Day 20 Hawaii to Japan: Talks with the agent

Well well, time flies. Tomorrow we’ll have been under way for three weeks already! Although we did lose a day crossing the date line: in Hawaii, coffee time (or drinks time) came around a good 12 hours after it did in the Netherlands. Now we get there 9 hours earlier! I’m writing this on Saturday afternoon, five to five, and in the Netherlands it’s only 17 - 9 = 8 o’clock in the morning.

So today I won’t make the mistake of calling Ella or Marion around our happy hour, because last night was the opening of the Tall Ships Races, and Marion very deservedly won the first-ever Nathan Hornstra Culture Prize! A sad occasion in a way, because last week Nathan passed away in Harlingen (well, Sexbierum, strictly speaking). Another person we knew. Nathan was in the Lions with me and, among other things, was treasurer of the Tall Ships Races until recently. Marion worked with him a lot there. It’s lovely that the board is honouring Nathan by creating this prize and then awarding it to Marion!

Those of you following the tracker can see that we’re zigzagging back and forth a bit laboriously. That’s all down to the weather. I always knew that sailing to Japan in summer carries a risk of revolving storms (which out here they don’t call hurricanes but typhoons). So the plan had room built in for a detour, or for letting a storm pass ahead of us. About eight days ago, on the weather chart I check twice a day, I spotted a little patch and thought: I hope that doesn’t turn into anything. And sure enough, it got bigger and bigger by the day. I was rather proud that it wasn’t until day 4 that a Japanese meteorologist on Reddit mentioned it too: so I’d spotted it first. And it was another two days before the Joint Typhoon Warning Center started issuing warnings. The JTWC is a joint effort by the US Navy and Air Force; apparently the fact that they cooperate at all is something to write home about. Anyway, together with the Japan Meteorological Agency we’re keeping a close eye on it, of course.

The typhoon is heading for Guam and then Taiwan and China, so it won’t bother us much. It’s being blocked from wandering off to the north (which they love to do) by an enormous ridge of high pressure stretching east from Japan. That leaves us two choices: keep sailing in the vicinity of the typhoon, with possibly quite a lot of wind and certainly big seas, or motor through the high in the hope of finding some wind on the other side. To keep the risk to a minimum we went for the second option. That means the engine has been running since this morning; hopefully it can be switched off for a few days later this week, and then it’ll have to go back on all the way to Japan. Such is life: better this than taking risks, we’re not fans of those.

I’ve also been busy with the agent, Kirk, and his employee Mari. We’d agreed to sail to Osaka, specifically the marina Shin Nishinomiya Yacht Harbor (新西宮ヨットハーバー), because clearing in could supposedly be arranged there. But on closer inspection we’d be pretty much the first yacht ever there, or at least all the officials were apparently being rather difficult. Clearing in at the weekend wasn’t possible anyway. Then it also turned out that the marina’s day off is Tuesday (fair enough), but that this meant we weren’t allowed to arrive on a Tuesday either. So, after some consultation, we switched to Hiroshimakanon Marina (広島観音マリーナ). There we’re allowed to arrive at the weekend and on the Tuesday day off too. But here as well the coast guard wants to know at what time we’ll be at the fairway buoy of the first strait (some 120 miles from the marina), and all the officials want a provisional appointment time 7 days in advance and a final one no later than 48 hours beforehand. Which you then have to stick to with a margin of less than five minutes. Phew.

Having already sent the usual stuff earlier, like ship’s papers, insurance, passport copies etc., this week it was time for another five forms:

• a bird flu form (stating that we don’t have it): Check
• a crew belongings form (cash, alcohol): Check
• an Ebola form (stating that we don’t have it and haven’t been anywhere near the Congo): Check
• a Maritime Declaration of Health: how many people died of illness during the voyage: Check
• a ship’s declaration of awkward items on board, such as weapons and alcohol: Aha

At first I’d declared: 5 bottles of wine, 5 litres of beer (the last “Kees 60” box), half a bottle of whisky and 2700 ml (three bottles) of rum. That didn’t seem like much of a problem for 3 people. Aha. Turns out it was: probably “too much” to be “duty-free”. And the other options are: under lock and key until we leave Japan again, or paying duty on it. Both mostly involve a lot of hassle that nobody’s waiting for. The interesting thing is that, despite the clear rules (10 kg per person, no problem), in practice there are apparently lower limits, but nobody’s clear on what they are. Since opened bottles don’t count, we’re now drinking up the beer (hic) and opening the rum (the whisky was already open). That way Marion will still have a nice bottle of wine when she arrives. By the way, the “Kees 60” turns out to be getting pretty far past its best-before date, so whether we’ll actually finish it is still up for debate. The DIPA from Brouwdok that we also have on board is stronger and still perfectly fine, so don’t feel sorry for us.

Speaking of food and drink… because besides reading books and boat software (Kees) or a secret new project (Maarten), and the weather of course, that’s what keeps us occupied. For instance, Maarten is very good at preparing a pineapple. Murdering it, really. Unfortunately we only filmed the second time, and then he held back, sadly.

It also turns out we’re not allowed to bring in fresh vegetables (OK, nearly finished anyway) or fruit (maybe a double ration of oranges a day, then), and no fresh meat, not even frozen. Luckily cheese isn’t on the list, so we don’t have to throw out the industrial American cheese in the freezer. Cooked food is fine, so we’re saving the leftover rendang that Marion stood cooking in 35 degrees in Panama for last. In any case, the leftovers obviously won’t go over the side until the very last evening.

On top of that, everyone can now cook rice, and we’ve got some variety in our meals: the burger buns are finished and now we’re eating things like pasta with tomato sauce, sausage with rice, etc. Only the burritos are still in plentiful supply. In short, we eat well every single day.

Oh yes, and finally: the secret of the bread baking has been solved too: the American flour contains bread improver. So whenever I use even a little bit of that flour (white or brown, doesn’t matter), the bread rises like nobody’s business!

And then, as the very last announcement: three days ago we saw one ship!