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June 30, 1999
Hawaii to Tarawa Voyage, Update #58
Day 58. Wednesday 30 June 1999 0308 GMT
Wind ESE - 3 knots. Heading 180M.
Latitude: 02deg 21.858N
Longitude: 179deg 07.022W
By this morning, a grand total of 8 miles was gained south for the last 24hrs. This included the 3 we were pushed back north during the night. Seeing as we seemed to be on a bit of a winning streak (up 1 mile from yesterday's total), this morning I set a rather ambitious goal of 15 miles for the next 24hrs which should give us about 12 miles after tonight's drift. 12 miles seems like a very long way to me right now. Nowhere is the concept of relativity demonstrated more clearly to me than out on the ocean.
Thanks for all your messages on the 1800#. I listened to some of them this morning and it made such a difference hearing real-life voices as opposed to reading dry text messages. If anyone ever has a problem taking people (or anything for that matter) for granted, my advice is to come and sit out here for a while. Nowhere do family, friends and life in general become more essential and vital than out on the ocean. It seems one of the unfortunate flaws in human nature that we only really appreciate something when we are separated from it.
One respite from the last 24hrs grind was watching a full moon heave itself up over the eastern horizon yesterday evening and slowly arc across the night sky. I thought of all the other seafarers that, over the ages, had been stuck in the same or worse predicament as I am in now - trapped in the counter-current. And how they would have drawn comfort and strength from the same full moon rising. For I can be sure that whatever the ocean throws at the Good Ship M and I, others before have dealt with far worse and pulled through OK.
Jason Lewis,
The Moksha motor
Posted at 2:25 AM
June 29, 1999
Hawaii to Tarawa Voyage, Update #57
Day 57. Tuesday 29 June 1999 0246 GMT
Wind SE - 3 knots. Heading 210M.
Latitude: 02deg 35.093N
Longitude: 179deg 10.906W
Of the 10 miles south that I thrashed out yesterday, the current deducted three last night. That left me with 7 miles good from a 24hr day. 7 miles. It's a joke. At this rate - with 500 miles still to go - I'll be celebrating the new millenium out here.
Luckily I - or rather a part of me - sees it as a joke also, and as further testimony to my growing insanity (characterized by mad outbursts at the fishes, manic giggling fits at the ridiculous GPS read outs etc.) It is a fragile balance though, born more from hitting the bottom of the barrel morale-wise than any conscious spirit rallying of my own free will. But that's the interesting thing about hitting the bottom of the barrel - I always find a little bit of extra something with which to keep on going. There has to be, otherwise mankind wouldn't have made it this far in evolution.
However, something has to shift or give way for me to get out of this counter-current. I feel like I'm trying to claw my way out of a giant hole in the ground with slick, muddy walls. Every yard I purchase toward freedom, I slip back down again into the mire. Like snakes and ladders. Except this is not a game anymore. And I'm actually rather tired of it.
To put the icing on the cake I ran out of reading material today. So, no music and no books. This is a scary thing. Not so much because of boredom, but more for the fact that I am now fully at the mercy of my own mind.
Jason Lewis,
The Moksha motor
Posted at 2:22 AM
June 28, 1999
Hawaii to Tarawa Voyage, Update #56
Day 56. Monday 28 June 1999 0308 GMT
Wind ESE-SE - 4 knots. Heading 120M.
Latitude: 02deg 42.312N
Longitude: 179deg 05.028W
As suspected might happen, we were taxed nearly 3 miles east last night and just less than 1 mile north by the current. Today the wind has also fallen in on the conspiracy - veering to the ESE-SE - increasing miles lost to the north. Hence our progress south in search of a favorable current heading west continues at an agonizingly slow pace. I switch on the GPS only when I really have to, as the results are usually too depressing. Sometimes it's better not to know what's really happening! Just keep grinding away Lewis. What you don't know can't hurt you.
I do confess that at times when overtaken by a slump in morale I ring the expedition 1 800# back in the US to hear familiar voices. This morning I was cheered considerably to hear the voice of Travis 'the kid' Perkins from Monterey, California - who hiked across Hawaii with us in March - leaving a message. His voice prompted me to smile at fond memories of long, sweltering daylight hours spent stumbling across broken lava fields at 6,000ft laden down with stupidly heavy rucksacks, and of freezing cold evenings lying in sleeping bags facing a roaring fire, giggling uncontrollably at the non-stop stream of verbal nonsense pouring out of Sgt. Scott 'Pineapple' Morrison's mouth. Good times. Good people. When Travis added, "he missed us", he can be sure he's speaking for the both of us.
Shirley Nice is leaving some excellent voice summaries of these web updates on 800 943 0114 (free US+Canada). Also, if you'd like to leave the odd morale booster for me to call up and tap into during these last few weeks, feel free to call and leave a message after the tone. Thanks for all your messages so far. I cannot tell you how at times they help to revitalize flagging leg muscles and a sense of hope.
Jason Lewis,
The Moksha motor
Posted at 2:20 AM
June 27, 1999
Hawaii to Tarawa Voyage, Update #55
Day 55. Sunday 27 June 1999 0330 GMT
Wind E 4knots. Heading 180M.
Latitude: 02deg 56.168N
Longitude: 179deg 03.188W
In yesterday's update I called the voyage's concluding chapter too soon. My 'light heart' dampened somewhat this morning when I switched on the GPS at dawn to find we'd not only been pushed 4 miles north overnight, but to my amazement (a good 10 knot easterly wind has been blowing steadily for 24hrs now), 2.5 miles east also. If my thinking is correct, this means we are still under the influence of the southern fringe of the ITCZ where - as I wrote almost 2 weeks ago - we can most likely expect to be "boxed in" by water moving north to join the counter-current and the remains of the counter-current itself moving east. It is my worst case scenario current-wise come real.
There is nothing for it but to forget any heading west and plough due south again until we are finally rid of these wretched adverse currents. It is grueling stuff: hard on the knees and the head. It took me the best part of this morning to make up the miles lost last night. However many we make during the remainder of today will be 'taxed' tonight no doubt, leaving us with a meager net 24hr total by tomorrow morning. My only fear is that this northerly current may be not just be local to the ITCZ, but is a permanent aspect of the southern equatorial current that will have to be fought all the way across to Tarawa.
So many things have risen to challenge us on this voyage - most of the equipment has broken or failed, and the ocean has been so miserly with giving out 'free air miles' (the wind has been very rarely in our favour) - that disappointment has lost its edge. All I know is numb indifference and that we'll be out here for a little longer.
Jason Lewis,
The Moksha motor
Posted at 2:19 AM
June 26, 1999
Hawaii to Tarawa Voyage, Update #54
Day 54. Saturday 26 June 1999 0336 GMT
Wind ESE 4knots. Heading 225M.
Latitude: 03deg 02.945N
Longitude: 178deg 54.918W
Even late last night before turning in I could feel the ocean beginning to change, and by the time I crawled out of the rat-hole at first light this morning I knew by the heavy rhythm of Moksha's rocking that we were at last in the southeast trades. It's a good feeling. One of closure to the ITCZ section and the start of what I hope to be the concluding chapter to this voyage.
Apart from the familiar wave motion that has yet to get back on my nerves like it inevitably will in a few days, the most noticeable change has to be the clouds that up until yesterday were dark, swollen sponges filled with rain patrolling the ocean for small, yellow pedal boats on which to squeeze out their load. Today, in comparison, the light blue sky is tastefully decorated with little fluffy clouds that almost skip from one horizon to the other like dainty, white-frocked fairies. My heart feels light to match, due in part to the 225M heading we are now able to take, signifying the beginning of the final run into Tarawa. This will however not necessarily be as easy as one might think, on account of the ESE wind and swell - that has bordered at times today on SE - that is intent on pushing us back north. We can only pray for predominant easterlies, with the odd occasional ENE as a treat. We have a good ratio of miles south versus west in hand: for just under every 5 miles west we have to make 1 south. But this is a margin that could be whittled down quickly with a few days of ESE. So, it seems the ocean is intent upon us fighting for every last inch of south we need to reach Tarawa.
