April 9, 2010
15:00
Both the time and the date posted above are rough estimates. As everyone knows, time was thrown out the window when we first cast off our lines. Sure, I could go through the process of finding out the date and time, but why put myself through the unnecessary stresses of knowing how much of the day I've been laying in bed for.
So now I sit outside during the usual peak of the afternoon blow. Every afternoon, starting around 1300, a stiff westerly breeze tumbles into the bay at about 25 knots. It would make for great sailing if we felt to up anchor and give it a go. Instead, it immobilizes us on our craft because it greatly disinterests us in rowing against the wind to get into the yacht club. So if we don't manage to get on our tenders and into the breakwater by about that time, this is where we stay for the day. That is all.
April 23, 2010
10:30
So I haven't written in the log for probably the longest period of time yet. For a few reasons that I don't usually consciously perceive. First being we were in port. I've noticed this phenomenon since our first port o' call, Ensenada. The will to write just doesn't flow out of my fingertips when I am buffeted by the simple entertainments of a landlubber life. The second being all the work we've been doing. By the time I get back to my bed I just want to fall right asleep. But, I picked up this dusty log today to do an update on our situation, not make excuses for not logging more often.
I don't know if our current situation has been explained much at all, so I'll go into a little detail on it. After arriving in Bahia de Banderas, we made the decision to jump off from here. This did mean the loss of our Southern Mexico and Central American cruise. But the ease of accessibility to parts and rations coupled with the massive amount of work we have to complete before setting off across an ocean has cemented the choice. Another change of plans fell into our laps about a week ago: the possibility of another crew.
Our first encounter with Lydia was on a warm, sunny day (as most are) in the cockpit of Leeway. I was in the process of giving Dan a dashing new haircut when a sunglasses-equipped female rowed by us. So greeted us in passing, without even noticing the stellar haircut Dan was receiving from my hands. Our next encounter was soon after she had left the crew of another puddle-jumping boat. We were on our way back to the boat after a long hours of walking around Puerto Vallarta when she lured us into a couple of drinks. We drank and were merry into the wee hours of the morning. The next night we sat down to dinner and accepted her as a third crew of Leeway. She has since been wonderful. So what's the new plan?
Oh, we all know this, but I'll reiterate it for those who may have arrived late to the show or those who just weren't paying attention (yeah, you). We are now fitting S/V Leeway for a crossing to the Marquesas Islands of the South Pacific. These are contained within French Polynesia, a country that includes the more well-known attractions that are Bora Bora and Tahiti. The crossing is known in the sailing community as the “Pacific Puddle Jump”. The jump is represented to be a 3,000 mile long, easy-going, bluewater adventure, but one never knows what could happen in the 30 days of exposure that we'll have out in the Pacific. So, keeping that in mind, we've began updating many of Leeway's aged of malfunctioning systems. This means taking a break from sitting on the beach sipping margaritas and once more building lists to be conquered. We've done many a chore in the last few weeks, some of which include: replacing the frayed wire halyards (line that hoists sails) with high performance spectra line that doesn't present meat hooks to my tender hands; installing a tensioned jackline to hook onto when going forward in rough seas; replacing sun-rotted lifelines to prevent men (and women) from going overboard; rebedding leaking stanchions that dripped on our electronics; refitting a chafed jib sheet; sewing shut a broken zipper on the dodger that would let in gallons at a time in heavy weather; refitting the bilge pump with a more reliable float switch; resewing the chafeguard at the tack of the genoa; rejoining and reinforcing a broken piece of stainless tubing on the stern pulpit; sewing up hammocks to keep fruit and veg fresh on the voyage; purchasing jerry jugs to put on deck for extra fuel and water; attempted and failed to fix the tricolor light on the masthead; gathered and copied charts of the South Pacific and the Line Islands leading up to Hawaii; provisioned at Costco, Mega, and Walmart for 30+ days at sea; tightened the loose rigging to a proper level; and many more items I cannot recall off the top of my head. We have been in the marina at La Cruz for mast climbing procedures that have to be done in calm waters, lest me be flung from the pendulum that tops our boat. And have been across the bay to Nuevo Vallarta on a tip that they have potable water from the tap (feeling good so far). A few more important items dot our diminishing list, but they are being continually dealt with. While most of the last two weeks have been all work and no play, Johnny is not a dull boy due to a few gems that have happened. Here's Lydia with our first provisioning run and a shot of Leeway sitting behind the breakwater in Marina de La Cruz:
I did end up going to a small circus (cirque) on the outskirts of La Cruz. It was 25 pesos and the event had a few acts including an aerobatic artist and a tiger tamer. I also wandered the streets of Vallarta in search of a boat part and eventually figured out the bus system. The tiger tamer making the beautiful animal due round turns on a stool:
I and the whole crew have been putting it into gear every day to get out of here and to French Polynesia. We all get along well, feel well, and know that our sail over and subsequent stay will be an event never to be forgotten.
