Wind: 7–9 knots
Swell: 1.5 meters
Boat Speed: 5.5 ± knots
Weather: Sunshine with scattered clouds
Sails: Main with two reefs, mizzen up, jib with two reefs, engine on
24-hour Distance: 150 miles
We were able to make good use of the wind throughout most of the night, enjoying the quiet rhythm of the sails and sea. But early this morning the breeze petered out and we had to start the engine. We have now entered a broad high-pressure system where light winds are the rule rather than the exception.
Our strategy is to continue working our way north. As we approach the coast, a strong northerly is expected to develop and blow down the shoreline. By positioning ourselves well to the north before turning east, we should be able to pick up a comfortable beam reach for the final stretch toward the Salish Sea. There are still several hundred miles—perhaps more—before we make that long-awaited starboard turn toward home. Of course, these are the best-laid plans, and we've had many.
There is an underlying excitement coursing through the boat now. We dipped below 900 nautical miles remaining until Victoria! In the grand scheme of things, it's still a long way, but after crossing the Pacific from Chile to the Galapagos, Galapagos to Hawaii, and now Hawaii home, 900 miles somehow feels wonderfully close. For the first time in a long while, the finish line feels real. We can almost see the light at the end of the tunnel.
Between naps and watch schedules, Tess and I have shifted into homecoming mode.
Along with sailing the boat, we're ramping up marketing, coordinating media, reaching out to supporters, and making connections for our arrival. One moment we are trimming sails or checking weather, the next answering emails or planning social media posts. Tess will continue sharing reminders and updates as our arrival draws closer, and for the first time, our schedule is beginning to look surprisingly solid.
Victoria
Arrival: August 9, 2026 – 12:00 p.m.
Location: Inner Victoria Harbour Causeway
Anacortes
Arrival: August 11, 2026 – 5:00 p.m.
Location: Cap Sante Marina, Anacortes, Washington
The good news for today is that our repair to the galley drain tube appears to have worked. We didn't hear the familiar cycling of the bilge pump once during the night—a welcome silence after finally tracking down the leak. After spending most of yesterday wedged into impossibly small spaces, lying on the cabin sole and contorting ourselves around plumbing, we decided to let Mark off the hook for cooking.
Dinner became a simple spread of leftovers gathered from the fridge. It wasn't fancy, but it filled everyone up, and before long the boat grew quiet as everyone not on watch crawled into their bunks.
It was a peaceful night. The only sounds were the rise and fall of the swell, the occasional rattle of the boom as it shuddered with the motion of the sea, and the hum of our trusty engine. Otherwise, all was calm. All is well aboard One Ocean.
One of the more subtle signs that we're nearing home revealed itself today. The ocean has changed color.
For weeks, we've sailed across the deep cobalt blues of the open Pacific, water so blue it almost seemed endless. Today, though, there was a noticeable shift. The sea has taken on a greener hue—a rich teal that hints at the more productive coastal waters ahead. It's amazing how something as simple as a change in color can make you realize you're leaving the vast emptiness of the open ocean behind. Home isn't here yet, but the ocean is already beginning to welcome us back.