Alcyone Sail Training

Thursday, April 04, 2002

Hello everyone, We are underway having a beautiful sail from the Galapagos to
the Marquesas. We will try to catch things up, transiting the canal, passage to
Galapagos, crossing the line and visiting the Galapagos. The trip is taking on a
new feel. We are back in the Pacific! These are our old stomping grounds, places
we have been to before recently, not in some distance past. One of the running
jokes on the boat is Chris and Bridget asking, " Well, have you been here before?
Where did you anchor? What did you do?" and Sugar and Leslie, mostly Leslie,
saying " Yes, I think so, but it was over twenty years ago; I don't remember, did
we anchor here?" Now we are back to places within memory. Looking forward to
beautiful anchorages (we might not be able to pronounce the names, but we
remember), great snorkeling and much less civilization. Sugar is doing the canal
transit and Panama, Bo the trip to the Galapagos, Leslie and Bridget the
Galapagos and Alyce the passage to the Marquesas.

2/7/02 - Alcyone crosses paths with her eastbound leg at this "Path Between
Two Oceans". We depart Portobello at 0500 hrs and hurry toward the Canal to
start the clearing into the "Panama Canal Zone" which is different than clearing
into Panama itself, kind of it's own little world. We drop anchor on the Flats, an
area designated for yachts and small working craft. It's about 1 mile dinghy ride
to the Panama Yacht Club. We are using the same agent we used eastbound,
Pete Stevens, to help facilitate this process, which can take up to 2 weeks when
done on ones own. Soon after our arrival a pilot boat with a Canal official does a
number of donuts around us and eventually with the use of a lot of throttle and
no finesse comes along side. The official is a very nice fellow who clears us into the
"Canal Zone" and starts up the paper work needed to transit the Canal. This
being our second trip through the Canal we don't have to be measured and this
process is a lot quicker than last time. I ask about Pete Stevens and he says he's a
nice enough fellow and though he's not sure where he gets his strings to pull, he
does get his boats through quickly. After another somewhat harrowing
experience his chauffeur (pilot boat) comes alongside and the process is started.

That afternoon I go ashore to meet up with Pete Stevens who is busy with a
brand new $5 million sports fishing boat on its way to Seattle. He finally leaves
the comfort of this new yacht and we hurry into the shelter of the
air-conditioned bar at the Yacht Club (it's kind of hot here!) and start our part
of the paper work. As he departs he hands me a cell phone so we can keep in
touch. (Wow, a cell phone. I hope someone aboard remembers how to use one).
Our original plan is to transit the morning of the ninth. Though the fact that the
Canal is so "messed up" this slowly gets pushed back till the eleventh.

The Panama Yacht Club. Because of the 50% unemployment in the Colon area
the Yacht Club is a safe zone in amongst the war zonesque town that is Colon.
Here all the Yachtees that are getting their boats ready for transiting the Canal
meet for drinks, food, sharing of local knowledge, and just old fashion gossip. For
us it also provided a large area to throw a baseball, toss a Frisbee, jump rope and
get that kid energy out of us; since the water here isn't fit to play in. It's a nice
old establishment, that after an attack at the town of Colon, one feels safe
making it back to. There are generally a number of taxis that wait for their pray
near the entrance of the Yacht Club prepared to run you where ever you want
to go for about $1. The word around the Yacht Club is don't walk anywhere
take a taxi. The trick is to make sure that there will be a taxi around when its
time to head back to the boat. Otherwise one can rent a taxi for $10 an hour.
Another great thing about the Yacht Club is the fact they had Guinness beer at
$1 a bottle, our first Guinness since Europe.

2/8/02 While possibility of transiting the Canal the next morning still lingered we
get the boat ready for the transit, cockbill the yard, down rig the strongback, get
4 -200 ft lines ready to run, inflate our extra fenders, find tires to surround the
boat with and run around Colon crossing things off the "things we need list".
Leslie does one of her many provisioning runs. Bo Neill and Peter Christensen
are scheduled to arrive that evening. That afternoon there is a funny sound from
down below and I finally figure out it's the phone, a short time latter I find the
right button to push and Pete Stevens tells us it looks like we'll transit on the
tenth, I tell him that's fine and it will give Bo and Peter a day to acclimate.

