I become a sea flower again today. I’m bouncing like some toad-loving-something towards Fiji. I feel the blush and the rush.
The sun is up and the rainbows are rocking. I have 8-10 knots apparent off my beam, swell from the north, and I’m averaging 4.3 SOG (speed over ground).
It’s supposedly bad luck to set sail on a Friday, but I needed to rest and today was the last day I could leave due to my Visa and the COVID rules surrounding Fiji. So I decided my luck is only bad if I decide it is, and I’ve decided that it isn’t.
I’m passing Maupiti right now. I want to stop there, heard it’s magic, but the Fijian military is tracking my movements and if I stop, I have to quarantine for 14 days upon arrival. I’m out here waving goodbye to it’s faraway mountains in my cheetah print swimsuit.
I cried several times yesterday, and the day before, and the day before that. What if I don’t make it? What if my mast breaks? I couldn’t get my grinder battery to charge, so if it breaks I’ve only got my massive cable cutters, which require the strength of a whale to use. What if I fall asleep for too long and the wind shifts and I hit an atoll? That happened to a woman once. What if flights never resume in Fiji and I have no way of returning to see my family? I mean, I’m gonna sail across the zig zag of the international date line, which means I’ll be in the future and once you’re in the future it’s very difficult to actually go back to the past.
It’s a lot to think about.
I’m not alone out here, thank heavens! There are three other sailboats on the water, not too far in front or too far behind; Beaver, 22 South, and Wilderness. We’re all friends of the wind, and we’re all headed the same way, except 22, he’s sailing to Australia.
Beaver and I mingle on channel 69. The boat is a Benetau, owned by a young couple, and it’s only 2 nautical miles behind me. We’re averaging the same speed. I want Beaver to stay right there behind me, always, in case something happens to me and Juniper.
Our conversations go like this:
ME: Juniper to Beaver.
BEAVER (with an Aussie accent): Beaver here, hows it shaking up there?
ME: It’s shaking. Listen, are you motoring back there? You’re going so much faster now. BEAVER: No
ME: Well don’t go too far ahead, it’s going to be very hard to rescue me if you have to go upwind into the trades. BEAVER: laughter
There’s a low pressure system southwest of us, so we’re all headed a touch north of west. Our plan is to get south of American Samoa, then decide if we’re dropping direct towards Fiji.
I have a lot more things to tell you. About the boat, about the Mythic Octopus, about Bora, about butterflyfish kisses. I will have to tell you tomorrow, because the wind has died and the sky is orange cream pop on it’s way to black and I need to put my mining gear on now.