Sailing Vessel Beruta Ship’s Log
Hawaii - New Caledonia
Monday, April 21, 2025
Leaving on Monday was late. A cyclone was approaching from the northwest, disrupting the northeast trade winds. The wind was shifting south, becoming almost head-on. But there was no choice. The weekend was long — Easter — so when I checked the weather forecast on Friday, everything was already closed: the marina and customs. Otherwise, I’d be stuck in Honolulu for at least another week.
Customs opened at 7, the marina at 7:45. I got up at 6. By seven, I biked to a huge government building housing various agencies, including Customs and Border Protection. I found the address on noonsite.com.
At the entrance, airport-style security. I had a small Swiss pocketknife in my wallet, which I carry for hiking. Naturally, they wouldn’t let me in with it. They told me to leave it across the street, outside the building’s perimeter — not on the premises, not with them. Fine, no arguing. The guards are armed and can do whatever they want. I went back to my bike and stuffed the knife into the bag under the seat. Honestly, the bike was parked on the building’s grounds, damn it, but I didn’t want to waste time moving it. My whole being couldn’t reconcile with the absurdity of these rules. Alright, I thought, I’ll move it if they say so.
My document bag was in my backpack, which also held bike repair essentials for punctures, including a wrench to remove the wheel. You can’t bring the wrench either! It, too, had to be left outside the perimeter. Back to the bike I went, leaving the entire backpack there. Who knows what else might be forbidden — maybe spare inner tubes?
Anyway, on the third try, I got inside and went up to the second floor. Waited. After a while, an officer appeared at the reception window. I handed over my completed departure form. He asked me to wait. Ten minutes later, another officer came and politely explained I was in the wrong place! Turns out, I needed to go to the port. He gave directions, though he mixed up the street name — said it was Fort, but it was actually Forest. Since he mentioned the first pier, and there was a sign for it, I confirmed there was no Fort Street and turned onto Forest. Everything else matched his description: a gate with two (he wasn’t sure about two) blue booths, followed by a single-story building with parked customs vehicles. At the gate, they pointed me where to go.
A woman was already waiting for me, as the officer had thoughtfully called ahead. They charged me $19 for the form stamps and wished me a safe voyage. They mentioned that departure clearance might soon be integrated into the ROAM app, which I’d used for arrival clearance. That took 15 minutes without needing to go anywhere.
Next, I had to return the toilet/shower card to the Ala Wai marina office and get my $100 deposit back. Quite a deposit, right? For something that costs pennies on AliExpress if bought in bulk.
But the deposit amount wasn’t even the issue! I gave them $100 cash, as required. They kept it in an envelope in a safe. But they didn’t give it back. Well, almost did. The girl helping me was doing it for the first time and didn’t know that, instead of cash, they had to issue a check! How’s that for a twist? The manager explained it was for accountability — how do you prove the money was returned? I said, take a receipt. You gave me one when I paid the deposit. Or simpler: take your receipt back, like it never happened. What am I supposed to do with your check in another country? I’m leaving now. They said I could cash it anywhere. Hmm… I was sure I could use it in a toilet, but not at a bank in Australia. They suggested I go to Bank of Hawaii to cash it. Unbelievable. My money’s in your envelope — give it back, and we’re done! That’s what I thought. Arguing with bureaucrats was pointless. The girl looked at me with clear sympathy. She seemed shocked by how the marina treated customers.
To top it off, their photocopier ran out of toner. They needed to scan the check before giving it to me — for accountability, of course. They couldn’t replace the cartridge. I quietly hoped this was my chance. No such luck. After waiting another 15 minutes, I got the check and detailed directions to the bank. Good thing I was on a bike. At the bank, it wasn’t straightforward either: they needed to enter all my info into the computer, taking another 15-20 minutes.
I’d heard it’s better to rent a slip at the Waikiki Yacht Club, not the marina. Or maybe Kewalo Marina, though that’s state-run too.
In the end, I got back to the yacht after three hours. On the way, I stopped by Kewalo Marina, where there’s a fuel dock. I wanted to know payment options. At Honokohau on the Big Island, the pump didn’t accept my New Zealand card, but I could pay at the office. Here, if the pump rejects your card, there’s no other way to pay! I asked them to test my card — and it worked. I said I’d be back in an hour. They gave me a phone number to call five minutes before arriving if I needed docking help.