That evening Chris and Bridget hang out at the Yacht Club writing, playing
chess, and enjoying the supply of Guinness while waiting for Peter and Bo.
Around 2100hrs Peter and Bo arrive and after a round of much needed libations,
their luggage, followed by them, make it out to Alcyone. After the usual cordial
greetings we break into our pirate mode and ask where's the loot? A little while
later Bridget is heard asking "who's the chocolate for?" The arrival of guests is
not that different than the arrival of Santa Clause, the mailman and the UPS
truck all in one. That evening at a latter time than normal our crew for the next
4,000 miles head to their bunks.

2/9/02 - The next morning, after a sour dough pancake breakfast, we make the
plans for the day; laundry, propane, provisioning, followed by more provisioning,
a major sail repair session on the mainsail, a water-run, school and hanging out.
That afternoon Peter Stevens got in touch and told us it would be another day
till we could transit. We kept busy that day and the next, but were ready for the
Canal.

2/11/02 - Our last time through the Canal the pilot joined the boat at 0500hrs,
this time he was scheduled to be aboard at 0930hrs which made for a much more
leisurely morning. The pilot came aboard and asked how long it took us to get
underway and then said we would hang out for a while. We were delayed
because a ship carrying hazardous materials was late and we couldn't lock with
it. Eventually we got underway and after hanging out at the entrance of the locks
with the big boys, we slipped into the Gatun locks behind a 590 ft Panamanian
bulk carrier and her two escort tugs. When the 2 tugs got secured the pilot said
to proceed and go on the hip of the outer tug. The locks are 105' wide and with 2
loosely rafted tugs that leaves about 30' between the "wall" and the tugs, a piece
of cake if it weren't for all the confused water wandering around in there.
Usually Mr. Bedford doesn't here me call for full ahead or astern but during
these lock dockings I had to resort to it a couple of times, nothing threatening,
just intimidating walls of cement and pieces of steel about. So with a little bit of
throttle, lots of spinning of the helm, and good line handling, no worries?!

We got through the 3 locks with just a few tire scuffs and after a last glance at
the Atlantic Ocean, 85' below us, powered out into Gatun Lake. They have
changed the way they deal with yachts, and boats that can make 8 knots get
processed quicker. Our normal speed under power is around 6 knots, but for the
trip through the canal Mr. Bedford has had to work a little harder. The pilot
gave him a break though by saying we could set sail. So up went the course and
raffee, and we motor-sailed along at 8 knots doing laundry and bathing in the
abundant fresh water coming out of our wash-down pump. It's about a 24 mile
ride across the lake and for a while it looked like we would make it through in
one day, but our waiting for the ship at the locks in the beginning slowed us
down enough that we had to drop anchor off Gamboa, on the western end of the
lake, in the middle of a rain forest reserve. We asked the pilot about swimming
and he said its fine, but don't swim around too much because of the Crocodiles.
We took a dinghy ride over to a small jungle resort for a cold drink and observed
swimming iguanas, exotic birds (Bridget got to add 2 more birds to her
collection), turtles, and enough crocodiles to keep those of us brave enough
(stupid enough?) for a plunge to keep it quick. That night Pete Stevens called
and said to look for the pilot to arrive at 0930hrs the next morning.

2/12/02 - We enjoy another leisurely morning of bathing, laundry and hanging
out in a rain forest. For an unplanned stop it worked out great, it slowed down
the pace and let us enjoy the jungle. 0930hrs goes by and I try and contact the
Pedro Miguel Canal Control to see when our Pilot is coming aboard. He finally
arrives at 1100hrs and we get underway at 1200hrs following 3 yachts that are
locking down together. Soon after raising anchor we enter the Culebra Cut, 9
miles of the canal where they had to remove over 100,000,000 cubic yards of
earth, the toughest obstacle in the building of the Canal. For the ride down the
Pedro Miguel Locks we got to go down center tie with 4 lines run out to the lock
walls. The 3 yachts go in first, followed by Alcyone then Morning Light, a 540'
container ship, fills in the gap behind us. Going down is a lot easier than up as
we just have to ease out on the lines and keep ourselves in the center. After a
short motorboat ride across Miraflores Lake we arrived at our last set of locks
and our doorway to the Pacific Ocean. At this set of locks they have a camera set
up for viewing on-line. We put up our banner saying "Hello Cherie and Sara"
and rafted up to a tug for our last 2 locks. At 1700hrs Alcyone was greeted by
the Pacific Ocean after 13 months, 2 weeks and 13,888 miles in the Atlantic.

