Author: Stephen

Greetings from Tahanea! Flyer and her crew arrived here yesterday (Sunday) and dropped our hook on the far southern end of the atoll around 1p local (Tahiti) time after a mildly eventful end to our 540nm passage from Nuku Hiva.

Our passage was a good -if light and slow- one, averaging about 135nm per day. The conditions through the first two days were a pretty consistent ENE breeze between 9-15kts, and very minimal sea state. We did quite a lot of eating, reading, podcast listening, laundry and cooking. And on Thursday we celebrated James’ 14th birthday! While it wasn’t in his ideal setting, nor with his closest friends, we are certain it will be a birthday he won’t forget anytime soon. Kristen baked a cake and we enjoyed a beautiful sunset from the cockpit while having dinner.

By the third day we had a better picture of our potential arrival time at Tahanea, and we began eyeing an 1130 slack tide at the atoll’s middle channel (on it’s north/east facing side). This suddenly gave a charge of certainty to our timing and served to raise our concerns about making this window as the breeze dropped in velocity and clocked to a more NE direction, making sailing aboard Flyer painfully slow.

Atolls are like big bathtubs that are partially submerged. When the tide goes up, there’s a big rush of ocean water pouring into the tub around it’s varied edges, and when the tide goes down, there’s a corresponding rush of lagoon water pouring out into the ocean. This turns the passes into tidal gates, and given the relatively slow speeds of sailboats under power, one needs to time their entry and exit of the atolls at slack (between tides) water. It would seem this is a pretty predictable exercise from a timing point of view, however the wind direction and strength of the preceding hours or days can greatly affect the amount of seawater that rushes in or out of the atolls… it’s a bit of a black art to getting the slack tide time correct. As it turns out there is a cool tool that some other cruisers have developed to help the average joe like us, and it’s aptly called the Guestimator. (NERD ALERT – it is a project that’s worth learning about if you’re interested in tides, navigation, and home-built electronics and sensors!)

After a couple of minor rain squalls passed we decided to fire up the engine, and on it stayed for the better part of 11 hours. It was painful but it allowed us to motor-sail at around 7 knots and get us further down the track until the breeze hopefully filled back in. And fill back in it thankfully did. Late on Saturday we were back to sailing with a fresh 16kt easterly breeze pushing us along at 7 knots. The sailing was so good overnight that Kristen was able to bake a new loaf of sourdough.

It felt at this point that we had the passage sealed up, but as usual, it ain’t over until it’s over.

Minor rain squalls continued to pass us by but a few hit us directly over night. Winds weren’t terribly strong in these, in fact within a few of them the breeze backed off considerably.

Around 0700 I was fast asleep when I was awoken by Paul to come help. Just 2 miles to our east, Dark Star had radioed to warn us of more wind coming in the squall they were experiencing. And like clockwork, just as I got on deck, the wind hit us, quickly spiking to 35knots. Thankfully we still had 1 reef tucked into our mainsail, so Flyer took it in stride. I disengaged the autopilot and ran before the gusts while Kristen and Paul reefed in the genoa. I got a good shower while driving (there’s nothing quite like multitasking), and within 15 minutes it had moderated to 20kts.

Now running a bit ahead of schedule, we spent the remaining 5 hours moderating our speed, keeping the mainsail reefed and continuing to furl up the genoa until it was gone completely. By 1030 we had hove-to just a mile and a half from the atoll entry, biding our time. A gigantic, ultra-luxe cruise ship had staked out a spot right in front of the pass, belching 25’ zodiacs to swarm the surrounding motus. We made our way around it and swiftly through he pass, with a favorable 3kts of current pushing us through. Even though we were 10 minutes ahead of anticipated slack water, the tide had already turned significantly!

The remaining 8 miles were spent on full bommie watch as we made our way through the middle of the atoll. Bommies are coral heads that are peppered throughout the atolls, hosting spectacular wildlife while raising the blood pressure of boaters. Some are 10 or 20 feet below the surface, while others are merely inches from the top. Some are marked on charts, but most are not. And we quickly learned why it’s best to transit these waters not only in daytime, but with the sun behind you. Bommies are easy to spot when lit from your viewing direction, and virtually impossible to see in the reverse setting!

After about 20 minutes of hunting for a good anchorage (which requires finding a big open sandy bit with minimal surrounding bommies, in just the right depth), we found a great spot in about 4m of water and dropped our hook, replete with the requisite chain floats and all!

Once our hook was set, as if on cue, a black-tip reef shark showed up and curiously circled Flyer as Paul nearly lost his marbles in excitement. Paul has been studying sharks this last semester (a self-initiated project for both school and floating-home) and has a particular affinity for these medium-sized predators. They’re big enough to feel like proper sharks but small enough to be considered cute, I suppose. They’re all around us here and seem to be unphased and not particularly interested in these human interlopers.

