After some time on the sea, I finally found my sea legs. It was hard to let myself get any sleep with consistently great sailing weather and the magic of these giant animals around us. On day six we were getting prepared to sail to Cedros Island which is an island off of the coast of Mexico inhabited by fisherman, about 5,000 of them, and they all fished for the Mexican government (more to come on that in next weeks post).

Sailing is a busy, cumbersome, yet satisfying activity and in order to not die you really need to plan and plan accurately. They call it navigating and no, it doesn’t come from Google maps. You actually need to look, read maps, and navigate to your next port. The trip we were prepping for was a two-day trip, which meant that for two days we would be in the middle of the ocean with over 1500 feet of water beneath us.

While Dave was planning and looking at the map, I was busy running errands and getting things from the store to replenish our supplies. See, we had the luxury of having a Dominican woman on the boat, which meant that we would never go without a meal. We may drown but at least we would be full.

Our voyage would take us from Rosarito to Cedros Island. When we left Rosarito, I remember we had the best tailwind we’d seen to date. I mean, we were moving and just like you see on the America’s Cup when those super sailboats are traveling at a fast rate of speed, we were doing something similar. The boat tilted on its side, cutting through the water like we were on TV. It was totally amazing. The water was a perfect shade of turquoise and the sun was hot but not too aggressive. It was perfect.

For dinner we caught lobsters and those were fresh, as expected. As we were settling in for the night, we heard on the marine radio that a storm had formed on our route to Cedros Island. Dave looked on the map and confirmed that there was no way for us to go around it. We had no other option but to head straight for it. But whatever, Dave is a master yacht master and knows what he is doing, right? Right! We went to sleep like nothing was out of the norm and with full bellies.

Boom!

Screeching loud alarm noise!

It felt like the world was ending and the alarm was proof of that. I had never seen Dave move so fast in my life. He sprinted from the front master bedroom and threw a raincoat to me and yelled, “Put this on”. He jumped up onto the deck of the boat and I followed. When I looked around, what I saw was more traumatic than I could have imagined. From the front of the boat, it looked like we were going to be washed away by the waves and from behind it looked like we were on top of the world when the waves would pass (that’s called a wave and the wake). The wake had me like, really woke. Dave looked at the back of the boat and saw the rudder flapping around and said, “The autopilot broke”. We had to bring part of the mainsail down to ensure that we could control the boat. I, of course, had to climb up to the mainsail to unhook it from it being tangled. That, or Dave was trying to safely dispose of me. But because I had no choice but to climb the mainsail and unhook the darn rope or die, I quickly scaled the mast. Keep in mind that we were a little spec in this large, dark, and angry ocean.

Dave then grabbed a rope and tied it around half of the rudder to stop it from flapping back and forth. I could not imagine what my aunt and the two little ones were thinking from inside the boat, but I could relate.

After we got the boat under control, we just needed to steer the boat manually. Dave said to me, “We need to take turns. Two hours on, two hours off”. He went first. I climbed back down to my safe, warm, little room with the window that reminded me of a Gilligan’s Island episode. From time to time, I remember the window being underwater and like a buoy or a floaty it would come back up to the surface.

Just so you get a mental picture, think of this overly big human college kid in the middle of the ocean in tight little bedroom quarters. It was the safest place I had ever been in until Dave came down and woke me to take my shift.

I went upstairs and all I heard Dave say was, “Slow and steady”. WTF!?!?

I took the captain’s chair and the only thing I could see was a huge round compass in front of me that would tell me I was doing everything wrong since I couldn’t keep Kea steady on 23 degrees SE, which is what Dave instructed me to do. It took me a few minutes to get that under control. It was pitch black outside; the wind and rain were still on a mission to kill us (that was what it felt like).

Two hours on, two hours off. It felt like it took forever, but by my second shift, the winds and rain had completely stopped. When those rain clouds went away, the weather felt just like the day we had left the port in Rosarito and the moon made it a simply amazing night sailing experience. I remember the moon being so big and bright that it was like we were out in the daytime, only it was a midnight shade of blue everywhere. I felt like we did something right because God allowed us to keep going.

The breeze was great, the moonlight was bright, and the seas were calm. I now had complete control over Kea and I felt confident that I knew what I was doing. I sat back down on the captain’s chair and leaned over the side of the boat. I put my hand in as we were sailing through the calm, warm waters. It was gorgeous, fascinating! I left my hand in the water as we gently cut through it. I looked in the water and I remember seeing an interesting gray area the size and shape of an American football and in the middle was a big eye looking up as if it was looking directly at me. Then boooooshhhhh! A big breath of air came from the whale that was cruising next to us. I really cannot explain all of the feelings that I experienced at that moment, but it was a combination of my entire body tingling and me leaving my body for a few seconds. I may have thrown up and blacked out. Shortly after I came back from wherever I went, I of course needed to change my shorts. Oh, what a night.

23 Degrees SE