*queue Coldplay’s ”Sky Full Of Stars"*
2330 UTC | 01°39.75’ S, 148° 39.03’W
motoring
Y’all ever stare out at sea under an absolutely ego-melting sky full of stars, singing “I can go the distance” from Hercules in your head and shed a few astounded, joyful tears on night watch? No? Just me?
I think when I look back on this passage the thing that will leave the most indelible mark on my memory will be the stars we’ve witnessed. Especially while in the doldrums. When I first sailed with Mary, I asked her where the best stars that she’d ever seen in her many miles at sea were and she told me without a doubt, they were in this exact stretch of the Pacific. Ever since then, I’ve been dreaming about what I’d see when I finally made it out here. There is something so dream-like about the never-ending dome expanding all around us, so many shooting stars we lose count. The extremities of the Milky Way so clearly defined that you can almost trick yourself into thinking the bright cluster of galaxies are actual clouds in the sky. Venus and Jupiter are so clear in the sky that when they drop down to the horizon to set, they frequently get mistaken for boats in the distance. It’s crazy to me to think that the light of the planets reflecting so vividly on the glassy water is really sunlight still reaching us at 3 am through the vast and incomprehensible entanglement of celestial bodies in the sky. I took a cheeky (clipped-in and well communicated!) walk to the bow last night to get a fully unobstructed view of the stars. I don’t think words will ever do justice to just how dream-like and otherworldly the views out here are. You lose your perception of where the sea ends and the sky begins. Especially as FALKEN’s bow wake is painting its own starry landscape stirring up the bioluminescence in the mystic waters below. I can stare forever at biolume or what Mary called “disco jellies”. My favorite is when the little underwater tornadoes from the hull flash in the depths like lightning strikes in a distant cloud. OR when you’re lucky enough to watch long enough to catch a fish darting out of the way, leaving a trail of glitter in its wake. Be still my beating heart! The world is so full of wonder and magic it honestly hurts sometimes!
We had such lucky timing for our crossing of the equator this morning. The sky was lit up in still hours of dawn, with the thinnest, most delicate sliver of a crescent moon hanging low in the sky, completely on its back which as Bruce mentioned, we only can truly observe at the equator. The whole crew gathered on deck and we counted down the seconds of latitude until we crossed the mythical boundary. Kip was shocked and disappointed to discover that no, there wasn’t a big spray painted line on the oceans surface. We put the ending in neutral and drifted slowly across the threshold. Everyone cheered and took in the moment together as a crew, marking a huge milestone in their sailing resumes. Some joked that their backs already ached from the new shells growing there.
We celebrated this auspicious day with another glorious swim in 5000 meters but this time, absolutely becalmed so we could luxuriate in the refreshing waters for a bit more. The giddiness from everyone was felt buzzing in the air as the crew gleefully lept from the side decks, plunging into the yawning abyss below us. If you’ve never had the chance to really stare down into a deep body of water like that, I would put it on the top of your bucket list. It’s almost as humbling as staring into a sky full of stars and makes you feel so so small. It feels like staring into the soul of the world, a never ending, benevolent depth of infinity. I have the chills just thinking about it! I don’t have any pictures from this swim because I tragically dropped my insta 360 camera into the depths below. Or Neptune took it from me as the ultimate sacrifice. A price I’m willing to pay to repent for the sins of this crew of pollywogs Mary and I have shepherded into his mythical realm. Everyone got their second shower of the trip and once we were all squeaky clean, the engine came back on and we continued our slow plod north. I can tell the helming is maturing as the last three log entries I’ve done we’ve been on exactly the same longitude down to the second! Well done crew! I’ve heard rumors that Neptune is making a visit today at precisely 1530. The ship’s sins are all cataloged and gifts have been prepared as sacrifice for Neptune’s judgement and absolution. Check back in tomorrow for a full update on whether this motley crew was accepted into Neptunes honorable court! YARR!
Phoebe
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A last hurrah
Under the dome of stars in a moon-less sky, each of us during our time at the helm used the most rudimentary celestial navigation, keeping a star or two lined up with the mast as a helper to following the heading range. It was a whole crew event to set the spinnaker, reef the mainsail and practice the heave-to in case of man overboard. Alex stressed that the key to success in all of these crucial activities is preparation. It was hugely satisfying to accomplish these tasks through teamwork. We share a constant good hearted back and forth full of stories, one-liners and comebacks that also means constant laughter.
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.