Jason Lewis,
The Moksha motor
Posted at 2:17 AM
June 25, 1999
Hawaii to Tarawa Voyage, Update #53
Day 53. Friday 25 June 1999 0336 GMT
Wind E-ESE. Heading 180-210M.
Latitude: 03deg 14.744N
Longitude: 178deg 38.828W
The ocean is a little more animated today, but still half asleep. When the wind does veer to the ESE it is never for long and with too little enthusiasm to seriously hinder our southerly heading.
My plan is to cut far enough south to where the ITCZ counter-current flowing back east at least ceases, if not reverses, before altering my heading more towards Tarawa. I am hoping that south of 3 degrees N. - which we should cross early tomorrow - the current will change. But last night we were taken 6 miles east in 8hrs while I slept, so perhaps the ITCZ is wider at this longitude and at this time of year than originally thought.
Since seeing the 12ft shark under the boat a week or so ago, I've been a little hesitant to go over the side and scrape off barnacles. However, yesterday evening I got to thinking. They badly needed doing (its amazing how in so short a time they can grow so profusely and to such size, affecting quite dramatically the speed of the boat) and right now we needed every yard made good. Having a bunch of freeloaders hanging onto the hull was costing us quite a few miles a day. So, after weighing up the pros and cons I decided to go over the side with the following precautions in mind:
1. If I kept close to the boat, hopefully a shark would associate my body with that of the larger mass of the boat and be intimidated from attacking.
2. If I could see the 2 Dorado fish that have taken residence around the boat nearby me, then I could assume that no sharks were in the vicinity.
3. Rather than the diving knife, I would take the Stanley claw hammer with me to belt attacking sharks on the nose with.
Armed with these somewhat dubious safeguards, I leapt in with just _ hr of daylight, my mask and a Tupperware food container (to scrape with), and started furiously evicting the barnacles, checking frequently for signs of large fins or sets of sharp teeth coming towards me at high speed. I was close to finishing when I felt a presence to the right of me.
Swiveling my head I caught glimpse of a monster not 10ft away. My heart missed a beat. I was on the verge of exiting the water like a torpedo when I realized the monster was actually one of the Dorado fish come to check out my handy-work, but whose size had been amplified considerably by the lens on my mask. Another unfortunate case of experiencing the outside world as created in ones head!
With heart still pounding, I climbed back on board a few minutes later to rinse off and make dinner, feeling good for being in one piece and that this would probably be the last barnacle debacle of the voyage.
Jason Lewis,
The Moksha motor
Posted at 2:14 AM
June 24, 1999
Hawaii to Tarawa Voyage, Update #52
Day 52. Thursday 24 June 1999 0314 GMT
Wind 0. Heading 180M.
Latitude: 03deg 47.488N
Longitude: 178deg 43.842W
This morning I woke for the second day in a row to a slumbering ocean, gently undulating its skin like the wings of a giant ray fanning the ocean floor. I'd decided last night to sink into what for me amounted to full on debauchery: no evening routine of pedaling for 1 hr after dinner, followed by 15 min break (with tea and _ pack of M&M's) and final pedal stint before bed. Not even BBC world service during dinner. I wanted to get away from everything connected with routine, and even chose a different book to read as I retired to the rat-hole early around 10.00 p.m. (after a post-dinner strum) to sip whiskey and read by the cabin light until feeling drowsy enough to fall asleep.
As I took in the dawn with a freshly pumped cup of tea (electric water maker still making water too salty to drink), I noticed how rejuvenated I felt from the previous 24hr's 'debauchery'. The boat felt different, the ocean also. More like the beginning of a voyage when everything is still new and alive. I took in (for the first time in a while) just how beautiful the clouds are mid-ocean at dawn: all around me in a 360 deg. arc a three dimensional canvas was constantly being created then re-worked into new shapes, colours and textures by nature's deft brush strokes. There was no finite state being worked towards. The time it took for me to marvel at 'perfection', perfection had moved on and become something else, equally as perfect, but different. What a way to be able to paint I thought. Churning out a masterpiece every second!
And the absence of wind meant the silence was deafening. This is the quietest place on earth I have ever been to. I could hear ringing in my ears from sounds in my own head: blood pumping through arteries and veins, nerve impulses transmitting millions of signals a second around my brain. All in here - not out there. Very unusual sounds - eerie in fact. Like someone pulled the plug and the world around me had ground to a halt, my body being the only thing left switched on.
While the ocean was so still I had a go at fixing the electric water pump, but I couldn't detach the membrane from its housing to insert new seals (most likely cause of high salinity according to manual), so it looks like I will be reordering my days to accommodate an hour or so of pumping on the hand pump. A pain, but bearing in mind it will be something new and relatively exciting for me to do, maybe not such a bad thing after all.
Jason Lewis,
The Moksha motor
Posted at 2:12 AM
June 23, 1999
Hawaii to Tarawa Voyage, Update #51
Day 51. Wednesday 23 June 1999 0312 GMT
Wind ESE 2. Heading 210M.
Latitude: 03deg 54.261N
Longitude: 178deg 50.270W
After more torrential rain last night I woke to a mirror-like ocean with barely enough wind to even wrinkle its nose. With good protection from the sun by a thick blanket of cloud I decided to take the morning off - the whole day if I felt like it - and involve myself with anything other than pedaling for a change. It's turned out to be the best thing I've chosen to do for a long time.
I didn't realize until I'd messed around on the guitar for a couple of hours, then shaved (face and head), done some filming with the video camera, pumped some fresh water and tried to mend the VHF radio, how much I needed to get away from the pedal seat and my self-imposed cast-iron routine. I remember writing earlier on in the voyage about the importance of creating variety in my schedule; taking breaks, mornings off etc, in order to keep from going stale. And that's exactly what I've allowed to happen.
Part of the problem lies in being solo. Before I set out from Kona I had visions of chopping and changing my schedule from one day to the next, being able to do exactly what I wanted, where I wanted, without having another body to navigate around. In fact the opposite has happened: because of there being no one else to take responsibility for the boat for even a few hours a day, the onus is always on me to keep the cranks turning in order to make miles good on the chart. This means I feel a certain decadence and associated guilt when my attention is focused on anything other than activities that directly contribute to forward progress. Activities like those I've spent this morning doing for example.
I'd forgotten one golden rule from the Atlantic crossing about being out here: perception of time is more important than adhering religiously to actual time. By this I mean a day can seem longer than a week depending on ones state of mind and level of contentment. In the same way, if I stick doggedly to my 'ergonomic' routine to the point - like it has - that it becomes a grind, then although it may take less ACTUAL time to get from where I am now to Tarawa, it will SEEM longer than if I take the odd morning or day off and so keep my spirits up at the expense of a few extra days. And at the end of the day, that for me is the underlying objective: gravitating towards a method of experiencing life, wherever I might be, as a seamless uninterrupted flow of consciousness without the man-made divisions of days, hours and minutes getting in the way.
Jason Lewis,
The Moksha motor
Posted at 2:10 AM
June 22, 1999
Hawaii to Tarawa Voyage, Update #50
Day 50. Tuesday 22 June 1999 0321 GMT
Wind E 3. Heading 180M.
Latitude: 04deg 03.822N
Longitude: 178deg 48.088W
Sea state - same as yesterday: polite ocean with few surprises. Not overly inspiring though. A light wind occasionally funnels through the hatch, but its not enough. I'm watching tiny sweat beads magically grow from nothing on my forearm as I write this. With no wind to evaporate them, they just grow large and unstable and finally merge with others to form a rivulet that snakes around and under my arm, dripping every 2-3 seconds from my elbow onto the floor under the seat.
We have a new visitor - a 3ft Dorado fish, beautifully marked in turquoise, yellows and light blues - patrolling back and forth underneath Moksha. The sharks are nowhere to be seen which I find surprising. This guy seems to have just waded in and claimed the local vicinity as his/her own territory. Its the largest Dorado I've ever seen - with a great drooping lower jaw that hangs open bloodhound-like as it glides effortlessly around a foot beneath the surface, and a flat, caved in boxer's face that gives it a rather menacing appearance even from the security of the cockpit. Maybe that's why there aren't any other fish around.
