60nm north of Trinidad

I am on watch, and we are about 60nm north of Trinidad. It's the most beautiful night for sailing. The breeze is warm, and it's gentle, varying between 10 and 14knts most of the time. We have the full main and genoa pulling as along, and that combination is giving us speed over the ground (adjusted for current) in the 7's but we've had a few minutes at nearly 9 knots in a puff; an exhilarating sleigh ride through the darkness.

But the most delightful thing is the sea. It's normally pretty lumpy around these parts, but tonight, after several days of lighter than normal winds, the seas have moderated allowing us to effortlessly slide over the water with just a gentle rocking motion, and a low frequency rise and fall caused by the larger undertone of the ocean swells, really only noticeable looking at the other boats out here.

It's dark. There's no moon. The heavens are littered with stars that run from horizon to horizon. I'm looking for the Southern Cross. It's an important constellation for us Kiwi's as it's in our sky much of the time, and of course it is on our flag. I haven't seen it yet, but we're only 11 degrees north of the equator now and I think it'll show itself soon. Behind us is a glowing trail of phosphorescence caused by the rudder and keel slicing through the warm water. It looks like a faint meteor trail casting back to the horizon.

I'm also watching a freighter that is slowly overhauling us. I can tell from its lights that it's several hundred feet long, heading approximately in our direction, and the green light signals that I am looking at its starboard side. It's almost certainly heading to Trinidad too. The night is so clear that I put the radar antennae to sleep to save power. From time to time I take a transit - just simply by lining up a lifeline stanchion and the boat. If the angle changes over time you can see the boat will pass clear of us; if it doesn't we're on a collision course and we'll need to do something. Tonight though it's easy - I can see this freighter will pass to the north of us.

The can probably see us too. We are flying a tri-colour light on our masthead. This signals we are a sailboat under sail. We also carry a radar reflector near the second spreader on the mast, and this should be giving a clear response each time their radar sweeps us.

Greg is asleep. His watch starts in about 45 minutes. I don't really want to wake him. Although I am typing this with my laptop on my knees in the cockpit (how nice is that - there's normally way too much spray and movement), I'm keeping a good look out, especially in the blind spot behind the genoa. This is because there are quite a few local fishing boats off the northern Trinidadian coast. Many don't carry fixed lights, but they may flicker a flashlight at you when they see you coming.

The chart also shows Hibiscus, and I have plotted our course such that we will pass within about a mile of it. Hibiscus is a large offshore oil platform, and there is a second platform 4nm to its NE. Although we navigate by GPS which gives us real-time position updates, I still like to cross-check where we are using other indicators. This can be through depth, lighthouses, navigation markers etc, but an offshore oilrig that looks like a city at sea should also work pretty well! Should visibility fail later, the rig is fitted with a RACON. This is a radar transponder. When our radar signal hits it, it shoots back a powerful pulse that shows clearly on the screen. It also transmits a morse code signal that is also drawn on the radar (say, a long then short line).

We're sailing through the equatorial current which is approximately west setting, although it appears to be more NW nearer Grenada. It's quite meaningful at around 1.2knts, so the course we are steering is almost 15 degrees to port (east) of our course over the ground (COG). It's like we're aiming to go down the east coast of Trinidad, or near Tobago, but in fact we will sail down the west coast into the Golfo De Paria, get past the islands, then come hard on the wind by steering east for the short sail into Chaguaramus. Chaguaramus is a port of entry, so we will clear customs on arrival.

Grenada has passed astern of us, and I can just see the loom of Trinidad on the horizon, despite that we have most of the night still to sail to reach it. I have an LED headlamp on but I keep it off to keep my night vision sharp, and it's amazing the glow that Trinidad is putting out! The country has 1.3m people, so it is by far the biggest island we have been to for a long time. Tomorrow night is the start of Carnival and Greg and I are both excited. One of my favourite costumes is a Moko Jumbie. For this, you wear super high stilts and colourful pantaloons. Moko Jumbie's are supposed to be able to see evil coming before normal people. I will try and photograph one to show you. I also want to see a Red Ibis; Trinidad's national bird.

The freighter has now passed us and pulled ahead. The green starboard light is gone, replaced by its white stern light. The most telling sign that it's clear however, it having passed and pulled ahead to windward, is that I can just smell its diesel exhaust on the wind. I've smelt this cruising in thick New England fog and, when you can't see the ship that creates it, it's terrifying!

Time to wake up Greg. I have to unclip my tether from my harness and lifejacket. It has a very elaborate shackle on the boat end (so it can be twisted without undoing) but a quick release on the harness end (just in case you need to get it off fast)) so it's fast and easy. Although it's lovely sailing conditions, we always sail with harnesses offshore and always at night. There's only one of us on deck at a time, so if you went over without being tethered to the boat, goodnight nurse! Occasionally we have to go forward into the bow. For this we have jacklines, which are tapes that run up and down each side of the boat. You snap you tether on these and you can slide it up behind you. Not as good as the fixed padeyes we use in the cockpit, but they're a lot safer than bounding forward between waves!

Have to go. I'm up again in three hours. Goodnight!