July 28, 2026
Wind: 4 knots
Swell: 0.5 m, a nice rolling swell…the kind Mark had promised me at the beginning of this expedition, only now we are finally experiencing it...27,000+ nautical miles later!
Boat Speed: 6 ± knots
Weather: Overcast, light sprinkle, patches of blue
Sails: Main up, mizzen up, motor sailing
24-hour Distance: 142 miles
Routine comes in handy on days like today. I have to say, we haven't had many of these kinds of days during this entire expedition—days that simply roll from one to the next without much sail trimming or changing course. It has been consistently calm. We have been, and still are, waiting on the wind.
Relaxation has set in, which can sometimes be dangerous because, as soon as the wind arrives, it will shake us hard out of this luxury. Our fuel is holding out, but it feels strange to use this much during a passage. It's something we haven't had to do before. We've been fortunate throughout this expedition to save our fuel for when it was truly needed, usually at the end of each leg.
I didn't sleep much last night. After my watch, my mind was fluttering with thoughts of home and all the things I'll have to tackle when we return. The nearly full moon flashed through my porthole like a flashlight across my eyelids. I tossed and turned, and when I finally fell asleep, I was jolted awake by an alarm.
The smoke and carbon monoxide detector.
It happened right at the watch change between Mark and Tess, so now all three of us were wide awake. We checked everything—batteries, wiring, anything that might have triggered it—but found nothing (thank goodness). The only possibility we could come up with was a squall approaching from the stern that may have allowed engine exhaust to linger around the boat and briefly set off the detector. Other than that theory, it remains a mystery.
We had also noticed that our bilge pump had been cycling like crazy over the past three days. I had seen the counter climb into the 40s. I assumed it was from the enormous amount of water coming over the bow and draining into the chain locker. We had spent nearly a week sailing on a close reach, driving into the wind and waves, and it was the most water we'd taken over the bow during the entire expedition.
Earlier in the day, I reset the bilge pump counter to zero, hoping that during these calm conditions it wouldn't climb again. But at 2:00 a.m., while we were dealing with the detector alarm, Tess noticed the counter was already back up to 24 pumps!
This morning, while checking the bilge beneath the main cabin sole, Mark noticed a considerable amount of water flowing through one of the drain holes beneath the water tank and into the bilge. Our search for the source continued.
In the process, a wire beneath the galley sink was accidentally bumped, knocking out our wind vane readings on the Garmin.
Ugh. As Mark jiggled wires trying to restore the wind vane readings, I happened to notice something even more alarming.
The waves had changed direction. I checked our chart and sure enough we were headed in the wrong direction. While trying to reset our Garmin wind readings, the B&G instrument switch was accidentally turned off, which also shut down the autopilot.
We had unknowingly turned 180 degrees and were heading back toward Hawaii!
Thankfully, within a few minutes we had everything restored, our course reset, and the Garmin readings working again. Then it was back to hunting for the source of the water.
Eventually, we found water inside the bulkhead beneath Tess's bunk. We believe it was coming from the anchor locker. We cleaned and dried everything and are now keeping a close eye on the bilge pump counter.
After a morning of chasing problems, we all settled into reading in our quiet corners for the afternoon. It felt really good to relax. The number of lazy days on board throughout these past 14 months...well, I could count them on one hand! We've been constantly busy with conditions, classrooms, writing, connections and custom officials! It has been an exceedingly busy two years between the refits and the expedition!
I've been completely absorbed in reading Letters From Hilltop House by Cosette Morrison Harms, whom we stayed with in Lanikai, Oahu. The book is a compilation of letters Cosette's grandmother wrote to her son while Hawaii was under attack during the Japanese assault on Pearl Harbor. It's an incredible firsthand account and beautifully written.
Thank you, Paige, for this wonderful gift. And thank you, Cosette, for sharing these remarkable letters. I can't recommend this book highly enough.
Reading it has also reminded me how important it is to continue documenting this voyage.
So, alas, I put my book down, extracted myself from my cozy corner on the settee, and moved outside. I'm now sitting in "my office," admiring the brilliant azure blue of the ocean as I write this.
The days are becoming cooler and far more comfortable. But when the sun manages to break through the high clouds, its warmth is still intense.
And yes...
We're still waiting for the wind.