Chatty log | Cocos to Rodrigues

Cocos to Rodrigues

30 September 2004

Caroline: We picked a good day to go to Home Island and West Island. It's very calm, which is great because it means we don't get wet during the half hour dinghy ride to Home Island. We had a look at the museum and visited the hardware store before catching the 10:45 ferry to West Island. It's a half hour ride across the lagoon and a 10 minute bus ride to the tiny town which is built next to the airfield. Only about 150 people live on West Island and most of them are here for only a couple of years. Everybody knows each other and it's a very relaxed atmosphere. We only had a few hours before we had to catch the ferry back, so we rushed around to clear out at the police station, buy a fishing rod (another one!) at the dive shop, have lunch and do a shop at the supermarket. It's wonderful to have some fresh fruit and vegetable again. On the way back the bus and ferry was crowded with school kids, the Home Island kids come to West Island to do grade 7 to 10. After grade 10 Cocos kids have to go to Perth to boarding school to continue their education.

1 October

Caroline: Yesterday there was one thing we did not manage to do ashore, send off the CD-ROM with the website update. Both post offices, the one on Home Island and the one on West Island were closed on Thursday. So, in the morning Alex and I went to Home Island again. This time we were not so lucky with the weather and we got absolutely soaked in the dinghy. We mailed the CD and then had a walk around. The Malay community is muslim and all the women wear head scarfs and long dresses. It's fun to see these women riding the quads that everybody here seems to have. They all live in the same type of house, long and low with chickens and a little boat in the back garden. We hadn't booked lunch, but the friendly restaurant lady managed to feed us with some noodles, fried chicken, spring rolls and fresh salad. I really appreciate a break from cooking and fresh vegetables taste incredibly good when you don't take them for granted anymore. One more stop at the supermarket to buy the freshest stuff they have and then a fast dinghy ride back to Jocara. At night we pigged out at another BBQ, spoiling ourselves with lamb, sausages and a salad. Tomorrow we're planning to set out on our long passage to Rodrigues.

2 October

John: Our new friends on Altair (Paul and Suzette) are also planning to leave today. They're obviously more organised than we are! By 10:30 they have their dinghy all deflated, washed, dried and folded away inside their boat, a 35'. By the time we get things sorted out and the boat made ship-shape it's already lunch-time, but we still have the shore trip to make for one last rubbish burn and a visit to the hut to take photos! Altair turns out not to be immune to hitches either, as their GPS fails to start up as they are about to leave and their hand-held spare also fails. They don't have this years' almanac... How dependent we cruisers have become on GPS! I spend a little time with them troubleshooting their electronics (their fixed GPS now seems to work, at least). By the time everything is set, both boats decide it's better to wait until tomorrow (there's not much wind today anyway...) and to get one last good night's sleep. Truth be known, Caroline and I are more than a little nervous about launching ourselves out of this beautiful island paradise into the big, wide and wild Indian Ocean, given the rough ride over the mere three days it took to get here from the Sunda Straits. Will Alex be OK? What do we do over a 12-day trip if he's not?

3 October

John: OK, we gotta go sometime, and it's really time. We decide to head off via North Keeling, part of the island chain but 15 n.m. to the north. It is uninhabited, but reputedly full of birds. At 10:30 we up anchor at 12 deg. 05.48'S, 96 deg. 53.99'E and motor out of the sparkling lagoon under a brilliant sun. We cross the impossible-looking rocky bar (only 3 m depth!) and head north. Within a couple of hours, North Keeling is in sight and we are surrounded by perhaps 50 boobies, circling and dive-bombing us with curiosity (and carefully-aimed guano squirts). We also realise that the autopilot has gone crazy, the settings seem to have been completely fried. The rudder position indicator makes no sense. We decide to see if we can find some shelter in the lee of the island, though there is no true anchorage, to rest a while and see if I can do anything about this stupid autopilot. As we get closer, we see a motor boat anchored close in, so go and join him. It's occupants are busy surfing and having a fine time in the fabulous clear waters and great-looking surf break at the western corner of the island. Even before the anchor is in, we see what looks like a dolphin and the kids snorkel off to find two turtles mating in the shallow water. We anchor at 11 deg. 49.79'S, 96 deg. 49.07'E in 5.3m depth, about 150m off the beach. We unpack the lazarette (again!) and I crawl in to reset the rudder position sender. With Caro's help I get the thing re-calibrated and working again. But for how long, and why did it go on the blink in the first place? Such questions don't make me feel any more secure about our forthcoming 2000 mile trip... After the work is done, we all go for a snorkel and fetch up on the beach where there are many turtle tracks, females hauling out to lay eggs. It is a few days after full moon, the right time. Wandering up the beach, we see a sign that tells us that the whole island is a national park and there's a penalty of up to Aus$5000 for being there without a permit... Oops! We are a bit scared by this, but the place is so beautiful it's tempting to explore. The many birds seem completely fearless. We see many (maybe 10-15) turtles in the water, and several hauling up the beach and in pairs, mating, apparently so engrossed that they didn't notice being washed ashore. We'd love to wait and watch turtles laying eggs, but dare not. After a while we went back to Jocara and setteld in for one last night's good sleep... again.

