Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
“Yeth, now and again!” I mimed, giving him the weasel look, my silly face cocked to one
side.
He spluttered out in laughter, which sudden turned to a surprised yelp. “Hey, I think I
hooked one too!” He hauled in quickly and sure enough, another lovely, big fish was
dragged over the side gulping in surprise.
Within the short space of ten minutes we had four large dorado fish, averaging about three
feet in length, lined up on the deck. We were whooping in delight. We knew a good meal
was imminent and gutted the fish with fresh zeal. Chunks of still wriggling, fresh fish were
soon simmering away in the “wonder oven,” the welcome fishy aroma pervading every
nook and cranny of the cabin. We could hardly wait for it to be cooked; indeed, Gavin had
set out places in the cockpit with tablecloth, serviettes, knives and forks, and even some
bottled lemon juice. Out came the pieces of smoldering fish, and they were plopped onto
the plates. We attacked the meal in silence and ate until we were full; it was easily the tasti-
est fish I have ever had the pleasure of eating. Oh, sailing highs and lows!
The two remaining dorado were filleted and salted with big salt crystals and placed in the
sun to dry. They would make good jerky. (Ironically, the last of this jerky would be eaten
as we sailed into Radio Bay on the big island of Hawaii.)
The wind continued to evade us. During the long, hot days that ensued, we sat in the cockpit
under a jury rigged awning. We motored for three consecutive days on end to escape this
very high pressure zone. I was conscious of the fact that we had to conserve fuel as well
as water and food; we still had over six hundred miles to go. This may not sound a lot, but
when one is making about seventy miles in three days, as my log reads, it can be cause for
alarm.
We were depressed; our spirits were at an all time low. I felt that the Gods were angry with
us. They started to tease us. They would send us little cats paws of wind that ruffled the
sea surface only to disappear into thin air again. I shall never forget this strange feeling of
looking out into a vast expanse of lake-calm, mill-pond water. From horizon to horizon, it
was a big blue mirror dotted with floating ocean birds of several varieties. Gannets, cor-
morants, terns, and I thought albatross, although I cannot be sure any more. This mirror
had movement. Soft hills of water would lift and drop us almost imperceptibly, and the sky,
with its scattered clouds, was reflected from it. The silence was uncanny. Never before had
we heard such silence. The squeak of a main block screamed loudly throughout this silent
seascape. I fully appreciated the saying, “painted ship on a painted sea.” It was lovely in
the morning and in the evening, even though our situation was precarious. Getting through
the long, boring, and stifling hot days was a huge challenge.
