Shit Storm

02 08.696N 90 19.424W

Day 7 from Panama to the Marquesas. 901 nautical miles of 3,800.

The birds were a welcome distraction at first. Two brown boobies spent the night perched on the railing at the bow of the boat. Probably weary visitors from the Galapagos, which we are slowly passing to the north. Pictures and videos of the birds sailing with us into the sunset - perfect.

Then the word got out. The next night Axel counted 25 birds on his watch. We woke up to a deck covered in bird shit and collected boobie feathers that had blown inside the boat through the open deck hatches. The smell… strong and distinctly fishy.

No more joyous “Oh, look a bird!”. Time for war. We held a morning counsel and devised a plan involving water jets, brooms, mops and railings smothered in cooking oil for a slippery landing. 

But who should clean the deck? A game of Yahtzee would decide. I was leery from the start. Distinct memories of spending a skiing holiday in the mountains in Sweden with my siblings and losing every single time. A week of doing the dishes, fetching wood, shoveling snow, etc. - Cinderella comes to mind.

And sure enough I lost. Don the life vest, grab a bucket, a brush and get to work. Bird crap all over, stubbornly stuck to the deck. But unlike that week in the mountains, my siblings had mercy this time and helped out. It took an hour of  scrubbing to get the worst off, leaving the nasty yellow stains for another day. It will take some chemistry to get those out.

So last night we prepared for action. Kicki patrolled the boat with the mop in hand, ready for battle. A few seagulls sniffed around and were shooed away. But anticlimactically, no boobies arrived. Nevertheless, we are declaring victory. The arsenal of defensive weapons deterred the enemy from an attack. Team Halley wins again.