That brings us to the present, where I’m sitting at our cockpit table trying to bang these words out before I stop again just to stare and drool at these surroundings. As Kristen says, this place looks like the Gary Larson version of a deserted island, except it is our new reality. And also excepting the fact that we’re not here totally alone. Tahanea may be one of the uninhabited atolls of the Tuamotus, but there are still 6 other boats within a couple miles of us here, including our good friends on Dark Star! Rocket Science has made a detour to Fakarava to address some maintenance needs; more to come on that in a future post. We’re looking forward to reuniting with them before too long, but in the meantime we’re here to soak up as much of this remarkable, remote bit of the world as we can.

Greetings from 10 degrees south, 141 degrees west! Flyer departed Taioha’e Bay, Nuku Hiva yesterday mid-day after a couple of days provisioning between torrential downpours. We are currently sailing in a light easterly breeze at 6 knots, about 150nm into the 540nm reach towards the Tuamotu archapelago. The past couple of weeks have been busy, full of logistics, sweating, and some unexpected extended local cruising (waiting).

Flyer’s new transmission arrived on Good Friday as anticipated, 2 weeks after order from the UK, during which time we were able to explore a few of the island’s more remote anchorages. Given the complexities of getting such an awkward package delivered to a remote Pacific island, we were thrilled to see it arrive on time, thanks to the help of Kevin Ellis at Yacht Services Nuku Hiva. Kevin runs a pretty lean outfit in Taioha’e, supporting cruisers like us with a variety of needs when they are in the area. There’s no question that his assistance was essential in getting the delivery to us on time.

Once we got the tranny aboard, Kevin (of Dark Star), Greg (of Rocket Science) and I got to work immediately and had the new tranny installed in about two hours on a hot and sweaty High Holy afternoon. It’s a one-person job in a good conditions but in the sweltering valley of Taioha’e it was a lifesaver to have two sets of hands to bang it out with. We saved the fun part for Saturday, installing the new flexible coupler and sorting the propeller shaft out by mid-afternoon.

The following Monday, Kristen departed as our family’s sole ambassador for a family wedding in the Bay Area, leaving me and the boys to keep Flyer in good order while continuing to explore the island. To get to the wedding, she took a taxi 1.5hrs to the airport on the NW corner of the island, then flew a small Air Tahiti plane for 3 hours to Tahiti, and spent 6 hours exploring Papeete before boarding a United red-eye flight direct to SFO! I need to take a nap just thinking about it all.

After she departed, the boys and I took Flyer to Daniel’s Bay with Rocket Science and Dark Star, and spent a few days there enjoying the swimming, local fare, and the spectacular setting. Daniel’s is one of the most beautiful anchorages we’ve been in, with 1,000 foot tall ridges rising from the lush green valley. We were sad that Kristen couldn’t share it with us, but happy to have been able to spend time there with such good friends.

During our time there the weather took an even more damp turn, delivering some major downpours at an estimated 2” of rain an hour! The valley came alive with cascading waterfalls down the cliff faces, and the runoff was so significant that we had to abandon our plans to hike to see the place of the former home of the King and Queen and the Vaipo waterfall as the risk of falling rocks is significant from the elevated running water.

On Monday, Kristen returned to her soggy vessel from SF only to find the crews of Rocket Science, Dark Star, and Sentjin enjoying a break in the rain with a swim party aboard Flyer. There was much rejoicing as she opened her 70lb checked bag full of goodies from the US, including some new running rigging for Flyer, an underwater camera apparatus and blender for Dark Star, and four sorely needed USB-powered fans for her sweaty family!

While back in Taioha’e for our third and final visit, we were so happy to reunite with our friends Kara, John and Dean aboard Sentjin, who we last saw in Monterey! They were such gracious hosts while we were there, taking us surfing and loaning us the family car for errands, and we’d been hoping to share an anchorage with them again since September. In the intervening months they completed some refit work on Sentjin, sailed south to Ensenada, and delivered an aluminum expedition powerboat from the Cape Verde islands to Ushuaia in what sounded like quite the ordeal. They were just a few weeks behind us in departing Mexico, so we were thrilled to see them in the Taioha’e anchorage when we returned from Daniel’s on Sunday. Late Tuesday we convened for a rope swing party aboard their famous aluminum boat as the sun set beyond the western ridge of the Taioha’e valley and talked about our time ahead in the Tuamotus.

So, that’s the expedited update that brings us to the present. It’s a gorgeous day out here and the forecast for the passage is more of the same. Paul just had what appeared to be a massive fish on the hand line which managed to bend the hook back entirely and get away. We’re looking forward to some fresh fish soon regardless. And it appears that lovely sailing conditions, mostly clear skies, and some of the world’s best stargazing hopefully await us for the remaining 400 miles! More to come from the South Pacific aboard Flyer in the coming days…

Greetings from Baie Marquisienne on the west end of Nuku Hiva! We arrived at this rarely-visited small bay yesterday afternoon following a bumpy, rainy motor down the island’s southern coast. And we awoke this morning to a frantic Griffin visiting Flyer on his dinghy to report there were a dozen mantas swimming around our boats. Before we could eat breakfast all of us were in the water communing with one of nature’s most graceful creatures.

