22:00 UTC | 06°06.41’N 096°57.78’W
Sailing
At night, between the clouds, the Milky Way stretches down to the waves. The Southern Cross tumbles slowly in place near the horizon; across the sky, the Big Dipper disappears to the north. Bioluminescence sparks in the waves that break against Falken’s hull and glimmers in the cresting tops of the swells that surround us. Alex’s quiet coaching drifts through the cockpit—small helm movements, but more often: “Feel the wind, feel the waves, listen to Falken.”
We’re heading southwest until the clouds break, trying to get through the band of squalls and gusts that separates us from the trade winds, steering with the wind 110 degrees off the port bow. The swell is coming from two directions, sometimes canceling itself out in a moment of stillness, and sometimes coming together to form a pyramid a few meters high which slides Falken sideways with a whoosh and a splash.
Alex said I’m always smiling at the helm. I’m not surprised; she’s a beautiful boat to steer, tugging gently at the wheel as the waves pick her up. I get the feeling she knows exactly where she’s supposed to be going and is bemused by our novice attempts to guide her. Another 2,800 miles or so to go, and I’m sure we’ll all get better at listening to her.
Phoebe
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A last hurrah
Under the dome of stars in a moon-less sky, each of us during our time at the helm used the most rudimentary celestial navigation, keeping a star or two lined up with the mast as a helper to following the heading range. It was a whole crew event to set the spinnaker, reef the mainsail and practice the heave-to in case of man overboard. Alex stressed that the key to success in all of these crucial activities is preparation. It was hugely satisfying to accomplish these tasks through teamwork. We share a constant good hearted back and forth full of stories, one-liners and comebacks that also means constant laughter.
One little bird!
Falken has almost rounded the Channel Islands and is cruising along splendidly about 100 miles offshore. Though several models predicted some slightly fresher winds today, we were met with a consistent 18-20 kts of pure bliss. It seems that from the moment we left the dock in San Francisco, there has been much laughter and conversation amongst everyone. The plan is to gybe in a few hours and begin our approach to Ensenada. As much as I do appreciate the jokes and intellectual musings, I equally appreciate the natural, silent moments we share at night, all of us on watch gazing up above to the shooting stars, constellations, and planets putting on their quiet show.
Birds and glows
The sun brought new wind and we were soon putting up the Yankee (jib) and turning off the motor. During the evening tradition of sharing “glums and glows” that follows the crew dinner, our Mate Ryan proclaimed it a “champagne sailing” kind of day. As Alex noted this evening, life goes by so fast that one of the very best things about his line of work is enjoying the passage of time in the slow lane of an ocean passage. But by tomorrow, the green blobs in the weather sailing app indicate we’re going to pick up some significant northwesterly winds and we’ll take them ever further south to the Channel Islands latitude. We’re all super excited for the knots to climb and to see Falken really run.