A final shot of a puffer fish that cleaned our bottom taking interest in a discarded avacado:
15:00
Both the time and the date posted above are rough estimates. As everyone knows, time was thrown out the window when we first cast off our lines. Sure, I could go through the process of finding out the date and time, but why put myself through the unnecessary stresses of knowing how much of the day I've been laying in bed for.
So now I sit outside during the usual peak of the afternoon blow. Every afternoon, starting around 1300, a stiff westerly breeze tumbles into the bay at about 25 knots. It would make for great sailing if we felt to up anchor and give it a go. Instead, it immobilizes us on our craft because it greatly disinterests us in rowing against the wind to get into the yacht club. So if we don't manage to get on our tenders and into the breakwater by about that time, this is where we stay for the day. That is all.
April 23, 2010
10:30
So I haven't written in the log for probably the longest period of time yet. For a few reasons that I don't usually consciously perceive. First being we were in port. I've noticed this phenomenon since our first port o' call, Ensenada. The will to write just doesn't flow out of my fingertips when I am buffeted by the simple entertainments of a landlubber life. The second being all the work we've been doing. By the time I get back to my bed I just want to fall right asleep. But, I picked up this dusty log today to do an update on our situation, not make excuses for not logging more often.
I don't know if our current situation has been explained much at all, so I'll go into a little detail on it. After arriving in Bahia de Banderas, we made the decision to jump off from here. This did mean the loss of our Southern Mexico and Central American cruise. But the ease of accessibility to parts and rations coupled with the massive amount of work we have to complete before setting off across an ocean has cemented the choice. Another change of plans fell into our laps about a week ago: the possibility of another crew.
Our first encounter with Lydia was on a warm, sunny day (as most are) in the cockpit of Leeway. I was in the process of giving Dan a dashing new haircut when a sunglasses-equipped female rowed by us. So greeted us in passing, without even noticing the stellar haircut Dan was receiving from my hands. Our next encounter was soon after she had left the crew of another puddle-jumping boat. We were on our way back to the boat after a long hours of walking around Puerto Vallarta when she lured us into a couple of drinks. We drank and were merry into the wee hours of the morning. The next night we sat down to dinner and accepted her as a third crew of Leeway. She has since been wonderful. So what's the new plan?
Oh, we all know this, but I'll reiterate it for those who may have arrived late to the show or those who just weren't paying attention (yeah, you). We are now fitting S/V Leeway for a crossing to the Marquesas Islands of the South Pacific. These are contained within French Polynesia, a country that includes the more well-known attractions that are Bora Bora and Tahiti. The crossing is known in the sailing community as the “Pacific Puddle Jump”. The jump is represented to be a 3,000 mile long, easy-going, bluewater adventure, but one never knows what could happen in the 30 days of exposure that we'll have out in the Pacific. So, keeping that in mind, we've began updating many of Leeway's aged of malfunctioning systems. This means taking a break from sitting on the beach sipping margaritas and once more building lists to be conquered. We've done many a chore in the last few weeks, some of which include: replacing the frayed wire halyards (line that hoists sails) with high performance spectra line that doesn't present meat hooks to my tender hands; installing a tensioned jackline to hook onto when going forward in rough seas; replacing sun-rotted lifelines to prevent men (and women) from going overboard; rebedding leaking stanchions that dripped on our electronics; refitting a chafed jib sheet; sewing shut a broken zipper on the dodger that would let in gallons at a time in heavy weather; refitting the bilge pump with a more reliable float switch; resewing the chafeguard at the tack of the genoa; rejoining and reinforcing a broken piece of stainless tubing on the stern pulpit; sewing up hammocks to keep fruit and veg fresh on the voyage; purchasing jerry jugs to put on deck for extra fuel and water; attempted and failed to fix the tricolor light on the masthead; gathered and copied charts of the South Pacific and the Line Islands leading up to Hawaii; provisioned at Costco, Mega, and Walmart for 30+ days at sea; tightened the loose rigging to a proper level; and many more items I cannot recall off the top of my head. We have been in the marina at La Cruz for mast climbing procedures that have to be done in calm waters, lest me be flung from the pendulum that tops our boat. And have been across the bay to Nuevo Vallarta on a tip that they have potable water from the tap (feeling good so far). A few more important items dot our diminishing list, but they are being continually dealt with. While most of the last two weeks have been all work and no play, Johnny is not a dull boy due to a few gems that have happened. Here's Lydia with our first provisioning run and a shot of Leeway sitting behind the breakwater in Marina de La Cruz:
 |
| From Jivin' the Jump |
 |
| From Jivin' the Jump |
I did end up going to a small circus (cirque) on the outskirts of La Cruz. It was 25 pesos and the event had a few acts including an aerobatic artist and a tiger tamer. I also wandered the streets of Vallarta in search of a boat part and eventually figured out the bus system. The tiger tamer making the beautiful animal due round turns on a stool:
 |
| From Jivin' the Jump |
I and the whole crew have been putting it into gear every day to get out of here and to French Polynesia. We all get along well, feel well, and know that our sail over and subsequent stay will be an event never to be forgotten.
A final shot of a puffer fish that cleaned our bottom taking interest in a discarded avacado:
 |
| From Jivin' the Jump |
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