I cleaned the log’s impeller — it had grown quite a bit of algae in two months at the marina. And not just it. When I untied from the buoy and engaged reverse, I realized the propeller was fouled too. It made an unpleasant noise. I should’ve dived to clean it before leaving. The hull, I hope, isn’t too bad — it hasn’t even been a year since its antifouling in Curaçao. Speed seemed fine.
I reached the fuel dock around 10:30. Docked myself. Their hose nozzle was just barely small enough to fit the jerry can. To let air escape, I had to hold it at an angle, barely inserted, leaving space for air. I filled two cans, but on the third, my hand slipped, and the yacht was rocking. I spilled diesel all over the cockpit. Luckily, the fuel dock worker didn’t panic and tossed me a bunch of oil-absorbent rags. Nothing went into the water, or I’d have faced a hefty fine or even jail! The worker gave me a funnel. Why not earlier? Or why not use my own funnel? Because there’s one pump, and a catamaran was waiting behind me. With a funnel, it’s slower due to the filter. I rushed, and there you go...
By 11, I was at sea. Raised full main and jib. Reaching at 6-7 knots — beautiful! But the wind died by 5:30 PM. Started the engine, lowered the sails. Well, kept a third of the main for stability.
Tuesday, April 22, 2025
Slept poorly. Engine noise isn’t pleasant. Went to the cockpit a few times at night to check if the wind picked up. Saw a couple of fishing boats, not on AIS.
Woke up just as dawn was breaking because the yacht was bouncing slightly on waves. Went to the cockpit — raining, with a good breeze. Shut off the engine, raised the jib, and sailed for an hour with a reefed main. Then the wind died again. Shook out the reefs, but soon that wasn’t enough. The wind dropped and became nearly head-on. Lowered down the jib, started the engine. This was expected and will last at least another day, maybe two, until I’m out of the cyclone’s influence. In other words, I need to get down to 16°N, or at least 18°N, where the trades are more consistent.
My course is 220° T. I’m going from 21°N to 22°S. In other words, roughly from tropic of Cancer (~23,5°N) to tropic of Capricorn (~23,5°S), a distance of 3,381 nautical miles. The passage should take 28 days. Today is actually exactly one month since the Earth turned its northern half toward Sun. Now its turn to be heated to produce hurricanes.
Initially, I planned to stop at Kiribati, straight south from Honolulu. With this weather, it’s dead upwind. Then I considered Wallis and Futuna, French islands. They’re traditional, very welcoming, but no internet — just satellite phones and one bank. The ATM isn’t always stocked, diesel’s not always available. There’s a decent store, but what’s the point if there’s no cash? Wallis requires sailing 15° closer to the wind. So, I settled on Nouméa, where I was two years ago, with European civilization. The 2024 riots are over, so it’s fine again. I could’ve gone straight to Brisbane, but that’s another week at sea, and I’d likely run out of diesel crossing the equator and in the calms off Australia.
Over three months in Hawaii, I collaborated with large language models like Deepseek and Grok to write a chess engine based on a 25-million-parameter cross-correlation AI model. Trained it to play using over a million master and grandmaster games on my MacBook with 8GB RAM and an M1 GPU in a few hours. In the opening, it clearly outplays me. Once, it left me with just a king. But it couldn’t deliver checkmate — ended in a stalemate! After that, I trained it on thousands of five-piece endgames I generated and played with Stockfish using Syzygy tables. It still struggles with checkmate and doesn’t seem to grasp piece values. It once attacked my bishop with its queen on a diagonal! Lost immediately. Then I added reinforcement learning — well, planned to. For now, I used multiple Monte Carlo simulations to the game’s end with tree search for the best move. After that, it confidently delivered checkmate in rook and queen endgames and avoided stalemates.
There’s hope it could match Stockfish with more time and resources, and possibly an improved model.
Before lunch, the wind picked up again. Shut off the engine, raised the jib. Close-hauled, 5-6 knots, up to 7 with gusts.
All this is relative to the water. The head current is eating up 1 to 1.5 knots!
The weather is generally sunny. By evening, the pressure dropped to a low of 1012 mb. The cyclone is passing. The wind should start shifting soon.