Leslie is back aboard with another 2 taxi loads of provisions. I stand in awe as
bag after bag emerges from the depths of two Balboa taxis'. She seems content to
see her larder full once again for the long voyage ahead. A last minute run to
shore for a final tank topping up of ice cream, occupies part of the crew, as the
rest of us top up Alcyone's fuel and water tanks. At 1600 with all aboard, we
cast off our lines from Central America and turn towards the Pacific and the
adventures ahead. We motor a few miles to a nice quiet anchorage at Flamenco
Bay for the evening. We can see the lights of Panama City to the east and are
happy to leave the hustle bustle, heat and toe stubbing of land behind. Within
sight is buoy #1 at the Pacific entrance of the canal. We all had a great time
taking refreshing dips in the clear clean water. The moorage area in Balboa
looked a bit sketchy from that standpoint and the current from the canal flew by.
Sugar fired up the "barby" and we had delightful barbequed beefsteak for
supper. At 1000 the next morning Mr. Bedford came on watch and we motored
off south into the Pacific. A quiet and relatively short day and we arrive at Isla
Otoque; home of the internationally renowned Flip Flop Flats, the beach where
all good sandals go to rest. An exquisite beach, so very remote, yet covered with
hundreds-maybe thousands of used flip flops; flip flops of every size color and
style. Amazing....where did they come from? We had a great time playing on the
beach and taking body surfing lessons from Ron, an old California surf dog from
way back. The tide started to come in and the swell increased so it was time to
return to Alcyone. Sugar, Bridgett, Ron and Alyce decided to swim back. When
they arrived back aboard there were quite a few jellyfish welts on their tummies.
Peter, Darby and I were happy to have had our BT ride home. There was a bit
of squirming for the next few days from itchy tummies. We upped anchor in the
morning with a nice favorable breeze, set our downwind sails, and sailed as a
brig. "First night soup" was served for supper, a delectable concoction of noodles,
broth and vegetables. The watches were set and we soon fell into the rhythm of
the passage. As I came on for my first night watch at 0130 Leslie said "hang on
she's doing 10 to 10.5." Wow! What an introduction to a first night watch on
Alcyone. I sat on the helm seat, strapped in and had a rip snortin' time surfing
along under a starry and moonlit sky. The course, raffee, and big jib were all
pulling like a herd of wild horses. Each day brought more sunny skies and
beautiful nights. On the morning of the 18th a loud noise was heard. Those of us
below and awake went on deck just in time to see a 4 engine propeller plane fly
low over us, circle out to the NW and over us again. What looked like a small
Native American design was on the tail and a small American flag. Who were
they? We will never know. Later in the day we entered the Inter-tropical
Convergence Zone, fondly named the ITCZ, our wind died and good old Mr.
Bedford, in his inimitable, understated and reliable British way, came on watch
to propel us on our way. We hove to in the afternoon and had swim call in
11,000 ft of water. Water so clear that the keel was visible as through a pane of
glass. We all had a great time frolicking and cooling off. Chris, the brave young
man that he is, climbed to the end of the yard and leapt expertly into the
ocean..no worries of hitting his head on a rock out there. Every day we see more
and more wildlife. Dolphins come to visit one day to cavort in our bow wave,
Darby and Chris went out on the head rig and touched their backs as they
surfed on the sparkling foam created by Alcyone's stem cleaving the blue Pacific
waters. Often in the evenings Brown Boobies come to perch on the end of the
main boom or the tip of the yard. We try to encourage them to stay on the
leeward side to keep the boat and possibly us, cleaner. They spend the night
resting, preening them selves, and looking at us warily. Sometime around dawn
they fly off to continue their birdlike lives without us. We sight turtles swimming
lazily along. We wonder if they too are on their way to the Galapagos Islands. If
they are it is from a much more primitive need than adventure or sightseeing.
We also see a few large sunfish lazily swimming near the surface. On the 20th the
day dawned clear and beautiful, but as the day wore on clouds built on our