The snorkeling in this little bay is really something special. Tall rock cliffs dive deep into the ocean, creating caves and shelves that support a remarkable amount of species of fish, coral, crabs and alien-looking invertebrates. And the mantas seem to love it too. Over a dozen of them, each no smaller than a dining room table, spend their days here just swooping around, gulping up whatever it is they love to eat. It’s a wild experience to swim with them, as they don’t seem to care much about us, sometimes swimming head-on towards us as if we weren’t even there.

Since arriving in Nuku Hiva a couple of weeks ago we’ve experienced a real mixed-bag of emotions. Shortly after our ebullient arrival in Taiohae Bay -and the treasured greeting from our besties the Rocket Scientists– we discovered that our engine’s transmission wasn’t going in and out of gear reliably. A quick oil change produced a glam-ish silvery nail-polish-like substance that at one point was transmission oil, a tell-tail sign of significant wear in the system. Without going too deep into some of our recent history in Baja over the holidays and early January, suffice it to say we are looking at our third engine transmission replacement in as many months.

Despite consulting with some of the most widely recognized experts in the world on the matter, as well as the supremely competent friends who surround us on Dark Star and Rocket Science, there is no clear conclusion as to what the issue is that is causing these transmissions to fail. I’ll save this story for another deep dive but the short of it is that at this point, it seems very possible that each unit has suffered a similar fate at the hands of different culprits.

So, what next? Somehow, in between fits of deep despondence (and deepest thanks and apologies to all who had to put up with me!) I was able to source one of the few available transmissions that meet our engine’s specs (in the UK) and have it shipped here, along with a new shifting cable (from Seattle), and a new flexible propeller shaft coupler (from France). All should be arriving in a few days time in Taiohae, thanks to our local liaison Kevin (yet another supremely helpful Kevin enters our life!). And as they say, the third time’s the charm, right?

In the meantime we’ve been able to make some minor adjustments to the shifting mechanism and perform a couple oil flushes through the system and it seems to be functioning well-enough for some poking around here. And the timing has been great, all things considered. The weather hasn’t been in a reliable pattern to make the crossing to the Tuamotus yet, and -as one might imagine- there’s a ton to see and experience here in Nuku Hiva. And we have great friends by our side to experience it all with! Dark Star arrived around a day and a half after we did, and it’s really fun to have them join our Seattle cruising gang for this special time together in the Marquesas.

Shortly after we arrived we did an island driving tour that Greg organized for us. The crews of Flyer, Dark Star and Rocket Science all piled into two trucks, helmed by our incredible local host and her husband. We made our way around many of the island’s sights, up and over some of the most gnarly and spectacular roads I’ve ever seen. We visited the recently constructed Cathedral of the Marquesas (built in the 1970’s), made our way see Taipivai (the valley featured in Melville’s book ‘Typee’) and Hooumi, both on the east side of the island. We then kept driving up and over another steep pass to see Aakapa and have a delicious lunch in the small village of Hatiehu. We completed our tour with a visit to Tahakia Kamuihei Teiipoka, one of the few remaining (and preserved) Marquesan cultural sites on the islands.

We have been pleasantly surprised at the quality of the provisions found here, particularly at the Utile grocery store in Taiohae. The food is understandably pricey but surprisingly diverse, and our favorite findings include locally grown produce (lettuce! tomatoes!), fresh daily baked goods, and copious amounts of brie which we’ve found to be priced competitively with our home stores in Seattle! Utile brand potato chips are cheap and delicious too. And the local Tahitian beer has quickly become a favorite among the middle-aged males. 

The other local bounty is impressive as well. We’re now totally hooked on our daily pamplemousse – a large, sweet relative of the grapefruit. And the local mangoes are quite something too. While at anchor a couple days ago in Taipivai, Greg and Mara’s local friend Thomas had 3 large boxes of local fruits delivered to the beach, including the aforementioned as well as breadfruit and two gigantic stalks of Marquesan bananas. Even when split three ways, each boat was still totally overloaded with goodies.

And, not-to-be-missed, is the local fish being sold at the wharf in Taiohae. At $4/kilo, the yellowfin-tuna-caught-earlier-this-morning is the best deal around. We’ve had poke bowls and tuna steaks like you can’t imagine! What is also not-to-be-missed is the posse of juvenile black-tip sharks that stick to the sea wall there like glue, waiting for any large fish carcass (or is that a human toe?) to drop in the water. I’ve equated the boarding and de-boarding of the dinghy to a ‘Fear Factor’ stunt – navigate a slippery stainless steel ladder onto your violently pitching inflatable boat, or get eaten! In the time that Rocket Science has been here, at least 3 people have sadly found that fate, including one boy who lost his leg.

Now, onto the weather, which has been a bit of a mixed bag lately. We’re seeing bursts of very hot sun punctuating a mostly-cloudy, often rainy sky. This has continued to make life aboard Flyer sticky, but suffice it to say, we’re getting used to it. It’s great to have friends next door to commiserate with, because misery loves company, right? Turns out misery also likes portable USB/battery powered fans, which we are hoping to procure on an upcoming bout of family travel. Clearly Flyer’s six 12v Sirocco fans going full-bore just aren’t enough to keep this clan feeling comfortable.