The electric water maker is starting to pump out water with high salinity; OK for cooking by too salty for straight drinking. So, I've actually taken to pumping some fresh from the hand pump, just to give me something different and extra curricular to do. Like I said yesterday, I've having a really hard time right now keeping enthused about my day's routine. The main highlight for today is the last half onion that I will ceremoniously form the basis of a curry with tonight to mark the 50th day. So after today there will be no more 'psychological onions', just 'psycho-M+M's'.
Jason Lewis,
The Moksha motor
Posted at 2:08 AM
June 21, 1999
Hawaii to Tarawa Voyage, Update #49
Day 49. Monday 21 June 1999 0355 GMT
Wind E-ENE 4. Heading 180M.
Latitude: 04deg 22.290N
Longitude: 178deg 42.184W
No change in sea state. A helpful steady breeze is coming in from the east, not enough to make serious miles on the chart, but sufficient to improve our progress from yesterday. The rogue current pushing us north seems to have slackened, and strangely the counter-current running back east has increased - good news as it allows us to continue chipping south without westerly drift.
It's been 7 weeks now. God what a long time 7 weeks on the ocean is. I suppose the reality that I am experiencing is just a projection of my state of mind, and so the experiential quality of this reality is ultimately in my hands to create and to witness and not judge. But the truth is I am slowly but surely sinking deeper and deeper into the abyss of isolation which closes around me like a giant wad of chloroform; dulling my senses, petrifying my brain cells, mummifying my being. Nothing has changed for weeks now. I do the same thing, the same way, every day (Ever see Bill Murray in the film 'Groundhog Day'?). I have a refined routine for everything that ensures maximum conservation of energy and efficiency of 'getting the job done' of pedaling this boat from Hawaii to Tarawa. But a part of me is dying - the part that generates freshness and enthusiasm for all this. I fear the creeping gray funk has the upper hand at the moment.
At times in the past few days a sensation of rising panic and hopelessness wells up from nowhere. I mercilessly beat down these insurgent feelings with a big stick. But they're still there, always there - lurking in the wings ready to sneak onto stage when I'm feeling vulnerable. It helps knowing there is only one door out of this joint - and its this concrete fact that forms the bedrock of keeping going. A guy from a radio station in Canada asked me a week or so ago, "Do you ever feel like giving up?" The answer is the decision is thankfully out of my hands. I have to keep going or else I just sit here until the food runs out. The wall is there - I can feel it - but I also know it is a fabrication of mind. It's all mind, all of this - the boat, the ocean, the voyage, the suffering, the hopelessness. There is no real wall - its an illusion. I create all this baggage and then react to it. Humanness: just lose it - get over it - transcend it Lewis. But it's so hard. So damn hard.
Writing this helps - thanks for bearing with me.
Jason Lewis,
The Moksha motor
Posted at 2:06 AM
June 20, 1999
Hawaii to Tarawa Voyage, Update #48
Day 48. Sunday 20 June 1999 0308 GMT
Wind ENE-E 1-2. Heading 195M.
Latitude: 04deg 41.314N
Longitude: 178deg 40.308W
Hot, hot day with little wind. The odd rain cloud will occasionally amble along, stir up the air a bit and blot out the sun for a few blissful minutes. But by and large it's a quiet, dull ocean, the kind that makes pedaling a sweat-fest: you should see my impression of the human watering can; water goes in one end and a few minutes later gets pumped straight out again from a thousand tiny perforations. I believe I've sweated more on this trip than the rest of my life put together.
I was wrong about there not being a current sucking us back north. It turns out there is - by my calculations - about a third of a knot per hour. That sounds like not much but over a 24hr period tots up to about 8 miles, which cuts my hard earned mileage south in half. Its soul-breaking stuff - the amount of effort put in to achieve so few miles. Yesterday we netted only 7.5 miles south after being pushed back 4 overnight. This is when having two people makes a big difference, so one person is at least holding ground made good while the other rests. But we had a pretty good run for a while until 5N, so we're probably due a few duff days.
Another whale paid us a visit today, making a couple of passes before thankfully heading on. Its too hot for reading - my brain overheats trying to concentrate on the compass and a book at the same time - so I'm keeping my self entertained by guessing the colours of M+M's using taste only. Gradually getting the hang of it (thanks Zak!), although I'll going to have to do a lot more practice before I reach land - pure torture!
Jason Lewis,
The Moksha motor
Posted at 2:02 AM
June 19, 1999
Hawaii to Tarawa Voyage, Update #47
Day 47. Saturday 19 June 1999 0328 GMT
Wind ENE-E 2-3. Heading 195M.
Latitude: 04deg 50.196N
Longitude: 178deg 31.432W
My target of 40 miles yesterday went pear-shaped when a 12hr storm swept in from the west around 7pm. For the first six hours it was mainly rain - but what rain! I've never witnessed such an extended monsoon-like downpour. It felt like being trapped under a waterfall, with the deafening roar of raindrops pounding furiously on the windows as if outraged at not being allowed in. I cowered in the rat-hole, reveling in the same snugness one has cuddling up to a fire on a wintry night at home. Every 2hrs I would wake in order to sponge from the bottom of the boat 2-3 inches of water that had collected in this short period of time from a 6 inch ventilation gap left in the hatch. When I tried to go out for a pee I was beaten back by raindrops that felt like air-gun pellets hitting my skin. I used a pot instead.
By 2am the rain had slackened slightly and the wind and waves kicked in instead. A couple of times I found myself thrown onto the starboard side of the rat-hole as Moksha was punched violently over onto her side. By 7am this morning the inside of the boat looked a right state: Tupperware containers of rice had emptied into the water sloshing around in the bottom of the boat, giving it the consistency of poor-man's soup. And the 'waterproof' kayak bag with all the tapes and CD's in it had leaked - so no more music. And more to the point, no more Jimbo Trout and the Fish People!
Now as I write the wind is coming pretty much from the east, making it a grind again to win each mile south. But this is OK, as according to the GPS we are out of the main stream of the counter-current and there is little or no current trying to drag us back north. All sounds so boringly 'shop' I'm afraid, but this is what rules my life at the moment; whether the wind is from the ENE or the E; whether there is a 0.5 current running against me or not. One day I will have a life again.
Jason Lewis,
The Moksha motor
Posted at 1:55 AM
June 18, 1999
Hawaii to Tarawa Voyage, Update #46
Day 46. Friday 18 June 1999 0325 GMT
Wind NE 4-5. Heading 210M.
Latitude: 05deg 02.180N
Longitude: 178deg 09.472W
We were one and a half miles short of the 40-mile south latitude target yesterday. Not too bad. Today with the slightly stronger wind we should make the quota easily. The down side to this three-day spurt is the wear and tear to my body. After 14 hrs in the saddle yesterday my poor buns - resembling two halves of a pepperoni pizza with the remnants of the boils as it is - were screaming blue murder. Part of the problem is inadequate padding on the pedal seat. Normally I have a rotation of towels and assorted T-shirts that if not lining the seat are drying out on top. However, the regular squalls that have been coming through every day now for the past week mean there are few drying opportunities, and so these pieces, once drenched in sweat, stay welded to each other in compacted layers that feel like granite to my cheeks. To exacerbate the problem I have only one pair of cycling shorts that are also in a sorry state.
On the bright side I saw my biggest shark today - a 12 foot tiddler that flashed back and forth a couple of times underneath the boat chasing a large school of fish that seemed to be attempting to use Moksha as a kind of shield. Great! I'm now giving serious reconsideration to the plan I had for this weekend of going over the side and removing barnacles.
Jason Lewis,
The Moksha motor
Posted at 1:54 AM
June 16, 1999
Hawaii to Tarawa Voyage, Update #45
Day 44. Wednesday 16 June 1999 0245 GMT
Wind ENE 3-4. Heading 210M.
Latitude: 06deg 20.735N
Longitude: 177deg 39.202W
Shortly after writing the update yesterday evening the rain thankfully dribbled to a halt but was almost immediately replaced by a SSE wind - coming from pretty much the direction I was headed. Out of the frying pan into the fire: if there's one thing more demoralizing than rain, it's trying to plough through a head-on sea. Actually, above a certain wind and wave strength it makes sense to save excessive strain on ones knees and pedal unit and throw out the sea anchor to check drift. But on a half hour test with the GPS I found I was able to make 0.5 knots per hour ground made good, so I decided to continue pedaling into the evening to avoid losing my hard earned ground made south.