4 October

John: So, we should leave promptly this morning, just in case any National Parks folk come up from the main islands and find us anchored illegally in their park. We begin hauling anchor chain at 08:30 in calm conditions, raising the mainsail first since we are already facing into the mild breeze. Even before the anchor is off the bottom, we see a large motor boat bearing down on us from the direction of Cocos keeling at high speed. No, it can't be... really? Are we paranoid or could that be a Parks Vessel? Oh S#1t! We complete our anchor raising asap and turn to power out of the shadow of the island. Too late. The large vessel, the 'R.J.Hawke' is upon us and circling, obviously a government vessel and intending to apprehend us. Stocky characters, silhouetted against the sun, raise arms with big cameras, filming and photographing our every move. Awful images of being hauled back under escort to Cocos, 'house arrest', delays and a hefty fine. I call on the VHF asking if we can be of assistance. They reply immediately, identifying themsleves and saying they'd like to ask some questions. I gamely suggest we move to another channel to do so, but they reply that they'll be launching a rubber dinghy and would like to come over and board us for an interview. Uh-oh... We wait in a state of high anxiety; adrenaline levels exceeding anything experienced in living memory, which right now doesn't go back very far. At least we didn't catch any fish, hurt any wildlife... A dinghy arrives and two guys step aboard while we drift with the main up to steady the boat. It is also taking us slowly further offshore and out of the Parks' 1.5 km marine limit... The officials are very friendly, show us their badges, ask us if we went ashore. Yes, we did. They tell us that the surf boat was a licensed operator, who reported us. They were very understanding, and after satisfying themselves that we meant no harm and that we were not mistakenly informed by any local islanders that this was OK without a permit, they let us off with a warning. Phew! We just love these guys! Once they're gone we are free to leave, and I crack open a beer to celebrate and steady my nerves, even if it is before midday. The rest of the day we motor, with very little wind. By 16:35 we are at 11 deg. 59.77'S, 96 deg. 09.18'E. But we can't afford to do this all the way across thew Indian Ocean, so around 18:30, when the wind has comeup a touch and veered a little to a better angle, we quit the iron topsail and slap along in a sloppy sea and little wind for the night. I set a preventer with a snubber on the main to cushion the slamming, but the sailing is not pretty. We set the radar alarm and bed down for a fitful night.

5 October

John: Got up at 07:00 to find the preventer slack. I hauled in on the mainsheet to take up the slack, only that didn't work. Puzzled, I look up at the mainsail shape, it's not good. Running my eyes back down the sail to the boom I am transfixed by an extraordinary sight. I simply cannot believe it. Am I dreaming? Should I go back down and get some coffe on the go before looking again? I am staring at a broken boom! The whole, massive, aluminium boom that holds the base of the mainsail has torn into two pieces, held together by just a sliver of twisted aluminium in the middle. Jagged edges threaten to tear sail and flesh that gets near. I finally realise that this is not a terrible dream, t's really happening. "All hands on deck!" "Caro, I need your help, the boom's broken!" Caro staggers up from a fitful nap and blinks into the morning light in disbelief. "It was fine just a minute ago!" Well, it's not fine anymore. And this, on our first day out of Cocos, having made it only to 12 deg. 14.39'S, 94 deg. 57.54'E. No turning back, we'll just have to manage without the main or make a jury-rig repair. It takes us until 08:48 to get the boom safely secured on deck and the mainsail down and under control without, mercifully, further signficant damage to the boat. The boom is a monster. Heavy, very hard to repair in this rolling sea. We decide that if we can make reasonable speed on the Genoa alone, we'll not risk a temporary repair that could do a lot of damage if it fails. What a start!

