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Latitude 38
• January, 2018
Pirates — November 25: "Hey Monte," I said, coming on deck at 10 a.m., "We're about to have guests." "Oh, pardon Señor, then I really must shave," said Monte, making a shift to go below. "No, not aboard. I mean, in the neighborhood. There are three AIS targets on the scope and they're all bunched up together dead ahead." Monte raised what I now refer to as the "eyebrow of doubt;" dark and bold, its peak pushes so high that it is said to get a dusting of snow on the coldest winters. I had another look at the scope. "No, five targets. I wonder who'd gather out here?" "It is pirates, Señor," said Monte, as if announcing the results of a unanimous vote. "They have set a trap." "Pirates? Who would send a fleet of ships to nowheresville to set a trap? There's nobody here but us." "Exactly. We are here; therefore it is a trap. Madre! What will I do with all my gold?" "That's circular…" "I think you mean perfectly circular, Señor." "…No, that's not a compliment! I mean your reasoning makes no sense." "Pfa!" Pirates or not, it was a curious thing. I had just been remarking to myself that we'd not seen a ship on the scope since getting below Panama, and now…well, now there were 10 targets, mysterious Pirates take many forms. These ones look like targets with numorange Minions. bers but no names, no hailing port, no vessel description, and all moving about this way and that at a knot or less. I've gone through fleets of fishing boats at night off the Washington coast. But here? Peru was 3,000 miles to the west; Tahiti, 1,500 east. Soon the AIS alarms sounded. The first target should be just two miles distant, said the scope, and dead ahead. I couldn't see anything but bounding blue. I did a quick height-of-eye calculation — square root of my 8 feet off the water times 1.17 — I should be able to see the vessel a solid 3.3 miles away — and that assumed it was flat as a pancake. Weird. And what's to fish for out here? Now there were 13 targets and the closest one should be approaching within a mile. Suddenly, I saw an orange flash ahead. Faint. Several more
RANDALL REEVES
HEAD WORK
I think this is one of the reasons I like celestial navigation. Beyond the practicality of it, it's a link to this place and the old sailors who passed by here using tools we barely know today. Sadly, celestial navigation doesn't always like me back. For several days I wrestled with "sun-run-sun" running fixes that weren't producing the customary cocked hat; rather I was getting railroad ties on my latitude line. Only lately did I figure out it's because I have passed under the sun, who declined at 22S today on her southward march, whereas I have just barely passed into 32S. My sights are at nearly right angles to my course. Thus the railroad ties. Getting cooler. I've put on a shirt with sleeves as I type. Soon I'll pull socks on before boots.