It takes an interesting mind-set to keep motivated in these conditions. Basically, when one takes into account the ground lost during breaks, the boat is at a standstill. But it's still better than going backwards. I found myself looking out of the window at bubbles that weren't moving. Meanwhile my legs were pounding away like pistons on a steam engine and the rational part of my head screaming "This makes no bloody sense at all!" But after half an hour or so of this mind-numbing business a gritty sense of determination sets in that involves nothing more than blinkered vision and brawn. Start thinking - and I find myself being talked into stopping for a while. There is no skill involved. No sensitivity to the surrounding environment needed. Just plain old brainless muscle power.
I thanked all things imaginable when I woke this morning to the return of the old faithful ENE wind. I swore to myself I'd never take this wind for granted again (wishful thinking) and I've been trying to make the most of it all day, even cutting my lunch-break in half. Talking of which, I've been rabbiting longer than I intended on this update..
Jason Lewis,
The Moksha motor
Posted at 1:42 AM
June 15, 1999
Hawaii to Tarawa Voyage, Update #44
Day 43. Tuesday 15 June 1999 0319 GMT
Wind E 1-2. Heading 180M.
Latitude: 06deg 39.035N
Longitude: 177deg 28.792W
The rain came in early yesterday evening just as I was finishing off working on the pedal unit (which is working fine thank goodness) and continued with increasing intensity into the evening. By the time I turned in for the night (around midnight), distant lightening flashes as well as one or two noticeably closer had me lower the wind generator mast horizontally onto the cockpit roof and put my high-tech conduction devices (a bike lock, a water pump handle and a bent fork) into the water to protect from a strike.
My night, as have been the majority for some time now, was fitful. The continual lunging of the boat lying parallel to the swell combined with the claustrophobic confines of the rat hole that sees very little ventilation makes for a challenging environment for sleep. By 4am each morning I usually find myself wide-awake, cooking in my own sweat and fighting the fumes of soggy clothes hanging in the netting above my head. The only way around this is to lie hanging half out of the sleeping compartment which allows plenty of access to fresh air, but also to being irrigated with regular dousings of cold sea water and rain that enter uninhibited through the hatch.
I woke this morning at 7am to a waterlogged boat and more rain, now heavier and more consistent. I'd forgotten how disabling rain can be on a long trip. If you're just out for the day, you can get absolutely soaked safe in the knowledge that you have a warm house to go back to afterwards and a stove or drying cupboard to dry clothes. But when out in the field for weeks at a time, persistent rain can rapidly make life a misery. Things get wet and stay wet, and one finds oneself putting on the 'driest wet thing I've got'. Such is life at the moment.
The situation is not helped by the need to keep the hatches open enough to let air in while I'm pedaling. From what I understand this is typical ITCZ (Inter-Tropical Convergence Zone) weather so I'm going to have to get used to it for the next week or so.
Jason Lewis,
The Moksha motor
Posted at 1:40 AM
June 14, 1999
Hawaii to Tarawa Voyage, Update #43
Day 42. Monday 14 June 1999 0305 GMT
Wind E 3-4. Heading 210M.
Latitude: 06deg 51.659N
Longitude: 177deg 02.566W
Awful day. Pedal unit drive shaft sheared this morning around 10am and have been since cannibalizing the other units to make one good one. Grease everywhere, boat lurching around making working on the units extremely trying. First time I've been seas sick since departure. It's now 5pm so I have 2 hrs of day light left to work in. Maybe rowing wouldn't be so bad after all.
Jason Lewis,
The Moksha motor
Posted at 12:01 AM
June 13, 1999
Hawaii to Tarawa Voyage, Update #42
Day 41. Sunday 13 June 1999 0255 GMT
Wind E 3-4. Heading 220M.
Latitude: 07deg 08.333N
Longitude: 176deg 30.618W
I'm starting to see more pronounced effects of the contradiction between current (heading back east) and wind (heading west) to be expected in the ITCZ: short, choppy waves with less predictability and distance between them than the big ocean rollers. Each time a brief squall comes sweeping in the wind and waves rise to meet it, making things quite interesting for a while, then everything drops back to its usual slow, sleepy pace in which the sun takes the leading roll and I find myself fighting to keep awake.
According to my calculations we are just shy of 2/3rds of the way, which means if the progress continues like it has, we could be making landfall in Tarawa in three weeks (original estimate 65-70 days). The main unknown at this time is how easy it will be to punch through the south side of the ITCZ - whether the current runs north from the southern edge like it seems to be running south from the northern edge (I should know the answer to this within the next 6 days). Then once we're south of 4 degrees north we should under the influence of the southern equatorial current (running west) and the southeast trades which will gently assist in cranking out the remaining few hundred miles to this far flung island of dreams.
Jason Lewis,
The Moksha motor
Posted at 4:32 AM
June 12, 1999
Hawaii to Tarawa Voyage, Update #41
Day 40. Saturday 12 June 1999 0418 GMT
Wind ENE 3-4. Heading 210M.
Latitude: 07deg 30.586N
Longitude: 175deg 59.466W
After a fluky start to the day with the wind dithering as to which direction it wanted to come from, we were treated to a two hour lull in which the sun, unimpeded by cloud, beat mercilessly down on the Good Ship followed by a steady easterly which is still blowing as I write. According to the forecast the next few days will see a drop in wind, meaning back to the sweat and grind, so I'm making the most of the breeze through the hatch while it lasts. The short periods when conditions are tolerable, between stretches either of little wind and intense heat or high wind and everything being soaked, are few and far between. And in their rarity, they become special, once in a lifetime moments that I treasure for their uniqueness. How many people will ever get to experience what it is to be alone on a vast ocean, 1,000's of miles from land? Only a handful perhaps.
Today has been quite the day for visits from sea-beasts. This morning a small 4ft shark (a Tiger maybe - with stripes down its back?) began circling the boat and on each pass would roll and slap its belly against the hull near the bow on the port side. After a couple of laps I realized what it was doing: a dark coloured fish attached to its underside was trying to be dislodged. After five or six attempts the shark gave up, sliding effortlessly away into the depths as quietly as it had arrived, in the sneaky way I imagined sharks do from the books I've read.
And just now as I write this, there is an adult Finback whale circling the boat counterclockwise, keeping its distance of about 20 yards, though each time coming a little closer (a little alarmingly I have to say), obviously checking us out. Every 60 seconds or so I am hearing the sharp exhalation of its breath that sounds almost like the sigh of a wave cresting, but with more urgency at the beginning. I wonder what it thinks of us? I wonder what the bottom of Moksha looks like to a Finback Whale? Do we look threatening? Hope not. Do we look like food? Hope not. Do we look like a potential mate? Hope not (especially if it's a lone male and Moksha's smooth lines look feminine). Does it want to play? Hope not. Now its coming closer still - just blew 10ft from the stern. This is making me nervous, I think I'll go and close the front hatch in case we get flipped...
5mins later: Seems like it's gone. Had me worried there for a while. Unless you've seen a whale in real life you have no idea as to how immense they are - the biggest living thing on the planet. And for that reason they are very impressive to watch - from a distance. At close quarters this was scary - like a huge, black submarine about to surface under us. Just one flick of its tail and Moksha would be in pieces. There are a quite a few horror stories of yachts being hit by whales and survivors then hanging onto boat parts for X amount of months because the boat sank so quickly they didn't get to their life raft or EPIRB in time. Scary stuff. But I think we're OK - no exhalations for 10mins now.
Who said life out on the big blue is dull?
Jason Lewis,
The Moksha motor
Posted at 4:30 AM
June 11, 1999
Hawaii to Tarawa Voyage, Update #40
Day 39. Friday 11 June 1999 0248 GMT
Wind ENE 3-4. Heading 210M.
Latitude: 07deg 58.767N
Longitude: 175deg 29.294W
At the time of writing the wind has dropped considerably and the ocean become a procession of gentle 8ft rollers meandering in the general direction of the west. The clouds are fairly few and far between, so its very hot. But for today at least it's a small price to pay for relative comfort. I'm having a lazy day to recoup from the last week's hammering. Pedaling for an hour, making tea, staring blankly into space for a while, then pedaling some more. It's probably not a bad thing the sleeping compartment is like an oven otherwise I might not have surfaced at all today in this soporific heat.
