Still Cruising

Miles are drifting astern faster than they have in months aboard "Avventura" and the morale onboard is up as a result. The wind has settled in to the 20 knot range from the SE and we're making a solid six knots as we continue to climb up the west edge of the Pacific High. Skies are clear, seas are sloppy but small and destroyed by raging whitecaps, and the water is devoid of all life, perhaps scared south by the newfound chill (under 70 degrees today).
Once the sails were set yesterday the wind was determined to stick around and we've been sailing just aft of a beam reach at an ever-increasing clip since. In the early afternoon we saw our first pod of dolphins since clearing Diamondhead, but like their Hawaiian brethren they showed no interest in us and never even approached the boat. Unfortunately, aside from the fish we've caught the Pacific has proven quite devoid of life. Sighting a bird or a lone small jellyfish is cause for celebration and even the phosphorescence at night is less spectacular than during past voyages. The afternoon was spent with gentle seas and calm conditions, the winds never topping 10 knots, but as the sun set a cloudbank could be seen on the southeast horizon. Though nobody thought much of it at the time (perhaps distracted by a late jig strike, though the fish again got off), this would make for a windy, interesting night. Before descending into the cabin to get a few hours sleep prior to my night watch I explained to my dad and Kevin that if the wind suddenly came up in the night they should disengage the autopilot, bear off, and call me. Little did I know how soon this advice would come in handy.
Less than thirty minutes after I slipped into the quarterberth for some rest I felt the motions of Avventura change and leapt into the cockpit. The wind had jumped up to fifteen knots and it was time to reef the still-full mainsail (when in doubt reef it out). With the main double-reefed, I returned belowdecks thinking my work was done. Not fifteen minutes later I was back in the cockpit rolling the jib in 1/4 of the way as a squall hit and a light rain began to fall. Within minutes the squall was upon us with its full force of 25-30 knot winds, and a deluge of rain. I took the helm and guided us through the nasty squall with its fickle, shifty winds and sheets of heavy rain drenching me through my three light layers of clothes. The squall persisted for about an hour till just after 2000 when the wind settled into the 17 knot range and the skies slowly began to clear. Knowing an hour of sleep would do me no good I relieved Kevin of his watch and stayed in the cockpit clear through to the end of my watch at 0200 (ah, the joys of being the captain). Thankfully as the conditions settled in I was able to relax and read a bit before ending my watch fending off sleep and listening to my Ipod.
Dawn revealed twenty knot winds and a mixed up, short period swell, and I was quick to put a third reef in the main to relieve some pressure on the helm. We're continuing to scoot along at a nice pace while aiming for the top of the high (40N by 140W), and are coming off our best day of the trip yet with a good chance of being able to say the same again tomorrow. Finally we're in the sailing weather I anticipated for this stage of the leg, and the fuel is staying where it belongs, in its tank. Now we just need to hope the forecasts remain accurate and we keep our wind for a long while.

June 26-1220
36.53N by 148.32W

----------
radio email processed by SailMail
for information see:

http://www.sailmail.com