After weeks of watching the latitude dropping towards 0-degrees, it was strange to see the numbers going back up again, but in the southern direction. We were officially across the equator and heading into the southern hemisphere, one degree at a time. Despite being right on the equator, the temperatures constantly surprised me. I expected the air to feel hot and humid but it was surprisingly comfortable in the shade and at night it was even a little chilly. Cool enough to cover up with a blanket for the night watches.
The normal conditions in the doldrums are my favorite sea state: dead calm. In my mind, wind just brings the swell which makes everything less comfortable. I clearly make a terrible sailor and I’m perfectly content just using the engine to move along, but after days of opposing current and light winds, I began to worry about our fuel consumption with over 800 miles still to go. Motoring doesn’t feel as good when you know you don’t have enough fuel to make it to the next port and no place along the way to get more. We already used up a decent amount of our diesel just keeping the batteries topped off, especially with the overcast conditions in the doldrums sabotaging our solar panels’ output.
Luckily, by Day 20 the current seemed to shift in our favor and began pushing us in the right direction instead of slowing us down. This was extra fortunate because shortly after my morning watch the engine began to sound a bit funny, so Eitan turned it off. We opened up the access port to the fuel tank and confirmed we were out of diesel in the main tank, and my heart sank. We only had 15 gallons (or about 30 hours run time) of fuel in the jerrycans strapped to the deck. This fuel needs to be conserved to only run the engine long enough to charge up the house battery bank, which is used to power all the systems onboard including the navigation instruments and autopilot. We also needed to save fuel to maneuver the boat into the anchorage once we arrived, preferring not to sail into a crowded anchorage. So, I helped Eitan add one jerrycan to the tank, after which he bled the air out of the system to get the engine running smoothly once again, and then turned it off. Then we sat and waited for the wind, and waited, and waited!
The wind was forecast to pick up that night, so in the mean time we just sat bobbing on the swell that rolled through. We were drifting on the current in the right direction at about 1 knot, so at least we seemed to be making some headway towards our destination, just very, very slowly. A pod of dolphins came by to check us out and seemed quite confused why we were just sitting there. Martin jumped in to see if they would stick around and interact with him, but they didn’t seem very friendly and swam off. I also dove in and did a little bottom cleaning to pass the time.
The wind still hadn’t picked up by my afternoon watch so I sat in the cockpit and read, trying to keep my worrying thoughts at bay. It was such a strange and new feeling for me to wish for the wind to pick up. Normally, I am wishing for it to calm down for a more comfortable trip. I thought of mariners in the times before ships had engines and weather forecasting models, when sailors would sit here for days, weeks, or even months. I knew we weren’t at any risk and had provisioned for a 6-week trip with plenty of food onboard to still work through. I found myself missing the whizzing sound of the propellor while under sail or the hum of the motor when under power. I’m not sure which is worse, the discomfort we had experienced under sail this far or simply bobbing on the sea with no end in sight. I was surprised to find myself more stressed out about the potential of getting stuck in the doldrums than my discomfort with the wind and swells. I told myself I could no longer fret about windier conditions because if there was ever a time that we needed them, it was now.
Finally, the wind picked up to 8 knots around midnight, enough for us to slowly sail downwind. Once I came on watch at 3AM, I mildly panicked seeing the instruments were indicating a 3.5 knot current running with us, knowing we didn’t have fuel to motor around making course corrections. I woke Eitan up, reporting my concerns and he went down to the bathroom, bringing up some toilet paper then throwing it overboard. The toilet paper quickly disappeared behind us, indicating the instrument that measures our speed through the water was probably stuck and not reading correctly. Hence, the current velocity was miscalculating as a result. I was a bit embarrassed that I didn’t perform the simple diagnostic before waking him up but was thankful the current wasn’t an issue.
With the persistent swell and the wind varying between 8-knots and the low teens, it was enough to keep us moving but not enough to keep the sails full as we rode over the swells and the sails continued to flog back and forth. Every time we heard the rig slam, I swore I could see a little piece of Eitan’s soul leave his body. SV Sierra Wind is his baby and he has poured his heart and wallet into her for the past four years. So seeing the relentless pounding impacts that the rigging and sails were taking was like watching a loved one get punched in the face, over and over again. We prayed for the wind to pick up, and the sooner the better. I guess our prayers were answered, since we soon got what we asked for, and much more!