beam, getting darker and more ominous as time wore on. We see two
waterspouts. What power Mother Nature has. Who knows how many thousands
of tons of water were being lifted several thousand feet into the sky. Needless to
say we shortened sail and kept a very wary eye out for any more that might be in
our path. That night the squalls finally descended on us with lightning rather
than water spouts. It rained and rained and rained, my gosh how it rained.
Warm fresh water. We bathed, did laundry and collected under Leslies'
guidance, 50 gallons of fresh water. Back to quiet passage making the next day.
There seems to be something up on the boat though. Secret whispers, furtive
glances and knowing glances amongst certain members of the crew. Chris asked
Sugar, "What's up" Sugar replied acerbically, "you'll find out soon enough
tadpole" MMMMMMMMMM these machinations seem to be aimed at just three
members of the crew, Bridget, Chris and Bo. We wonder why we are being
singled out. We are soon to find out. At 01:36:24 on the 21st we cross the
Equator at 89 12.7W longitude. Peter and Bridget were on watch and Bo got up
for a few minutes to watch this great happening. In the morning, a very strange
creature came on board with an entourage of beautiful Princesses and ferocious
piratical sidekicks. He announced in a loud voice "I am King Neptune, come with
my loyal followers to admit 3 tad poles into the ancient fellowship of
Shellbacks!!!!!!!!!!" We 3 look at each other trying not to show fear, all the while
laughing nervously and clenching our teeth to keep them from chattering. King
Neptune, then pulls a bottle of rum from his royal robes, blesses the sea with it
and takes two gigantic slugs for himself. He is a huge God, with shoulder length
curly golden dred locks that look very similar to very well chaffed main halyard.
The fearsome henchmen capture Chris with a net and Neptune's giant trident.
Prodding him into the great King and his Princesses presence. A bottle of Rum
"courage" is offered and accepted. A set of clippers are produced and a
"Mohawk" hair cut is given. At the same time the Princesses give a pedicure and
manicure with what looks like the scrapings and residue from the bottom of an
old paint bucket. King Neptune and his mean minions apply terrible and
horrifying tattoos all over his body. And to add insult to injury and to reaffirm
his Lordly dominance King Neptune makes him eat and then wear about 10
gallons of "Whale Vomit" A nasty looking, icky smelling, slimy feeling, gooey
sounding and super duper foul and yucky tasting m�lange of slop. Poor Bridget
and Bo, though they tried to hide and escape were each subsequently caught by
the henchmen and put to this horrific test, no rum, or hair nor goo was spared.
At last we three were pronounced Shellbacks with all the rights and
responsibilities thereof. King Neptune stayed for a while and enjoyed yummy
cinnamon buns made by his beautiful Queen Leslie. We were all laughing so hard
that our tears made the whale vomit on our faces run. So if you ever see the
pictures of this momentous day and you see runs in our whale vomit you will
know it is because we were laughing so hard the tears ran down our cheeks. A
few hours later Santa Cruz Island loomed into sight. A foreign shore. An exotic
and storied land. We all prettied the deck and boat so that we would look our
best as we entered Academy Bay and Puerto Ayora. Some of us even combed our
new Mohawks. As we approached the harbor a beautiful 15 lb. Dorado struck
our lure and was promptly hauled in and dispatched. Bridgett did a masterful
job of filleting it. Her father, a surgeon could not have done so well. We entered
the bay surrounded by huge Frigate birds and Brown Pelicans looking for tasty
thrown over the side. Sugar and his translator Chris(with hat pulled wayyyyyy
down) went to shore to check us in with the authorities. I decided to wash some
of the vomit off. I was standing on the rail about to jump in when a 4 ft long
Hammerhead Shark swam by. I dipped water with a bucket and poured it over
myself after that. After a supper of delightfully fresh Dorado and an ear piercing
session presided over by Sugar(King Neptune) that Ally, Bridget and Bo
participated; a few of us went ashore, as sailors will, to sample the local cold and
refreshing beverages. Three of us strutting our newly inducted shellbackness with
pride.