Pelle has now permanently adopted the upside-down-kitty pose during the day, choosing to completely air her undersides out in hopes of a hint of cooling. She -like the rest of us- is finding life here a bit more lazy and slow than before, choosing to sit and rest more than explore the decks, though she has discovered that our foredeck tent -which we put up to cover the forward cabin hatches when open at anchor- as her new favorite hangout spot. 

Hello from Baie de Taiohae! Flyer and her crew of five souls arrived here safely yesterday, Saturday March 14 at around 5:30p boat time (PDT) or 3pm local time (GMT -9:30).* Yes, optimistic Paul did win the arrival pool and with it he chose to disburse some bars of Theo Chocolate among the crew. 

Since the last update, our remaining miles under sail were enjoyable and swift. We were fortunate to have a fresh easterly trade wind that pushed us along at an average of 6.5kn. As dusk fell on the 13th it appeared the breeze was freshening, so we tucked in a 2nd reef in the main and braced for more action. It was not to be, so by midnight we shook out both reefs and powered Flyer up to full speed.

We sailed at a great pace, swapping the genoa for the A3 at 11am. It was great to get that sail up in the air (and sun) since it had spent the prior 48 hours lashed to the foredeck getting absolutely drenched by the swells coming over the deck. It also made for a picturesque scene on deck, Flyer under full canvas as the first sights of land were spotted; first it was the island of Ua Huka and a couple of hours later the foothills of Nuku Hiva became visible beneath the low clouds surrounding its shores.

As if on-cue, a pod of porpoises welcomed us, and the boys and I sat on the bow together to watch them play with the dramatic cliffs of Nuku Hiva just to leeward of the A3. It was a scene and feeling I won’t soon forget.

Flyer made great mileage until we were within the geographic effect of the islands, around 5nm offshore. We made a few final underway calls to family before deciding to fire up the engine one last time just before 4p boat time. The breeze continued to die and the seas around us turned into a veritable washing machine. The near vertical coastline of the SE coroner of Nuku Hiva sends ocean swells rebounding offshore and, mixing with the already somewhat jumbled seas from storms far away and making a pretty nasty few miles before reaching the anchorage.

Under power we were all business beginning the slow process of furling and stowing sails, coiling lines, and preparing the boat to anchor. Kristen was working the remaining bits of spray-foam insulation out of the hawse pipe for the anchor chain as we approached Taiohae bay when all of a sudden a speeding RIB buzzed us with none other than King Neptune himself at the helm! He congratulated us on our passage and tossed celebratory packets of Skittles aboard while his friends Paul and James hooted and hollered at the sight of another human soul, their good friend Griffin Barckert nonetheless!

We followed Griffin into the anchorage and buzzed his famous boat Rocket Science to say hi and gain anchoring tips from his parents Mara and Greg. We found a nice spot just a couple hundred yards east of them, dropped the hook and with their help set a stern anchor to keep our bow facing south and the incoming swells. (The common easterly breeze in the harbor has a tendency to keep boats facing east, making a monohull like Flyer roll considerably in the southern swells.)

Mara, Greg and Griffin all came aboard and after copious hugs and giddy smiles presented us with a basket full of local bounty, a 6-pack of cold Hinano (the local Tahitian lager), and fancy, printed certificates from King Neptune congratulating us for our passage! Sitting in the cockpit together, Mara read us a poem she wrote for us to commemorate the occasion. We were all a bit teary eyed realizing what we had done together and how special it was to celebrate together with such wonderful friends in our new, spectacular setting. 

Pelle was thrilled to be on the decks once again and made her way to her favorite spot atop the mainsail on our boom. It’s hard to imagine what is/was going through her mind, but we can only imagine that she’s smelling new, curious smells and aware that we are now in a place that’s a little different than Baja.

Now that the passage is behind us, I think I can say with certainty that it was a success and exceeded my expectations. We were fortunate to have decent conditions most of the time, exceptional conditions for some of the time. There were no major gear failures. The crew was generally in good spirits and healthy throughout. We landed several bucket-list fish, basked in the wonder of the cosmos, and we all stayed on board! We even had one remaining crunchy apple when we arrived. Not bad for 3,000nm across the Pacific.

We’ll be settling into island cruising mode here over the next few days and will send an update when we’ve had a chance to get through a few of the formalities (namely checking in to country), go grocery shopping, and getting a better lay of the land. Until then, thanks again for reading and commenting -it’s been so fun to know you all have been with us all along!

Hello from the good ship Flyer here on the Southern Seas, now just under 200nm NE* of the French Polynesian island of Nuku Hiva! Since we last checked in all five souls aboard are doing well, if hot. Temperatures have surprisingly not surpassed around 85degF since crossing the equator but the humidity has not dipped below 80%. As described previously, that means that things aboard are uncomfortable at best, and downright gross more often. 

