First squall of the trip!
0454 UTC | 03 26.44’S 148 52.25’W
Sailing
Instead of a glorious sunrise to greet us, a big ol stretch of dark cloud with no horizon visible was approaching us. We had been motoring for a couple of hours at this point so whilst I didn’t relish the thought of the downpour, happily for us it also marked the start of a breeze line and we’ve been sailing semi the right direction since. Jim, Joey and Kip - a.k.a. Sea Section/NotTea/The Reefers (their watch name changes daily) - worked quickly to get some reefs in the main, had just about time to pop on a waterproof jacket and hurriedly close all our hatches before the heavens opened. This lasted a couple of hours until the breeze settled and the sun came out, the slumbering crew below blissfully unaware of the action until they saw our soggy coats hanging to dry.
The ITCZ (doldrums) is proving to be quite a large area at the time of our crossing, we’re gearing up for 3-4 days of motoring unfortunately, so we’re eking the most out of the wind we have now. We do know we’re considerably further east that Hawaii, don’t worry we’re not shooting for Alaska quite yet - we’re simply setting ourselves up to not be close hauled when we hit the north east trade winds, currently aiming for a reasonable 60-70AWA!
Neptune is set to visit us soon, a message in a bottle from him was found floating behind the boat at happy hour today. Phoebe and I are the only shellbacks on board at the moment, so it’ll be a busy equator ceremony with 9 pollywogs to initiate!
Joey’s birthday is tomorrow, after some initial upset that we wouldn’t make it to the equator on his birthday, we’ve now reasoned that what better way to start off your 4th decade than crossing the equator the day after!!
Many glows (horizon to horizon stars, the end of the sea sickness, lovely company, awful jokes etc), few glums.
Enough waffle from me, here’s Jim:
"Hi Babe! Well you were right!! There is water to the left,right,behind and forward and it’s beautiful! The first few days of warm windy sailing were interrupted with a little bit of calm and then wow, we encountered a nice rain storm this morning. In a dash below decks for rain gear, before the downpour, netted only the rain jacket. The rain boots and pants remained safe and dry in duffels :) But it was a blast helming in the rain and the scene of the approaching cloud, the rain and the sun trying to peek up through the clouds was awesome. Pants and shoes soaked, wiping the rain droplets from the compass and taking in some much appreciated coolness from the wet breeze. Yep! Water everywhere Darling, just like you said. Please give the grandkids a hug for me and tell’um Grandpa Jim is sailing with some very nice folks and having fun. Blog is just like the radio telephone on Powell Babe: sooo Love, Jim"
Mary
View more passage logs
First squall of the trip!
"We're gonna get our ass whooped" — not the sunrise greeting anyone had in mind, but Jim called it. The oldest and sharpest hand on board steered them straight through the squall, soaked to the bone and loving every minute of it. He's got a message for his wife, and it turns out she was right about the water.
Sextants, Polynesian Wayfinding, Captain Cook, and Tupaia, Oh My!
Somewhere north of Tahiti and south of Hawaii, aboard a 65-foot rocket of a sailboat loaded with GPS and Starlink, we pulled out a sextant. Not as a novelty—as a navigation tool. Because it turns out the 2,500-mile passage from Tahiti to Hawaii is less a ocean crossing and more a living museum of how humans have always answered the same stubborn question: where am I, and how do I get home? Captain Cook had his chronometers and math; his Polynesian crewmate Tupaia had the stars, the swells, and a map of the Central Pacific stored entirely in his head—and somehow, they were asking the exact same thing.
Star gazing and celebrating
Birthdays at sea hit differently—no cake, no candles, just brownies from a rolling galley and the Milky Way as a backdrop. It's day three aboard, and the skipper's birthday is just one of three to celebrate before landfall. Meanwhile, six crew members sat in silence last night, not from exhaustion or tension, but because the Southern Cross was doing something worth watching.