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
View more passage logs
Ketch us if you Kan
Falken is soon to carry on our preferred route of South, back to (hopefully) warmer climates. We’re all excited to set off and see more of this wild landscape as we head down to Victoria. A thermal trough over Vancouver combined with an offshore high pressure creating funneling NW’ly winds means it is due to be pretty fruity on the 9th. This passage is just under 600 miles, relatively short for Falken, but I’m sure we’ll be kept entertained with dramatic scenery, wildlife and weather!
Final Blog
Falken and her crew arrived safely into port last night around 8pm boat time, 10pm Prince Rupert time. Some spicy weather was anticipated, but luckily the 35kt gusts and 2.5 meter waves were no match for this expert crew. We had an exceptionally smooth docking, despite it being Alex's first time parking this year (!). We all agreed that this was a very special group of people—I for one am so impressed with how everyone stayed so positive, helpful, and appreciative of humor despite an arguably challenging passage. We'll all return home significantly saltier than we were when we left, a mark of a passage properly sailed.
Lessons and a Gift
The biggest lesson is the helm. The lesson here is that even if you don't think you can do it over and over again with no sleep, cold and damp, it has to be done and so it can be done. Flying fish are cool, dolphins are really really cool, but the coolest of them all are the whales. And most of all Alex: "Find your center Carla. Always know where your center is so you can come back to it". He means the helm but it applies to life as well.