The southern tradewinds have freshened beyond forecast. We are now seeing winds between 18-26kts from a bit further south than we had anticipated, so we are sailing a close reach into some choppy, confused seas. We’re moving at a faster pace as a result, but the boat is very wet on deck now so most hatches are closed and things are getting stuffy. And yet somehow my hot cup of Lighthouse coffee remains a highlight of my day!

It also might appear that Flyer’s had some Lighthouse caffeine too lately. With the increased breeze also comes the opportunity for more miles, so we’ve been pushing her a little harder every day as our comfort with the conditions and sail combinations grow. And knowing we’ve got less than 200nm to go, we feel more eager than ever to put the pedal down!

Since transiting the equator in the early hours of Tuesday March 11 we’ve enjoyed Kristen’s Bolognese, groomed Pelle with the ‘furminator,’ closely cropped dad’s hair and beard to a much more sensible length, successfully dodged several squalls, swapped the A3 and genoa out for each other over a dozen times, and debated whether our family will soon hold the record for most consecutive days at sea among our immediate, living family.

The twenty-first full day of our passage means that we’re really really really looking forward to making landfall and all that might await us in French Polynesia. We’ve traded the enjoyment of every day life at sea for a palpable sense of ‘when will we get there, dad?’ Maybe it’s just the duration of the trip, or possibly it’s the second wave round of betting that has our best guesses of arrival time stickied to the chart in our cabin. 

For the record, in reverse chronological order, we have James at 2p, me at 10:10a, and Kristen at 5a all on Sunday Mar 15 (the Ides of March!). Paul stands alone on March 14 at 10a. What’s your guess, dear reader?

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* Apologies, my original posting said NW of Nuku Hiva, not NE as it should have. Sleep deprivation taking its toll!

Hello from the other side of the globe! At around 4am boat time (also PDT) Flyer and her crew of 5 crossed the equator. Muchos muchos gracias again to King Neptune for delivering us a safe and enjoyable passage to this point, now zero degrees and 42 minutes into the southern hemisphere.

Kristen was on watch at the time, and woke me to begin the festivities. I greeted the boys and Pelle with beads and my Neptune trident (thank you Kevin!) and we assembled in the cockpit with some chilled San Pellegrino and a leftover bottle of Kirkland Prosecco from Preston’s birthday party back in Bahia de los Muertos.

On deck, the scene was spectacular. We had the remnants of the big dipper behind us, and the southern cross dead ahead. And about 30 degrees above the horizon on our windward or port side was half-moon lighting the ocean.

It’s a long held seafaring tradition to commemorate the equatorial crossing with some antics. And in our family, no major event or experience happens without some sort of commemoration involving Pelle. So the ship’s cat was again feted, this time with beads and a couple of her favorite treats- the aptly named ‘squeeze-ups.’ We poured a good half-bottle of prosecco overboard for our protector, said a few important words, and marveled at the chart plotter when it went from reading our latitude from North to South.

Unfortunately given the hour, poor lighting conditions, and overall sluggishness of the crew, we didn’t get many pictures, so those below will have to serve as proof of the festivities.

Admittedly, as a sailor I’ve not really thought nor cared much about an equatorial crossing. It’s just a line on the globe, and it’s the other intangible experiences and elements of life on the ocean that mean more, right?
But life at sea is a funny thing, and when you’ve been out of sight of land for as long as we have (eighteen days as of today), milestones like this make a big impression.

Now having experienced it, I feel I better understand the hoopla behind crossing the equator on a boat. My brain has been eyeing that line on the chart for a while, knowing it’s both an important marker of our progress and a significant celestial and seasonal boundary for our life on earth. We went from spring to fall in the blink of an eye! Our days are now getting shorter by the day just when they were getting longer! The weather systems swirl in the other direction! It really does feel like we are on the other side of a major milestone.

And so we find ourselves today very blessed to have favorable winds here at this point of the globe. We currently have a solid 12-15kn easterly breeze, very welcome to this crew after the light and unsettled conditions we experienced for several degrees north of here. While we’re bummed to miss out on swimming in the equatorial doldrums while becalmed, I , for one, am thrilled to be moving forward at a good pace instead!

Good afternoon from the equatorial Pacific Ocean! All is well aboard the fine yacht Flyer as the past three days have passed with lots of action, preventing boredom and keeping us on our toes. After two or so days of breezy northeast trade wind sailing between 12n and 10n, we took a minor left turn three days ago at 10n 130w to make a more southerly course towards the Marquesas. 

That left sent us into an area of greater atmospheric instability to the south. Within a half of a day we were confronted with our first squall of the trip. The dark cloud ahead also read loud and clear on our radar, and try as we might to head up and pass it from behind, the dark hovering monster only decided to grow unpredictably and envelop us entirely in its grips. 