Freshly washed towels and shorts hang like bunting from the radar antennas and side stays giving the outside of the boat the look of a used car lot. I've been using some of the extra power stored in the batteries over the past few days to make fresh water for washing. Using one of the kayak dry bags hung from the wind generator mast to first soak the dirty laundry in soap and water, I then transfer each item to the front deck for scrubbing and rinsing. None of the clothes ever come out looking any cleaner, but they smell better than when they started and at least some of the salt and sweat will have been drained out at some point in the process. I cannot tell you how wonderful it felt last night to be able to towel myself off after my habitual pre-sleep rinse down with a 'clean' towel that wasn't sodden and stinking from 3 week's use. The smallest things that wouldn't even register on land, become the greatest luxuries on the ocean.
Jason Lewis,
The Moksha motor
Posted at 4:28 AM
June 10, 1999
Hawaii to Tarawa Voyage, Update #39
Day 38. Thursday 10 June 1999 0314 GMT
Wind ENE 3-4. Heading 210M.
Latitude: 08deg 29.110N
Longitude: 175deg 00.788W
Around midday the wind started to slacken somewhat, allowing a little normality to creep back into the picture. The heavy seas of the past few days have really been grinding me down, pulling and pinching at my resolve to remain indifferent to them. But at times - like last night when I had just rinsed off the accumulated salt for day and was about to slip into the rathole when an enormous wave broke over boat, drenching everything including (somehow) my sleeping bag - it feels good to face the wind and the waves and tell nature in no uncertain terms, using the most colourful language that can be mustered, what you really think of it. It's like sneezing except through ones mouth. Feels wonderful for a second or two afterwards.
So this afternoon there's been a chance to dry some clothes out on deck and generally get a bit of order back to the boat. The water-maker, after trying it one more time before pulling it to pieces this morning, decided to work as if there was nothing ever wrong with it. I couldn't believe it. I'd spent hours on the thing yesterday trying everything to make it work and had eventually surrendered in disgust, resigned to spending today replacing all the internal seals. Machines behave very strangely out here I've noticed. It's as if the whole ordeal is too much sometimes and they go on strike for a while. I blame the seawater. It looks so innocent, but over time it behaves like sulfuric acid: eating, killing, corroding, rotting everything in and out of sight. If the oceans were made of fresh water it'd be a different, much more pleasant story.
I notice also my body physiology has changed somewhat. The muscles either side of the spine have atrophied from not standing upright, and my whole upper body in general is wasting away from lack of use. The only development is in the thighs, which are like a pair of Redwoods, but the calf muscles are disappearing, as is my bottom, which makes for painful pedaling. There just isn't any padding there any more.
(Dr. Kessler: if you are reading this, I only have 7 days of antibiotics left. Is it better to finish the course? But then I will be without for the remainder of the voyage.)
Jason Lewis,
The Moksha motor
Posted at 4:27 AM
June 9, 1999
Hawaii to Tarawa Voyage, Update #38
Day 37. Wednesday 9 June 1999 0237 GMT
Wind ENE 4-5. Heading 210M.
Latitude: 08deg 59.850N
Longitude: 174deg 19.900W
Sea state - no change. This is going to be a shorty as I've spent the whole day messing with the water-maker, which has decided to pack up. It just seems to be one thing after the other at the moment. All I want to do is pedal this damn boat and instead I find myself fixing things or making things or routing around in the back for medicines for infections etc etc. And the ocean in the state it is in at the moment is like someone poking you repeatedly with a stick, egging you on to a foul mood like I'm in now. Tomorrow I'll have to spend at least the morning uninstalling the water-maker and pulling it apart to replace O rings (depressurization seems to be the problem), which should be a laugh with these waves.
Wish I could find the Zen in all of this right now, but I'm too furious. Furious Zen.
Jason Lewis,
The Moksha motor
Posted at 4:25 AM
June 8, 1999
Hawaii to Tarawa Voyage, Update #37
Day 36. Tuesday 8 June 1999 0310 GMT
Wind ENE 4-5. Heading 210M.
Latitude: 09deg 27.787N
Longitude: 173deg 45.432W
Conditions are the roughest since the start of the voyage, perhaps even of all three crossings so far. Most of the waves are between 15 and 20ft, but every now and then a monster 30+ footer with 5ft breaking peak will appear out of nowhere and wreak havoc. It just takes one of these freak ones to finish us off - 'the perfect wave' I believe it is referred to in a recently released book - capsize the boat and fill the inside with water in a heart beat.
Its great for progress, surfing down the front of these monsters while fighting the steering toggles to keep 'in line' with the wave to prevent a broach, but absolutely miserable living conditions. Everything has been soaking wet for three days now. It is impossible to dry any clothes out on deck as waves break regularly over the top. Subsequently the sores on my bum are beginning to come back, and there's really nothing I can do apart from rinse off with a sponge soaked in fresh water, as often as extra drinking water will permit. I woke this morning to find the bottom of the boat like an aquarium; three live flying fish swimming about underneath the pedal seat in 6" of water. I counted 26 dead ones stranded out on the deck and in the gunnels. Stevie - you ain't missing this part mate! It's bloody awful. And the rocking and rolling of the boat when not underway is as diabolical as ever. I have to type these words with one hand and hang on with the other to save from getting brained by the side of the compartment.
I spent three hours this morning rigging up a line of conduction from the wind generator to the ocean in the unlikely event of being hit by lightening in the ITCZ. We now have an old bike lock attached to the starboard guide wire and the stainless handle from the manual water-pump dangling into the ocean from the port side wire. The idea is that depending on which side the boat is heeling if and when lightening strikes, at least one of these hi-tech devices should be in the water and so divert the current away from blowing out the electrics.
The ocean is a wonderful place. Sometimes.
Jason Lewis,
The Moksha motor
Posted at 4:23 AM
June 7, 1999
Hawaii to Tarawa Voyage, Update #36
Day 35. Monday 7 June 1999 0310 GMT
Wind ENE 4-5. Heading 210M.
Latitude: 09deg 52.145N
Longitude: 173deg 16.622W
Ditto yesterday for Sea State. Last night the horizon to the starboard beam was lit intermittently by flashes of lightening from a thunderstorm no doubt many miles away. Still, has me wondering what weather changes we can expect from here on into the ITCZ. Already the water feels a little warmer and the air has that saturated, electric feel to it like just before a storm.
Late yesterday afternoon a small brown bird - some kind of Turn I think - was struck by one of the wind generator blades. By the time I managed to make a loop in the boat back to where it lay head down in the water (not an easy task with these seas), it had regained consciousness enough to lift its head, and was floating with its wings splayed out on the water recovering from the blow. Drifting alongside I managed snatch it up to make a quick damage assessment. At first glance it looked in good shape. Its wings were OK and the left side of its face all in one piece. Just stunned I thought. However, the right side revealed a hefty dent in its skull, which in turn had pushed the eyeball half way out of its socket. There was nothing I could do for it, so I placed it back in the water and watched it drift helplessly away, half hoping it might recover, but knowing realistically its chances of survival were slim.
The reason I'm recounting this story is because it's a perfect example for those classes that have been participated in the Classroom Expedition. The underlying core of all the activities is Mindfulness: developing sufficient awareness of the effects of ones actions on the surrounding world to make better decisions on whether or not a particular actions NEEDS to be performed, and if so, in what way to minimize negative and maximize positive impacts.
At the time the bird was hit by the turbine I already had enough power for the day and had left the generator running out of laziness to reach forward 6ft to the sleeping compartment and switch it off. These small birds often came near to the boat (why I don't know) so I consider the suffering and probable death of this intelligent animal entirely avoidable had I just been a bit more Mindful. It's a bit like running over a cat or a dog while driving faster that you actually need to in a built-up area. It's unnecessary and leaves a bitter taste in the mouth.
Lessons are learnt and then its time to move on.
