Into the big blue; a rare sense of perfection

The sailing lugger Tecla is en route from Tierra del Fuego to the Galapagos Islands. Captain Jet Sluik writes about her experiences. As she passes the Tropic of Capricorn, the weather gods smile on her.

“We have been sailing with a beautiful south-easterly wind for days now, mostly under grey skies – the outer edges of a high-pressure area, not really the familiar trade winds.
But when I poked my head out of the rear hatch this morning, a big smile immediately appeared on my face. There they were: tiny white clouds scattered across an otherwise bright blue sky. The ocean had turned a deep, deep blue, with white foam heads dancing on the surface and albatrosses gliding effortlessly across the water.

Outremer

Sandrine, one of the people on board, told me that the French have a name for this deep blue of the ocean: outremer. In my words: ‘a blue beyond the sea’; a blue from beyond the horizon. And the word has stayed with me ever since. It is not just a colour, but a feeling – something deep, almost icy, something you can only really see when the sunlight hits the moving surface of the water, as it did this morning.

In art, this colour once symbolised wealth, purity, something almost divine. Made from ground lapis lazuli, brought in from far away. But here we get it for free every day – if we take the time to notice it. When people ask me what my favourite colour is, I would never say blue. But when I close my eyes and think of the most beautiful colours in the world, this deep blue – this outremer – is one of the first that comes to mind.

Gorgeous weather

What I haven’t talked about enough is the amazing sailing weather.
Somehow I think I would jinx it if I said it out loud. That I would spoil it. Or that as soon as I utter it, it will be over. But this sailing weather is just too beautiful to keep quiet about it.

Since leaving Juan Fernández Island, we have had a south-easterly breeze, caused by the high-pressure system around 35° south latitude. Since this system has settled, we have mostly had 20 to 25 knots of wind. Our speed – except between showers – has not dropped below 7 knots, with 24-hour distances of 170-180 miles, all straight to our target.

But it is mostly the ease with which we sail. We hardly need to trim the sails. We don’t sail at an uncomfortable angle too much downwind. No – it’s just perfect: about 60 degrees from the stern, sometimes even a little more, and our speed takes away some of the power a 25-knot wind can have.

Cloud of canvas

While steering, you can sometimes spend minutes doing nothing. The Tecla glides over the waves, sticking her nose in and shaking her stern as she slides over them – but returning to her course just as easily.
Although we rock and roll heavily, our sails are full and flapping is minimal. Our preventers are tight, the sheets pulled against them. The mainsail flies like a cloud of canvas, even with a reef. It is a joy to see and feel.

Sometimes these stretches downwind can be frustrating when the wind is weak and the waves strong. Flapping is just not good for the soul – it has made me say some terrible things in the past… but there is no question of that now.

Reefed sail

We have reefed the mainsail and mizzen sail, and mostly I’m quite happy with that. Only once did I consider unreefing. Well – considering to unreef does not mean you actually unreef, just as considering to reef usually means you actually do reef… so the reef stays put.

Today we had perfectly sunny weather. Shorts and T-shirts on deck. A bit of sunburn for some of us. It was the first day it felt as warm as you would expect at 12 degrees south latitude. Hot.

Brown Booby

I have not often sailed at 12 degrees near the equator with our cabin doors still closed, no fans on yet and no curtains on either. The Humboldt current really does keep us very nice and cool. That said, I did ask the crew to bring out the curtains and fans, just to be ready.

And a sunny day means we can also do star navigation. So the sextants came out! And for a first attempt, it was excellent – only 14 miles of deviation. Juan Fernández would have been found. We had fun doing the calculations on deck.

A brown booby came and sat on our jib boom. He used us most of the afternoon as a base for his fishing excursions, and just now, by the bright moonlight, we could still see his silhouette there. And he is not the only one. A new best friend is Bob, a red-footed booby, has his seat at the front of the breeding tree.
Another booby found the peak halyard of the mizzen a good place to spend the night. He liked this spot so much that he chased other boobies away… although I personally think it’s probably the worst place to seek some peace and quiet… as we rock back and forth quite a bit… and up there that’s only amplified.

All well aboard,
Jet.