Within fifteen minutes the breeze jumped quickly from 15kn to 35kn. Flyer took it in stride, considering we had both a full mainsail and genoa up! We quickly eased the main to bear off to run before the push, and as we unloaded the sails we furled a half the genoa. The rain was tremendous, the heaviest rain we’d ever seen on Flyer. Within ten minutes the wind moderated to about 25kn for the remainder of the squall and and hour later, on the backside of the cell the wind had further moderated to 15kn.

We had learned an important lesson. We needed to set the boat up better and more conservatively for the impending unpredictable squalls ahead. So a couple hours later, with nighttime setting in, we decided to drop the mainsail entirely as we saw another approaching dark mass. This proved a workable solution for the night, though as we soon learned, it was a bit too conservative. 

The squalls that night were mostly lighter in nature, one of which even featured a fully becalmed center. After a long night of almost constant sail trim adjustment to keep Flyer moving, we were exhausted. As the dawn broke, we raised the mainsail again but this time with two reefs tucked in, reducing the sail area by over 1/3rd. This combination proved a good one for the next 48 hours, giving us enough power in the lighter winds to keep moving, but reducing our sail area enough to ride out the big gusts. 

We’ve generally been sailing with this setup for the past two days, with eyes glued to the horizon and radar. We adjust our sails and trim accordingly, and always trying in vain to head up or down in an attempt to avoid them. We’ve found these storm cells to be very dynamic, sometimes materializing quickly in front of us, sometimes growing in unexpected directions, and always configuring themselves to be unavoidable for Flyer. 

Life aboard has also become dramatically more wet. Flyer is a remarkably dry boat compared to most sailboats, but it’s easy to make life in the cabin wet when you’ve been caught off-guard by a squall with your hatches open! The heat and humidity are oppressive here in the intertropical convergence zone. Cabin temperatures have ranged from 82 to almost 90 degrees with humidity levels between 75-85%. Every surface feels wet to the touch. Our sheets and clothes have become adhesives. Sometimes keeping hatches open is a gamble we’re willing to take given how quickly the air inside our cabin gets hot and stuffy.

Another not-so-welcome guest aboard Flyer have been the gooseneck barnacles we’re seeing adhered to our transom. These are weird looking creatures that hitch a ride on slower moving boats through the tropics. On sailboats like Flyer, they quickly adhere themselves and grow all over the hull and increase the boat’s drag through the water, slowing us down. Some have said they can cut a boat’s speed in half when they have matured and populated to a certain extent. To combat the gooseneck barnacles we are dragging a coarse, 5/8” line off the bow for about an hour every day. This line drags along the hull and (hopefully) with the motion of the boat through the water, helps to knock some of the creatures off. Time will tell if this has helped, but it can’t hurt to try, no? Rumor has it that within 24 hours of arrival in the Marquesas, the local fish provide a complementary hull-cleaning service. We are looking forward to that.

As I finish writing here in the doghouse the skies ahead are blue with only occasional small puffy clouds overhead. Flyer is sailing happily at a course of 195degrees magnetic at 6.5 to 7.5 knots under the watchful eye of Piloti, our newly trusty Windpilot. I made a few adjustments to the system and, with the right sail combination and balance, Piloti is thrilled to take the helm for hours at a time to give his robotic counterpart a break. 

It appears the next couple of days will bring more sun, fewer squalls, and, most importantly, some wind to take us across the equator, now only 198nm ahead. With 2,111nm down and less than 1,000 to go to Nuku Hiva, we’re amazed at how far we’ve come on this passage. “I can’t believe it’s been two weeks” James remarked a couple days ago. “It feels like it’s only been one!” I’ll chalk that one up for a win.

Here are some thoughts about three projects or additions we made to Flyer prior to this trip that have made a big difference in our life offshore, particularly related to safety and comfort.

1. Solid handrails and weather cloths on the after outboard stanchions. This was a pretty simple aluminum and sewing project that has ultimately made the cockpit a safer, more protected place to be.
   • The aluminum portion of the project was done when Flyer was hauled out at CSR in February of 2024. Nick Rudnick and his team at Rudnick MFG were great partners in a bunch of aluminum work we’ve done on the boat, and this might have been one of the easier projects, which gives it a high impact rating! We simply welded a 1-1/4” aluminum pipe on top of the last two existing stanchions and the pushpit. They form a solid, grab-able length of rail that was slightly higher than the previous lifeline and substantially stiffer and stronger.
   • The sewing portion of the project was done in the weeks preceding our departure in July of 2025 by Kristen on our beloved Sailrite sewing machine. The cloths that are suspended between the lifelines and rails are known as ‘weather cloths’ and were popular in the 1970’s and 80’s in offshore racing and sailing, as they served to keep the cockpit more dry and less battered by wind. Unfortunately they’ve fallen out of fashion but as we aboard Flyer are in no beauty contests, we’ll do what’s safest and most functional! Traditionally weather cloths have been made of marine canvas, but we chose to use Phiphertex, a strong coated nylon mesh fabric that breaks most of the wind but maintains some permeability for both views and water. If we’re hit by a really big wave, the Phiphertex will let some of the water through, absorbing the impact and lessening the possibility that the weather cloth will be blown apart. Kristen even added some pockets for our genoa and staysail furling lines on the port side.
   • The combined impact of the rail and the weather cloth has made the cockpit feel much more cozy and secure for us, and even gave us the opportunity to add more solar power to the boat, which leads me to our next favorite addition:

