avionbianca   Blog for s/v Avion

What a difference a day makes, or in our case, two days.

Two days ago, we caught a fish. This was a “reel” team effort. He was a big Dorado, over 3 feet and about 35 pounds. He took up half of the cockpit while flopping around. Jimmy claims we caught it because he spit on the lure, which Hawaiian fishermen believe gives them good luck. Megan, the real fisher-person on board, was optimistic enough to put the line out, so she deserves much of the credit. I also deserve some credit, because I decided that the fancy pink lure that was the hot color for catching tuna around Oahu was not working for us, and put the good old cedar plug back on the line. As I said, a team effort.

A fish needs to be dressed quickly, so it can go to dinner. I had been talking about sharpening my knives for awhile now, but there was always some other thing that had to be done first. This fish got me motivated to get out the old sharpening stone and olive oil and get to it. In the meantime, Megan got the Listerine and put the Dorado to sleep; the alcohol kills a fish instantly. We then had to move the jerry cans to open up the spot where I dress fish on Avion, on an area of non-skid surface, outside the cockpit. I have been studying how the Kewalo Harbor fishermen dress their fish on the docks over this past winter, so I just knew how to dress this big boy. Cut the head off first; open and clear the guts; open up the anus to the tail; then cut out the spine, or the back fin; then slice off nice big hunks of meat. Then went down to the galley and rinsed off the blood. I cut the meat into cookable fillets, and put them into zip locked bags. In about 30 mintues, we had at least ten pounds of nice fresh fish in the frig.

We had some sail changes to make, that took priority for the next two hours. The conditions were getting heavy, and there was too much pressure on the mast and rudder to go overnight. I decided to drop the sails, and clean things up. so, I was the first to cook-up a piece of our fish. My favorite way to cook fish is in butter on a frying pan, which I did. Life was good,a nd I went and did my three hour shift with good energy.

Yesterday, Jimmy and I cooked a proper fish meal for the whole crew. Fish, onions and pineapple, smothered in mayonase, covered with tin foil and baked for 40 minutes. Jimmy learned this recipe in Lahina years ago. We also decided to make a coleslaw with cabbage and pineapples, since the Pineapples on board are in that perfectly sweet state that demands being eaten. The challenge was preparing all this food while sailing in heavy conditions, with a modest but variable heel. One person could not do it; or rather, it would take one person a long time to do it (cook). Jimmy was game, so I offered to help. Basically, I cut stuff up, and Jimmy put it in the pan, in the right sequence. Doesn’t sound like much, but it was a true act of teamwork. Needless to say, the fish was delicious.

As I just mentioned, we cooked while sailing in heavy conditions yesterday. To be more specific, “heavy” meant windy, bouncy and wet. The waves were 4 to 5 feet, and wind was 16 to 20 knots. These conditions are nothing special to an ocean sailor, but yesterday the combination of wind, waves and the angle of our heading also made it wet. An occasional wave would splash the bow at such an angle as to push a wall of salt water up into the air, and then the wind would blow it back into the cockpit, where one or two of us would be sitting while we drove, and drench us. We wore our Gortex foulies to stay dry, kind of. The water found it’s way down my neck, through my wrists and down my arms. My pants were just soaked though. Jimmy put up his special built-in head covering, to protect his head from the water. I just wore one of my old Red Sox hats and ducked behind the bill to protect my face and cover my glasses, sort of. As soon as I would dry them off, another wave would hit. It was a grin and bear it kind of wet sailing. It would have been more fun if it was not also growing colder during the day. We have crossed Latitude 30 now, which means that we have left the warm climate of Hawaii behind (Lat 21).

Another big event yesterday was refilling the fuel tank. It took three jerry cans, or 14 gallons (minus a third of a gallon per jc). We had used the engine for exactly 40 hours, at that point. So, we now know for sure that we can get 13 hours per jerry can. At an average of 5 miles per hour, we get 65 miles per jerry can. We have ten jerry cans left for a total of 650 miles of motoring. So far, we have needed to motor for a hundred miles at a time, twice, and we are now motoring again. There are secondary advantages to motoring, like running the refrigerator and the Dometic freezer unit, charging up the batteries, and devices like cellphones, computers and headsets. Megan, the economics major, says we have enough fuel to run the motor for 10 hours a day, so we are good. If she thinks so, then we are.

Today, we are now motor-sailing again. The wind is in our face, so we have taken down the sails, turned on the motor and let the auto-pilot drive. The boat is bouncing around, but generally flat, so we can move around and cook some food for breakfast. I just sent off our position report to Rick the Weatherguy. He is providing us with a route consisting of waypoints every two or three hundred miles, with updates every third day. I can download and analyze the GRIB files, but he has deep experience guiding boats through daily changes in weather patterns. We are happy to have him working with us. I might as well share it with you, to finish off this blog posting. It is dry and technical, but full of fun facts. Enjoy…