1618 UTC | 08° 48.83’S 137° 37.11’W
Sailing
Kate was about to yank the spinnaker’s sock down when I spotted a stampede of fins heading straight for us. ”Dolphins!”, I yelled back to the cockpit excitedly. Post dinner dish duty was halted down below for the show.
I am no stranger to dolphins riding bow waves under sail, but it never gets old. I always find myself mesmerised by their synchronicity, tickled by their playfulness, and in awe of how much detail I can see in the scratches on their bodies. The water is incredibly clear, the animals so close your can hear their huffs and puffs and squeals. It’s as close as you can get to swimming with them.
Once that the crew was on deck, I stepped back from my squat at the bowsprit to let others have the front row view. It was just as special of a moment to simply witness everyone watching, eyes glued to the water below and words of glee exchanged. All of us frozen in place, our collective thoughts fixed so presently on this moment. A chill ran through my arms and my heart swelled just a tad. It was one of those feelings that I wish I could bottle up and bring home to crack open and share. Perhaps that I can’t is what makes it magic.
Just as they began to dissipate, as they inevitably do, Alex eagerly called us back to the cockpit. ”Quick, come quick!”, he said, which is a exclamation to be made with great care when you have 10 people on the foredeck in a post-dolphin trance. I miraculously didn’t trip as I ran back to find Alex staring at Watt & Sea, aka our hydro-generator endearingly named Watson. Watson and I have grown quite close on this passage, and I was horrified to see a large dark blob lurking behind him, moving in the eerie way that only sharks can. It turns out that the vibrations of hydro-generators can attract Oceanic White Tip sharks, and we failed to protect poor Watson from such treachery. Luckily, this frightening ordeal left him with a mere scrape, though I don’t blame him if he stops humming to his full capacity. I also don’t blame myself if I refuse to jump in first as the guinea pig on any future deep sea swims.
I’ve found that sometimes, sailing is the backdrop to the natural world, the boat a mere vessel carrying us to these remote places and scenes. A pink spinnaker leading us straight into a pod of dolphins, the sky painted in pastel streaks as the sun gets closer and closer to the horizon. A shark in our wake, a constellation, an infinite horizon. A delightful means to an end.
Other times, the natural world is the backdrop to sailing; minds focused on running lines through the right friction rings, timing a sequence of grinds and eases like a misfit orchestra. The sock stuck, we pivoted and dropped the spinnaker letterbox style, gybed, and reset to wing-on-wing as the donut of clouds surrounding us lit up in crimson and coral and gold and bubblegum hues. Jupiter popped out just next to a crescent moon, a one-eyed smile pinned up high against a lavender sky. It was impossible not to notice the beauty around us, but not the priority to do so.
I love that both can exist, even within the same hour. I’m constantly adjusting my focus, my eyes zooming in on the boat and out on the world, never too settled on a single plane.
Love to all,
Zoe Peach-Riley (Apprentice)
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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.
Golden Day
The Pacific is giving us “the shimmer” - with a still flat sea seven hours out of San Francisco Bay, we’re motoring south along the shipping channel, with an hour to go to what teases now as a stunning sunset against wispy clouds. Throughout this first day of Falken 11 the sails have unfurled and been furled again as skipper Alex tries to fill them a meager breeze indeed. We’ve seen a few whales traveling along the route, and an otter that was sadly just a buoy. It’s the first open ocean sail for many of us and it’s a thrill to anticipate all the new experiences we’ll have.