94. Time to Go

It’s time to continue west. To Vanuatu. I’ve been ready to go for several days but the weather forecasts have been horrible, predicting very little wind or worse, wind right in the nose and against the current. Wind against current has the potential to cause a confused sea state and a really nasty ride. Not exactly what I’m looking for in a three day passage. So I’ve been waiting patiently here in a marina that’s getting hotter every day. But hey, that’s sailing. I have sailing friends waiting for me in Vanuatu, ready to climb a volcano with me, but the most dangerous thing for a sailor is a schedule so I go when I can, not necessarily when I want to.

Tomorrow promises better conditions though. Southerly winds that will eventually turn in to easterlies. Vanuatu lies just shy of 500 Nm west of me and the crossing should take three days. I generally plan on doing at least 150 Nm in a day but I’m often a lot quicker than that. Most importantly though, I want to arrive in daylight and ideally not during a weekend as checking into a new country tends to get more complicated and expensive then. So in this case I may have to slow down a little. I generally sail with a conservative sail plan as Saoirse has a tendency to get over-powered which could result in sail or rigging damage. Something that could be very hard to fix in a remote country like Vanuatu. I also find that setting the full mainsail downwind tends to cause a lot of chafe against my swept spreaders so I plan to have two reefs in the main and all of my brand new headsail. Sailing in remote parts of the world is all about limiting damage and carrying spare parts. I now have four headsails but only one mainsail.

I’m writing this piece in a boat that is way too hot for comfort, in front of an industrial sized fan after three showers and I really can’t wait to get going. To get out there, with the elements, feel the breeze in my (recently styled) hair and be on my own for a few days. To recharge, watch a few films, hopefully catch a fish and just talk to myself. Which I do by the way. I find a two to three day passage in open waters to be perfect for me as I never really get any sleep in the beginning or at the end of a crossing. When I’m close to land or just not tired enough to sleep with all that is going on. It means that I’ll arrive rested and ready to explore my new environment. That said, it is funny to think that by now I consider a three day crossing to be a short hop even though it’s longer than I’d ever sailed a few years ago and probably longer than most people get to spend on their own. Unless they are in solitary confinement in a prison somewhere. Some people may actually prefer that option but I can’t wait to get going.