Yesterday was a special day aboar VALIS: We passed the halfway mark on the way towards Hawaii! Determining when you are halfway can be tricky. Is it halfway in time? No, that wouldn’t make sense, we couldn’t figure that out until we cross the finish line. In our case, we certainly hope the second half of our race doesn’t take as long as our first half. Some people draw a straight line from San Francisco to Hawaii, divide that in two (1035 miles), then figure that when the distance left to Kaneohe hits that number, they’ve passed the halfway point.
On VALIS, we have decided that when our boat is an equal distance between the Golden Gate Bridge (because it’s easy to find on the chart), and the Pac Cup finish line, we are then halfway. This matters so much because it is of no practical value whatsoever.
It also matters because it is a major milestone, and a high-point of the race. The crew all start feeling optimistic again (there are days where we do feel a little down), and we really begin to count the miles, days, hours, to go. We start pllacing bets on our actual finish time, shed grungy, lived-in clothes and take a shower in the cockpit (one at a time, as the mood, or smell, strikes us).
Aboard VALIS we carry the “Tiki God”, a plastic, battery-operated drummer of disputed origin who bangs on two skulls to a lively tune. When not sailing with us, Tiki God is kept safe by John. This time, the Tiki God woke up John, who later appeared in a black bandanna and eye-patch, and with a pirate’s “Arrgh”, helped lead the festivities.
A traditional part of a halfway ceremony is an offering to Neptune, Posiedon, etc, in grateful thanks for our safe passage so far, and with wishes for their further protection. David offered a glass of Mt. Gay Rom (proud sponsor of the Pacific Cup), and the sea accepted it.
We then opened gifts from our friends and loved ones. Many were shared (thanks Edie!), some passed around and admired (balloon animals were a challenge, but we did make a “fish”), and others were held in secrecy (Tirso had better sleep with one eye open). Speeches were made. It was a lot of fun.
Halfway was 1042 miles. At the moment we have 895 miles to go. We’re getting there!
Photo: A message to Camille: “Swim Like the Wind, from the crew of VALIS”

This is mostly a test posting, as my last blog entry seems to have been lost.
Early this morning (4:00 AM) we jibed and are now sailing towards Hawaii. The seas have dropped, and the winds are a comfortable 17-20 kts. Still no sun, though.
Yesterday we started fishing. No bites yet, but when we pulled in the line at sunset there was no hook. Some fish is probably wearing some new jewlrey, and we have a new lure in the water now. We have a little fishing derby going with Coyote, and they’ve already caught a 25″ tuna. I’m confident we can beat that, plus have some tasty fish tacos.
Aloha, Paul / VALIS