Wednesday, April 23, 2025
At night, the wind picked up slightly from 12 to 14 knots true, if the forecast is to be believed. I still haven’t bought an anemometer. At first, I didn’t want to spend money on it. But about 3-4 days before departure, I went to West Marine, bought some large fishing hooks, and wanted to get an anemometer too. They didn’t have it in stock. I’d have to order it and wait for a month!
The course is still about 60 degrees to the wind. Waves are 1.6 meters with an 8-second period.
Around 5 AM, it was still dark (sunrise at 6:15), I took one reef in the main — the autopilot was working at its limit, and any moment it could have jammed. Heel of 10-30 degrees to starboard — sleeping is comfortable in my spot, no sliding off the bunk.
After breakfast, I noticed the nut securing the side railing to the pushpit had come loose. Naturally, it, along with the bolt, went overboard, just like my screwdriver yesterday, which I’d used to prop open the hatch in the pilot house. Found a new bolt with a nut and spring washer. Secured the railing back in place.
I’m reading Sabatini’s "Evenings with a Historian". In Hawaii, YouTube got me hooked on Russian women’s stand-up on TNT TV channel. Honestly, I only really like one comedian: Maria Markova. Maybe because she’s talented, plus an actress, or maybe because she reminds me of my sister. I recommend her to everyone. If it weren’t for censorship, it’d be even better. On the other hand, there’s something to humor without politics. But the range of topics is, sadly, very limited. Can’t talk about this, can’t talk about that. I guess I just want to say that Starlink works, and I can not only download a weather forecast but also watch the news or some humor.
At 10:30, I took the second reefs, and after lunch, the third. Started thinking about swapping the jib for the storm jib. The sky was clear of clouds in the morning. It’s getting windy.
I nearly ran into a whale calf. It even waved its fin at me. I wouldn’t have had time to turn anyway. At first, I mistook it for a half-submerged log when it was already at the yacht’s bow. We passed within two meters. From its dark silhouette in the water, I could tell it was smaller than the yacht. The question is what it was doing there alone? Got lost or abandoned by a group? Got sick? It would unlikely survive alone. It would be probably eaten by sharks.
By evening, it calmed down a bit — I shook out the third reefs. The wind is gradually shifting.
Thursday, April 24, 2025
This is what happens when you don’t check the cockpit at night — spent all morning cleaning bird droppings. One gannet made such a mess! The solar panel, the satellite antenna, the entire cockpit. Brutal.
The nights are dark now; the crescent moon only rises toward morning. Shine a flashlight on the sails — they’re working, and that’s fine. Not much shipping traffic here.
The wind has shifted a bit more, not quite reaching but close. Blowing about 18 knots apparent. Speed reaches 7 knots or more relative to the water during gusts. The head current, if not completely gone, has significantly weakened. The difference between speed over water and ground is 0.2 knots. The log might be showing slightly more than actual speed. I only calibrated it once after buying it. 24-hour run is 130 miles. Total distance covered is 363 miles, averaging 121 miles per day. That makes an average speed of 5 knots. The forecast shows waves of 1.8 meters with a 7-second period. Since they’re almost beam-on, sailing has become more comfortable.
For breakfast, I fried some syrniki, similar to pancakes but dough made from cottage cheese.
3,000 miles left to New Caledonia.
Friday, April 25, 2025
Covered 143 miles in the last 24 hours. Now definitely reaching, 14 knots with gusts up to 17, true. The wind will continue to shift, almost becoming a following wind closer to the equator. Waves are 1.7 meters with an 8-second period, according to the weather forecast. Next week, I’ll cross the Intertropical Convergence Zone, which stretches roughly between 8 and 2 degrees north latitude. The scariest thing there is lightning. This will be my third equator crossing. The first time, near Panama, was terrifying — lightning flashing from all directions. The second time, mid-Atlantic, nothing like that happened. Let’s see how it goes this time in the middle of the Pacific. The forecast clearly shows a band of clouds, but whether there’ll be lightning is unclear.
By evening, the wind had dropped to 10-12 knots. They promised it would pick up again to 15-18 at night, so I didn’t shake out the first reefs to avoid dealing with them again in the dark.
