It's Irie

Day 19 to FP - Food on Irie

2013-05-25T19:27:00.000-05:00

:lat=-20.97:lon=-130.09:
Time: 0030UTC, COG 245T, SOG 4.5kts, Distance Remaining: 316nm

Food is usually very important for the (female) crew on Irie. It still is,
but because of our "weird" hours, snacking and napping throughout the day,
we are just not that hungry. This, the fact that we don't seem to catch any
more fish, and that our abundance of vegetables started to turn all at once,
changed a few things about our eating behavior on board. Temporarily, of
course. Having an all-vegetable main meal, for example (like zucchini as a
starter, followed by vegetable soup, and fried sweet plantains with hot
sauce for dessert), has been quite common.

Provisioning for a long passage is quite tricky. The problem is not what to
get - you buy whatever choice they have - but how much. You want to have
enough fresh produce to last the whole voyage, but you don't want (too many)
things go bad. It has happened enough times in the past that we really look
forward to eating a certain vegetable from the fridge, even plan a dish
around it, only to find it too rotten to eat.

Despite the rough weather half of the time, we have had a few food
revelations and treats. Our banana bread was tasty and everlasting. The
limes we obtained for fish ceviche were turned into a dessert of lime
squares and limeade. Mark made an unbelievably yummy and over-sized pumpkin
soup, with three pounds of fresh pumpkin needing to be eaten quickly and
some carrots thrown in. We prepared some favorite and enjoyable dishes, like
falafel on home-made spinach flat bread, spaghetti carbonara, shrimp curry
and an exquisite salad with eggs, cheese, ham and beets.

The highlight, however, were the American-Belgian chocolate chip cookies
Mark produced. The - new to us - recipe was American (we won't use any other
recipe ever again!), the dark chocolate chips were from Belgium (thanks
again, Griet and Wim). They were truly "the best chocolate chip cookies in
the world", crunchy on the outside, soft with melting chocolate in the
middle. Straight out of the oven, they are to die for. I am still licking my
fingers.

Day 18 to FP - Routines

2013-05-24T19:31:00.000-05:00

:lat=-20.21:lon=-128.47:
Time: 0030UTC, COG 250T, SOG 4.5kts, Distance Remaining: 419nm

What do you do all day, every day, for 21 days straight while being in the
middle of the ocean, with nowhere to go? I'm sure many of you wonder about
this. I asked myself that question as well, before we left, and answered it:
I would do many things I usually don't have time for or has less priority. I
would read books and magazines, I would write (many ideas are waiting to be
put in print), I would bake some great and unhealthy desserts, make bread,
yoghurt and other food, stare out over the ocean for hours, and try to spot
wildlife. Oh, and take care of Irie, of course.

Reality is far from that, what with being totally exhausted and having the
boat roll underneath you all the time. A friend suggested in an email that
being on passage for so long must be similar to being in a remote anchorage
for a while, having the time and desire to cook many different dishes among
other things... No, not at all, for the reasons mentioned earlier. and,
there is a lot to do to keep everything moving. Literally.

Mark and I are not the kind of people in favor of, or executing routines.
Far from it. But, on this trip with precious hours of daylight and long
nights split 50/50, one needs to have some kind of a schedule. Ours is as
follows:
6:30am: Mark gets up and we adjust or change the sails if necessary
7:00am: Liesbet goes back to bed for a couple of hours, Mark wakes up, has
breakfast and does some computer/navigation stuff
9:30am: Liesbet gets up, does some chores inside the boat, has breakfast,
takes over the helm, Mark might take a nap
11:00am: lunch - the big meal on passage - is prepared
12:30pm: lunch is served and we eat together
1pm: clean-up
2pm: Mark takes a nap, Liesbet does some writing - blog and emails off line
4:30pm: Liesbet stays in the cockpit, while Mark sends previously written
emails, and grabs the weather and new mail through the sat phone. He does
some routing and weather plotting. We both read the emails of loved ones -
always the most exciting part of the day - and do a log entry (Mark
electronically, Liesbet in a logbook). We are either disappointed or
ecstatic about the daily distance covered. Liesbet marks our position on a
paper chart of the Pacific Ocean; every day we move about a quarter inch
5:30pm: we have a small dinner (meat and veggie sandwich usually)
6pm: we adjust or change the sails for the night
6:30pm: Liesbet goes to bed and Mark does his six hour night shift
12:30am: Mark goes to bed and Liesbet takes her six hour night shift

Note: the further south we travel in this hemisphere, the longer the nights
become, so some flexibility is required.

Usually, there is a central "event" every day. Depending on necessities,
moods and energy levels, we also take care of the boat, her sails and her
course, do some extra cooking, fit in some cleaning and laundry or squeeze
in some extra rest. Just like our surroundings never change and seem
infinite, our routines are pretty much the same every day. Talking about a
monotonous life... :-)

Day 17 to FP - Our Blissful Day

2013-05-23T19:33:00.000-05:00

:lat=-19.30:lon=-126.36:
Time: 2330UTC, COG 250T, SOG 5.0kts, Distance Remaining: 549nm

It is a day from heaven after a night from hell. Mostly Mark's part of the
night was as frustrating and annoying as could be. Already being exhausted
didn't help. His shift started at 6:30pm, with a nasty squall approaching
our very exact position. It played around with the wind and had rain in it,
drenching Irie and all its exposed contents in dire need of rinsing. When
the squall moved on, so did the wind. Not even one knot stayed behind. Our
boat was totally becalmed, sails flapping, rigging creaking and banging from
the left-right movement in the churned up seas. Half an hour of motoring
brought us to a slightly better place to be.

A tiny breeze came back, out of a very inconvenient direction for Irie at
night (when the spinnaker is put away): directly behind her. Mark tried full
jib and mainsail, part jib and the main, just the main; nothing worked to
stay on course and keep moving. We didn't want to be 30° off course all
night, doing better speed with two sails, so he resorted to the slowest
option, mainsail only, to give boat and crew some needed rest and only be
off course 10°. While the wind fluctuated all night, and more squalls
arrived, Irie was creeping along at 3 knots.

The first part of my shift looked alike, except that our speed dropped below
3 knots. Grrrrr... But around 3am, my muffled begging, cursing, promising
and complaining was heard. The wind shifted to a better direction (SE), I
unfurled the jib, got on course and launched Irie towards the Gambiers at
4-5 knots. My smile was back. The night ended with the gorgeous setting of a
near full moon.

Today started then with a pretty sunrise, opening up the skies. Would day 17
be the one perfect day? The mainsail received two reefs, the spinnaker
replaced the jib and Mark joined me in the cockpit. After an hour of
fighting the collapsing spinnaker, we dropped the main all the way and let
the colorful light air sail scoop up all the wind. The sky is light blue
with a few puffy clouds, the ocean is deep blue and calm and comfortable.
Irie is whizzing along again at 5-6 knots. Sailing at its best! For now.
When the night approaches, we will have to take the spinnaker down again
(you don't want to get caught by a squall with that thing up) and figure out
a new set-up. Hopefully the wind will agree with us from the start, this
time.