Sunday, July 11 — 3:30 AM
Here’s what a night watch is like. Since I’m running the Pac Cup morning (position report) and evening (informal) radio nets, I have assigned myself a fixed watch schedule. Everyone else rotates through the watches, so they don’t have to stand the 03:00 – 06:00 watch (for example) every night.
11:30 PM – I am sleeping in the quarterberth, my head back where the rudder is. I wake up (sometimes I require shouts and kicks for this, but tonight for some reason I just wake up)and listen to the loud rushing and gurgling of the water as it flows past a few inched from my ears. VALIS has a canoe stern, and is pretty quiet until we approach hull-speed. Once our speed reached seven knots things get pretty noisy by the stern, and you learn to gauge the boat speed by the charactistics of the sound.
The boat is sailing smoothly. We’ve been bouncing around quite a bit as the seas have picked up, and I wonder if things have calmed down, afraid that we’ve lost the wind again. But the sound is unmistakable: we’re still zooming along at around 8 kts.
When I last went below it was foggy, damp, and cold, and the occasional wave-slap was throwing water into the cockpit. I poke myy head through the companionway and see that nothinghas changed. So, I suit up in my full set of foulies, put on my PFD (lifejacket), fill my water bottle, and climb on deck.
00:00AM (midnite) – Topsides, David is steering and Tirso is preparing to come down to catch some sleep. I clip on my tether and settle in, Tirso goes below.
We stand three-hour watches, and every 1-1/2 hours someone goes on, and another goes off-watch. Usually, the new crewmember sits in the cockpit, trimming sails as necessary for the first half-hour, while the already on-watch crewmember steers. I watch David steer, we discuss the wind, waves, sail trim, etc, and I try to adjust to the conditions.
00:30 – It’s my turn to steer. David slides over and I take the wheel. The boat is trimmed nicely, with an almost neutral helm. The seas are 6-8 ft (it’s hard to estimate, especially at night), and when a swell rushes us from the quarter the stern is lifted up and tries to slide down the wave. I have to turn the wheel with considerable force to keep us from pushed sideways and to remain on course. As the wave passes an opposite steering motion is needed, but with much less force required.
The wind is around 20 kts, with periods of much stronger — up to 26 kts at times. We heel, but with the reefed genoa, our staysail, and a well-trimmed main, it’s not too bad. The boat is speeding along at 8 kts, with an occasional burst into the mid-nines as we get a push from a swell. Our bow and stern wake is churning up the phosphorescence, and along with the whitecaps that mark the crests of the larger swells, the boat is illuminated with a soft glow. The sky remains overcast, and the fog, and occasional splash from a wave, make me glad I’m dressed appropriately.
01:00 – I’m done driving. David takes over and I get to rest my arms and shoulders. Every now and then David calls out a high boat speed (9.52 kts!) or an impressive windspeed. I scan the horixion for ships
01:30 – I take the wheel, Edward has come up to replace David. David goes below. Edward and I talk, I steer, he gets comfortable.
02:00 – Edward steers, I relax. It’s getting pretty windy.
02:30 – I take the wheel. The windspeed is jumping up to 30 kts at times. The boat still handles well. We are hitting 9+ kts more often now. My universe has shrunk down to include only our compass, with an occasional glance at the wind gauge, and a very occasional glance at the mast-top windex or the sails. I focus on keeping VALIS on course: 235 magnetic.
03:00 – I’m off! Edward takes the helm, John comes up, and in short order I head below. I check the AIS display and see a ship, still 40 miles off, that may approach us within 3 miles in two hours. I poke my head up and tell John and Edward to keep an eye out for her.
While checking our navigation data and downloading the latest weather forecast, I feel a shudder and hear a splash, shortly followed by exclamations from topsides. It’s no big deal, just a well-aimed wave that has drenched the on-watch crew. They are well-dressed for the occasion, but still, better them than me!
03:25 – More shouts from topside. We have been attacked by a large flying fish! It is flapping around and threatening to bite anyone that gets too close. It is lying in a pool of water, and isn’t too happy. Edward and John decide to not add it to our menu, and draw straws to see who has to approach the snapping creature. John loses, and tosses the lucky fish overboard. First though, he snaps a picture, as Edward protects his eyes from the camera’s flash.
03:45 – I turn in for some sleep.
Ant that’s my evening watch. -Paul / VALIS

This has been a fast day for VALIS! We made 167 miles yesterday (8:00 AM to 8:00 AM), and at the current rate tomorrow’s numbers should be even better. We’ve got wind of 18-20 kts (occassionally up to 24 kts) on the beam, with seas big enough to give us the occasional push.
Last night we were sailing under clear, starry skies, watching Venus, Saturn and Mars and an incredible Milky Way. Around 2:00AM, with John and me standing watch, the entire sky lit up with two or three huge flashes. The boat was illuminated as if by a floodlight from directly overhead. This must have been a space junk or a meteor breaking up as it fell through the atmosphere.
Today we’vve got sunny skies and sparkling seas. There may be a sail on the horizon — our job is to keep it there as long as possible. The wind is still too far forward to fly the spinnaker, but we are sailing at close to our top speed with a full main, genoa, and staysail.
-Paul / VALIS
Photo: Tirso at the helm, riding the wild surf.

