This puts me 350 miles from the Galapagos Islands and roughly 50 miles from crossing the Equator on our current course. It was a tough decision to leave Panama -- after four months there, I really fell in love with the place. It was also the first time during the trip where I was able to stop and truly absorb the culture. I look forward to returning and exploring the areas we missed.

It was important to me to return home with Tramonto rather than selling her along the way. We discussed several ways to accomplish this, and they all had benefits, but in the end the decision was made to resume the journey under the original plan and head for the South Pacific. After checking the pilot charts and Jimmy Cornell's World Cruising Routes, we decided that it was still possible to make a late season run. We knew that the toughest part of this trip would be the first leg to the Galapagos; with both wind and current opposing us most of the way, it would make for a difficult sail. It also didn't help much to see three boats turn back from their attempts while we were gearing up for ours.

If you go straight from Panama City to the Galapagos it is about 900 miles. However, during this time of year, it's not possible to run this line so I planned on heading south as fast as I could. Once under the equator, I could catch the southerlies and head back north to the Galapagos. Total mileage of 1200 nautical miles, or roughly 12 days at sea.

We spent several days provisioning and getting Tramonto ready for the trip. I also spent time looking for crew. I was going whether I had crew or not, but thought it would be nice to have someone to talk to. Right when I had resigned myself to single handing the trip, up popped Shay Stevenson who was looking for a ride to the Galapagos. We had a few beers, talked about the plan, decided he would join me, and set the shove off date for July 5. Note that this is the exact date we pulled Tramonto out of her slip in Seattle exactly one year ago. Cathy headed to visit her sisters on the Big Island and Maui, Hawaii for a month and await her next trip to the Marquesas in August to meet up with Marc.

The first two days out were fairly uneventful except for catching some huge Mahi Mahi. Otherwise, no wind and calm seas. On Day Three, things began to pick up a bit. For the next 48 hours we tacked into 6-8 foot waves with 15-20 knots of wind. On the morning of the fourth day, my glasses broke. I absolutely hate not being able to see, so I decided to alter course and head for the first port of entry in Ecuador. With any luck, we could be there in two days and back under way in less 24 hours. The sailing was pleasant even though we were still beating to weather.

On the evening of the fifth night out, we were on deck tucking a reef in the sail before nightfall when I spotted two boats rapidly approaching. At this point, we were about 60 miles from our destination and around 50 miles offshore of Columbia. As the boats approached, one stayed astern of us while the other approached the side of Tramonto. One guy was yelling something at us in Spanish, something I couldn't understand most likely due to the fact they all had bandanas tied around their faces. After about five minutes of this, I was beginning to feel a bit uncomfortable about the situation. Twice now the boat had dropped behind, then rapidly approached us, almost hitting Tramonto's side. I altered course and went below, grabbed the VHF radio, and made a little show of talking on it. I hoped they would think there were other boats close by and just go away. This seemed to work. Both boats dropped behind and followed us for a bit. Once it became dark, I could no longer see them visually and their glass boats didn't show on radar so I had no idea if they were still around. I got on the Ham radio and described the situation to some people and asked them to monitor us in case the situation escalated. These guys were so nice and took the situation seriously - possibly too seriously as they contacted the Coast Guard, who contacted the Navy, who happened to be in the area. The Navy sent out a plane to fly over to make sure all was well, and monitored our progress throughout the night.

I have thought about this situation a lot and hope that this situation was a misunderstanding and that these men were not the pirates they appeared to be. I have been approached out here several times and in fact was approached today by a boat 250 miles offshore, but these other encounters lacked the feeling of aggression that I definitely felt that night.

We pulled in to Esmeraldas, Ecuador around 9 a.m. on the morning of the 11th. The port Captain showed us where to dock Tramonto for the short time we would be there. It took about three hours to find an eye doctor, who informed me that I'd have to wait until tomorrow to pick up the glasses. When we returned to the dock, I noticed that Tramonto had been moved. The dock workers had taken it upon them selves to hook up lines to her and move her to a new spot. During that process, a tugboat hit Tramonto and did severe damage to her starboard side cap rail. After all these events, I lost it, yelling in Spanish and asking who was responsible. The Port Captain finally arrived and made it very clear that I would be responsible for the repairs, but he could recommend someone to do the work. I couldn't believe it. The rail had already been slightly damaged before so it was not pristine, but for them to not accept any responsibility at all stunned me. I needed to get it fixed quickly because I wanted to get moving. I found someone who did an adequate job, but nowhere near the quality of workmanship I could get at home. The guy never understood why I wanted it to look nice, and he just kept telling me it was a boat and his work was strong. They see boats solely as objects for work and not for pleasure. The work done and eyeglasses in hand, we shoved off from Esmeraldas on July 13th.

The last two days have been a bit rough sailing, but doable. Now we are so close to the equator that we have picked up the southerly winds, and moving along on the rhumb line feels great. We should cross the equator sometime tonight!. Of course, we will stop, crack open the Champagne, and offer some up to Neptune. Here begin Tramonto's logs from the Southern Hemisphere!