Vomit Comet

Well, a sort of rough-and-tumble start for the 800-mile passage to Pago Pago. We had a great sail across the lagoon of Penryhn, and exited the narrow pass with a distinct feeling of travelling downhill with the outgoing current. We found boisterous conditions outside. Steep waves and maybe twenty knots of wind after our placid week at anchor off Tetautua. Even after a warning bit of spray down below I foolishly left the hatch over the saloon open to give us some breeze against the heavy tropical heat. We got the breeze, and also a bucketload of water when a wave came on deck. And then poor Eric got spectacularly seasick twice in the first twenty-four hours. One-year-olds can't tell you that they're about to throw up.

In spite of all that it's been a great sail - even with steep waves on the port quarter throwing us continually off course, we made 178 miles, noon-to-noon, on our first day. Midday on our second day out saw us sailing through clouds of boobies foraging upwind of Manihiki, and then by the island itself, close enough to see details in the buildings of the village. Manihiki gets even fewer yacht visits then Penryhn, and we'd love to go there some time, but we resolutely sailed right by this time out, conscious of how far we still have to go in the next month.

The windvane allowed us to gybe accidentally three times in a row this morning, turning me into a very loud and rude captain as I went through the rigmarole of lowering the backwinded main and then hoisting it again once we were back on course each time. "Why all the bad words?" Elias asked when I came below after the second gybe.

And so that's us. Alisa and I are settling into the routine of keeping watch around the clock. The winds are forecast to come down over the next few days, and have begun to do so, so we should get some gentler conditions. Showers planned for all hands tomorrow!