2. More renewable energy sources. It cannot be stressed enough that more and diverse renewable energy sources are a must-have on an offshore sailboat. Flyer doesn’t have a generator, so when we’re sailing (and we don’t want the engine on) the boat requires some form of energy generation to keep up with our power demands. We lead a relatively modest energy existence on Flyer, but just the basics -navigation electronics, lights, watermaker, and refrigeration- require us to replenish energy that we use throughout the day and night. Flyer was originally built with only two sources of energy – a modest 200 watt solar array, and a SuperWind generator, neither of which were sufficient to supply enough energy for our needs. So in the past two years we’ve added the following:
   • Watt&Sea hydrogenerator- this thing is amazing. At speeds of 4 knots and above, we are able to generate a decent amount of electricity. When we reach 6 or more knots, it’s a wealth of wattage! Below is the power curve for the unit we have. With two different propellers (the 280mm and 240mm sizes) we can tailor the power output to our needs and speeds. And it will produce energy when other sources will not, particularly at night when going downwind, which is a pretty common situation for us!

• (apologies for WordPress’ horrendous formatting here but the outline format continues …)
  • Additional solar power- When it comes to solar power generation on a cruising sailboat, there’s no limit to the amount that’s right. Solar can be the biggest workhorse of the renewable family, given that most of our time on the boat is not spent sailing but sitting at anchor, when the Watt&Sea won’t give us any power and the SuperWind is hopefully not too active (otherwise we might prefer to find a less windy anchorage!). In 2024 we replaced the meager 200w array on the arch with a new 430w panel, and the new aluminum grab rails gave us additional real-estate to relocate the 2x 100w panels from the arch, to give us tuneable/rotating panels. The ability to articulate their angle drastically improves their efficiency, and these panels have greatly improved our energy generation since we added them in May of 2025.
  • We also added an auxiliary solar panel attachment point at the base of the mast, capable of accepting up to 200w of additional portable solar panels. We currently have 2x 180W folding solar panels that we use either one at a time (when it’s really sunny) or in tandem (when it’s overcast) to boost our generation. While we conceived of this auxiliary system to be used only at anchor, we’ve found times when sailing offshore that it can be really helpful when we need more power, such as a very light-wind streak when our speeds are consistently below 4kts.

3. Cockpit-led preventer system. This is probably the most important safety upgrade we made to Flyer, and certainly the cheapest of them all. The preventer system is designed to pull the boom forward and keep it from gybing accidentally. Accidental gybes are one of the most common sources of offshore sailing tragedies, and research has proven over the years that a fixed, low-stretch preventer system is the best way to combat them. It required only two simple permanent additions to Flyer’s deck plan (a Lewmar rope clutch on either quarter) and a series of removable low-friction leads. I also spliced a more permanently mounted ‘strop’ made of SK-98 low-stretch braided line, that allows us to attach the preventer leads to the boom while the boom is beyond reach. It’s important to have the preventer rigged at the end of the boom since that is where the loads on the line will be the lowest, and you’ll also have the least chance of breaking the boom if it drags in the water. And having the clutches within reach of the cockpit is really convenient which ensures they will be used and adjusted frequently!

04 March, 0320 PST approx 1,500nm NW of Nuku Hiva – Hello from the graveyard shift. As I write we are barreling along on a WSW course with solid trade winds behind us, with a full moon to light our way. Flyer has been keeping up a good pace in the last 24 hours, covering over 140 miles right on course, bringing our 11.5 day total to just under 1,500nm, which, depending on how you measure it, could be considered close to half-way to Nuku Hiva!?

Life aboard Flyer has been enjoyable these past few days. With the boat moving comfortably along, we’ve been able to spend more time just witnessing life in the remote Pacific. Yesterday we were welcomed by a small pod of porpoises who came to play in our bow wave. Shortly after I noticed some leaping sailfish about a quarter mile away, hurtling themselves over fifteen feet in the air! 

Within an hour, another massive pod of porpoises came barreling towards us from the south. They formed a thick frontal line as if they were hunting in a group, swimming at an impressive speed and jumping with great frequency. They sped right past us and were out of sight within a couple minutes, and the force of their collective rush was incredible to witness.

There seem to be many more flying fish in these latitudes. Practically everywhere we look they are flying along, inches above the waves, before smashing face-first back into the blue. They’re so fun to watch, and currently in the lead as the boys’ favorite form of wildlife out here. 