6 October

John: We're making maybe 5.5 kts, enough not to have to risk a boom repair. By 07:00 local (cocos time) we're at 12 deg. 58.58'S, 92 deg. 53.05'E. The boom, on closer inspection, looks as though it has broken and been repaired before, with internal strips of aluminium spot welded to the inside of the tube. So, the failure is presumably due to work hardening as the boom flexes aft of the vang attachment, right where it has broken. We check in with Altair on HF, they're about 140 n.m. ahead of us (having effectively left a day earlier since we stopped at North Keeling). Today the first LPG tank ran out, so it lasts us about 7 weeks. We also had a massive strike on one of our lures, I punched the drag on too fast and the line popped, losing leader, lure and fish. Damn! This not catching fish is beginning to get to me. Caro is becoming impatient! The wind continues weak and variable.

7 October

John: the Genoa was slamming too much, and now we really fear for the durability of the standing rigging, so we started the engine at 01:30 and bore off to the SW to help the wind angle fill the Genoa and steady the boat. At 10:00 Cocos time we report our position (13 deg. 34.30'S, 90 deg. 34.58'E) to the 'Downwind Net', run by a lady called Mary on 'Tranquility' currently at Chagos. This is a net for cruisers in the Indian Ocean to help each other out and report their daily position and status for safety.

8 October

John: So, in the middle of the night (01:00), Caro wakes me up and says 'Can you help me with this freighter?' Blurry-eyed, I stagger into the cockpit. I have a dilemma with contact lenses. If I take them out, it takes forever to get them in on a rolling boat in the middle of the night, assuming I don't lose one or more in the process. If I leave them in, my eyes dry out and my vision is blurry for about 10 minutes after waking up. What to do (as a Singaporean might say)? Anyway, that's my excuse. Indeed, there is a boat on the radar, 8 miles off yet, but as it quickly closes to 4 miles the bearing remains unchanged. This means we will likely collide. A lump forms in my throat. Caro gets the big spotlight and I shine it in the Genoa to illuminate the boat. Then I call on the VHF, expecting nothing (the usual response from large vessels in the open ocean). I am therefore surprised and relieved to hear a crisp response, confirming that the freighter (European trader) has seen us. They are doing 12 knots on 065. We are doing 5-6 knots on 260. I ask what is their intention, saying that it looks like we will cross their bow. They confirm and say they will turn to starboard to go behind us. I reply that I will turn to Port (my only turning option without gybing). Only one problem; this is exactly the wrong thing for me to do. As I turn, everything looks fine, we are now headed safely astern of them (I prefer passing astern of large vessels rather that crossing their bow - misjudgements are less costly going astern). Then their turn kicks in and suddenly we are head on, closing at 18 knots and just 1 mile apart! That gives us just 4 minutes before we're nothing more than matchsticks and splinters of fibreglass drifting on the sea. Aaarrgh! I get back on the radio and confirm intentions. I realise I must turn to Starboard urgently. It's too late for them to turn again. We get the engine on and turn sharply to starboard, backing the Genoa. The freighter passes moments later, less than 150m on our Port beam. A close one! And all my fault... My turning to Port placed us back on a collision course once the freighter had made their course change. My brain simply was not awake enough to work it all out under stress in the limited time, and I blew it! A worrying thought, because it is simply not possible for us to keep a watch fully awake 24/7. Our position for the Downwind Net at 10:00 Cocos time was 13 deg. 43.8'S, 88 deg. 23.7'E. Later in the day, we caught a fine young Mahi-Mahi. Small, but large enough to provide some good fillets and a treat for Star, who suddenly realisees how good fresh fish can be. Cannelle remains unimpressed, but jealous that she's missing out somehow on something that Star's enjoying. Alex got quite upset about the blood and violence involved in actually killing a beautiful fish, but had no reservations about eating the sushi and sashimi he, Casper and I worked up - our first this trip! Now, if we could only catch a tuna...