Jason Lewis,
The Moksha motor
Posted at 4:20 AM
June 6, 1999
Hawaii to Tarawa Voyage, Update #35
Day 34. Sunday 6 June 1999 0243 GMT
Wind ENE 4-5. Heading 210M.
Latitude: 10deg 07.520N
Longitude: 172deg 47.358W
Ditto yesterday for Sea State. Prime conditions continue as is mirrored in the daily mileage. Rain showers this morning indicating perhaps the beginning of some influence from the ITCZ (International Convergence Zone). The longest shower with accompanying squall lasted for over half an hour, the intensity of which was enough to have me close all the hatches, making the inside of the boat like a sauna to pedal in.
The gradual return of sensation back into the middle two fingers on my right hand is I think another indication that the infection is finally on its way out. However, I still have the odd moment of nausea and occasional head spin - especially when getting in or out of the sleeping compartment - so I will stay on the antibiotics for a few days longer. The antibiotics may of course exacerbate (this nausea). There are so many abnormal variables acting on the body out here its hard to determine what is causing what. The constant rocking and rolling motion of the boat is itself enough, as Steve and I complained constantly about in our updates of the last voyage, to keep you feeling for much of the time like an old sock caught in the spin cycle of a washer-dryer.
Jason Lewis,
The Moksha motor
Posted at 4:19 AM
June 5, 1999
Hawaii to Tarawa Voyage, Update #34
Day 33. Saturday 5 June 1999 0253 GMT
Wind ENE 4-5. Heading 195M.
Latitude: 10deg 38.422N
Longitude: 172deg 12.346W
Good pedaling conditions continue. The wind is more from the NE than ENE making it possible to make some use of it at a 195-200M heading. There is a significant difference between how the boat moves at 180 and 195, so for now - until conditions change - I am enjoying the sensation of scudding easily across the water like a sailing boat would, rather than wallowing in and out of troughs as is normally the case.
At some point today we passed the half way mark. Should be all down hill from here right? Next big line across the chart is the international date line only 8 degrees away - 180 degrees from the Greenwich Meridian - signifying the expedition having made it half way around the world. Its taken nearly 5 years to get this far, so get ready and armed with a couple of glasses and a bottle of something suitable. The Glenlivet on board Moksha will have to take a beating that night.
Yesterday I thought I saw a rather largish, dark shape torpedoing under a wave in the direction of the boat. However, as I barely caught it out of the corner of my eye, I wrote it off as another one of the many figments my imagination starts generating after a month out here. But just as I broke for lunch today, the same shape came swirling out of nowhere only a few feet from the boat. A shark was my first thought, and the idea that it had been tailing me for a couple of days gave me the shudders, especially when I thought of the length of time I spent over the side a couple of days back clearing barnacles. But the second time it passed, I recognised the long snout of a billfish of some sort, and I realized it was checking out the fish using the underside of Moksha as a protective refuge. Relief. I really don't think deep ocean is the kind of environment that sharks would be in - but I certainly don't know for sure. In any event I'll have to think seriously before I go back in the water again for whatever reason.
Jason Lewis,
The Moksha motor
Posted at 4:17 AM
June 4, 1999
Hawaii to Tarawa Voyage, Update #33
Day 32. Friday, 4 June 1999 0316 GMT
Wind ENE 4-5. Heading 195M.
Latitude: 11deg 06.953N
Longitude: 171deg 37.388W
Blustery day. Trades have kicked back in complete with frequent dousings down the hatch onto my head. Seems like there's never a perfect day to be had out here, there's always something to grumble about.
Following on from yesterday's topic of being alone on this voyage, and in fishing around for suitable parallels to make sense of it, it occurred to me how this existence is a bit like being a ghost - both to myself and perhaps those from my 'past life' also.
May 3rd I left everything familiar to me, pedaling out into this strange, nether-nether world where I can hear the voices and visit the places dear to me in memory, but can't actually be there in substance. The first month alone is the toughest: like a drowning man I've been clawing desperately at the disappearing threads of my past life, trying to keep the old reality alive. This is the stage of haunting my childhood, rummaging through boxes of freeze-framed images and sound-bites of school and home, searching for missing pieces to the puzzle of what I was back then and what I am now, taking a sort of 'posthumous' inventory of myself. Then after 4 weeks comes the acceptance stage: the letting go, release and surrendering to the ocean I mentioned in an earlier update. This is a threshold point at which the drowning element is finally suffocated. The sensation of panic is replaced by a warm, cozy feeling like a return to the womb, and the ghost ceases to haunt its previous life and is free instead to face forward, embracing the brave new world of the ocean.
Except of course on this voyage, assuming the ocean will let me pass, I get to be resurrected back to my former life when I hit land - in a sense reborn. It is this way at the end of each extended voyage - everything will seem brand new, crisp and sharp like I just walked off a space ship. I will be struck with how beautiful and vital things I usually take for granted are - and set out with a spring in my stride to put into effect all the resolutions I made while out on the ocean. The degree to which I surrendered to the ocean during the crossing will determine the degree of re-birthal back on land. Its old wisdom - nothing new here: in order to really live, it is first necessary to die - perhaps even on a regular basis.
I guess the bottom line here is that every animal needs to shed its skin once in a while, become a 'ghost' to itself by stepping outside the familiar and take a good look from a different perspective. Ancient cultures still practice it I think - the Aborigines of Australia go walkabout, the Plains Indians of North America will go on a Vision Quest - but it seems like we've lost the art in the west. Places like this - the ocean, the desert, where ever - are useful spaces for the purposes I mentioned above. For me its not about pedaling a boat from A to B and having a nightmare in the process. It's about trying to learn the art of how to live. And being alone for certain periods is - for folks like me anyway - an essential part of this rather tricky process.
CLASSROOM EXPEDITION: End of the Week Tidbits.
I know that some of you are breaking for the summer vacation today - so its been fun having you on board. Enjoy your summer, don't do anything we would, and maybe we'll catch up for the next voyage later this year.
ANSWERS to YOUR QUESTIONS:
Q. What is it like being alone on the boat?
A. See yesterday's update
Q. Are there any major adjustments needed from traveling solo on the ocean as opposed to on land?
A. They are two very different environments so it's hard to compare. But traveling alone on land I was always more vulnerable to being taken advantage of - on the ocean there are no humans, so in a way it makes things a lot easier. But in many other respects, traveling solo on the ocean or on land is very similar.
Q. What is your daily diet as a vegetarian?
Today's breakfast: porridge oats, nuts and dried fruits.
Lunch: left over pasta and veggie-fry from last night.
Dinner: re-hydrated carrots, broccoli and onion, marinated tofu (good for protein), lentils, wild rice all mixed with nuts and dried fruits.
Q. Any problems/pluses with nutrition?
A. No. I do take vitamin and mineral supplements. But by and large I'm eating better than I do on land.
Q. Is food a psycho-carrot for you?
A. Definitely. The more I get into the voyage and the more my body eats into its reserves for energy, the more food becomes a motivating factor.
ACTIVITIES: TRUST:
Here's a excerpt from Arthur Grimble's 'A Pattern of Islands' that can be read out to the class, on what teenage kids in Tarawa did for 'fun' earlier this century: hunt for octopus that can grow up to 9-10ft long! After reading the piece, discuss what 'trust' means to you and whether or not you would trust a friend to do what would be required in hunting octopus.
"...they hunt for it in pairs. One as the bait. His partner, his teeth as his only weapon, as the killer. The human bait starts the real game, giving himself into the embrace of octopus' waiting arms. The killer must wait until his partner's body has been drawn right up to the entrance of the cleft of the reef. The monster inside is groping then with its horny mouth against the victim's flesh, and sees nothing beyond it. The killer then dives, lays hold of his friend and jerks him away from the cleft; the octopus is torn from the anchorage of its proximal suckers, in the same second the human bait turns on his back, exposing the body of the beast for the kill. The killer closes in, grasps the head from behind, wrenching it away from its meal. Turning the face up towards himself, plunges his teeth between the bulging eyes, and bites down with all his strength. That is the end of it..."
Jason Lewis,
The Moksha motor
Posted at 3:20 AM
Hawaii to Tarawa Voyage, Update #33
Day 32. Friday, 4 June 1999 0316 GMT
Wind ENE 4-5. Heading 195M.