We arrived in Academy Bay, Santa Cruz Island on Friday afternoon and hurried
Sugar and Chris ashore to deal with the officials. Things have become a lot more
civil than our last visit here. Boats can stay up to three weeks, last time we felt
lucky to get one week. The immigrations fee was thirty dollars for the boat, last
time it was thirty dollars per person and the immigration officer was wearing a
lot of gold. The harbor was more organized also, with garbage pick-up and water
taxi service. It is a busy hopping port. The town, Porto Ayora, has grown with
the waterfront street having rows of restaurants and tourist shops, two e-mail
cafes and lots of dive and travel booking places. Most everyone went ashore that
first evening and enjoyed wandering around and getting a feel for the town. We
were planning on staying in Galapagos for a week, leaving after the Saturday
morning market.

Just to get the feel for shopping, Sugar, Peter the girls and I (Leslie) headed out
early, 6:30, the next morning to get to the Saturday market. We wandered
around enjoying the cool of the morning, stopping at a bakery for sweets and
ending up where the market had been 6 years ago. It had moved a few blocks
away off the streets and into a basketball court. I always enjoy open markets. I
know that some of the time I'm being taken advantage of, it is best if the prices
are marked, because otherwise there can be two prices. But my philosophy is that
if it seems too expensive, I don't need to get it and if the price seem reasonable
then it doesn't matter if I am paying a bit more. We didn't need a lot of food,
but enjoyed getting two stalks of bananas for Peter (Peter is our banana
connoisseur), some fresh basil, lettuce, Galapagos peanut butter and fresh
tamales. On our taxi ride out to the boat we met Sandra, who worked booking
trips and tours said she would come by later in the day to talk with us. It was a
goal of mine to do a short cruise to some of the other islands this trip. Last time
we were here Darby was only four months old, and I didn't get to see a great
deal. So we started the wheels in motion, and were back aboard Alcyone when
the rest of the boat was just starting to stir.

Just being at anchor in Academy Bay, one gets the feeling of being somewhere
special. While getting the boat settled after anchoring, we spotted a small
hammerhead shark, turtles, and iguanas, swimming by the boat, blue-footed
boobies and frigates were flying around and sea lions were hauled out on the
backs of boats sunning themselves. Ashore you would see the land iguanas
sunning on the rocks and lizards were scurrying underfoot. The rest of Saturday
was spent exploring the Darwin Research Center to see and learn about the big
tortoises, communicating with home and do banking. Sandra got back in touch
with us and the cruise that Bo, Ron, the girls and I decided to go on was
boarding Sunday night. We weren't letting any dust settle.

Sunday was spent on projects, laundry, packing, and sanding the boat to get
ready for a major varnish to happen on Monday, when there would be fewer
hands to touch the wet varnish. After a busy day, Peter and the Alcyone family
decided to head to a beach for a swim. We remembered a path that led to a
beach from last time and headed out that way. We met a fellow walking down
the path who was from the US, had been in the Galapagos for 20 years as a
guide, was married and had two kids. He told us about this cavern of salt water
that was only about a "10 min" walk away. After this and another adventure
with Greg, we decided he wasn't really good with time and distance. So off we
headed, eventually slipping and sliding in incredible mud (it had rained hard for
about an hour that afternoon) for about a 25 min. scramble to a beautiful, cool,
clear, cavern surround by tall cliffs and filled with salt water. We had a great
swim, got cool, refreshed and clean and then scrambled back getting all hot and
muddy again.

That evening Bo, Ron, Darby, Alyce and I joined the "Lobo de Mar" for our
three-day island adventure. We were on a powerboat with hot water showers
and air-conditioning! Of course to have all these things the generator had to be
continually running, but the world is full of trade offs. We had a great,
exhausting time. The boat ran between islands at night and we would arrive,
sometimes do a shore run before breakfast 6:00 AM, sometimes after and would
be running until lunch. Thank goodness for siesta or I'm not sure we would of
survived the afternoons. Then back on the boat before dinner we would have a
lecture about what we had seen and what we could expect to be doing the next
day. We headed down to the southern islands and on the animal list of who is
who we saw it all.

