It's been an idyllic introduction to offshore sailing for those on the crew who have never experienced it before. The relatively calm waters of the Caribbean Sea alongside a sky of stars and a beautiful three-quarter moon perfectly complimented the reaching conditions gifted by the breeze.

Wednesday saw the arrival of our latest crew of intrepid adventurers as we met on the Dock at the Antigua Yacht Club. The heat of the midday sun had us plan our safety briefings carefully as we began below decks and moved to the shaded area of the marina bar to complete our introductions and orientation of the trip ahead. Unfortunately, 2 of our group were unable to continue with us due to a medical emergency, and so our remaining crew of 8 bonded over a traditional Antiguan feast on our first evening together.

We leave the anchorage and hoist our mainsail and staysail in a quiet fashion, the first bit of the trip is going to be tacking upwind towards the Eastern side of Guadeloupe so I go back to bed (or try to) as they start tacking. You can hear laughter and feel the tacks getting better and better.

So we’re in the French West Indies, but not on the island we’d planned. As we sailed past Guadaloupe the other day, I gave the crew the option to bear away and sail the 40 or so miles down to Ile des Saintes, or continue for another 18 hours to St. Barth’s. No bad choices here in the Caribbean! But I think it was my off-hand comment that I’d mentioned the Saintes are my all-time favorite Caribbean anchorage, so perhaps that swayed them. So we turned downwind, set the yankee on the pole and cruised on in to the most beautiful harbor in all the Caribbean off Terre-de-Haut, at least in my opinion.

I’ve forgotten what it feels like to heel over. And to reef. For over 2,000 miles across the Atlantic FALKEN was flat, sailing downwind under full sail for nearly 11 days. No rain, no squalls, no reefing, wind never above about 18 knots. That all changed last night!

I’ve had 5 days to decompress since we first dropped the hook here, and wow, Barbados is a nice landfall! There’s everything we need here in Speightstown and nothing we don’t. Just enough civilization to make re-entry comfortable, but not no overwhelming. Beautiful beaches, nice little cafes and bars, laundry, groceries and a reasonable anchorage (though there really aren’t any harbors on Barbados, so we’re just tucked behind the island, and it can be swelly at times).

We’re on the home stretch towards Barbados, 30 miles from the northern tip of the island, the loom of the lights ashore now visible off the port beam. FALKEN is still under spinnaker, our second straight night flying the big pink kite by the light of the moon, and we’re getting our money’s worth tonight. We are flat out FLYING, easily averaging 11 knots in the lulls and hitting surfs over 16. It’s the ride of our lives tonight with the moon bright overhead, stars all around and a perfect tradewind breeze at the perfect angle propelling us through our own outer space.

This will be the night that sticks with me from this crossing. I just got off the helm after my half-hour stint, fingertip steering, keeping the luff of the spinnaker just in line with Orion’s belt. In the lulls I’d head up a couple degrees until the belt disappeared, then soak down in the puffs until I could see the entire constellation. Normally at night you’d use the steaming light to illuminate the kite and check trim, but with not a cloud in sight, the light from the stars is plenty to keep tabs on the big spinnaker without ruining the illusion that we’re actually our own little spaceship hurtling through the galaxy.

We’ve slowed down a touch today with some lighter winds, but are still above our 200 miles per day threshold over the past 24 hours. You get spoiled when you top out at 220+! We’ve crossed the 400-mies-to-go barrier. While it’s still a long way off, talk has begun of landfall and arrival procedures. I’ve been quick to quell it to keep people in the moment, but by dinnertime tomorrow night it’ll be inevitable

The last 24 hours have been spectacular for many, many reasons.One, the breeze picked up to make the conditions perfect for surfing down small mountains of waves. We have an ocean swell going that makes it feel like you rise up from earth and then surf down the wave. When it feels like a big one and the speed starts escalating, the crew start cheering while calling out top speeds. At the helm you can feel when the transition goes from sailing THROUGH the water to surfing ON the water and that’s when the top speeds come.

Welp, that’s not only the first time I’ve eaten ice cream offshore, but also the first time I’ve eaten hand-made ice cream on a boat! Manot outdid himself in the galley last night, spending several hours whipping — literally — a batch of homemade chocolate ice cream together by hand. I’m not even sure how he got the recipe. Nonetheless, to celebrate crossing the halfway mark yesterday, we had hand-made chocolate ice cream for dessert tonight, topped with fresh, cold pineapple, and what a treat.

As if to top off the day with one last highlight, Jen and Rene served up a lovely couscous at sunset, with spices that Rene brought us straight from Morocco.This was our first true sunset, after the northeasterlies finally managed to clear the dusty haze that has now clouded the horizon for days. And as the day merged into the moonless night, the stars appeared brighter than ever before, revealing our Milky Way.

Flyin’ the Kite! The stargazing continues on what’s been a series of completely cloudless nights since we departed Mindelo. We’re over 850 miles distant from the dusty shores of Cape Verde and yet the sky remains hazy with the orange tint of Saharan sand. FALKEN hasn’t seen a drop of rain in weeks.

It is the start of day 5, which is officially the longest I have ever sailed at one time without seeing land. I am Captain Jen, normally a skipper of one of the two schooners, Woodwind and Woodwind II in Annapolis, MD. This is also my first trans-Atlantic crossing.

Tonight (slightly after midnight), under wing and wing sailing, it feels more like we are sailing through the night sky than sailing through the water. There is a mesmerizing ocean swell that is rocking everyone to sleep below.

Day 3 today, the day it always turns around, even for the worst of the seasick. Sara had been feeling less than 100% since the start, but props to her for continuing to stand her watches and do her stints at the helm. Tonight was her first full meal at dinner and the first time she actually felt like herself. I’ve long said that it takes three days for everyone to acclimate to life offshore, whether seasick or not

Today was a project day for me. Last night I’d spent my midnight watch sorting out why the watermaker was only giving us half the expected output (easy solution — clogged pre-filters). Now I wanted to figure out why the Watt & Sea wasn’t outputting the full amount of amps I’d expect at 8 knots boat speed, and why it was making a horrendous vibration, despite the new motor I’d installed just before departure.

We left Mindelo in a dusty haze around 1000 after a leisurely breakfast and after checking off the last of the pre-departure items. As expected, the winds built in the channel and by noon FALKEN was surfing down waves and touching 14 knots, with just the mainsail set. Windspeeds topped 30+ in the sharp acceleration zone where the gentle trades are squeezed between the high peaks of the neighboring islands and shot out like a cannon.

I was surprised to find half the Sahara desert at the top of the mast today during the routine rig check. I was also surprised at the elevator ride the crew on deck gave me. Rene and Veiko jumped my primary halyard at the mast while Sara and Nigel took up slack aft on the winch, and I barely had to climb. Each heave sent me 6-feet up the mast in one big jump, and I had a bird's eye view of Mindelo.

Anyway, from the 'Calima' dust storm they sailed through on the last passage, the sand has accumulated on lines and rigging aloft where we couldn't wash it off and everything is stained red (including now my shorts).

Just as we thought we had run out of luck the breeze has shifted and lifted and Falken is making her way by wind power once again.

This really has been a multi-faceted passage which the crew have responded to with constant energy and enthusiasm. Each and every one of them can now confidently helm downwind without coaching and a less vigorous sea state has certainly helped development.

Another day is coming to an end as we watch the glare of the sun disappear through the sandy haze in the air.

The highlight of today has to be the stuff happening on deck, we all had a good clean and showered with the deck shower and immediately after we witnessed a couple of whales coming to say hi. After that we had different lessons on trimming followed by a delicious dinner.