By all measurements the first 400 miles were done, a distant memory. I'd been warned that the first 400 miles were cold but then we'd get to the good part, warm weather sailing. In fact, I'd been sure to brief everyone that the reason I was doing this race was that it got warmer every day rather than colder. We'd covered over 400 miles, our daily runs had been 145, 181, 181 and 188 nautical miles, by mid-day we had only 1468 nm to go so we'd covered 600 miles made good. Then why in the name of Helios was I still wearing thermals?
One thing I couldn't complain about (and really what's the point of a blog if you're not complaining?) was the food. You've all heard about the fish tacos but for breakfast on day 5 I had cinnamon buns, hot sticky cinnamon buns...who gets cinnamon buns in the middle of an ocean? Oceanaire's crew that's who! And, fresh from Ronald Reagan's theory on trickle down meal planning, since we had the fish tacos for dinner on day 4, we had day 4's original dinner for day 5's lunch, Pesto Ravioli.
Since the sun hadn't yet come out we were still definitely in "gray monotony" but it was still oddly beautiful. It might not be possible to describe how beautiful yet boring it is out there. The waves and swells have never-ending combinations: up down crash break with white caps appearing out of nowhere as one wave decides to combine with another unseen wave to suddenly be 5 feet higher than anything else in sight. It would take the superest of all super computers to even attempt to make a mathematical model of even a small area of how the ocean waves form. While all this is going on, Oceanare just cuts a beautiful 8 knot wake right through it. When the boat really plows into a wave it creates a loud brilliant blue froth of little bubbles. Of course, the wake disappears 20 feet behind the boat, leaving no trace that we were ever there.
We'd been on starboard tack the entire time (save for a few tacks to get out of the bay) and were laying just a tiny bit south of the Great Circle line to Kaneohe. These few days were our fastest of the entire trip as we had great wind and were actually on a "reachy" point of sail. The wind forecast made it look like we might be on a reach the entire way; imagine sailing to Hawaii with white sails alone. Luckily (and I know this now) those forecasts were wrong.
I spent more time staring at the horizon, puzzled why I never saw another boat. I knew they were out there and just by coincidence we should see some other boats. On the Atlantic, we saw sailboats all the time, at least once every day or two, more when we were this close to land. I commented to Phil how boring it was, looking for sails and never seeing them, but that it sure beat being below watching movies. Mr. Phil-osophy summed it up perfectly, "you can see *that* in your living room, but up here is the only place you can see *that*". How true, water, water and more water; possibly the only view that is equally as calming as it is exciting.
Next up: Day 0: Operation Bootleg and Day 6: The Most Perfectest Day Ever.