It's been an idyllic introduction to offshore sailing for those on the crew who have never experienced it before. The relatively calm waters of the Caribbean Sea alongside a sky of stars and a beautiful three-quarter moon perfectly complimented the reaching conditions gifted by the breeze.

Wednesday saw the arrival of our latest crew of intrepid adventurers as we met on the Dock at the Antigua Yacht Club. The heat of the midday sun had us plan our safety briefings carefully as we began below decks and moved to the shaded area of the marina bar to complete our introductions and orientation of the trip ahead. Unfortunately, 2 of our group were unable to continue with us due to a medical emergency, and so our remaining crew of 8 bonded over a traditional Antiguan feast on our first evening together.

We leave the anchorage and hoist our mainsail and staysail in a quiet fashion, the first bit of the trip is going to be tacking upwind towards the Eastern side of Guadeloupe so I go back to bed (or try to) as they start tacking. You can hear laughter and feel the tacks getting better and better.

So we’re in the French West Indies, but not on the island we’d planned. As we sailed past Guadaloupe the other day, I gave the crew the option to bear away and sail the 40 or so miles down to Ile des Saintes, or continue for another 18 hours to St. Barth’s. No bad choices here in the Caribbean! But I think it was my off-hand comment that I’d mentioned the Saintes are my all-time favorite Caribbean anchorage, so perhaps that swayed them. So we turned downwind, set the yankee on the pole and cruised on in to the most beautiful harbor in all the Caribbean off Terre-de-Haut, at least in my opinion.

Inshore sailing is all about enjoying the moment. The plans you laid out in the morning, will almost always be changed when the sails are up. We left Tananger after a slow morning talking to the locals, fixing things, and exploring. The downwind sail North took us through beautiful Kvitsøy. We were supposed to sails in the outskirts, but we ended up sailing through the very narrow channels in downtown Kvitsøy.

I’ve forgotten what it feels like to heel over. And to reef. For over 2,000 miles across the Atlantic FALKEN was flat, sailing downwind under full sail for nearly 11 days. No rain, no squalls, no reefing, wind never above about 18 knots. That all changed last night!

We left idyllic Korshamn in the morning and headed out to sea. The stretch between Lindesnes and Tananger is exposed, feared and most often bumpy. We got it all. From a light breeze to gusting 32 knots, confused seas, and rain. But the crew were all smiles and laughter all the way through the hardship. When we finaly pulled in to Tananger in the pitch dark they were wet, hungry, tired, but still smiling. JoJo's delicious curry warmed us all up. All well on board, Jon, JoJo and crew.

What a night. ISBJØRN ghosted into the night. Happy to be in her element again. We did 2 hours on and 4 hours off. Sleep never gets good the first night on a passage. But everyone got at least a few hours dreaming about the moonlight and stars the on watch enjoyed. What a day. When the sun climbed over the horizon the wind slowly evaporated. But the silence was to precious to be broken, so we enjoyed slow living on a mirror sea until noon. We had just sailed past Lindesnes, the most southerly point on mainland Norway.

Sails came up just outside the Hallberg-Rassy yard, and out West we went. Everybody smiling as Sweden sunk in the ocean, mobile phones went dead, and it was just us sailing along to a destination two days away. Now the night has surrounded us. Ken is alone behind the wheel looking at stars, I'm by the nav station getting warm while writing this, and the rest of the crew is sleeping. It is blowing 10 knots and we are doing 6.5 knots on a beam reach. ISBJØRN is just as happy as her crew. All well.

Yesterday was stormy. We pulled one pullert out of the dock om Vindö Marina. Today we woke up to sun and calm waters. It was time to leave the magical good boatbuilders on Vindön. ISBJØRN has received a make over worthy of a queen. We motored to downtown Henån to get groceries and a restaurant meal. Tomorrow we head out to sea. Where Isbjørn, and maybe we, belong. All well om board. Jon, JoJo and crew.

Hola! Just as we reached the bottom of Guadeloupe, we noticed that part of the mast track was peeling away from the carbon mast. We continued racing with the trisail, flying it loose luffed to avoid any further dislodging of the track. By the next morning, the wind was so light - and forecast to stay that way - and we were struggling to make headway with the tiny orange hanker chief! So we decided to call it and head home….

I’ve had 5 days to decompress since we first dropped the hook here, and wow, Barbados is a nice landfall! There’s everything we need here in Speightstown and nothing we don’t. Just enough civilization to make re-entry comfortable, but not no overwhelming. Beautiful beaches, nice little cafes and bars, laundry, groceries and a reasonable anchorage (though there really aren’t any harbors on Barbados, so we’re just tucked behind the island, and it can be swelly at times).

Hello from DNR! Phew it’s so hard to believe it’s not even been 48 hours here. This race is known for “600 miles 600 sail changes” and it’s just about accurate. After 24 hours in we had sailed three upwind legs and three downwind legs, as well as five of our nine sails!

The long leg down to Guadeloupe was shifty with big squalls and local effects, but we pushed through, got some sleep and now have had enough shut eye to write this! Thank you for all the support back home. Here comes the tricky bit…