Along the Merry Way....

We anchored for three days at the tiny island of Uoleva - a restful place with sandy beaches, ten inhabitants, and crystal-clear blue water. Pim, Josje and I decided to walk around the island, and on our way back, we encountered an American woman who was running a small resort of beach huts. She told us a story about when she was building the resort, and her Tongan employees started showing up with big heavy rocks. She asked them where on this desert, coral island they were getting the boulders, and they took her to a mysterious, pyramid-shaped ruin in the jungle (where she told them "For the love of God, stop dismantling this!"). We were pretty excited by her story, so the next day, we followed the lady's specific, but curious directions to find the ruins: "past the three small coconut trees, by the stump, under the arched vines, through the jungle" :) It was easy enough to find: a small pyramid, overgrown with trees and leaves. We scrambled up the steep side o...

You encounter many strange things at sea. Once during my night watch, when we were hundreds of miles from anywhere, the sonar kept going off indicating that the "bottom" was only 13 meters below, then 15 meters, then 12, then 17. Very strange. I told Uncle Kurt, who just smiled and said, "Yep, something's probably swimming below us." It was probably a whale, but I liked to picture something hideous and tentacled and extremely hungry that had ventured up from the Tongan trench (which is a part of the ocean that at it's deepest is over 10,000 meters deep). Another strange thing was marked on the chart as a "magnetic anomaly". This was a largish patch of ocean we sailed through between Tonga and New Zealand where our compass got all confused and pointed in the wrong direction. Fortunately for us, the GPS, was working just fine. I'm not sure what caused this--an enormous metal deposit on the ocean floor?

Tonight we saw something that I've wanted to see my whole life. It's an optical phenomenon seen by sailors at sunset. There must be a perfect horizon line and no clouds to see it. We were becalmed at the half-way point and the sky was clear: just the right conditions. We glanced every few seconds at the glowing red sun as it sank into the sea. Just miliseconds  after the last sliver of golden light disappeared, we saw the "green flash". It was a ball of greenish-white light which flashed and lit up the horizon, right where the sun had been. It was super cool!

Today, the day after the gale quieted, a couple of swallows have landed on the bow of the boat. We are over 1,000 kms from anywhere. We are in the middle of the freaking Pacific Ocean! Where did they come from? We named them Mr. and Mrs. Mirlos (mirlos=swallows in Spanish).They were quite fearless and perched right next to us. They looked very exhausted, poor things. No doubt they were seeking rest after being blown and buffeted by the storm. Over the course of the afternoon, Mr. and Mrs. Mirlos were joined by five more. They flitted away at sunset, but after dinner, Josje came to tell me that a swallow had taken roost in my berth. Sure enough, there it was, looking very tired and very comfortable on the bookshelf--his feathers all fluffed up and comfy. I thought I was going to have to give him a serious talking-to about whose bunk it belonged to. He stayed there for quite a while. I half expected to come back and find him tucked in on my pillow, reading one of my books. Sadly I had ...

Today, we reached the half-way point: 755 nautical miles behind us (1,359 kms). We've been a week at sea and survived a gale. The winds have died down, and we are going an average of 2-3 knots, which is quite slow in comparison to the rest of the week. Uncle Kurt and Pim took out the water-tank that was leaking and drained it into a big plastic tub in the cockpit where we could bathe or wash our hair. It was heavenly!!!!! I've never appreciated a "shower" so much!! Then we had our half-way party, for it is 1, 316 kms to Beverage Reef, the next time that we will see "land", er...submerged coral. "Land" is a bit of a stretch when it comes to this incredible place, which is an old volcanic crater under the surface, which has grown a coral reef on top of it. Our party consisted in drinking port, eating cake,  and opening a card which Auntie Marie had given us for the half-way point. She had surprised us by getting it signed with well-wishies from a...

Happy Birthday Mary! A role model to me in so many ways. Thank you for passing on your love of Irish music, for teaching me to dance, and inspiring me with your courage, style and love!!!! We all take turns at night, scanning for ships and making sure that our boat stays on track. Eve (the wind-guided auto-pilot) does most of the work, but we check the compass and keep a careful eye on the horizon. My watch is from 9:00 p.m. until midnight. At first the time went by slowly, but then I really started to enjoy these peaceful hours. Sometimes, on rougher nights, the night watch means balancing with all my might on the seat of the pilot-house, bracing upright with my toes to keep from flying over and landing on Josje asleep in her bunk. At other times, however, when we are gliding over smooth swells at an easy 2 knots, I like to lie outside in the cockpit and look up at the night sky in between scans. It has an unreal feel to it (like Life of Pi, but without the grisly). Constant twinkle...

Happy Birthday Willie! To the first O'Brien grandchild - the coolest kid to make an auntie proud. The storm calmed and the weather changed in our favour, producing sunny goodness and Southerlies that started to blow us northwest towards the Kingdom of Tonga. We dried off everything, cooked and ate (for the first time in a while) and napped. It was soooo nice! I've discovered how lovely the ship sounds are. The ship sings to itself. Uncle Kurt thought it was me singing, but it wasn't. I've heard it too. There are the deep creaking noises of the hull and the sharp twanging of the rigging, but it's something else. You can hear soft, almost human-like sounds from various parts of the boat underneath all the other louder noises. It's like the boat is talking to itself. Perhaps it's the rushing water somewhere or maybe just the softest of creaks, but there are gentle, mysterious sing-song noises that accompany us. It's delightful to go to sleep to.