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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Shooting Stars & Turtle Logs
Day three out of Ketchikan and FALKEN is running wing on wing down the outside of Vancouver Island. The temptation is to lie back in the cockpit and spend the night watching for shooting stars, but a diligent watch is always the first priority. So we keep a sharp eye out while the shooting stars keep us company through the night. The wildlife keeps coming: humpback and minke whales, five mola molas, dolphins, and a black-footed albatross. We are all feeling lucky for such conditions!
Pot dodging and whale watching
Duncan got us up to eleven knots at one point! The Ferriers also logged our first Orca sighting on their 3am-6am watch! This morning is a gift as the temps are just right and we finally have some blue sky and plenty of sunshine. It was a glorious few hours sailing before it inevitably died as forecast. I live in hope that by sunset tonight we’ll be back sailing as we emerge out of the lee of the island and the wind will be more westerly which lends itself to a better sailing angle.
We are off!
After two days of introductions, safety briefings and boat procedures we have departed Ketchikan. We are currently making a whopping 3.3 knots as there is very little wind in Nichols Passage. Adam fed us well last night with a delicious shrimp curry and Duncan was the winner of a sporty game of the card version Monopoly. With the scenic views and light wind it's quite peaceful out here.