Captain's Log #9: Equator

ince leaving San Benedicto we've encountered everything one expects to encounter on a long passage, with a special invisible line being crossed early tomorrow morning (we plan to swim across in celebration if weather permits) that signifies our departure from the northern hemisphere. Calms, squalls (one of them incredibly powerful, which caught us quite unaware and shredded a poorly furled genoa), tradewinds (NE until a few days ago and now SE), no sleep, dolphins, tuna (yum!), a boobie bird we creatively named "Bowee"- his being partial to riding the bowrail, who stayed with us for three days only leaving to hunt and poop (incredibly well mannered we decided!); many things to fix, (including a harrowing few hours in which I had to cling tenuously in very rough seas to the mast at the first spreader to rig up a backup lower shroud (shrouds are bad things to go without).

The only clothes I've worn were a pair of shoes to go up the mast, otherwise heat dictates the days and red bums are cursed at night. So as we leave the northern world, with it goes signs one grows accustomed to on the northern oceans- always friendly Polaris (the North Star) and counterclockwise water draining (we actually had to check this!). I'm pleased to report we are making better headway at night, as my once novice crew has proven to be adept sailors and Saoirse is carrying us in style. We've seen no sign of human life for two weeks. When I was young my mom, sister and I used to drive from Lake Tahoe (our home) to Dillon Beach (N. of San Francisco, on the Pacific Coast) for Christmas. I had trouble with my "c's" back then, and apparently without fail, upon cresting the final hill in which terra firma would seemingly slide into the grand Pacific I would say, "it's a big OSSIN out there!"