Casper: Today I rigged the lures with my dad's supervision, it went fine. We put the lures in the water, and waited... Not after long the lures went buzz, yes! We rushed out onto the aft deck finding that both lures had gone off! When we were reeling them in one of the lines went slack while the other stayed taut. We reeled the other one in and sure enough we had one! We swung it on deck and unfortunally it got rid of its lure and almost flopped into the water when my dad jammed it against the side of the boat holding it tight. Then my dad demanded a gaff so we got a gaff and tried to gaff him (hook a big hook in the back of his head so that he cannot escape) but that didn't work because the hook was the wrong shape. So we had to club him to death with the alluminium awning pole. I couldnt look it was too horrible.....bang.....bang......bang. When I looked up my dad was holding a bloody pole with a bleeding fish. After we gutted the fish we had lots of fillets so that night we ate sushi and sashimi for the first time on our trip. Yummy!

9 October

John: We started an air-sampling run last night, so of course the wind died in the night and now we're stuck, because we can't run the engine while the sampling is in progress! We are treated, instead, to some little squalls. Just enough to make us rush about closing hatches and dodger flaps. Caro up at all hours checking out the squalls and radar - with squalls about (which the radar sees as targets) we cannot use it to warn us of other vessels. We did catch another small Mahi-Mahi, which Casper filletted, having followed how I did the other one yesterday. Our 10:00 position was 14 deg. 12.20'S, 86 deg. 32.42'E, making 4-5 knots in 8-10 kts of true wind. After spending most of the day fiddling with the lures and lines, I was watching astern to see how a new lure was running when I saw something large and dark in the water about 30m astern. Position was 14 deg. 19.65'S, 86 deg. 05.87'E and the time was 09:13 UTC. A whale! Everyone rushed out on deck to see. Sure enough, it surfaced again and we could see him/her lazily circling the boat, apparently curious. About 8-10 m in length, it looked like a Minke whale, but we can't be sure. It had a dark upper body, white belly, small curved/pointed dorsal fin, pointed rostrum and was very hydrodynamically smooth in shape. Finally it disappeared, only to turn up some time later, apparently in the company of a couple of large, dark dolphins that stayed too far away and disappeared too quickly to allow us to identify them.

10 October

John: Sunday! Not that it matters at all out here. We had a terrible night; Caro was exhausted from last night so I stood watch from 01:00-05:30, when it finally cleared up enough to set the radar alarm and get some rest. The day dawned slate grey and menacing. The sea is leaden and brutal - slick moving hills of gunmetal grey. 10:00 position was 14 deg. 43.75'S, 84 deg. 24.00'E, heading 260 and making 6-8 knots in 10-15 knots of apparent wind from the SE.

11 October

John: A better night, with some improved speed with the increased wind we are now getting. Don't know how long this will last, the weather forecasts we're getting show much weaker wind near Rodrigues. We may have to motor the last part. Our 10:00 position was 15 deg. 14.29'S, 81 deg. 30.81'E, 916 n.m. from North Keeling. Casper and I worked on cleaning up the speed log paddle wheel - a testament to our seaworthyness since it involves hanging upside-down over the ATF swamp in the after bilge spaces while the boat lurches over the swell. Late in the day saw an historic turning point, our halfway point in the trip to Cocos - now less than 1000 n.m. to go. At last the GPS is showing the distance to go and counting down. The poor thing is incapable of displaying distances over 999 n.m. The kids and I watched 'Life of Brian' again while Caro read below. Alex is really taken with the song and idea behind 'Look on the bright side of life' and keeps singing it to me when things are not going well. Sometimes I don't know whether to hug him or brain him.

12 October

John: OK, having got tired of losing fishing gear to oversized bruisers who keep breaking our lines, I upgraded yesterday to the bigger Okuma reel with 80 lb test monoflament leading on to 200 lb test braided line. The other reel, a two-speed Shimano, also has 80 lb test monofilament, maybe 200 m of it, to allow it to run until the fish is tired, backed with 80 lb test braided. we use 3m braided stainless steel leaders. Casper prepared two new swimming plugs. Then around 15:00 this afternoon the Shimano went off, while I was writing this log. I eased on the drag until it was just slowly pulling off the reel, having already eaten up a huge amount of line in a spurting scream. Caro headed the boat more downwind and slackened the Genoa sheet, as we planned, to slow the boat. Then the Starbaord reel went off. Right then the Port reel went slack, but without a jump like it would with a sharp break, so I had hopes the fish had decided to run towards the boat. I got Alex to reel in the Port side slack while I rushed over to the Starboard side to ease the pressure on there. This was also a biggy. With maximum drag, the reel was down to the braided line and still being pulled out when it snapped with a bang. Both lines broken. The Port side turns out to have parted at the crimp on the leader. The Starboard seems to have broken at the join to the 80 lb test. We don't have any more 80 lb test line, that was the last, put on new this morning. Damn! It looks like we just don't have anything big enough to handle these fish, or I'm just too inept to play them well enough to bring them in. What the hell are these monsters? Oh well... 10:00 position was 15 deg. 48.82'S, 78 deg. 55.47'E, making 6-7 knots in 15-20 kts of true wind from the ESE.

