Being at sea thousands of miles from land is a vulnerable place to be at times and none more so than when the watermaker decides to malfunction. Our ability to desalinate salt water enables us to sail long distances without the need to carry arduous amounts of fresh water but the operation requires constant maintenance and supervision.

The word association for this passage thus far would most definitely be rain. I had read a lot about the Intertropical Convergence Zone (ITCZ) prior to this trip as a former Pollywog who spends very little time near the equator. The meeting point between the NE and SE trades also commonly referred to as The Doldrums, known for its distinct lack of wind and unending rain.

This wasn’t the worst spill I’ve ever seen on a boat, but it was close. We’d just taken two reefs in the main and a rolled a big chunk out of the genoa in building winds and seas tonight, FALKEN running downwind, yankee poled out to port and the main prevented to starboard. Regularly averaging 12 knots over a 3-hour watch, and hitting wild surfing speeds.

The last 24 hours have been a relentless mission of opening and closing hatches as the heavy downpours synonymous with the tropics have kept us on our toes. Had anyone suggested a few days ago that I might find myself cold during this passage I would have laughed at the incredulous notion and yet the early hours of the 11th saw just that reality.

Based on the heading above, I’m sure you can assume the mood aboard today. Anyone who has spent time with Andy on a 59º North passage will be innately familiar with Glows and Glums, our nightly ritual of sharing personal highs and lows of the day, followed by the cathartic sound of your choice.

I cannot imagine what the mood must have been like back in the square-rigger days traversing this part of the world. There is NO wind. Hasn’t been for days, but a frustrating swell has us banging around even though we’re motoring at a smooth 6-7 knots.

All the things happened at the same time this evening. We crossed the equator southbound just as the sun was kissing the horizon to the west. We shut down the engine and fired a cannon salute, and with that dinner was served. King Neptune would have to wait until after we ate.

T-minus six-and-a-half hours and counting until departure. As I write from FALKEN's nav station, Emily is on deck briefing the crew on MOB protocols. Point #1 - stay on the 'effing boat! She'll do a live MOB recovery demo shortly, and being that the water is so warm and calm, we'll do one with a live 'casualty' instead of with the MOB dummy.

I am writing this as the sun is slowly setting in Lagos. Falken has now been washed, scrubbed, emptied and re-stored following her post-passage checklist that we thoroughly follow. There is an aura of accomplishment, relive and just general awesomeness feeling onboard and not just for the successful trip that we’ve just ran but because this marks Falken’s first successful season in the Atlantic, sailing an astonishing 16.112nm.

We spent the day sailing under the chute, dousing it before dinnertime and getting all the lines and gear stowed for the night. It’s November, and while it’s nice and warm here off southern Portugal, the nights are long. It gets dark around 1730, and doesn’t get light again until around 0700, so the night watches are long. But the stargazing more than makes up for it. We passed around the binoculars last night, taking turns looking at Orion’s belt and the millions of stars in the background that you’d never seen ashore.

After breakfast Andy gave a magnificent weather lesson, it is so nice to see someone teach their passion to other people, it really is contagious!! After that everyone got briefed on their duties for their watches and we proceeded to hoist anchor and get out to the open sea for our offshore phase.

This morning we woke up on anchor just off the beach and cliffs in Sagres, usually the crew struggle to get a good night sleep the first night, new noises, a bit or nerves and new crew mates. Second night though, most crew sleep like a rock. Yesterday was the first morning for the crew onboard. Bob has sailed with us earlier this year, and James have already signed up for a trans-Atlantic with us in 2024…

Well, hope to sail anyway. Lagos is sitting smack in the middle of the end of a long axis of high-pressure, so there’s not much air moving around in the marina anyway. The ‘Azores' High’ is stretched out and has reached the coast here. Typically you see the high centered further west, and along the coast of Portugal tend to get northerlies, the ‘Portuguese Tradewinds’. Unlucky for us, we’re not in a typical pattern right now.