Position: 23°38.0’S 074°38.7’W Course: 305° Speed: 5 knots
“BOB! Whales have right of way – hard to starboard, hard to starboard!”
Off our port bow, the mist of a massive blow still hung in the air as we swerved to starboard, avoiding what could have been a very close encounter with a whale! Of course, the whale had already dived deep and we were in no real danger of a collision, but still — breathless and filled with adrenaline, we scanned the water, hoping for another glimpse.
About a minute later, it surfaced again — this time just astern of us, on our starboard side. It blew twice more and disappeared into the deep. We couldn’t identify it with complete certainty, but we suspect it was a Sei whale. If you’re the optimistic type and want it to be a bigger whale, feel free to call it a Fin whale — but without a clear view of its right cheek, we can’t be sure.
The day began under sail, but light winds forced us to start the engine around 09:30. Around 13:00, we were able to turn it off again and return to sailing. Since then, we’ve been making between 4 and 6 knots — not exactly fast, but at least it brings a bit of calm and quiet back on board.
At midnight, we gybed. We’d been making too much east and wanted to see if the wave angle would improve on port tack — and it did. The course over ground, however, has been a bit disappointing. I debated gybing back, but we do need to gain west in our track, so we’ll gybe again around noon to head more north.
And as is now tradition, we ended the week with our Sunday roast — glazed carrots and a potato gratin. Once again, it was an absolutely beautiful meal!
As promised, a pictures of yesterday’s Bantof-cake — our delicious dessert made with banana and toffee cream. A proper highlight! But the picture of the day was won by Michael, who got a shot of me getting into the rhythm of our daily celestial navigation practice. Even beneath a veil of clouds, the sun offered a fleeting yet sufficient glimpse through the haze, allowing me to capture a meridian sight with the sextant—thanks to the appropriate shade filters on the mirrors. It’s a profound experience to engage in celestial navigation, especially as we traverse waters once navigated by the master wayfinders of Polynesia.
These ancient mariners, without the aid of modern instruments, traversed vast expanses of the Pacific Ocean by reading the stars, interpreting ocean swells, observing bird flight patterns, and even perceiving subtle phenomena like te lapa—a mysterious light that emanates from islands, guiding them across the sea .
As we sail closer to the Marquesas, I find inspiration in the Marquesan Cross—a symbol of balance and harmony deeply rooted in Polynesian culture. It serves as a reminder of the intricate knowledge and spiritual connection these navigators had with the ocean and the heavens.
Standing on deck with sextant in hand, how better to honor their legacy then by practicing the timeless art of celestial navigation.
All is well on board,
Jet
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