We had a bit of excitement this morning when we hoisted the A3- our reaching sail that we like to fly when the wind is between 5-20knots from between 70 to 140 degrees true angle (the angle of the true wind to the boat’s axis). The sail is set on the bow sprit just above our anchor roller, and it’s managed by a continuous-line furler that allows it to be wrapped up on itself like our genoa and staysail for easy deployment and dowsing. I had just hoisted it, and Paul was in the cockpit about to trim in the sheet to unfurl the sail, when I looked forward and saw the sail, its furler and furling line flapping wildly about downwind of us, not attached to the boat! And in seconds, the sail had mostly unfurled itself and was making quite a spectacle of us. 

We quickly got some help from James on the bow and Kristen in the cockpit. Paul lowered the halyard to me and James while we gathered the sail onto the foredeck. Kristen managed the sheets and steered the boat to a lower course to reduce windage on the bow. 

When it was all down and secured with a sail tie, I noticed the Tylaska shackle that’s supposed to be part of the furling drum was still attached to the bow, while the drum was in my hands, still attached to the sail. We quickly deduced that they had separated because the two small grub-screws that keep the threaded connection locked had somehow worked themselves free. 

Without any replacement grub screws aboard my quick fix was to simply clean and re-fasten the threaded connection, this time with copious amounts of red loctite and as much torque as I could muscle. I’m hoping this holds for the foreseeable future, and at the very least we know now to be keeping a close eye on this part.

Last night’s graveyard shift was graced with a total lunar eclipse! It began around the start of my watch at 0200 ship’s time (PST) and ended around 0500. With some scattered low clouds, it made for an eerie, haunted feeling on deck. 

The last couple of days have gone by in a blur. Not that time has transpired quickly, just less coherently. 

We’ll start with the sailing conditions which, if you’ve been following the tracker, have clearly kept us on our toes, day and night. Contrary to previous forecasts, the conditions have continued to be fickle at best. For the last 36 hours we have been teased with senses of a freshening breeze, only to see the wind speed drop precipitously minutes later. The wind direction is following course, as it usually does, and is swinging wildly through 70 degrees at times. The seas have continued to be confused, mixing seasonal NW swells with wind driven waves from every other direction. 

It’s been really hard to keep Flyer going all this time. Just when we begin to get momentum and feel that we have sails trimmed to meet the conditions, things change almost immediately. We’ve put up virtually every sail in our wardrobe, only to conclude that the sail combination is wrong. It feels a lot like ocean racing, excepting we’re not in a race, right? 

But in reality we have found ourselves in a race with the weather. The ridge of high pressure that initially gave us challenges after Cabo San Lucas over a week ago with light and shifty conditions has continued to expand and follow us westward. We’ve felt like we’re being chased by a gentle demon who enjoys watching us bob around in the windless blue. And we’ve managed to stay just ahead of the bad stuff, which is in some ways good (we have had some wind) and bad (we have had some calms). All the weather models have been showing that there are more consistent, 10-15kn breezes just a handful of miles ahead of us… and we’ve been struggling to catch up!

To make matters even more challenging, our mid-passage waypoint -established as the point at which we think we will enter consistent NE trade winds just north of the equator- has continued to be almost directly downwind of our location. Flyer does not like dead-downwind sailing if the wind speed is below around 15kn, so we sail ‘hotter’ angles to the wind, meaning we don’t point directly at the destination but closer to the wind, giving the boat a little more speed through the water and requiring us to gybe occasionally so we don’t stray too far from our desired part of the ocean.

These conditions mean that we are constantly reassessing both our sail combination/trim and whether or not we should be motoring. The latest outlook for the intertropical convergence zone (ITCZ, or doldrums) shows a bit more activity, and therefore potential for sustained calm, than we had originally anticipated. As a result we are saving our motoring for only our most desperate moments, like this morning around 0530 when we found ourselves becalmed after hours of very light-air drifting. 3 hours later we shut the engine down and found ourselves sailing again at a meager 3 knots, 30 degrees off of course. We’ll take what we can get!

Life on board suffers at times like these, or at least my perception of it does. I’ve not slept much recently, so Kristen and I have been flexing our watch times during the day in hopes of me being able to get a little more shut-eye during daylight hours. 

The boys seem in a good mood nonetheless! Paul has been frantically thinking about the sailing dinghy of his dreams (a 29er) and as with all of his obsessions, he finds himself drawing that thing. James has been reading and, when the internet is on, connecting with his cousin Sam and school friends to play games together. 

James also somehow just realized that his hair was too long -probably after discovering a rather large dreadlock-in-the-making- and promptly negotiated the grand opening of Kristen’s Aft Deck Salon.

Anticipating an excruciatingly hot cabin in the coming week(s), Kristen has made the most of our oven and has roasted beets and baked focaccia recently. We’ll be having beet sandwiches for dinner tonight!

To distract myself from the continued second-guessing, I decided to break out my guitar today. I think it’s the first time I’ve ever played it in the open ocean, and it gave me great pleasure. I was revisiting some of my favorite songs by Andy Shauf and the Beths. Maybe I’ll do some Led Zep tomorrow.

The breeze seems to be slowly picking up now, so I need to get back to the sail trim. Thank you all for reading, it makes us so happy to know we can maintain a little connection with you all this far away from home.