We have to make it to Ketchikan by the beginning of August, so we’re sending it to new anchorages every night. Waited until noon-ish for the currents to be in our favor through Kakul and Sergius Narrows. It was fun navigating and speeding up through the narrows. We tucked into a keyhole-ish anchorage in Baby Bear Bay, which is apart of a state marine park. Didn’t see any bears, despite its name!

Spent a week at Eliason Harbor in Sitka to reprovision some proteins and fresh foods, top up on diesel and water, do a boat load (literally) of laundry, and explore. Today, we made it to our first anchorage in SE AK: Kalinin Bay. The current was in our favor for the first half of the trip through Olga Straight and against us in the second half through Neva Straight. Moderate swell and strong winds rolled through Salisbury Sound and made the entrance into Kalinin bumpy but no biggie. Even under a thick blanket of fog and mist, this place is beautiful. We can’t get over the smell of the Earth! Stoked to be here and can’t wait to get out and explore some of these remote places.

We freakin’ made it. After almost three weeks at sea, we’re finally tied up in Sitka, Alaska, with a cold beer in hand and the boat finally at rest. It feels surreal to say the crossing from Hawaiʻi is behind us after anticipating the journey for so long. In the moment, the days felt long, and I came to the obvious realization that the Pacific Ocean is, in fact, really big 😂. Still, the days passed like the wind. The crossing was relatively mild and, although frustrating at points, filled with moments that reminded us why we were out there in the first place. Sailing in Hawaiʻi prepared us in ways we didn’t fully appreciate until we left. It’s where we’ve grown as sailors and people over the past decade, shaped by the islands’ generally unforgiving conditions. The sailing was rarely easy, and often pretty unfriendly, but it taught us how to stay sharp, adjust expectations, and how to accept when nature has the final say. We weren’t sure if Hawaiʻi was just a tough place to cruise or if we were still green to the ‘cruising life’, but it was probably both. Leaving was hard, but we knew it was time. The first few days offshore were rough. The trades were vindictive; it felt at times like the islands were trying to keep us from leaving. We beat into the wind straight out of the gate for nearly a week. The seas were big at first, then settled into a more manageable size, but still squarely on the beam, making things uncomfortably rolly and sleep scarce. Eventually, we broke free and found lighter air west of the North Pacific High. It felt like we were no longer fighting with the boat, but sailing with her. We exhaled for the first time in a week. The gennaker went up and we had a calm, steady run north for several days. It was such a relief after all the pounding and trimming and second-guessing. Then we hit the so-called westerlies. And of course, they weren’t westerlies. Once again, we were nose to the wind, slogging through more upwind sailing. A high-pressure ridge built in behind a cold front, flipping the winds from southwesterlies to northeasterlies and blowing us days off the rhumb line. The wind gods were absolutely not on our side. When we finally broke through, the real westerlies arrived, but they were light. Still, we managed one-and-a-half glorious days of fast and slightly chaotic downwind sailing. Big seas from a low pressure system rolled beneath us as we surfed along, finally moving the way should have been. Then, the wind faded again, and we made the call to motor-sail hard northeast to stay ahead of the next low lining up for the coast. In the final stretch, the wind hovered between 10 and 15 knots at 90 to 120 degrees apparent. We sailed when we could and motor-sailed when it dropped below 10 knots, just doing whatever it took to keep moving ~6 knots. This morning, around 20 nautical miles offshore, we spotted land (Mt. Edgecumbe, a dormant stratovolcano) for the first time. It was dark and distant beneath a heavy, grey sky, barely touched by the light of the rising sun. Ten miles later, we could smell it. Trees. Earth. Mulch? Something that wasn’t ocean (or our own stench 😭 seriously, no one warns you how BAD things smell after three weeks at sea lol). Humpback whales, otters, seals, bald eagles, and ravens greeted us as we entered Sitka Sound. We felt like we were in a National Geographic special. We dropped the sails and motored into our slip at Eliason Harbor around 8 AM local time. We spent the morning walking around town, picking up bear spray, and grabbing a local beer. Porter got a long, well-deserved walk. Everyone we’ve met has been kind and welcoming. Now we’re back on the boat, salty, stinky, and exhausted, slowly piecing together what comes next. First up is definitely a nap. Then, a shower and laundry. After, we’ll deep clean and start fixing the things that broke along the way. But for now, we’re just sitting still and reflecting. We crossed the Pacific. And it feels pretty damn good 🤍

Not my favorite sail. Started off with 25 kts on the nose and heavy rain out of Nāwiliwili. Big east swell. Tacks were disheartening and uncomfortable. Got great speed around Anahola. The downwind portion along the northern stretch sucked big time. Swell was on the beam and big. Happy to be back in Hanalei.