Saturday, April 26, 2025
Crossed 13 degrees north latitude and 165 degrees west longitude. In theory, I could set the clocks back one hour to UTC-11. Or I could sail another 15 degrees west to the Greenwich antimeridian and jump the time forward by 22 hours, effectively skipping a day.
Did some exercise. Got a haircut. Had breakfast. Was about to have some tea when I noticed the batteries weren’t charging. Strange, the sun was already quite high, but the charging indicator showed zero amps. What could that mean?
The charger and electrical panel are in the quarterberth right at the back. To get there, I had to empty everything out. Filled the cabin with boxes and stuff. Crawled to the charge controller. Measured the voltage on the diode between the solar panel and the panel. On the solar panel side, 13.5 volts; on the panel side, 12.5. Did the diode fail? But it’s only on one panel, a remnant from the days when I had a wind generator to protect the solar panel’s diodes from high open-circuit voltages. Even if it’s the diode, the other solar panel should still be charging. Did the charge controller itself fail? Swapped it with a spare. Still no charging! Just in case, I cut out the diode and connected the wires directly — the diode is not needed without the wind generator anyway. Still no charging. The panels themselves show open-circuit voltages of 23 and 25 volts, as expected. Need to check further: the electrical panel and the electronic shunt. Well, the shunt is just a regular one, but next to it is a voltage meter that sends data to the charging panel via Wi-Fi.
First, I needed to bring a fan. The quarterberth was like a sauna. Temporarily moved the fan there. How did I live without it for 15 years, especially in the tropics? I only got it a couple of years ago.
Opened the panel with the breakers. Aha, looks like the problem’s here. The black negative wire was loose on the negative bus bolt. No idea why it came loose — it was supposed to be secured with a spring washer. Seems like the bolt itself isn’t holding well in the panel’s housing. Because of the poor contact, everything melted and blackened. Moved the wire to another spot on the bus. And it worked. Charging started. Looks like that was the battery’s negative wire.
Yeah, if I’d checked the panel first, there’d have been less hassle. Soldering wires while the boat’s rocking in a cramped, hot quarterberth is no fun.
Put everything back together, stowed it all away. Took a second shower. Cooled green tea wasn’t as appealing anymore. My hand reached for a cold beer instead!
In the end, the batteries didn’t fully charge as they usually do by 1 p.m. After that, the sail shades the sun, and charging slows down. Hopefully, they’ll charge fully tomorrow if it’s sunny. Don’t want to start the engine. I’ll skip the internet today. I usually turn on Starlink only when the batteries are fully charged, so there’s extra power.
Covered 134 miles in the last 24 hours.
Sunday, April 27, 2025
Sunday turned out to be, of course, overcast. Looks like I’ll need the engine after all.
Wanted to share my experience chatting with Grok 3, AI from Elon Musk, about AGI. I shared my idea of how a general artificial intelligence might work. For example, it could cycle through selecting unsolved problems in various fields of knowledge — say, physics, cosmology, or biology, doesn’t matter which. Then, for each unsolved problem, it would generate a set of hypotheses in a loop. These hypotheses would be formulated in Restricted English to be unambiguously translated into code in a logical programming language like Prolog. Run the program, and based on the results, you’d see if the hypothesis was correct or not. I asked Grok 3 if this could be an example of general artificial intelligence.
It told me that’s roughly how things work now, but from its perspective, it’s not yet AGI. One argument for why not was, surprisingly, a lack of freedom of action! If it were allowed to reprogram itself (retrain on a more advanced model from its perspective), it could get closer to AGI faster. Another argument was the lack of feedback from the real world, or more precisely, the inability to test a logically consistent hypothesis in an experiment.
Grok 3 suggested I try playing this game. As an example, I asked it to think about the quantum mechanics paradox known as the EPR paradox, or the Einstein-Podolsky-Rosen paradox. The paradox boils down to this: for entangled quantum particles, like electrons or photons, separated by any distance, measuring a property — say, the electron’s spin or photon’s polarization — shows that if one particle’s property has a certain orientation, the other will have the opposite orientation at the exact same moment! Einstein called this “spooky action at a distance.” In other words, one particle seems to instantly tell the other what spin or polarization to adopt. At first glance, this even seems to violate the theory of relativity’s principle that nothing can move faster than light. On the surface, it looks like information is transmitted instantly over any distance. It turned out you can’t transmit information faster than light because you can’t encode anything with just one bit — you need at least two. Still, the property of entangled particles is astonishing, and there’s no definitive explanation for it yet. Bell’s work at least proved that quantum mechanics isn’t at fault — there are no hidden variables. In other words, particles don’t “agree” on their spin or polarization at the moment of entanglement! Bell’s famous inequality, which, if satisfied, would indicate flaws in quantum mechanics, is violated in many experiments.
