Day 5 at-seA
2147 Ship’s Time
13º 13’ N, 038º 22’ W
Steering 295º at 8-9 knots
The stargazing continues on what’s been a series of completely cloudless nights since we departed Mindelo. We’re over 850 miles distant from the dusty shores of Cape Verde and yet the sky remains hazy with the orange tint of Saharan sand. FALKEN hasn’t seen a drop of rain in weeks.
We’ve fully completed the transition from the ‘departure’ stage of a voyage into what I call the ‘philosophical middle’ stage. All signs of seasickness have long ago abated, the crew are sleeping soundly on their off watches and engaged with the boat on their ‘on’ watches, and the ship rolls on downwind hour after hour. This sounds clichéd but it’s true—the passage of time, once you reach this middle stage on a long passage, stops mattering.
We set the big pink kite on the 12-noon shift change, with all hands on deck. I’m always nervous first-time hoisting the 3,000-sq.ft spinnaker with a new crew, but whatever nerves I have are quickly overcome by excitement. We couldn’t have asked for better conditions—12-15 knots from the ENE and a gentle, rolling swell. Jen took the helm while I directed the crew from the foredeck. The hoist was textbook and soon the crew were taking turns surfing down the swells at double-digit speeds, the light on deck and around the boat tinted pink in the bright sunshine. I flew the drone to capture it, then even managed a couple hours’ snooze while Manot took the watch. We doused the sail before dinnertime and now are cruising through the star-filled night with the poled-out jib-top and a freshening breeze, still making 8-10 knots and feeling like we’re traveling through outer space more than open ocean.
I just finished giving a briefing on taking star sights, and by the red light of our headlamps, we did some planning for tomorrow morning’s twilight, picking out Vega, Rigel Kent, and Antares to take sights of just before sunrise when the light of the pre-dawn is enough to illuminate the horizon but not so bright so as to fade out the heavens. I’m always excited when we have enthusiastic navigators in the crew. Gives me a chance to nerd out about celestial, which I love.
Westward we go, mile after mile.
// Andy
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Seasickness
But maybe, I thought, with some drugs I could stay ahead of it. The first 48 hours I felt horrible. But luckily with 3 health care professionals on board and in a very encouraging environment, my body found its way. Anyway, someone offered me a patch (unavailable in Canada) and someone else gave me some pills for nausea and now I feel much, much better.
Dolphins and Bioluminescence
We had a good run with the sails but weather has changed and we are once again chasing the wind. Everyone is getting a chance to practice helming in big swell; starting to get a feel of the wind and water and how it pushes and pulls the hull. A pod of dolphins came to visit at night, splashing in the bioluminescent water, and again in the day, dancing in the bow wake. For now enjoying the calmer sea state and falling asleep to the rumble of the engine and the gentle whooshing of the water on the hull.
Greetings from Lala Lemonshark
The brave crew is toughing it out and staying cheerful despite being tossed around. The engine is off and we are true sailing-main and jib. In the first 12 hours we saw two pods of Orca and four humpback whales, two of which were 20 yards off the starboard beam!