Rain
6º45’S, 106º15’W
April 13, 2130 Ship’s Time | 6º45’S, 106º15’W | Second Reef in the Mainsail & Reefed Jib Top
The word association for this passage thus far would most definitely be rain. I had read a lot about the Intertropical Convergence Zone (ITCZ) prior to this trip as a former Pollywog who spends very little time near the equator. The meeting point between the NE and SE trades, also commonly referred to as The Doldrums, is known for its distinct lack of wind and unending rain. With the help of WRI, some satellite weather images, and our trusty GRIBs, we were able to very accurately predict the point at which the wind-deprived sector ended, as well as where the Southern Equatorial Current started to give us a push.
The one thing that still continues to perplex me is the sheer amount of rain we’ve faced along the way. Five plus times a day the boat (and therefore the crew) get a very thorough freshwater wash-down. One of the watches on board has deemed itself “Squall Team 6” due to the thousands of gallons of rain they’ve taken on the chin as we enter our seventh day.
At sea, it’s no surprise that some resources are usually conserved — this can mean electricity and data — but none of that here. Our radar is running almost 24/7 with a strategy that has shifted more from avoiding the storms to just knowing where they are when all you can see outside is the compass and faint glow of the masthead tricolour. The key to forecasting which showers hit us has been looking into the prevailing wind direction and paying attention to the weather about 15-30º to the left of the true wind, the obverse of my Northern Hemisphere brain. New GRIB files are downloaded when available, but I still can’t seem to explain how far-reaching this rain has been, or if and when we’ll be out of the majority of it.
The other thing with this rain is how the majority of it seems benign—just largely wet. As an East Coast US sailor, I’m no stranger to large pop-up thunderheads and downbursts of 40kts, but the vast majority of these storms have not been this. Only on a few occasions has the rain brought the cold, dense wind (and shifts) that I tend to associate with it.
In spite of all this, FALKEN achieved a 232nm run in 24 hours yesterday, averaging 9.66kts—and all of this was just with the poled-out Yankee foresail. The crew has absolutely been sending the boat—my glow for today was how everyone is driving like they stole it. Andy and I both predicted landfall on the 25th, and every day gets a little closer to that being a massive underestimate, not to jinx anything…
All in all, so far this has been an incredible navigational learning experience that I will never forget—or dry from.
- Aidan Gray | 59º North Apprentice
andy@59-north.com
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Quadruple digits!
We are still headed north away from Hawaii, though today we have started to veer ever so slightly east. Speaking of miles, we hit quadruple digits today and are currently 1051 nms into our journey to Alaska. The sea state continues to calm down, and the famous North Pacific high is just out of our reach. The next few days will be a delicate dance of riding the outskirts of the high while avoiding the pesky low pressure systems that are dancing nearby. In his very wise words, we need to get north but not too far north, stay south but not too far south, continue heading east but not too far east, and avoid going west but also stay west.
The basics
Nordic Falken and her crew have been in a steady course of NNW since the departure of Hawaii. But! The good thing of all of this is that the promised land on which the high pressure lies has been getting closer and closer, meaning in a couple of days we're gonna see the wind slowly veer all the way to the South, which finally should see us easing the sails and remembering the basics of human nature all over again. The crew have been amazing and we've had everyone come around to push through fatigue, seasickness and soaking wet clothes. On another note we left the tropics a while ago and we can really feel the shift of temperature, long gone are the shorts and foulies have been the norm. Not much more apart from this, my intolerance to upwind sailing still pretty much alive but doing it with a bunch of such amazing human beings makes it worth it worthwhile.
Pacific pace
After some initial adversity, we untied our lines and left the beautiful island of O'ahu behind as we set sail north on an adventure of a lifetime. And that is exactly what we are - a family of strangers brought together by a passion for sailing and a love for the sea. The passage, while at its infancy, has delivered. The wind and seas, stars and sails all set the stage for a fantastic journey. We will see you on the other side with many stories to tell.