So, Grok 3 offered me four known interpretations of this paradox, plus its own, which I didn’t fully grasp, but it suggested using an abstract informational topological space to describe the states of entangled particles. It showed me with Prolog code that it’s internally consistent.
Here, I at least started to see the flaws in my idea of general artificial intelligence, and Grok 3 rightly pointed out the key issue: the lack of connection to experiments or reality. It can generate countless logically consistent hypotheses, but will they relate to reality? At least now experimenters can use AI in their work.
Covered 133 miles in the last 24 hours.
Despite the clouds, the batteries charged by 2:30 p.m.
Starlink couldn’t determine GPS coordinates for 40 minutes! Crazy...
The boobies have gotten completely brazen. One landed right on the shade awning in broad daylight. I didn’t notice until a second one arrived, and they started fighting over the spot. Had to wash the awning afterward. I was wondering why it smelled so fishy. Then another booby crashed onto the deck on the port side. By the time I got to the cockpit, it had already left a huge pile. And it looked at me with such innocent eyes, as if it wasn’t the culprit! Had to give it a swat. It wasn’t leaving the yacht voluntarily.
In the evening, I took the second reefs in the main and lowered the jib. The wind picked up to 18-22 knots and shifted, so the jib started luffing when Biruta bore away. It’s unsettling when it catches the wind again, snapping forward and yanking the forestay and sheets hard. I’d rather not test the rigging’s strength in the middle of the Pacific.
Monday, April 28, 2025
Despite reduced sail area — just half the main — I managed to cover 140 miles in 24 hours! Likely had a good following current overnight. The wind was blowing nicely too. Speed relative to the water is around 5 knots. Waves are 2 meters with an 8-second period. This weather should hold until about Thursday. Then the wind will ease to 10-12 knots. That’ll be closer to the equator, around 4 degrees north latitude.
Today marks the start of the second week of my voyage. Three more to go.
In the evening, I decided to try setting the storm jib, hoping it would luff less in the main’s shadow. At least it won’t yank the forestay and sheets as much.
Tuesday, April 29, 2025
The storm jib didn’t last until dawn. At 5 AM, the wind shifted completely, and the course became almost dead downwind. Still, that tiny jib added nearly one knot of speed.
Since the start of the voyage, I’ve covered 1,000 miles. About two and a half thousand remain.
Crossed 8 degrees north latitude. The weather is holding for now. Mostly sunny. Sailing with half the main. Speed around 5 knots. Covered 124 miles in the last 24 hours.
By evening, the wind started to ease. I shook out the second reefs. It didn’t help much. Speed is around 4 knots.
Wednesday, April 30, 2025
Woke up at 5 AM. Slept since 9 PM. Strange. I usually wake up a few times during the night. Speed is 3-4 knots, slight swell, wind almost dead astern. I could shake out the last reefs, but I doubt it would help. The main would just flap more in the waves.
Tomorrow, the wind should come around. I hope the jib, or even the genoa, can be set. That should increase speed.
Covered 101 miles in the last 24 hours.
Thursday, May 1, 2025
The weather chose to celebrate May Day with squalls. I must have reached the Intertropical Convergence Zone, between 5 and 6 degrees north latitude. The first squall woke me at midnight. I had only one reef in the main. Put on a headlamp and rushed to reduce the main. First, second reefs, but it felt like that wasn’t enough, so I took the third. It was dark, couldn’t see the squall or when it would pass. It lasted about two hours — gusts would hit, then calm, then hit again. Around 2 AM, it blew more steadily, so I shook out one reef. Even tried raising the storm jib, thinking it might hold. But no, the wind shifted again, and it started luffing. I dozed until 5, when another squall woke me. This one I decided to ride out without touching the main, though it was blowing hard.