Latitude: 11deg 06.953N
Longitude: 171deg 37.388W
Blustery day. Trades have kicked back in complete with frequent dousings down the hatch onto my head. Seems like there's never a perfect day to be had out here, there's always something to grumble about.
Following on from yesterday's topic of being alone on this voyage, and in fishing around for suitable parallels to make sense of it, it occurred to me how this existence is a bit like being a ghost - both to myself and perhaps those from my 'past life' also.
May 3rd I left everything familiar to me, pedaling out into this strange, nether-nether world where I can hear the voices and visit the places dear to me in memory, but can't actually be there in substance. The first month alone is the toughest: like a drowning man I've been clawing desperately at the disappearing threads of my past life, trying to keep the old reality alive. This is the stage of haunting my childhood, rummaging through boxes of freeze-framed images and sound-bites of school and home, searching for missing pieces to the puzzle of what I was back then and what I am now, taking a sort of 'posthumous' inventory of myself. Then after 4 weeks comes the acceptance stage: the letting go, release and surrendering to the ocean I mentioned in an earlier update. This is a threshold point at which the drowning element is finally suffocated. The sensation of panic is replaced by a warm, cozy feeling like a return to the womb, and the ghost ceases to haunt its previous life and is free instead to face forward, embracing the brave new world of the ocean.
Except of course on this voyage, assuming the ocean will let me pass, I get to be resurrected back to my former life when I hit land - in a sense reborn. It is this way at the end of each extended voyage - everything will seem brand new, crisp and sharp like I just walked off a space ship. I will be struck with how beautiful and vital things I usually take for granted are - and set out with a spring in my stride to put into effect all the resolutions I made while out on the ocean. The degree to which I surrendered to the ocean during the crossing will determine the degree of re-birthal back on land. Its old wisdom - nothing new here: in order to really live, it is first necessary to die - perhaps even on a regular basis.
I guess the bottom line here is that every animal needs to shed its skin once in a while, become a 'ghost' to itself by stepping outside the familiar and take a good look from a different perspective. Ancient cultures still practice it I think - the Aborigines of Australia go walkabout, the Plains Indians of North America will go on a Vision Quest - but it seems like we've lost the art in the west. Places like this - the ocean, the desert, where ever - are useful spaces for the purposes I mentioned above. For me its not about pedaling a boat from A to B and having a nightmare in the process. It's about trying to learn the art of how to live. And being alone for certain periods is - for folks like me anyway - an essential part of this rather tricky process.
CLASSROOM EXPEDITION: End of the Week Tidbits.
I know that some of you are breaking for the summer vacation today - so its been fun having you on board. Enjoy your summer, don't do anything we would, and maybe we'll catch up for the next voyage later this year.
ANSWERS to YOUR QUESTIONS:
Q. What is it like being alone on the boat?
A. See yesterday's update
Q. Are there any major adjustments needed from traveling solo on the ocean as opposed to on land?
A. They are two very different environments so it's hard to compare. But traveling alone on land I was always more vulnerable to being taken advantage of - on the ocean there are no humans, so in a way it makes things a lot easier. But in many other respects, traveling solo on the ocean or on land is very similar.
Q. What is your daily diet as a vegetarian?
Today's breakfast: porridge oats, nuts and dried fruits.
Lunch: left over pasta and veggie-fry from last night.
Dinner: re-hydrated carrots, broccoli and onion, marinated tofu (good for protein), lentils, wild rice all mixed with nuts and dried fruits.
Q. Any problems/pluses with nutrition?
A. No. I do take vitamin and mineral supplements. But by and large I'm eating better than I do on land.
Q. Is food a psycho-carrot for you?
A. Definitely. The more I get into the voyage and the more my body eats into its reserves for energy, the more food becomes a motivating factor.
ACTIVITIES: TRUST:
Here's a excerpt from Arthur Grimble's 'A Pattern of Islands' that can be read out to the class, on what teenage kids in Tarawa did for 'fun' earlier this century: hunt for octopus that can grow up to 9-10ft long! After reading the piece, discuss what 'trust' means to you and whether or not you would trust a friend to do what would be required in hunting octopus.
"...they hunt for it in pairs. One as the bait. His partner, his teeth as his only weapon, as the killer. The human bait starts the real game, giving himself into the embrace of octopus' waiting arms. The killer must wait until his partner's body has been drawn right up to the entrance of the cleft of the reef. The monster inside is groping then with its horny mouth against the victim's flesh, and sees nothing beyond it. The killer then dives, lays hold of his friend and jerks him away from the cleft; the octopus is torn from the anchorage of its proximal suckers, in the same second the human bait turns on his back, exposing the body of the beast for the kill. The killer closes in, grasps the head from behind, wrenching it away from its meal. Turning the face up towards himself, plunges his teeth between the bulging eyes, and bites down with all his strength. That is the end of it..."
Jason Lewis,
The Moksha motor
Posted at 3:20 AM
June 3, 1999
Hawaii to Tarawa Voyage, Update #32
Day 31. Thursday, 3 June 1999 0333 GMT
Wind ENE 3-4. Heading 195M.
Latitude: 11deg 29.473N
Longitude: 171deg 12.132W
Today a near perfect pedaling day; brisk wind and 10-15ft swell from the ENE, edging Moksha along with gentle nudges to her port side. The balloon-shaped clouds I made mention of a few days ago are back also, assisting greatly in absorbing some of the sun's relentless energy. Moksha is a fine craft to be pedaling in conditions like these - slipping effortlessly up and over the belly of each roller as if it was all down hill from here to Oz.
After exactly a month of being alone out here, I got to thinking this morning about the differences between the other voyages with Steve, and how accurate my expectations were about this one. There are obviously pros and cons. But overall I have to say that due if nothing else to the very nature of Moksha's cramped design - as both Steve and I suspected - being solo has more advantages:
Cons:
1.TIME: Contrary to my expectations, time is even tighter being alone. I did not appreciate just how many hours I would have to put in on the pedals just to keep moving, and especially trying to make ground south against the westerly flow of wind and current. If anything, the regime I have now is even tighter and stricter than before. No spare time hardly for even writing a journal let alone other 'extra-curricular' activities. Not having someone else to share the chores - like cooking, navigating, writing the updates - really takes time out of the day.
2.SOCIAL INTERACTION: I've got the point of not only talking to myself for conversation but also striking up arguments and debates with the cutlery and a wooden serving spoon. The fish under the boat get a good ranting-to every now and then as well.
3.PHOTOS: Taking pictures of myself has limited appeal.
Pros:
1.SLEEP: Getting a full night every night makes a world of difference.
2.SCHEDULE: Even though I'm more tied down that I thought I'd be, it's still nice to have free reign over this little space, taking a break whenever I want and deciding sometimes to juggle my day's activities around to keep things fresh. When there's someone else on board, the routine is set in stone from one day to the next.
3.SINGING + ACTING CRAZY: Having someone sitting 2 ft away can be a little intimidating while trying to perfect Alpine yodeling. I'm playing guitar a lot more this time and often bawl out tunes while I'm pedaling to keep going. Singing has an amazing ability to lift ones spirits.
Loneliness has actually not been a problem. It felt a little strange the first couple of nights being asleep without someone else on watch, but this has been less of a problem that I thought it would be. Perhaps the most striking thing of all is just the unique experience of being alone on such a vast expanse of emptiness. Even when there is only one other human being nearby, there is still a sense of safety in numbers of one's own species. But being alone, 1,000's of miles from land, civilization and everything that is familiar, I feel extremely small and insignificant. But rather than being overwhelmed, or made to feel inferior in any way, it is actually a very positive feeling of 'right place' in the order of things. Inner qualities such as humility and empathy have a chance to rise unhindered to the surface. Feeling compassion toward all things seems easier out here than it does on land. I don't believe there is a word to describe this 'state of being' in the English language, it is so alien to the egocentric way we normally have of perceiving ourselves. But for now I'll just say that being lost like a needle in a haystack feels pretty fine.
CLASSROOM EXPEDITION - ACTIVITIES:
MOKSHA'S CRABS:
Can you put forward a theory of how the brown coloured crabs I found living underneath Moksha came to be there (see yesterday's report), bearing in mind we launched the boat into the water the morning of the departure and left almost immediately.
