Last night in the Southern Hemisphere!
0435 UTC | 01º11.70’S, 148º40.97’W
Sailing
BUT once we were done with that, Mary opened the pool! The whole crew enjoyed a much needed and refreshing dip in about 5000 meters of Pacific Blue! The joy was palpable and smiles were radiating on deck. By 0930, we all felt like we had already lived a fully packed day! As much as Mary and I are pulling our hair out at this lack of breeze, I do actually really enjoy how the first day of the doldrums feels like the last day of school vibes - to use Mary’s words. People breathe easy, the last remaining traces of seasickness fade into memory. Everyone can walk across a level deck again and all the workouts start cranking, craft projects make an appearance on deck, and the kindles come out of their hiding places in everyone’s bunks. Folks have been crafting away and preparing their gifts for Neptunes impending visit tomorrow at happy hour! We made cookies for Joey’s birthday and Mary made us a really tasty fried rice for dinner. We enjoyed a gorgeous sunset tonight which Mary very generously rated 7.2 (if you know her you know that’s high) but then upgraded it to 7.9 because as Bruce mentioned, this is our last sunset in the Southern Hemisphere! Woohoo! By tomorrow at 0620 local time, we should have a fully fledged crew of Shellbacks! Yarrrrr!!!
Phoebe
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Last night in the Southern Hemisphere!
At midnight, Joey's watch sang happy birthday under a sky full of stars; by 0930, the crew had already swum in 5,000 meters of Pacific blue, chased rainbows through a golden squall, and eaten chocolate chip pancakes with Moorea pineapple. That's the doldrums for you—the wind dies and life somehow gets fuller. Tomorrow, Neptune comes to collect his due as SV Nordic Falken crosses the equator for the first time.
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.
