November 25–28
Across the Greenwich Meridian
I hit another milestone when I crossed the Greenwich Meridian on the afternoon of Tuesday, November 26. The Greenwich Meridian is the dividing line between east and west for the navigator. Having spent my whole sailing life before this race in north latitude and west longitude, I am completely turned upside down now, as I sail in the Southern and Eastern hemispheres!
It is quite cold down here in the south. I fired up my little heater the other night to keep the temperature over 55 degrees in the cabin. It's the first time since the race began, and I am sure that the heater will be a good friend before long.
I also achieved my first 300-mile run in a 24-hour period: 302 miles from 2 p.m. GMT (Greenwich Mean Time) on November 24 through 2 p.m. GMT, November 25.
The birds following us don't care about speed, however. They are both hungry and optimistic. There are at least 200 of them, swooping back and forth in our wake in the vain hope that I'm really a very fast fishing boat and will soon be cleaning my catch and throwing fish heads and innards over the side. Programmed by hundreds of years of following whalers and fishing boats of all kinds, these birds haven't given up on me yet. But the only items that go over the side are organic things like apple cores—everything else goes into a trash bag for proper disposal on land. We all have to do our part to keep our oceans clean.
Have a great Thanksgiving.
Tim
November 11–15
Over the Equator
I am over! Everest Horizontal is in the Southern Hemisphere! I crossed the equator on Monday, November 11, under blue skies. Since then, I am making good time, having covered 240 miles in a period of 27.5 hours.
I am in third place, making some inroads into Spirit of Canada. But first-place boat, Tommy Hilfiger Freedom America is so far ahead that it could stop in Salvador, Brazil, for five days before I could catch it!
All the boats know their positions out here because we communicate with race headquarters using a transceiver. This unit must be switched on at all times. It contains a global positioning system (GPS) that can be checked by satellite to determine my position. Every eight hours we get an update on every boat. I jot the positions down and transfer them to the computer.
My days as an auto mechanic served me well last weekend. The enormous pump that fills the water ballast tanks seized up. But I ripped apart the pump and replaced it. Yet another repair gave me a nasty sunburn on Sunday. I was on deck for hours, so focused on the job I did not realize what was happening.
Meanwhile, my hitch hiking raptor—Seahawk—has left. I feel that she struck out for the Brazilian coast, which is downwind from here. She certainly had a lot of rest, and she got familiar enough around me to land on my leg and eat out of my hand.
November 8–10
Where Hurricanes Are Born
The other day—Friday, November 8—I was roughly at latitude 6 degrees north and longitude 24 degrees west, about 340 miles above the equator. (Latitude and longitude mark the location of things on the surface of the Earth.) I have been getting doldrums weather: light winds, sudden strong winds, and rain showers. The weather models are useless, so I have sniffed my way more than anything. It's slow going; I'm covering 70 miles every 24 hours, working for every inch.
This is the part of the Atlantic where hurricanes are born. Here, you'll find towering thunderheads that are visible even at night. They bring high winds and drenching rains. In between the storms are squalls, which are brief bursts of intense weather. Sometimes squalls have lots of rain and no wind, while others have lots of wind and no rain. It is impossible—especially at night—to tell which ones are packin' and which ones are posin' —so I reduce the sails every time one gets too close.
Today—Sunday, November 10—I'm about 200 miles from the equator. Upon reaching the line, sailors often pour an alcoholic beverage into the sea for Neptune, the Roman god of the sea, and ask for his permission to pass peacefully into the other hemisphere.
Things are different south of the equator. For instance, the winds in high-pressure systems in the Northern Hemisphere spin in a clockwise motion around the system. It's the opposite in the south (high-pressure system means nice weather).
Now I'm watching the sun set behind a huge rain cloud through the windows in the cabin of this wonderful boat. I have finally straightened up the boat from all of today's repair jobs, including a nasty little gash on my finger from a small metal pin on the mast. I quickly cleaned the wound with antibiotic ointment and dressed it with a bandage.
The hawk still rides with me.
—Tim Kent
Conitnue on to December's Journals