Casper: Today I sat down and made myself a necklace. I started with selecting some beads and exploring different combinations. When I found a good combination that I liked I put it on a piece of string. I found that my necklace turned out to be quite nice and original because I passed a line through the stone through a bead and back again. Then when I was finished I decided to make a bracelet that matched. Wow. It was a nice matching bracelet and a beautiful necklace.

13 October

John: A horrible, rolly, slamming night of tossing about in my bunk, listening to the Genoa alternately luffing and then whanging back taut, shaking the whole boat and making everything vibrate as the tension flexes the mast and communicates the sudden shock down through the hull and standing rigging. Wondering how much work hardening has been building up in the mast and shrouds... The boom breaking has certainly taken its toll on my confidence in the rig. The wind is now way down, around 6-8 knots apparent, and swung well to the East, so giving us little angle on the sail to play with. We don't have a long-enough pole to pole out the Genoa, or even the staysail, for that matter. We spend the day nursing the boat at 3-4 knots downwind. It's amazing she keeps going at all, really. Our 10:00 position was 16 deg. 20.40'S, 76 deg. 49.89'E with 789 n.m. to go. It seems we are still around 240 n.m. behind Altair, so they must be having a similar time of it.

Caroline: When John went to reel in the lures before dark he found to his surprise that the port rod was bent over. Reeling it in he discovered a nice little tuna on the lure. Our favourite fish! Too late to eat it today, but tomorrow there will be sashimi and sushi.

14 October

Caroline: Bah, what a night. With no wind to speak of, just barely keeping steerage, it's a rolly night. That means I don't get much sleep, just a bit of shallow dozing off here and there. But in the morning the wind picks up enough to do 4 to 5 knots and with the sea state down it's very comfortable. We have a wonderful day whiling the hours away preparing and eating tuna sushi and sashimi. Passagemaking doesn't get much better than this, a beautiful sunny day enjoying fresh tuna sushi with a glass of wine. No meetings, deadlines, just the here and the now. On the one hand we live in our own little private world far away from anything, 4 human beings on a boat in the middle of a huge ocean. On the other hand we feel very much part of the big world, knowing exactly where we are and how it connects to the rest. We have 660 miles to go.

John: After a rough night, the day dawned sunny and with just enough increase in wind to sail smoothly, the sea swell reduced to make a comfortabe, easy-going day of it. Our 10:00 position was 16 deg. 32.28'S, 75 deg. 17.29'E, making 3 knots in 5-10 kts of true wind from the ESE with 700 n.m. to go. I spent a good part of the day turning our fat and juicy little skipjack tuna into lunch with the help of the kids, who let their creativity loose on making a second serving of unique sashimi and sushi items as a team, having a wonderful time of it. A fabulous lunch, crisp white wine, Adriano Celentani playing on the stereo, kids having fun together and everyone at peace with the world as we slice smoothly through a crystal blue sea under a bright, clear sun; Life is beautiful. It's been a long time since I've been with my family and this content to sit and read and relax with them. Time collapses; leaving Singapore is both a million miles away and yet so much seems to have happened in so little time since. I can't believe we've already been away 2 months.

15 October

Caroline: There's still only just enough wind to move Jocara along at 4 to 5 knots. It's been a really slow passage so far, but nobody seems to mind very much. We are very much looking forward to arriving in Rodrigues for sure, but we don't feel in a hurry. Life is good on board, we're all quite relaxed.