Squally sail from Hanalei to Nāwiliwili Harbor on the SE corner of Kauaʻi. Light upwind sail against an average E swell until Kapaʻa. We looked forward to the squalls to bring stronger winds, otherwise we had to motor sail. Caught ~18lb Kawakawa (mackerel) 🎣

We’ve been in Hanalei for almost two weeks, and have been spending some much needed time offline with our friends and each other, just enjoying life. We had a series of friends come to visit us consecutively, and the last few days have just been us, so it’s been a nice balance. We tracked this trip to the Nāpali Coast a few days ago, and it was incredible. The wind was on our stern, and as we turned around by Kalalau Valley, about 27 kts on our nose. Close to Hanalei we caught about a 10 lb omilu (bluefin trevally), and made fish tacos for dinner. This place is unreal. There are literally no words that can emulate the beauty of this place. It’s hard to say when the best time would be to visit here, however l would have to recommend late summer, as Hanalei Bay is probably like a bathtub and you’d have the best chance of anchoring on this coast during a spell of light trades and no swell, if you’re lucky. Just off of Kalalau is sand bottom, and you can swim or paddle to shore. The valley is closely tied to the indigenous Hawaiian communities and is one of the most, if not the most beautiful valley in all of the islands. The adjacent beach is called Honopu. It is kapu or “forbidden” to go to shore with anything but yourself; you must swim. The current rips along this coast making NE swells really stand up. It’s gusty, but manageable. I’m jealous of the powerboats zipping by us closer to the coast!!! Our good friend used to work on charter boats over here, and she said this coastline will chew you up and spit you out if you’re not careful, so we kept our distance from shore. She said there’s only about 20 days a year, if that, you’ll get decent conditions. Really, the best way to explore this island is by land. We’ll head over to Nāwiliwili tomorrow morning and perhaps rent a car for a day or two in final preparation before our Pacific crossing. AHH!

Explored Hanalei River with the dink. There was a big tree blocking the river around the entrance to the national wildlife refuge, so we turned around and got lunch in town instead.

Cruised over to Kāneʻohe Bay from town with our friend Morgan. Setting ourselves up for a more northern departure for Kauaʻi tomorrow morning! Late start leaving Ala Wai. I don’t think there’s a fuel dock on Kauaʻi, so we stopped at Kewalos one more time to fill the tanks. Beat upwind until the wind totally died around China Walls, so we motor sailed most of the rest of the way. Saw a few whales rounding Makapuʻu. Anchored at Secret Beach, made pesto pasta, and passed out 💤 It’s approximately 120 miles to Hanalei, should take us ~20hrs to cross the Kaʻieʻiewaho tomorrow AM.

Briefly back in the Ala Weird before we head off to Kauaʻi. The sail back from Molokaʻi was another fun downwind sail. Hand steered most of the way because our autopilots weren’t handling the conditions as well as we were. We weren’t able to experience a lot of bucket list places in Maui county, and Big Island certainly will remain in our rear view mirror. Upwind through the Alenuihāhā isn’t something we needed to put ourselves or Porter through, especially with the conditions we’ve been having the past few weeks. So, we reluctantly left Maui, found safe harbor (and sleep) on Molokaʻi, and returned to Oʻahu to say goodbye for real this time (and fix a couple things that broke, of course). Although we have the whole world to see, there’s something about Hawaiʻi that makes you forget there’s anywhere else to be. Maybe it’s the pace or the warmth, or the way even quiet moments feel full. Every departure feels like leaving a part of ourselves behind, even as we look ahead to the horizon. I know we’ll circle back someday, shaped by the miles in between.

We rarely get to sail downwind, so the sail from Kamalō to Lono was a fun one. 20 or so kts at 180 apparent and little waves. Wind got increasingly lighter as we sailed west, and would drop from 20 to nearly 0 at some points which wasn’t so fun. We love Hale O Lono, and have the whole place to ourselves. From the shells to the stars, the safe harbor and light winds, we’re happy campers after this past week of struggling in Maui. Lono feels like an old friend🫶

We were greeted by three reef manta rays as we entered the mouth of the channel into Kamalō. We anchored in 35’ in the western finger. The winds are blowing with authority, but the motion is gentle. We have >150’ of chain rode out and our 44kg Rocna set hard. I would take these conditions over the past few evenings every day of the week! Anything for a good nights sleep. Kamalō, once named Kamaloʻo, translates to “the dry place”. The slopes of Kamakou, a shield volcano and the highest elevation on the island (just shy of 5,000’), serve as the backdrop behind Kamalō. The eastern slopes are lush and green, whereas the western slopes, true to the name, are dry.

