A moth fluttered by me during my morning watch... a sure sign that land was near. I looked up and saw the shadow of an island and two sea lions playing in the ocean behind us. I’d just laid eyes on the Galapagos Islands!

We sailed out of Panama with a sense of excitement, of finally getting back to sailing and the open waters again. Panama was as interesting a place as we could have wanted to lay over in for three weeks, but I think we were all a bit eager to get to the next destination and away from painting boats and chasing down rudders. We enjoyed our stay but we were antsy to get going! One of the most interesting things about Panama is that it becomes a natural layover spot for sailboats coming and going to/from both oceans, and you get to meet lots of great people as a result. Mark and Lisa are a young Canadian couple sailing to New Zealand. It’s always nice to meet sailors our age out at sea because sailors under the age of 60 for some reason are somewhat a rare occurrence. We’re hoping to keep up with them and vice versa along the way. Ahhh technology! I’m amazed at how easy it can be with a satellite phone and email – they left for the Galapagos a week before us and we’ve already heard that they caught five fish on the way! Stephen and William are two young guys on their way from Brittany to San Francisco. For you San Franciscoans, keep an eye out for “Folalier” to sail under the Golden Gate sometime in June. They are a couple of fun and crazy Frenchmen (hence the name of their boat?), so no doubt their presence and arrival will be known. “Independence” from the Cayman Islands was on its way back to New York after cruising up to and around Alaska for two years, and “Kiahlana” from Hawaii was just sailing around the world without a plan – they literally didn´t know yet if they were turning left or right when they got out of the harbor. Jorgen, a Swedish sailor on the sailboat “Anna,” has been at sea for 25 years and recommended that we stop over in Las Perlas on our way out of Panama. He told us exactly where to go and the exact coordinates to get there – Isla del Rey, one of his Top Ten anchorages of all time. Given his many years at sea and who knows how many anchorages in amazingly beautiful surroundings, we knew that this was a must-see!

Las Perlas is just 50 miles from Panama but is remarkably unspoiled and remote. Our parking spot in Isla del Rey was a secluded bay, bounded by islands and the ocean on one side and sand beaches, rocky outcrops and a lush jungle on the other. It was the perfect transition from “crowded dry dock boatyard” to “isolated wide open ocean.” We made like “Survivor” the next morning and dinghy-ed to shore to explore. After a bit of time wandering on the beach, we got a bit more adventurous and climbed over some rocks. We found a small river coming out of the trees and crept into the jungle just to see where it would take us. All was silent except for birds fluttering above us. We tramped over tree trunks and through the vines only to realize that the jungle was dense so there was really no where to go. It somehow felt like the perfect snake scenario and the air was heavy in the sauna created by the heat and density of the jungle – you didn’t have to ask me twice if I was ready to turn around and head back to the sunlight!

Our 900-mile sail from Panama was a sailor’s dream (or at least THIS sailor's!). It was as pleasant a trip as I could have imagined – six and a half days of gentle waves, downwind sailing, all sun and no rain, hot days and cool nights, consistent wind, advantageous current – especially after our crazy days on the Caribbean Sea. The route to the Galapagos is known for being windless and is well-documented as such, so we were pinching ourselves and pleasantly surprised each day when the wind kept up and moved us along at a quick pace – we averaged over 6 knots the whole way! Being so near the equator and in the zone of convergence (where the tradewinds from the north cancel out the tradewinds from the south and basically leave you nothing), we were supposed to get 900 miles of puttering along with a loud engine on all day and night with no wind to provide refuge from the blazing sun and stifling heat. Sailors before us have taken up to 30 days to do the same trip! Happily, the wind and sailing gods were with us... And, even though the wind came to a screeching halt two days away from our destination, the eerily calm ocean and silence of absolute stillness was actually a very cool phenomenon to experience for the last 100 miles.