John: We have now travelled enough westward to make it necessary to change the clocks on board by an hour and a half, a hassle because it upsets the 'times' for all our little scheds with other boats, etc. Our 10:00 position will now become an 08:30 position (which, for the record, was today 16 deg. 57.43'S, 73 deg. 26.41'E, making 5 knots in 10-12 kts of true wind from the E). Altair, the sneaky folk, continue to pull ahead of us and now we have their secret weapon revealed... They have been flying a Spinaker during the day! Bah!

16 October

John: Saturday, again. By 02:30 the wind was down to just 4 knots, so we started the engine. Our 08:30 position was 17 deg. 29.49'S, 71 deg. 33.59'E, making 6 knots on the engine. Altair report that they are just 100 n.m. from Rodrigues, which now seems a long way ahead of us. We toy with the idea of going swimmming. The kids are all for it to break their boredom but Caro and I are concerned that the swell is really to big to play that game out here just now.

17 October

John: Our 08:30 position was 17 deg. 58.81'S, 69 deg. 23.59, making 5 knots in 10 kts of true wind from the ESE with 352 n.m. to go. Altair were just 10 n.m. outside the harbour at check-in, so they're very excited and we're now longing to be in there right behind them! Suddenly the 350 n.m. we have left to go seems both very little (compared to the 2000 for this leg of the trip) and a lot (given we are only making about 130 a day). We begin to hazard a guess at when we might arrive.... the middle of Tuesday night? The entrance is too narrow to negotiate in the dark, just typical! Time to set up our last air sampling runs of the passage. We get both particulate sampling and Persistent Organic Pollutant (POP) systems out and running by the end of the day.

18 October

John: At last, some wind! Just in the nick of time to get us in in daylight on Tuesday, if it holds! Our 08:30 position was 18 deg. 36.61'S, 66 deg. 46.63'E, making around 7 knots in 15-20 kts of true wind from the ESE with 198 n.m. to go. We are rudely re-aquainted with the inconveniences of rolling and lurching in a choppy sea. We are getting concerned at the lack of hits on our lures. They go in every morning, and come out every evening at sunset, but nothing happens in between, it seems. Caroline prompts the lads to change the lures, which we do, to a green/yellow feather squid on starboard (shorter line) and the Giant Trembler (a large muilti-coloured rattling fish... yum!) on Port.

19 October

John:Our 08:30 position was 19 deg. 29.43'S, 64 deg. 20.35'E, making 5-6 knots in 15 kts of true wind from the E with 51 n.m. to go. The wind has eased in the night and now we're concerned we may only arrive just as it gets dark. Not a good idea! I adjust the waypoint to head for the eastern entrance passage to Mathurin Bay, narrower but shorter then the western entrance. We tinker with sails and wonder if we will make it. Perhaps we can anchor in the outer harbour, the bay, if entering is not possible in the failing light? The entrance is a narrow channel blasted out of the coral and the lights are reputed to be hard to make out against the backdrop of the town; a common problem. At 24 n.m. from Rodrigues we sight land! then it disappears in a squall. Then we pick up a strike in the early afternoon on the Giant Trembler. Reeling it in, it does not feel so big, but definitely a fish. Getting closer... maybe a Mahi-Mahi? No! It's a Wahoo! A big one! Casper leads him forward with the rod and I gaff him, swinging him precariously over the rail, snapping and twisting. He spits out the lure almost right away and I lean on him with the gaff firmly impaling him in the side to hold him on board while Casper puts a noose around his tail. Those teeth are not to be messed with! He turns out to be 1.27m long, quite a catch and very welcome towards the end of the trip. We decide immediately to invite Paul and Suzzette from Altair, and Roger from Irena, on board tomorrow for a fresh Wahoo steak dinner, and cut off 7 steaks to put in the fridge. Another 4 steaks for the freezer, and still a lot left for Sushi! Star is very excited, and relishes her offcuts. As soon as the fish in the fridge, I call the Coast Guard - we are about 12 n.m. from Rodrigues. At 16:00 we get a reply. We check in again as we enter the outer bay, and it's still light! We get directions to work our way in; it turns out to be quite simple (although there is a significant offset from the C-Map chart datum) and we are directed to tie up alongside the jetty for inspection. A very friendly Port Health officer comes on board and clears us, followed by the Coast Guard. Finally we anchor and relax. Roger comes rowing by and we spend the evening chatting and eating Wahoo sashimi with Pinotage Red - a real pleasure after two weeks at sea. Then, a beautiful calm anchored night's sleep!