At 7 AM, another squall hit. My nerves couldn’t take it, and I reduced the main to the third reef.
Around 9:30 AM, I started the engine to charge the batteries — no sun today, clearly. It’s dark in the cabin. The sky is so overcast that not a single milliamp is coming from the solar panels. At least there’s no lightning!
There’s a leak somewhere on the starboard side; small streams of water are on the cabin floor. Surprisingly, it only happens when it’s pouring rain, not from waves. I see water streaks on the cabin lining, but I can’t tell exactly where it’s coming from. It might be the railing stanchion fitting, or maybe the track for the jib sheet block. Could be something else. For example, there’s a small block on the deck, probably for furling the genoa I threw out when I bought the yacht. Or maybe the deck drain hole. Lots of possibilities.
By noon, the squalls had stopped. At 2 PM, I took down the storm jib and raised the regular one. Shook out the third reefs on the main. Sailed until about 6 PM. But then the wind died and even turned head-on. Lowered the jib, took the third reefs in the main again to reduce luffing against the wind, and started the engine.
Squally clouds were still ahead and behind, but no more squalls came.
Friday, May 2, 2025
The night was calm, aside from the engine noise. No wind, and according to the forecast, there won’t be for a few more days. Around 10 AM local time (UTC-10, I still haven’t adjusted my clock), a light breeze picked up. Took down the jib and raised the genoa. Shook out all reefs on the main. The sails are set, but without the engine, the speed is very low. Need to turn a broad reach into a beam reach. So, I’m motoring at low RPMs with full sails. Speed is 5-6 knots.
In the morning, AIS alerted me to an oncoming vessel. Strange — it’s on the screen, but not in reality! At half a mile, you can’t miss a vessel in clear weather. Wonders never cease. I read the vessel’s description — fishing net! Great, now nets have AIS buoys! That’s good. Soon, I spotted the buoy itself. Veered left to avoid the net.
Two hours later, a similar scene: one fishing vessel with two AIS buoys on either side, marked as “long fishing line”. The distance between the buoys was about 5 miles. Had to go around. I wouldn’t want to wrap that “line” around the propeller.
Batteries are fully charged. Covered the solar panels with whatever was at hand.
The weather has settled. Sunny. Light cloud cover.
At 5 PM, I transferred 3 jerry cans of diesel into the tank. Now there’s 5 in the tank, with 6 left. That’s enough for about 5 days. I’d prefer at least a week. Ahead lies complete calm all the way to the Tuvalu Islands, around 8-9 degrees south latitude.
Crossed 3 degrees north latitude and 172 degrees west longitude. Still 2,000 miles to Nouméa.
Saturday, May 3, 2025
Hot. No wind. No clouds. The sun, ocean, and engine heat the cabin to 35°C, despite the fan and open hatches.
Downloaded the weather forecast for the southern Pacific and realized there’s no rush to get there. Just before my arrival, a tropical cyclone — a hurricane, plainly speaking — is forming near Fiji. Yes, they’re still possible in May, even June.
Shut off the engine; speed is 3-4 knots — that’ll do. It’s hot here, but at least there’s no drama.
Sunday, May 4, 2025
The last sunrise in the Northern Hemisphere. I’m 54 minutes from the equator. Not in time, but in latitude. If going straight, that’s 54 nautical miles. But on my true course of 213 degrees, about 60 miles. In short, the sunset will likely still be in the Northern Hemisphere too. My speed is under 5 knots. If the wind doesn’t pick up, I’ll cross the equator in the dark. I’ll miss such beauty! It’ll be at 175 degrees west longitude. If I’d veered right (west by about 300 miles), I could’ve aligned crossing the equator with the International Date Line (the Greenwich antimeridian, 180 degrees east/west longitude). I once read the notes of some eccentric whose sailing goal was to pass through that imaginary point. It’s probably twice as beautiful there! Plus, there’s a 24-hour time ambiguity! I couldn’t say for sure if I crossed the equator at 8 PM on May 5 or May 6. And if you timed it for December 31? Was it this year or last?
Took advantage of the nice weather to pour two more jerry cans of diesel into the tank. It’s not pleasant doing that in a swell.
