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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HMS Night Watch Party
Wing on wing worked well until the wind shifted then the helm became the cone of despair for our night watch crew of three (H, M and S) Alex made the decision to drop the pole, shifting wing on wing to a close reach. Wind increased to low teens and speed picked up to a flying pace. Day spent wandering toward Ensenada. Alex, Adam and David got us into port under another starry night.
No Kitemares Today
After a night marked by sudden wind accelerations peeling off Point Conception, and a vibrant, pulsating sky blistered with shooting stars, the off-watch woke to commotion on the foredeck. The wind had gone light and the swell had tapered just enough to raise the spinnaker. The sail filled with an urgent pop, the sheet strained and Falken charged down the face of the next wave. By mid-day, we doused the spinnaker and set our minds to the more precise task of safely punching through a gap in the notorious Cortez Bank. The border to Mexico looms ahead.
The California coast
We had a very lively first day of sailing with steady winds between 25 and 30 kn gusting to mid 30s. All of the crew got experience at difficult downwind helming as we covered 200 nautical miles in the first 24 hours. This morning brings winds in the teens and calmer seas. The sun is still shining, and the green monster has been slayed by those afflicted!