Position: 13°22.3’S 115°04.0’W | Course: 255° | Speed: 5.5 knots
Tonight, the race has slowed… to what almost feels to a drift after the exhilarating sail of the past few days. And we’re still not quite sure why. According to the forecast, we should be flying along with 17 knots of steady easterly wind. With that in mind, I had two watches ready and briefed to gybe during the midnight handover. But when I emerged from my bunk and poked my head out of the aft hatch, things were… oddly still.
A coffee appeared magically in my free hand — thank you, night watch — and six calm faces looked back at me in silence. The wind hadn’t shifted, our heading was unchanged, and the speed had simply faded. But the stars — oh, the stars! For the first time on this crossing, the sky was crystal clear and bursting with constellations from horizon to horizon.
Our course is not ideal, and our speed leaves much to be desired. But gybing now would only take us farther from our destination, since the wind hasn’t backed as predicted in yesterday morning’s GRIB file. Still… what changed?
We’ve been quietly gliding for over an hour now. The breeze plays hide-and-seek, and our speed dips below 5,5 knots at times. And yet — this is the kind of sailing that reminds me why I do this for a living. Force 3, the sails quietly full, the ocean calm, the sky infinite and glowing, and a comfortable 6 knots on the log. But of course, we need 7.5…
So soon, reluctantly, the engine will come back on. Because we have islands to reach, people to meet, and stories to add to our wake.
Picture of the Day goes to the night watch! Joana captured Tracey practicing hard on the practical part of her celestial navigation, and Bob shared a breathtaking view just before sunset from the previous evening.
A new weather report just arrived: lighter winds than expected… So we’ll motor for a few hours, chase back some time, and hope for better breezes ahead, just a little more Northerly.
All is well on board, Jet
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