Day 10 At-Sea
Ship’s Time
13º 33’ N, 056º 12’ W
Steering 280º at 9-10 Knots
This will be the night that sticks with me from this crossing. I just got off the helm after my half-hour stint, fingertip steering, keeping the luff of the spinnaker just in line with Orion’s belt. In the lulls I’d head up a couple degrees until the belt disappeared, then soak down in the puffs until I could see the entire constellation. Normally at night you’d use the steaming light to illuminate the kite and check trim, but with not a cloud in sight, the light from the stars is plenty to keep tabs on the big spinnaker without ruining the illusion that we’re actually our own little spaceship hurtling through the galaxy.
We deserve this night after a very hot, very frustrating afternoon. After setting the kite in the pre-dawn light at the 0600 watch change yesterday, the wind gradually eased off until at 1400 it was so light that the sock on the spinnaker collapsed down on the sail just thanks to gravity. Veiko and I went on the foredeck to corral it and that was that. We motored through a sloppy sea for the next three hours, taking turns using the foredeck saltwater hose to cool off and trying desperately to find a slice of shade behind the mast to escape the sun.
I started prepping dinner around 1600, and by then the calm had smoothed out the sea and there were signs the wind was trying to fill in again from the northeast. We’d been on port tack last time the chute was up, so while the curry simmered on the stove we re-rigged the kite on the foredeck for a starboard tack hoist. Having done this spinnaker re-rig drill now several times (we have to drop it, re-rig it, and re-hoist it anytime we jibe), the crew had it sorted out in a few minutes and we managed to set sail again before the food was served.
And we’ve been sailing since. The northeasterly filled in as promised to a gentle 12-15 knots, the seas are calm and the first evening watch got to sail by the brilliant light of the waxing moon, which is just short of half-full, and now the graveyard shift is steering to the stars.
As I write, we’re inside the 200-miles-to-go mark and now definitely at risk of snapping out of the at-sea magic spell we’ve been under, but thus far I’m proud of the crew for staying in the moment. I’ll say though it’s pretty effortless on a night like this one.
// Andy
View more passage logs
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.