Author: Ulrich Fingscheidt

These big waves are going to get smaller in the next couple of days. At the moment I am still in washing machine mode. Time to get back to some faster sailing then. The lines in different colours depict the estimates of different weather models. The most accurate ars the black (ECMWF) and green (GFS) lines. Wave height means the average of the highest 25% of the waves if i recall that number correctly by heart. Individual waves can be (and are) significantly higher.

Enjoy the violet moment with me.

After taking the mainsail down at night. The wind is too strong, continuous 24 kn, and the waves are building up to 3.5 m. Took me two hours to finish this maneuvre. All under good control. I did not really enjoy the seawater showers I got on deck and in the cockpit. Back to sleep now.

Yes, it is the same moon, here in the South pacific, and at your place at home. Only, I see it 9 hrs later rising than you see it in central Europe. Gerd the Gecko is still alive! His new home is under a pile of lines on deck, outside the cockpit. Dangerous place. I only walk around there secured with a tethering line. I think there might be another guest animal on board, i guess it’s a Panama Jaguar. I can tell by the smell …

This is a typical deviation of my course caused by rainclouds. The red circle marks a rainy patch as seen on the radar. The direction of the wind changes around 70°. Easy is steering to the angle of the wind at the moment, and follows the new direction of the wind. This leads to a change of course as you can see on the plotter. I react late to this situation, and make quite a detour. (This is a screenshot of the mirrored image on my tablet. The double colour lines are artifacts, the app that links plotter and tablet is lousy, but the only one available.)

I try to find my way through the countless rainclouds. Only little rain, that does not bother me. But: Every cloud leads to drastic changes in the wind direction. I have to adjust the course frequently which keeps me very busy.

This is the view from my living room window.

It is night. Partially overcast. Between the clouds the Southern Cross and Scorpion. The wind increases every night. At the moment 19-23 kn. Main in the second reef, jib. Waves from the side. Reaching. All of a sudden a meter downwards. Objects flying through the cabin with strange trajectories. Again a full deck wash. Needless to say, a teak deck needs good rinsing with seawater. The cockpit is a saline. I drive Easy below hull speed (whatever that may be, who knows how long the actual waterline is?). A sustainable speed above 8,2 kn is not realistic. The strain on the boat is far less below 7,5 kn. Then the ship does not get pushed to the side by waves so violently. Somehow, the current is mostly against me, around 0.3 kn. Sometimes it is pushing me with 0.8 kn. There is absolutely nobody around me for hundreds of miles. The isolated pink triangle on MarineTraffic, between Galapagos and Gambier is me …. Actually, I wanted to sleep. When I wedge myself in cushions and bla nkets it somehow works. At this noise level I would not sleep a wink at home, let alone in earthquake conditions like these.

With a new steering line fitted, the windvane is working fine again and Easy is back on course.

One of the steering lines was broken! The windvane could not turn the steering wheel any more.