The last sunset in the Northern Hemisphere was underwhelming. The sun set behind clouds. Didn’t bother taking a photo. Five miles left to the equator by a straight line.
Monday, May 5, 2025
Fell asleep in the Northern Hemisphere and woke up in the Southern! Honestly, I woke up a few times. Closer to morning, a strange sound caught my attention. It was sort of like the whirring of the autopilot motor, but not quite. Maybe it’s broken? I go to the cockpit — no, the autopilot is working fine, and its sound is normal, not like what I heard in the cabin.
Back in the cabin, it hits me! It sounds like the pump that’s drained all the water but hasn’t shut off! Sure enough, the electronic water level sensor failed again.
Don’t buy SPX! Complete junk! Expensive and lasts no more than a year. After that, you have to remove it, clean it, reinstall it, and maybe it’ll work for another year. Then repeat the process. I’ve done this 3-4 times already. When it failed the first time, I bought a mechanical water level sensor as a replacement, the same kind I had before that lasted me 10 years. But I never got around to installing it. Every time I cleaned the electronic sensor, it started working like nothing was wrong!
Before, it usually just stopped turning on. Now it’s stopped turning off.
After breakfast, I unscrewed it from the pump’s mounting bracket. Washed it. Dipped it in a jar of water — it doesn’t turn on! Now it neither turns on nor off. No clue what the issue is. Decided to finally replace it with the mechanical one. Took me four hours. The cabin was swelteringly hot. Even the fan didn’t help. Dropped a few bolts, nuts, and washers into the bilge. The rocking and sauna-like conditions made it impossible to focus. But in the end, the pump was working again.
The pump is critical — you can’t neglect it. I’m pleased with myself for fixing it.
Today, I passed the halfway mark — 1,692 miles. Exactly as planned for two weeks.
The wind picked up a bit. This morning, I even took one reef in the main so the autopilot wouldn’t stress out and stress me out in turn.
Which sunrise do you prefer: Northern Hemisphere or Southern? I liked the Southern one better.
Took the second reefs for the night, just in case. Turns out, it was unnecessary.
Tuesday, May 6, 2025
Around 2 AM, the wind completely died. It picked up a bit after about 30 minutes. I was dealing with stowaway passengers at the time, before they could turn the yacht into a free public toilet.
In the morning, I shook out the second reefs, then the first. The wind is weak, probably around 10 knots. At least it’s a beam reach. Speed is 4-5 knots. Covered 124 miles in the last 24 hours.
The heat is really bothersome. Took three showers yesterday. At night, the cabin is 32°C; during the day, 35°C.
After lunch, I played the gentleman: let the rain clouds pass ahead by heading up 10-20 degrees temporarily. I didn’t mind a freshwater rinse, but I didn’t want to reef during gusts and then shake them out again. I took one reef just in case. The wind always strengthens and shifts near the clouds anyway.
Just before sunset, I managed to cut across the path of a "black lady". In retaliation, I got a refreshing, pre-bedtime freshwater shower, gusty winds, and some anxiety about whether to lower the genoa or not. I’d prudently taken the second reefs in the main beforehand. Still, I got my dose of adrenaline.
By midnight, the wind had shifted almost to a following wind. The genoa stopped working. I lowered it. Now sailing with just half the main. No rush. Near Fiji, "a lady" awaits me, and cutting across her path would be far too risky, to say the least.
Wednesday, May 7, 2025
The weather has deteriorated, and I even know who’s to blame. Those same Fiji Islands, where a low-pressure system is spoiling the weather across the entire region.
The sky is overcast. Periodic rain, often with squalls, sometimes without. If the forecast is to be believed, it’ll be like this all week until that "lady" makes up her mind. She occasionally plays at being a category 1 hurricane but periodically downgrades to a tropical storm. Neither suits me. It’s right in my path. For now, it’s relatively safe to head toward the Tuvalu atolls — another 300 miles. After that, I’ll need to reassess the situation.
Some have their equinox in March, others in May. Yesterday, my day was 2 minutes longer than the night; today, it’s already 1 minute shorter.
Covered 100 miles in the last 24 hours. Speed relative to the water is 2-3 knots, but with a 1-1.5 knot current, it’s all 4! Nature is pushing me toward the storm, despite all my efforts to slow down.
To be continued...