Landfalls are special. Sail or motor slowly in the general direction of your destination, for us that was

towards Barkley Sound and then down the coast of Vancouver Island which would put us just north of the

outbound shipping lane in the Strait of Juan de Fuca. After a week of cloud cover we finally saw the

almost full moon and had a lively night sail towards the island in 15 knots and 5ft seas, the ocean gave

us a last surprise kick around midnight when a larger-than-normal wave shipped itself into the cockpit on

Magnus' watch with some of it dribbling down below. Sunrise revealed the vermilion grey and purple

mountains along the island about 40 miles up ahead, the water colour and smell is different, fresher I

guess plus perhaps the scent of tannin mixed in. Birds flutter excitedly as we pull out a few salmon

which feed us for a later delicious sashimi lunch, the echosounder declares we are back on soundings. For

the first time in over two weeks jet contrails rushing eastward are illuminated in the early sun, fishing

boats scurry around the banks, the radio comes alive with chatter and Losloper hears the reassuring

continuous Canadian marine weather broadcast that it last heard a year ago. A huge cruise ship slides by

us and soon enough Cape Flattery looms up on our starboard, gradually becoming more distinctive until we

can see the isolated pillar of rock off the cape. Perhaps it also looked like this to a Spanish ship on

its way north some five hundred years ago when the Greek pilot onboard spotted the gap in the coastal

mountains and predicted an entrance. His name was Juan de Fuca and somehow we are connected through time.

All of a sudden there is a barrage of information as phones reconnect us back to the madding crowd, the

oil price has gone down, the loonie is lower, which marina are we going to, who is comimng to meet us.

The sweetest moment of the landfall has already passed, that first sight of land, that smudge on the dawn

horizon that signifies the end of a significant offshore passage. Savour the moment, landfalls are

exquisite, personal, fleeting. Alastair

We have reached the edge of insanity. We've been in each other's company for so long we have turned to behaviours a person would do only with family or very close

friends. My dad especially, he loves his sailing... at times, a little too much. As we are nearing Victoria we are getting antsy and of course I'm torturing myself

looking at the updated ETA multiple times a day. And damn, that countdown has been at 3 days 6 hours (changing based on our speed) for the last two days!! At one point

I open up the computer and it had jumped from 3 days to 5...I gave out a moan of despair and my mom and Alastair just laugh at me. It has now become a running joke

that when we pick up speed we yell out "3 days!" And as the wind dies we'll say "well it's back to 5 days." The first thing Alastair will ask me as I climb the steps to the cockpit in the early hours after troubled or no sleep through the nights is: "how many days do we have

left?!" And of course by that time I would have already checked.

I am counting down the days until we arrive at port, my mom is counting them by how many night watches we have left, dad is counting by how many sail arrangements he

can possibly come up with and Alastair is counting down by how many meals we have left.

I have stopped the use of my dry shampoo since my hair first hair wash at the halfway mark. It has caused my hair to have a look of permanent wetness but I must say,

after brushing it out, the rest of my hair feels pretty damn soft.

We have quite the ritualized day, have breakfast and coffee in the morning around 7 (used to be 6 but i'ts getting later and later), hand around a few hours, the

person who did the 3-6am watch will have a snooze. Just before lunch we will bring out the snacks, we'll have lunch, hang around another few hours, some will attempt a

nap. Around 5 the snacks will come out again and then we'll be kind of just hanging around waiting for dinner. Just before dinner most, if not all of us will be

sitting in the saloon reading, I will sometimes by playing my music through the boat speakers and we'll hum along to the tunes.

The other night I think we were all delusional from lack of sleep. I was playing my music. It all began with a certain dance song that came on and my mom and I started

shaking our hips to the music. I was playing upbeat type music that night and everyone was getting into it. As I was playing the rather ominous Imagine Dragons song

Radioactive, my dad decided to turn off all the lights, take out his laser pointers and give us a light show. He pointed them to the ceiling and went berserk. We were

of course filming this and his face was morfed into a state of utter concentratoin, trying to time his chaotic state of lights to the beat of the music.

At the start of the trip our dinner conversations revolved around who was doing which night shift. The talks have now begun to start earlier and earlier through the

day. Mom is so sick of night shifts she has begun to bribe me in hopes I will do hers for her, but to no avail.

At this stage, having only a few days left, I think I can safely say that we all want the same thing. To see dry land, to see any other living thing, be it wildlife or

people, to be able to stand on solid ground withough having to brace with every muscle in your body just to stand upright. To walk in a straight line without nearly

falling over, to sleep without having to pack yourself in so tightly with cushions you feel like you're sleeping in a coffin. To sleep through the night without night

watches or interrruptions, and to simply be able to get off the boat.

We are ready for civilization.

Michele

2200 nautical miles under the belt and about another 400 or so to go.

This has been a very long and tough journey and I had no idea Hawaii was that far when I signed up!!

It is day 16 now and all is well onboard. I have to admit that Day 12 will always be in my nightmares. That was the day I wanted to escape through the escape hatch, just to realize that there was nowhere to go!! I was extremely tired after days and days of interupted sleep. The constant, not so soothing motion of Losloper, and the noice of the sails, wind generator blades and the loneliness of night watches were all getting to me. Well, a sleeping pill and 8 hours of uninterupted sleep did wonders and I have been taking it day by day after that and just moving along.

Will I do a journey like this again? Maybe if it is only 7-10 days long with a sunny destination at the end... A delivery journey like this, not likely!!

In the last few days of this trip, everybody is counting down something - me, I am counting down the night watch hours!!

Go Losloper go...

Ronel