Mala pros: crystal clear water, great holding in 50-60’, abundant sea life along the wrecked wharf (sharks, uhu, uku, spotted eagle rays, sea turtles…), morning and evening Pu’unoa beach walks. Mala cons: rolliest anchorage ever. Wind isn’t consistent enough to set a swell bridle. Boat’s pointing in the direction of the current. Swell’s on the beam. Loosing my mind! Couldn’t find anywhere better to anchor on the leeward side of west Maui or along the foothills of Haleakalā. The trades are strong through the Pailolo and Alenuihāhā, as well as through the isthmus separating the two halves of the island. Our go-to guidebooks and Navionics led us to believe there would be at least one better option than Mala. Alas, there were not. The wind and swell directions just weren’t right. One more evening of no sleep at Mala. Tomorrow we try north, or send it back to Molokai.

Spent the day exploring the Olowalu petroglyphs after a restless sleep, kept awake by the howling wind and bridle tensioning under load. The petroglyphs are nearly half a century old and include etchings of families and sails ⛵️ Olowalu went from calm to heavy trades overnight. All weather models have been wildly inaccurate. We sent the drone up to check out two anchorages to the south of us which looked better than where we were. Upon leaving Olowalu for those anchorages, the wind piped up, just shy of 40kts. I know it’s easy to exaggerate conditions on the water, but I’m not. We looked at each other, shook our heads in disbelief, and turned around. We decided to try our luck back up north. The winds lessened around Lahaina and Mala, but strengthened again towards Kaanapali. We ended up anchoring in about 50-60’ of water outside the mooring field near Mala in a sandy patch on satellite imagery. I dove on the anchor from the dingy with just enough sunlight to illuminate the seafloor to ensure she was dug well. Not our favorite anchorage, but we’ll take what we can get…

Dave and I departed early this morning before sunrise from Kaunakakai to try and beat the heavy trades to the Pailolo Channel. Shortly after our departure from Kaunakakai, we realized that was wishful thinking. We tried to hug the coast of Molokaʻi as best we could with 25 kts on the nose and wind chop, but outside of Kamalō, the wind and waves rose with the sun. We decided to make the jump across the Kalohi (Molokaʻi and Lānaʻi) and Pailolo (Molokaʻi and Maui) channels. The channels met us with teeth. Conditions in the channels were >25 kts sustained, up to 34 kts. At first, we were overpowered, but found balance with a triple reefed main and a sliver of our jib. Twice we tried our self-tacking staysail, twice we stowed it. Ultimately, it was too much sail area, so we stuck with our small jib and de-powered main. The acceleration on Ciao Bella doesn’t feel linear like our past boats felt. She doesn’t ease into speed, she lunges. You have to anticipate her sudden burst of energy, otherwise she’s hard to handle and rudely slips into a 30 degree heel that I don’t think she — or I — were meant to hold onto for long. The swell wasn’t Kaiwi-big, but it wasn’t small, either. We constantly had to pinch up to hit the waves appropriately. The trades have been blowing heavy across the state. At one point, we seriously considered turning back and cutting our losses by heading for Oʻahu, then Kauaʻi, and getting ready for the June passage north to Alaska. But something in me wasn’t ready to turn around, at least not before giving Maui a fair shot in these winds. The Big Island and the Alenuihāhā may remain on the horizon, for now. Part of my reasoning was wanting to get a better feel for how Ciao Bella performs in heavier conditions, and just as importantly, how I handle them. Dave has worked on the water and done two Pacific crossings since 2020. I can count the amount of times on one hand I’ve been in heavier conditions. It’s one thing to sail in moderate, comfortable weather. It’s another when conditions are more demanding. This wasn’t about pushing limits, it was about understanding where they are and what needs to be improved upon. Not screaming expletives when we heel over too much is one of them, lol. Alaska is beckoning, but Hawaiʻi still whispers her wisdom.

Stuck in Kaunakakai! Wind speeds have been 25 kts sustained gusting up to 35 kts for three days straight. Feels like we’re sailing at anchor. Holding has been superb in the harbor. We had planned to leave last night (winds pretty much die between 8 PM - 9 AM, at least inside Kaunakakai Harbor, not sure about the Kalohi or Pailolo Channels…) for W Maui, but I sold my truck 🛻 over the phone on Friday, so we had to wait until Monday to ship the keys over to the new owner. Explored the town and historic coconut grove nearby, but are sooo ready to go somewhere new. Planning on leaving ~3/4 AM tomorrow morning for Kaanapali, Maui, hugging the coast, and anchoring anywhere between Olowalu and La Peruse.