Things are definitely looking up aboard VALIS! We’ve had good wind since midnight, and we are sailing reasonably fast towards Hawaii. We hope to go faster later in the race, but for now this is great.
The sky remains overcast, and last night was actually colder than the night before — more layers were very appropriate.
But today we’ve got the cockpit speakers hooked up and playing good music from John’s iPod, we’re planning on a spaghetti dinner (with home-made sauce), and we are in good spirits. The photo shows David, Edward, and John (L-R) enjoying the ride.

We have wind! It’s about eight knots from the NNW, which is letting us sail about five knots towards Hawaii. This is much better.
For dinner we had a nice green salad, and then a second helping of mongolian beef and pork fried rice. Everyone ate! Life is good.
Until tomorrow, Paul / VALIS

We’re stuck here, in pretty much the same place we were at our last report. The wind we had essentially shut itself off, and we’ve been ghosting along at less than one knot. The usual knotmeter reading is 0.00 KTS, and exclamations of joy and amazement are heard when the display shows anything besides zeroes. The forecast for our location at this time claim we are in 15kts of wind from the north. These predictions come from the most powerful computers on the planet, so this must merely be a misunderstanding of some sort.
We’ve been taking advantage of the glassy seas though, and have beeen conducting research into the behavior of By The Wind Sailors (a type of floating jellyfish), and schools of young flying fish. These small fry are about one or two inches long, and are just learning to use their wings. No doubt they are encouraged in their flying lessons by the schools of larger fish (they look like albacore), who can be seen splashing about behind us.
One of our sailing companions ghosted by to get her picture taken. The attached photo is Tiki J. She is slowly drifting towards Hawaii, slightly faster than VALIS, but still within a mile now.
This could get tedious…
-Paul / VALIS

Greetings from VALIS! Time:12:00 Noon PDT Position: 37d 55m N, 126d 34m W (about 195 miles due west of the Golden Gate Bridge) Speed: 1 kt, Course: 287d magnetic Wind less than 2 kts from the north
As you might guess from the above data, we’re just bobbing around out here, waiting for the wind to fill in from the north as predicted. We’ve got two other racers in view, our guess from the morning position report is that they are the Doublehander Nozomi, and Division B’s Tiki J. This is just a guess, though.
Early this morning the on-watch crew was greeted by a whale stopping by for a visit. It was first seen swimming towards the boat, its fin slicing menacingly through the water, on a direct collision course. At the last minute it dove and presumaby went under the boat. Pictures were taken.
The morning radio roll-call was uneventful, although “Sea Reign” reported that they are retiring from the race due to schedule issues. This is going to be a long race!
The sky is overcast, and the temperature is much warmer now. We’re still wearing foulies and warm layers,but perhaps not as much.
Once we get enough wind to actually sail, we’re going to be pointing towards Hawaii!
-Paul / VALIS

Good evening from VALIS, on our third day of the Pacific Cup.
Conditions have greatly improved, and we are sailing comfortablyat about six kts with of 10 kts from the south, in moderate seas. All crew is well, and we are generally having a great time. We’ve still got Coyote on the horizon, and we had a nice VHF chat with them about some software (that’s what sailing is about these days — software!)
At 5:00PM we conducted the Children’s Hour radio net. Compared to yesterday, the fleet was positively talkative. We gave the fleet standings, and welcomed the Division C racers, hearing about their windy start. Of course, once they cleared Point Bonita they hit the light stuff!
We then discussed marine mammal sightings. On VALIS we spotted a spouting whale mid-day, but that was nothing compared to some others: Tiki Blue was rushed by a pod of whales,and had to alter course as they dove underneath her hull. Prankster had six large whales pay a visit. Trial Run reported three whales. Plus 16 saw two spouts. Nozomi had two fin whales breech and dive nearby, and were surrounded bya pod of “thousands of Right Dolphins” for several hours!
Then we traded seasickness stories. Nothing too out of the ordinary was reported.
Victoria confirmed that she was forced to motor last night, in order to avoid a collision with a drifting freighter. I’m pretty sure that Victoria was otherwise drifting too (we were at that time), and even though the freighter requested that Victoria motor clear, She is taking a one-hour penalty.
We’ve just had dimmer (port fried rice and Mongolian beef), and are getting ready for night sailing.
Until tomorrow, Paul / VALIS