now.

How are you mentally/emotionally?

It depends on the day. The combination of the continual gray, damp, and cold that defines this part of the world, the need to be ever alert, and the strain of heavy weather can be a trial to one’s optimism. The route is long and, amazingly, still in its early stages, and I am most definitely feeling how much of a marathon this marathon is going to be.

Symptomatic of what we might call emotional fatigue are my anger outbursts, mentioned in previous logs. This emotionality is neither new nor surprising, but beyond the enervation entailed in being angry at an inanimate object (a wet tangle of line that warps around one’s boot just moments after being neatly coiled), it is additionally frustrating that I can’t muster the discipline to control it. Take a breath; try again tomorrow.

Oddy, one element of discontent has been how little time I have for anything but working the boat. I brought books on astronavigation, trigonometry (of all things), and meteorology, but haven’t had serious band-width for any of them since about 40S in the Pacific.

And for the first time on any cruise, I have recently felt very far away, even a sense of isolated from those I love. This too seems appropriate as it is true, in fact.

But these difficulties are, in my estimation, minor and, as Cook has said in his Journals, “Such risks are the unavoidable companions of the man who goes on discoveries.”

I keep busy; I stay to a schedule; I focus on the day, on the sailing, and on my excellent partner, Mo, who weathers all without the least complaint.

And I am always cognizant of the privilege I have been delt to be down here at all. No other ocean will ever be so full of awe as the one where flies the Wandering Albatross.