What was impressive is not the animals we saw, but the numbers of them and
how unconcerned they were about us being there. We have seen lots of sea lions
before, but had not walked around, through and among thousands or spent an
afternoon playing in the water and sharing a beach with them (Ron was relaxing
in the sand 15' feet a way from a pup and he started making noises at it, mom
definitely sent Ron scrambling and was sniffing around trying to figure out who
it was that was messing with her pup.) We had seen nesting boobies before, lots
in the Aves, but never two blue-footed boobies doing the tail up, slow moving,
mating dance. We have seen frigate birds before, but not sitting close by in a tree
with their red pouch inflated and wings flapping trying to attract the attention
of a passing female. And we saw flamingoes, a variety of iguanas, lizards, hawks,
the famous Darwin finches, penguins, tropicbirds and fearless mockingbirds. We
learned about flora as well as fauna and history, much more than we would of on
our own.

There were fifteen guests on board the boat, with a guide and a crew of seven.
We were very good guests, always up and ready for the next adventure. It was
fun for me to have someone else responsible for the boat (I only second-guessed
them once, standing around worrying when anchored close to a lee shore. They
re-anchored.) And I enjoyed not doing the cooking. All the food was good. The
crew was great. We returned to the boat Wednesday afternoon ready for a rest.

Thursday, the girls, Bridget and I did the other required activity: horseback
riding. We planned for an afternoon ride in the highlands. When getting ready to
head ashore, we looked up toward the mountains and realized we might have
made a mistake; they were covered in the afternoon clouds. But we grabbed our
foul-weather gear and headed off. Sandra came with us in the cab to make sure
that everything was set. As we headed up the mountain the rain started falling.
She wanted to know if we wanted to try another day? But we were ready! I
guess people usually go riding to see things, so we were headed to see the big
tortoises in the wild, and since we neglected to bring flashlights we would give the
lava tubes a miss. We all had nice spirited horses (sometimes in third world
countries you feel as if you should be carrying the horse), and we were
accompanied by three frisky yearlings for a good part of the ride. So off we
headed, with rain dripping down our noses, trying to talk with our guide,
enjoying being up in the cool damp highlands. We had an hour ride down to a
sight were buses stop and people walk around to see the "wild" tortoise. So we
dismounted and dutifully schlepped around in the mud looking at the tortoises.
The highlight though was the paths that were lined with wild ripe cherry
tomatoes, yum. The guide wanted to know if we wanted to see more, and we
tried to explain that the important thing was the riding. We had a fast ride back
to the barn, the girls always wanting to go at a canter, where we tried to de-mud
ourselves so we won't completely destroy the taxi. That was enough fun for me
and I gladly sat the next day's adventure out, the hike to the highest point on
Santa Cruz island, and will let Bridget fill you in on it.

The following day six of us, Ron, Sugar, Bo, Alyce, Peter and I (Bridget) headed
ashore to take a look inland. I had arranged with Greg (aforementioned
American, now resident of the Galapagos, who Leslie had met on the way to Las
Grietas) to guide us in the highlands, telling him that we wanted an English
speaking guide who could show us a hike that would give us a feel of the land,
one who would not rush us or be closed to our suggestions. Greg seemed to be
the ideal guide. He had come to the Galapagos 20 years ago to do research on
marine iguanas, spent time after that researching other marine life on the islands
and leading tour groups there (and in other parts of Central and South
America), and finally settled down in the Galapagos with his wife 10 years ago.
His wife is a scientist too. Her parents are THE Grants, ornithologists whose
research on Galapagos finches irrevocably proved evolution in the past 30 years
and about whom the book "The Beak of the Finch" was written. Greg is
scientifically and personally invested in the Galapagos, experienced in leading
small expeditions, speaks our language and understands our background. What
we did not know at the outset was that he is designing a Galapagos adventure
tour for visitors who are more athletic than the usual tourist and that he is not
very good at judging time and distance. The result was that we had a wonderful
adventure bushwhacking up and down the highest peak on Santa Cruz but were
not prepared for such a long and strenuous trial in the sun.

