We had very steady eight to twelve knot winds today that slowly lifted us from a beam to a broad reach. Seas were mild and we spent all day comfortably sailing at full speed under full sail directly toward Hilo. The wind lightened during the night watches, so progress slowed, but we are on track for a Friday night arrival.
As I mentioned in yesterday's post, we have lots of time on Moku pe'a to think, and I've been thinking about why the sat phone data connection crapped out without warning, and why it miraculously started working again this afternoon. Lori tried to help us solve the problem and spoke to pal Rick Villalobos who has the same model sat phone. Rick told her about a feature where one could send an autoscripted text message with the phone generated GPS position embedded in it. Lori asked me to give it a try. I was unaware of this feature, and through playing with it learned that I could also send text message sized emails even though the phone's data function wasn't working. Hence the abbreviated blog posts for a few days. But I couldn't get the phone to even display our GPS position, let alone send a text with the embedded GPS position as Lori requested. Instead I got the message "Display of Lat/Lon is prohibited in your current location". Strange. The phone manual says that the phone still gets the GPS position, but the ability to display the position on the phone is prohibited in certain areas. And now that I can all of a sudden send and receive data again, I can also display our GPS position on the phone. Coincidence? I don't think so. I think INMARSAT screwed up and restricted phone use to voice only (no GPS, no data) in the area we just passed through.
Tony says it's not a screw up. There's something special about the large empty area of the Pacific Ocean we just sailed through, like maybe it's "Area 52", and the government has restricted activities there. It's a big secret though, and that's why we've never heard about it. What do you think?
The conventional methods of catching fish weren't working on the Mighty Moku pe'a so we pulled out all the stops. Today was Portagee lure day. I put away the conservative conventional lures and got out the gaudiest, most shockingly colored lures I could find. One was a jet with fluorescent green and orange skirts and the other a green lure with red and yellow feathers. Alas, they didn't work either.
Sadly, Tony's aku were gone when the sun came up this morning. I guess they got tired. Here's what he has to say about it:
TONY'S TUNA TREATISE
Over 1,800 miles, we saw the same phenomenon: little aku or some kind of tuna, ranging from the size of your hand to the size of a large tennis shoe (these are small juveniles of this species), jumping out of the water, feeding on inch-long baby flying fish and/or other baby fish. This happened a lot near the boat but we could also see them a long way away from the boat when the water was calm. We could also sometimes see them swimming alongside the boat, easily keeping pace and even darting ahead quickly to chase the prey.
This happened across hemispheres, across the West Equatorial Current and the north and south Equatorial Counter Currents, in all kinds of weather and sea state. The size of the hunters and their prey and their behavior was very consistent the entire way. Over such a large area, this is quite remarkable.
Noodle says I claimed these fish swam with the boat all the way from Bora Bora. Okay, so there was that sleep-deprived morning when I was certain I saw one wearing a Bora Bora Yacht Club T-shirt. I think that one was Genevieve and she looked quite good in it.
But here's the thing: If you see an aku jump once every minute, and you assume you see that fish only once before it falls astern and is replaced by another that jumps the next minute, etc., and you extrapolate that over the big part of the ocean that we sailed, the total number of these fish is Huge. If, on the other hand, you see them keeping pace with the boat, and then some, and you are seeing the same fish jump five times over five minutes before it falls astern and is replaced by a new one that you see jump five times, etc., and you extrapolate that over the big part of the ocean that we sailed, then the total number of fish is 20% of Huge. This is still mind-boggling.
Such are the profound musings in Moku pe'a's bouncy cockpit in the middle of the night.
Today, 350 miles from Hilo, was the first day there were no aku. Although Noodle is excellent company, it's lonelier without Genevieve and the others. I wish them well.
Tony
Tony, your posts make me smile, too :)
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