The first 10 days or so out of Panama were filled with no winds or winds from the south, forcing the boat to fight against short and steep waves. I wanted to reduce sails to ease the pressure off the mast and hull, but if I were to do that, then the boat would loose momentum going up against the wind, and get too close to the Colombian coastline. “The Pacific Ocean”: What a joke. Sure, looking over the isthmus of Panama, Captain Balboa would have seen a tranquil and pacific ocean, reminding him of another nice lake, but this ocean would prove that a name could be very misleading.
I figured, even if the boat lost her mast, since Panama wasn’t that far away, I could always jury-rig and go back. So with the boat fully powered by full sails, I beat up against the wind, down to 1 degree north. Since this boat was no powerboat, and a sailboat, it had to go where the winds were. According to the pilots, if I were to go on a rhumbline (straight line) from Panama to Hawaii, even though I would be picking up a thousand miles in distance, there would be contrary winds and counter-currents along the way. Therefore, by going directly southward, almost to the equator for favorable winds and currents, I would get to Hawaii a lot faster than if I were to have gone on a rhumbline course.
Brian and I had not spoken since his departure from Panama two weeks ago; I came on at our regularly scheduled time everyday just in case, but figured he must be at least 1,500 miles ahead. Then on my fifteenth day out, Brian answered my CQ (hello) signal. “Hell man!! I messed up!!” Brian was quite upset about not being able to make any progress for the last two weeks, “The currents were against me, the winds against me, and one day, I only made five miles.” Brian had made a mistake of turning west too early, at 5 degrees north. With the currents and the winds preventing him from going west, he had been trying to come down south. He was healthy and had plenty of food and water, so there was no immediate danger, but that didn’t mean he could stay out here forever. Luckily for him and me, he was able to get out of the doldrums and sail south to where I was, and we were moving at about the same progress, just 50 miles separating us.
Once we caught the northeasterly tradewinds, life aboard became more settled and relaxed. With 10 to 20 knots of winds pushing the boat at 4-5 knots, everything seemed like a dream, as everything that a sailor hoped for — perfect winds, sunny days, gentle waves with dolphins visiting occasionally to lift the boredom, rainbows with passing squalls, frigate birds feeding off the ocean - came true. The Forerunner 2 passed within 100 miles of the Galapagos Island (of Darwin fame) and as I had done so many times before, lamented the fact that here I was, so close to a place I only read about, and because of lack of time, couldn’t pull in. I would try my best to come back to this area, on my terms and time, but it could be as late as 10 years later, or more. Then, my view of the world would be more compromising and mature, and I would see the Galapagos in different light. More importantly, the Galapagos would have more to say to me now than 10 years later. But then again, one can’t see them all and experience all; we just pick and choose a few and learn to live with it.
It rained heavily a few times, and with it, I would be able to fill my water tank, thanking the heaven for the cleanest water anywhere. I caught a dorado and a tuna, taking up to an hour to fillet them, eating some raw, sliced the rest thinly to be dried under the hot equator sun. I probably smelled as bad as the fish to be dried under the sun, but there wasn’t a thing in the world I would trade to be where I was. Everything was simple, and even though I had been out on the ocean too many days to remember, I couldn’t take enough of it. The sea was my opium and it was while there I felt most free and learnt about what mattered in life. Living even a day on the shore became complicated, with many desires to satisfy and way too many decisions to make. Out there on the ocean, one remembered what stars stood out more than the rest in night skies, and thanked the heavenly stars for the weather that made it possible to spend another day here on Earth.
French Polynesia was to the south, and as I made a promise to visit there some other time, I made a sharp turn to the north, to Hawaii. Across the Equator, past 15 degrees north, my two and a half years of circumnavigation was coming to conclusion. Dreaded hurricanes had not materialized so far into the trip from Mexico, and according to the met office, with the absence of El-Nino phenomenon in 1997, there wouldn’t be further risk of hurricanes in the Northeastern Pacific. Two and a half years ago, I left Hawaii not knowing what laid ahead. Australia, South Africa, St. Helena were all places of fantasy then; two and a half years later, I was bringing back precious memories shared with precious friends from those places. Man, I only wished I was sailing forever.