Wind: 12–17 knots
Swell: 1.5 meters
Boat Speed: 6 ± knots
Weather: Sunshine with clouds
Sails: Main with two reefs, mizzen up, jib out
24-hour Distance: 150 miles
We're working the edge of a front. Astern of us is a high-pressure system with light winds, while to the northeast a front is producing 13–17 knots of breeze on its edge. At 5 a.m. we began to lose our wind, but after an hour of motoring we were able to catch back up to it.
We've done this twice now—motor for an hour, then sail for hours. It looks like this may be our strategy for the next day or two as we keep pace with the system.
So our routine goes something like this: roll in the jib, start the engine, and motor for an hour. Then unfurl the jib, shake out a reef in the mainsail, raise the mizzen, and off we go again at a comfortable 6 knots in 14 knots of wind. Hours later, the breeze fades, we roll in the jib once more, and motor to catch up. This afternoon, though, the wind seems to have settled in nicely. Let's hope it continues!
I missed yesterday's update. Why? No good reason.
We woke up to gray, wet, and cold weather. Oh my gosh—it was so cold as soon as we crossed 40° north! What a difference. The water is still brilliantly blue, but the sky was nothing but shades of gray. It felt like a proper stormy day, and we hadn't had one of those in quite a while.
We had wind and we had swell—lots of wind, in fact. I saw 38 knots at one point. Several squalls rolled through, and it really was fifty shades of gray outside.
I think "cozy" is how I would describe yesterday in all its different forms. If we weren't outside adjusting sails, we were inside drinking tea, eating, sleeping, reading, and simply enjoying the feeling of a lazy Sunday...even though it was Thursday. Honestly, the days don't matter out here. The weather and our course are what dictate life on board.
The cool air made for wonderful sleeping after months of having heat as our constant companion. It was with us day and night, sometimes becoming intolerable, demanding, and heavy. The heat could really wear you down.
But then, as soon as it's gone...you miss it.
Honestly, my fingers are cold as I type this.
We believe we've finally figured out our "water in the bilge" mystery—Part Two.
In the middle of the night, I realized we hadn't heard the gray water pump run under the galley sink for several days. Like so many sounds aboard, it has become another familiar companion. We always know when she's running, and when the float switch gets dirty she won't shut off on her own. We have to open the gray water tank and wipe down the float switch to get her working properly again. We hadn't needed to do that in quite a while.
I knew I had given it a thorough cleaning the last time, but it had been behaving too well for too long. Something didn't seem right.
I mentioned it to Mark, and after breakfast we started investigating.
Sure enough, hidden beneath the galley floorboards was a broken hose fitting. Instead of draining into the gray water system, the sink water had been emptying into the far aft corner, running through a drain beneath the water tank, and making its way into our bilge.
Mystery solved!
Unfortunately, it's not an easy repair. It requires lying in a truly awkward position with your head wedged into a tiny floorboard opening while the boat bounces around in choppy seas. But sailors can't be choosers.
I cleaned up the smelly gunky mess, and then Mark squeezed in to replace the fitting. Unfortunately, neither of our two spare fittings fit, so he had to jury-rig a temporary repair.
Now we're waiting for the caulking/sealant to cure before we can test it, which means the galley sink is off limits for the moment.
Of course, all of this grimy work happened immediately after I had taken a shower!
The next exciting cleaning project will be the bilge beneath the sole in the main cabin. Maybe that's the hazing ritual for the youngest crew member on board. After all, I have to find some way to recognize her accomplishment of sailing more than 27,000 nautical miles!
So, speaking of Tess...well, there is a lot to say about this amazingly accomplished 22-year-old woman.
I have known Tess since she was in her mom's belly. She is like a daughter to me, but more than that, she is a dear friend and kindred spirit.
I was there when she took sailing lessons over on Lopez Island for several summers. Whenever I sailed with her, I would tell her mom that I could see the sailor's spark in her eye. She had the bug.
It's the same bug that Mark and Herb recognized in me years ago. They even joked that they should stage an intervention because they could tell I was completely hooked. Well, one sailing addict recognizes another, and I can see it in Tess.
I'm sorry, Tess.
It has been an incredible journey with this inspirational young woman. I love watching her confidence and strength continue to grow, whether she's trimming sails in challenging conditions or connecting with students during our educational programs. She's artistic, creative, passionate about her work, and endlessly curious.
We've made a pretty great team out here, and I know without hesitation that I'd go anywhere with her.
Watching her complete more than 27,000 nautical miles around the Americas at just 22 years old has been an absolute privilege. I couldn't be prouder of the sailor—and the person—she has become.