ENVIRONMENT:
In the last paragraph of the main update I mentioned about the ocean being a very special place for me - for a number of reasons.
Do you have a special place that you go when you need to be alone or that feels right to you? Without necessarily disclosing where this place is, describe in a few lines what this place means to you and why it is special. If you do not have such a place already, think of somewhere in your local community that you might go - that would be 'special' to you - and describe what it might mean to you and why it would be special.
Jason Lewis,
The Moksha motor
Posted at 3:15 AM
June 2, 1999
Hawaii to Tarawa Voyage, Update #31
Day 30. Wednesday, 2 June 1999 0322 GMT
Wind ENE 3-4. Heading 195M.
Latitude: 11deg 55.414N
Longitude: 170deg 36.126W
Contrary to the forecast, a NE wind never made it to this ocean region today. However, as if to make up, the current has started dipping south signaling an advantageous time to get sweating again.
For the second morning in a row, I deliberated whether or not to go over the side and rid Moksha's hull of gooseneck barnacles. One the one hand I risked re-infecting myself with being in the seawater. On the other, the barnacles in more that one sense of the word were becoming a real drag, and as I was going to have to get to them at some point in the next week, I might as well do it while still on antibiotics. I decided on the latter, taking the added precautions of sealing my more open sores with lithium grease to minimize water contamination (thanks Kirsty!) and rinsing myself thoroughly with fresh water afterwards (ah - the luxury of an automatic desalinator!).
What I thought initially would only take 15mins, ended up as a 1.5hr ordeal. After a month of barnacle bonanza, the underside was a thick forest of the things, some as long as 1.5", many clustered together in groups of up to 5 or 6. None showed any interested in being budged though. However, after eventually succumbing to persistent efforts on my part aided by an absolutely useless device botched together from a bit of PVC, they gently spiraled down like a plume of descending snowflakes into the light blue turquoise abyss characteristic of deep ocean water. All that is except for 2 sq. ft of them that I have kept as a habitat for the evolving ecosystem we have growing under Moksha. We now have 5 black and white striped Pilot fish that consider the underbelly of the Good Ship very much their own domain, and reminded me so by making little intimidatory lunges at me while I was working, a strange black fish 4" long with a flat head that reminded me of the kind of fishes you see attached to side of sharks and whales, and 4-5 brown coloured crabs, each an inch in diameter, that scuttled behind and around tufts of barnacles using them as camouflage. Quite a family on the Good Ship now to say the least.
The difference in Moksha's performance without the barnacles is impressive. Instead of driving a tractor with a plough behind it, I now feel like I'm holding onto the reins of a turbo-charged racing snake! According to the GPS we have gained between .75 and a knot. A huge asset over the days and weeks to come. So, in the words of the band 'Hot Chocolate' whose songs I use to groove the cranks along with at night, "Everyone's a winner": the pilot fish still have their territory, the barnacles have 2 sq. ft of preserved virgin barnacle forest, Moksha's into Hyper-space and best of all, we get to keep the crabs...
CLASSROOM: - Blistering Barnacles!!
ACTIVITIES: SIMPLE MACHINES:
A: BARNACLE SCRAPER
In a couple of weeks - and especially for the next voyage - I'm going to want to scrap the barnacles from the hull again. However, next time I'm going to want to use a better tool. Can you sketch out a design on paper, and/or make a model in 3D, an efficient a barnacle scraper as you can devise. Please specify:
1.The material it is made of (the scraper needs to be strong enough to free the barnacles but bendy so it keeps flush to Moksha's hull).
2.The handgrip: it needs to be used with only one hand, and protecting the hand from the barnacle's shells that can be sharp.
Please send copies of your ideas to:
April, PO Box 788, Rye, CO 81069, USA
Or reply by way of THE REGISTRY
B: MOKSHA'S RUDDER
Moksha's rudder works as a very simple machine: a rope from the top of one side of the top of the rudder runs forward 15ft, enters the hull just forward of the pedal seat and double backs 180 degrees on itself, around the back of the pedal seat using the same devices that are used on entry through the hull, back out of the hull on the opposite side to where it entered, double backing 180 degrees to run 15ft down to where it is attached on the other side of the top of the rudder.
1.What are the devices that are used for making the rope double back 180 degrees and used behind the pedal seat for making the rope turn 90 degrees?
2.Draw a picture of what this device is.
3.Discuss in class how this device works.
4.Also, think of three other machines used in everyday life that use this device in their operation.
Jason Lewis,
The Moksha motor
Posted at 3:11 AM
June 1, 1999
Hawaii to Tarawa Voyage, Update #30
Day 29. Tuesday, 1 June 1999 0315 GMT
Wind E 1-2. Heading 240M.
Latitude: 12deg 16.830N
Longitude: 170deg 09.708W
There's been a lull in the wind since yesterday afternoon, indicating the departure of one weather system and its replacement - hopefully soon - with another 6-7day pattern with accompanying wind and current conducive to progress south. This seems to be the way of things; a week of ENE weather with the current dipping slightly southwards, followed by an interlude of calm (as is now) with the current running NW before the next week of ENE comes in.
After achieving a depressing 1.4nms south in 5hrs yesterday, I realized the ocean was on the move, and instead of fighting it, took the opportunity to knock off early for the evening: strum the old six string for a while, drink tea and rest up the legs and other bodily hardware for the next 'assault'. At times like these I think it makes more sense to invest the energy into healing that otherwise would make meager progress on the chart. Its part of the whole deal of being a relatively vulnerable guest of the ocean. When the big blue says its OK to go - its OK to go. Otherwise its best to wait to see what she's up to (being in a sailboat would be different of course). And anyway, sometimes its good to just slob around the house. You need to slob in order to perform. Otherwise you have no basis of comparison from which to gauge performance (do I sound like I have a guilty conscience here or what!).
With the current still against us today, but still wanting to feel like we're going generally in the direction of Australia, I turned our nose almost straight westward (240M). This has been a real treat for the legs, just freewheeling along with the swell, still making 2.5knts. According to the forecast the wind is due to veer to the NE tomorrow, allowing us to make up our lost ground south and put a few miles under our belt.
I talk now in the collective "we", not just to include Moksha who is very much a personality having made it almost half way around the world, but also the flotilla of small fish that I have for company under the boat. As well as the customary pilot fish that has been there from the beginning, there are now 5 or 6 dark, fairly plump looking specimens that fearlessly attack my pots and pans when I'm cleaning them over the side after a meal. We have some dialogue too - and although I have to translate what they say from fish-lingo to English, it makes for good company in what is otherwise a conversational desert.
CLASSROOM EXPEDITION:
ANSWERS to YOUR QUESTIONS:
Q. Do you keep a journal and use recycled paper to make it?
A. On the Atlantic voyage I bound empty food packets to make a book. On this voyage I am saving the M+M wrappers (and any others that are suitable) in case I finish the journal I am currently writing in.
Q. Does writing fulfill a basic need for you?
A. Yes. There are different levels of need that writing achieves for me on a daily basis (see below for details).
Q. Does music fulfill a basis need for you?
A. Yes again. Although music falls into the "creative and emotional" category listed below for writing. I could do with more and a wider variety of music to listen to according to what mood I'm in: in the morning I like more classical to wake up to, in the evening I can handle some 'heavy duty' rock n' roll to pump out the miles in the dark with.
ACTIVITIES: (Also please see yesterday's update for anyone in the US)
WRITING:
On Moksha, I find writing fulfills the following needs:
1.Navigation and route planning; marking in detail of the route so far, the currents+winds etc helps to make more accurate predictions for future headings etc.
2.Creative/emotional; journal writing (private).
3.Logistics; making list of things to do while on the boat, things to do when back on land.
4.Communications; emailing family and friends.
5.Public writing; writing articles to newspapers/magazines. Writing this update. Basically any writing that other people will read.
Think of the different ways you use writing on a daily basis. Identify what NEEDS are fulfilled by these ways and compare and contrast them with the needs I have for writing on Moksha. Think of three disabilities you would have in your daily life if you were not able to write.
Jason Lewis,
The Moksha motor
Posted at 3:05 AM