Overall we had a wonderful crossing. Remember, wherever you see latitude/longitude coordinates, you can paste them into Google Earth for a bridseye view. If you haven't tried this, it's a worthwhile experience.Day one of the crossing and Isla Socorro is already disappearing in our wake. It took us 2 days to get from Los Cabos to Isla Socorro and we had a pretty rough run.
It was windy, the seas were confused and short and we didn't have our sea legs yet. Every man jack aboard was seasick and we were relieved to get a break at Socorro. We didn't have permission to visit the Revillagigedo Islands, ~300 miles off the coast of Cabo San Lucas, to the commandant of the military base there gave us special dispensation for 24 hours while we rested and worked on a watermaker problem. We couldn't dive or fish, but still the rolly anchorage was a welcome haven from which to postpone the final leap.
Day 3. We're starting to get into a routine. The weather's been really nice. Much more gentle than the first 2 days from Baja to Socorro. We've even had to motor at night. We're not making great time, but it's much more comfortable, nobody is seasick and the kids can play outside.The kids spend most of the day outside when the weather's like this.
They wear their harnesses and have to be strapped in if they leave the salon into the cockpit. They're not allowed out of the cockpit onto the deck unless an adult's with them.Day 6. We've started to get our first squalls. There's a lot of rain, but so far no real wind in them. We can see them coming on the radar and usually steer around them. Sometimes though they materialize right in front of us, dump a bunch of rain and ten dematerialize in the space of 10 minutes. The sea is weir
d here. There are 3 swells running, each from a different direction. They form pyramids that throw Océalys off balance and knock her about. They're not big or dangerous, just unpleasant. Down below the cacophony is deafening. That's one of the disadvantages of a catamaran-the noise. Waves hit both hulls at weird intervals and the bigger ones smash against the bottom of the boat with a huge BOOM! It sounds like she's coming apart, but I've looked around for hairline cracks in the gelcoat and I put my hand where the cabinetry is grinding against itself noisily and decide that the motion's not that significant. Just really loud. I think back to a conversation I was
having with my dad just before leaving about the properties of different materials. An advantage of the composite plastics (like the fiberglass, Kevlar and carbon that Océalys is made of) is that they don't really care about cyclic loads, much unlike metals. That's a good thing, because I've been watching that padeye that holds the windward mainsheet 
and it pulls the whole stern quarter of the boat up a good inch every time the mainsail slats on a roll. I haven't found a solution for that yet... Just hold together another 2000 miles, baby. We dropped the spinnaker in the water when we doused it after dinner tonight. The sock got stuck at the top, so we had to do a normal douse. We
couldn't get it to luff and it shrimped in the water. Sophie let the whole guy fly (we'll have to re-reeve it through the deck) and Austin and I heaved the thing aboard. No large tears apparent. We have to start dousing it earlier so that if we have a problem we're not so tired and there's still light left.
Day 7. We're still getting some crappy weather, but the rain is usually intermittent. Even in this gloom, Austin keeps his spirits up. In fact, he's excited about seeing all these varying and intense conditions in the middle of the world's biggest ocean. It's been great to have Austin on board. He's turned out to be a better crewman than I could have designed from scratch. He's always eager to work on the boat, he knows what needs to be done without being told and he's great with
the kids. He even goes about his duties aboard Océalys in a gingerly fashion which would warm any captain's heart: since damage to the ship is dangerous at sea and costly in port.Day 8. The weather's cleared for now and it's getting warm on board. Broke the "Olympic" pool out for the kids and they had a blast. They've adapted to life at sea wonderfully and watching them you'd think they'd been at sea all their lives. They haven't even started the "are we there yet" routine.
Occasionally one will ask "How many more days?" or "How far are the Marquesas?" and simply say "Oh, OK." when they get the answer and then they continue about their business. Sophie is absolutely amazing with the kids. She's got great patience and devotes 80% of her daytime energy to their demands without complaining. This would be difficult for me back home, let alone while crossing the Pacific on a tiny sailboat that never stops moving. She's also cooking most of the meals and stands a full night watch (4 hours) on her own.
4.28.2008An entry from the Ship's Log:
01:13 Zulu.
Position: 1º19.21N, 123º29.85W
Miles to go: 1,169
Miles made good last 24: 115
COG: 228ºM
SOG: 8kts
Barometer: 1012millibars. Steady.
Wind SE 15kts, PCloudy, ATemp 80º, WTemp 80º
Port Engine running 1600 RPM. Sounded 55 Gallons Port tank at 1310 Engine Hours.
Sailed close hauled almost all day with all upwind canvas flying including both solent and gennaker. Just turned Port motor back on because we slowed to 4kts. At 1700rpm we're hitting 7's and some 8's. Wind is up to 16kts apparent, but without the motor we slat from the short, confused seas. Told Sophie to wake me if wind holds steady at 18kts and we'll douse the gennaker. Maybe shut off engine if we can point high enough and keep up speed. I need to stay above 230ºM, which is the beeline for the Marquesas. I'm worried about not making enough Southing at this point. Looks like some squalls in the distance, but they're downwind of us. Unless the wind backs, we won't make the Equator tomorrow.
Day 10: EQUATOR4.29.2008. Today we crossed the Equator at noon. It was sunny all day with a light breeze. Austin got us revved up to celebrate the crossing with a party to honor Neptune. Sophie made costumes and the crew dressed up as mermaids and mermen and the Captain dressed up as Neptune, as is the custom. It was the first equatorial crossing for everyone but me, but I spared them the ritual keel-hauling. Instead, everyone went for a swim behind the boat.
The water was a wonderful 80º. We tossed champagne and rum to stay on Neptune's good side and had a festive dinner that included brownies (I can't believe Sophie found the energy to bake too).The next 6 days are pretty uneventful. We celebrated Austin's 25th birthday on the May 2nd and Sophie baked another cake. We had some bumpy and uncomfortable weather for a couple of days. I'm getting more seasick than I've been for the whole trip, even though the weather's not particularly rough.
We've got a couple of small tears in the spinnaker and a couple of delaminations in the gennaker, both of which we can fix in Tahiti. The main on the other hand is showing some pockets of delamination that are a bad sign and this weighs on me during my watches. It's not dangerous, in fact only slightly affects performance, but it means we'll have to replace the main within a year, which is a very major expense. One of the refrigerators is acting wierd, and the watermaker is still not making very good water. The mood on board is a little heavy, the crew is getting tired and they're ready to be in the Marquesas.
Early morning on May 5th, after 16 days at sea, we spot land. Nuku Hiva rises black and precipitous out of the ocean. No barrier reef, the oceanic swells beat directly against her volcanic sides. The breeze is carrying her rich earthy smell to us while we're still well offshore and spirits on board soar. 
By 10:00 we're anchored in the bay in front of the main town, and our South Pacific adventure begins...