The first unexpected part of the trip was the sunshine. In the Galapagos
highlands there are the rainy season and the wet season. If there's not an
afternoon rainfall there is torrential mist. The previous day's horseback riding
taught us to bring foulies to the highlands even when the skies are blue in the
arid harbor area. But this day was clear. The seven of us took a taxi (all Puerto
Ayora taxis are king cab pick-up trucks- four passengers in the cab and three in
the truck bed) up to the edge of the national park, disembarked, and started up
the mountain. Greg had climbed this way about 15 years ago and knew that this
trail led to the highest peak on the island. On the way up, he pointed out trees
and birds and we looked for petrel nests (identifiable by their strong odors.) We
looked ahead and saw a tall cylindrical lava tuff. It rose about 60 feet above the
level of the path, bringing the top about level with the top of the mountain peak
we approached. It just looked cool: like the turret on a castle, but naturally
formed. So, in spite of the rough going and muddiness of the path up to this
point (which sucked at our sneakers and just about devoured Ron's flip-flops) we
decided we would veer off and climb the steep walls of the lava tuff before going
to the peak. It was worth it. The unexpected clarity gave us a view of the whole
of Santa Cruz and many of the other islands. We saw the beaches, the scrub and
cactus forests in the lowlands, the daisy trees and land cleared for grazing. The
whole island lay before us in the sun.

Carefully backtracking down the steep wall of the tuff, we continued on toward
the mountain peak. Park workers had told us that there was an easy, wide path
coming down from the peak, so we decided that the longer climb up would be
worth an easy, less muddy descent. But the path we chose to follow (a goat path?
No goats here. A tortoise path? Too steep. A goose path? Maybe, it turned into
something of a wild goose chase.) was very steep and soon petered out. We
bushwhacked to the summit, which we could see because of some radio towers on
it. Once there, we saw the summit, on another mountain. Another set of radio
towers taunted us from an adjacent peak. We had to get to them in order to find
the path of luxury promised by the park workers. So, Peter set out ahead to find
a rout that would not cause too many briar scratches and not make us go too far
down the hillside before starting up the next one. Where was the zip-line between
these two peaks? By this time we were getting the idea that rationing water was
a good idea: who knew how long we were going to walk before we met up with
the path down? Who really knew if there was a path down? What we did know
was that Alyce's shoes were too small and that we should have carried more
water. So, we cut the heels out of Alyce's sneakers, allowing the monstrous
blisters there to breath, and trekked on. Standing still was not bringing water to
us.

The view from the summit (the real summit this time) was as impressive as the
view from the lava tuff, though none of us were as ready to appreciate it. Once
we started down though, spirits rose. We saw tree ferns and Sugar and Alyce
flushed a rarely seen rail. We trotted along at a steady pace down a ridge and
into a muddy hollow. No telling if this path was any wider, less muddy, or less
steep than the one we came up but it sure was luxury compared to the ones we'd
made coming across the tops of the peaks.

Happy (well, I speak for myself there) and thirsty adventurers, we ended up at
the taxi five hours after we started. "Let's go eat," said Greg. To which we all
responded, "Let's go drink." He took us to a nice restaurant where we were
served a multi-course meal and lots and lots of cold water. The polite
restaurateurs didn't even look twice at our mud caked legs. Alyce, smart as well
as tough, had brought Tevas in the taxi and got to cool her feet in the bathroom
sink and put on sandals. The rest of us put our weary, swollen feet back in shoes
and piled back into the taxi. We had more to do in the highlands that day.

We went to a farm where wild tortoises were known to be. There we ogled the
huge, ancient creatures. We had an additional treat of seeing a male vermilion
flycatcher, one of the few brightly colored bird in the archipelago, a striking red
and black passerine.

Back in the taxi and on to a lava tube. This lay on a farm also. There was an
intriguing display set up by the owner of the farm: a mix of samples of lava and
shells, maps of airline flights, and zoological facts. It was the type of strange
display that mixes naturalist trivia, local information and popular culture without
a detectable theme, the type you find in homes in rural America with velvet Elvis
posters, plastic religious icon lamps, and catalogued petrified animal scat. We
went through the tiny entry building, finding a tropically overgrown backyard
with a rickety wooden staircase. At the bottom of the stairs the lava tube began.

A lava tube is a place where flowing lava has slowed enough for its crust to cool
and solidify. The crust forms a tube around the still flowing lava. When it is cut
off from its source, the liquid lava is sucked, rushing out the lower end of the
tube. What is left is a hollow tube. There are tiny ones in which birds and
reptiles nest. The one we visited was huge: 40 feet high and a variable width of 20
to 40 feet. Greg went ahead and told ghost stories of early Galapagos settlers. I
hung back and got to watch the oval outline of the group's sphere of light move
off into the blackness. It was so quiet. The water from the previous day's rain
was dripping in through the ceiling and plopping in puddles all over the floor.
With one flashlight, you could watch the light reflect from the puddles into the
walls and ceiling in a beautiful and eerie pattern.

We emerged from our walk through the solid rock in a lush paradise. There,
three farms met and we were surrounded by fruiting trees and rows of
vegetables. Another rickety set of steps led into an adjacent lava tube. But,
satisfied with our afternoon, we hopped back in the taxi and headed for home.
Rain clouds caught us at last and we in the truck bed rejoiced at the cooling
rainfall.

We left for the Iles Marquies on the 2nd of March, our longest passage of this
trip, just over 3000 miles, my (Alyce) longest passage ever. We felt like drowned
rats for the first few days, there was lots of rain. We barely had time to day out
our wet clothes between rainsqualls. Now it has been hot, hot, hot, ever since. A
day after the rain stopped we were motoring along and it was terribly hot, so Pa
decided that we should have a swim call, the water is so cool, and blue, and clear,
and nice, in the middle of the ocean. When climbing out of the water using the
ladder, you get taken 3 feet out of the water then you come down and are in the
water up to your hips. This is because the boat is rocking in the swell. And then
if you play on the bowsprit and climb up the bobstay, you can hang with your
feet out of the water and then you are buried up to your waste.

The day after swim call, the wind started to fill in. We set the main, fore, stay'sl,
jib and fly jib, and began to go fast. The next day we put in our bets as to when
we would get to the Galapagos. We were going so fast, 196 miles was our best
noon to noon run, that we were all very optimistic and all guessed for a very
short passage.

Ten days into the passage we had our halfway party. Darby made a chocolate
bunt cake and I made a stop-and-go dessert bar (cookie crumb crust with a layer
of walnuts, coconut, chocolate chips cover with condensed milk and baked, yum!
Bo gave Darby and me yo-yos. We also combined our time change into the party
and had to come up with two extra hours. So now we are on the same time as
the West Coast. Since the halfway party, the wind has gotten steadily lighter. It
is a week after the halfway party that I am writing this and we are still out here!
Boy, this is a long passage. We've have been 17 days at sea and we still have 642
miles to Fatu Hiva, the first island we will stop at. It was been pleasant, easy
sailing, but not as fast as we hoped.

Pa and I have started making a hammock. It is made of canvas and it is very
hard to sew. I have gotten a lot better at sewing since I started to work on it.
Meanwhile school is going on, I'm standing watches (one hour in the morning
and a three hour one in the evening), I do the radio check-ins when Grandpa is
taking the roll call on the Pacific Seafarers Net, then there is bathing, eating,
exercising, sleeping and playing with Darby; you would be surprised how busy it
is. I have been taping the make believe games that Darby and I play and they are
very interesting to listen to afterwards. I have been thinking of putting a tape
recorder at the back of the helm seat and recording the stories that people tell on
watch. There are lots of good stories told on watch.

When I woke up this morning I went straight up on deck, it is the 24th And we
are only 30 miles from Fatu Hiva. Bo was already on the foredeck when I got
there; I guess I am not the only one that after 22 days at sea is really raring to
get ashore. Well, as I was saying, Bo and I stood on the foredeck, eyes peeled for
a small lump on the horizon. Then I saw it! It was just a small variation in color
from the clouds, but its shape gave it away. Land Ho!

At 9:00 I went on watch and guess what? We caught a fish! We have not caught
a fish this whole passage and we caught one 20 miles from our destination. It will
make for a festive landfall dinner.

Now we are sailing along in the lee of Fate Hiva heading for the Bay of Virgins.
It has been a very easy passage. My new hammock is strung in the shade of the
fore awning. It is a great success; Darby, Bridget and I have been hanging out in
it a lot, playing and doing schoolwork. We will be moving slowly for the next two
months, exploring the French Polynesian Islands, a welcomed break from long
ocean passages.