It was pretty easy to get into our routine on the boat - lots of reading, lots of napping, lots of discussion as to what we would have for lunch/dinner. Thursday was Movie Night and Sunday was Shaving Days (for the boys), and most importantly, they were also the days that we treated ourselves to “special” meals... something better than sardines and crackers? Surprisingly tasty meals can be created from canned corned beef, I have a new appreciation for the value of vinegar as an ingredient, and ketchup is not just a condiment anymore! While we’ve had our fair share of canned vegetables, sardines, peanut butter, and pasta, we’ve also feasted on French toast, vegetable curry with jasmine rice, Chinese lo mien, crepes, and tapenade of anchovies and capers. All this good cuisine, and we honestly haven’t gotten that “desperate” yet (note: We left Panama with pounds and pounds and pounds of cabbages and carrots and onions... Any cabbage carrot or onion recipes you want to share would be most appreciated. There is only so much cabbage carrot onion salad one person can take!). As for the Pacific Crossing, I can’t wait to see what 30 days will do for inventive cooking! I became the designated fisherperson on the boat, and trolled for fish the moment we pulled up anchor in Panama. I was fully expecting to hit the sashimi goldmine of the Pacific Ocean! I’d rigged the perfect trolling line with perfect knots and the perfect combination of colorful lures, all perfectly spaced. Ha! I caught one fish on the first day and then nothing for the rest of the 850 miles. I don’t think there are any fish in this ocean...

We really felt like we were in the middle of nowhere on this trip. There was nothing but us and the ocean for 300 miles - not a boat, nor a bird - and then we finally saw what we were looking for. It was Malpelo, a “rock” (island) owned by Columbia, and was the ONLY little blip on the nautical chart from Panama to Galapagos. The dark grey shadow of a stark rocky island in the middle of nowhere was a bit surreal - it easily could have been Devil’s Island in “Papillon” or the Count of Monte Cristo’s Chateau D’If. After that, we only had three cargo ships and various wildlife to keep us company for the last 500 miles. We had a couple dolphin visits, amazing sightings of jumping and twirling dolphins, and more than a couple instances of tunas leaping in the air as they were trying to evade dolphins on the chase (why couldn’t I get hamachi on the dinner table?!). The cool new animal sighting of the trip for me was a huge pod (20-30) of globicephale (in French, no idea what they are called in English) we came across one afternoon, they are similar to dolphins but look like mini whales. As much as I love my dolphins, it was cool to see something new and different.

Martial and Gregory thought it would be kind of cool to catch and eat a turtle, just like the sailors had done 30 years ago. They actually pulled out the harpoon after we saw a big turtle float by one lazy afternoon. Would they really try to catch one? Would they really be able to catch it? Would they really be prepared to deal with killing it? Would they really eat it? I don’t know how serious they were about it, but luckily I never found out... or at least haven’t yet.

One night watch, the sea was particularly calm and glassy, the air was still, and phosphorescence was all around. The propeller of the boat created a wake that was like a glowing stream of smoke behind an airplane. In my peripheral view, I saw two huge swirling masses of glowing light. Sharks? Whales? Dolphins? Seals? No idea. My heartbeat quickened and I had to wonder if my eyes or the moonlight were playing tricks on me. It’s one thing to see cool things in the ocean, but it’s totally another scenario when you’re alone in the dark and can’t tell what it is! Gregory reminded us earlier that not only were we on boat/ship and gale/storm watch, but we were now also on large marine animal watch as well. If it seems bigger than one-third the size of Urios (10 feet) then turn on the engine ASAP and rev... it would be bad news to bump into a whale! I never knew what it was but I saw 10 more of them glowing and swirling in the ocean in those next three hours. Boy was I happy when my shift was up and I could leave it to someone else to figure it out!

Birds appeared about 200 miles from Galapagos and became our companions for a couple of days and even at night. It seemed like these swallow-tailed gulls were fishing but it mostly seemed like they were flying around the boat and keeping up with us. All of a sudden one morning one of them decided to land on the back cabin hatch. No pomp or circumstance or anything, it just made a quiet landing and hung out. I think the “Galapagos effect” was already in affect at this stage (not being afraid or aware of humans) because it barely looked at the raisin I offered it, and when I got up close and personal with the bird... not a flutter. It’s a funny little memory. The bird could have cared less. I couldn’t wait to see that happen with a giant tortoise in the Galapagos!

French lessons, now that's a fun night on the boat. Lots of laughs at my attempts at proper pronunciation and exasperation at not being able to make that funny "h" sound. So far I've got a 1-2-3 kids song under my belt and a couple of SUBJECT VERB ADJECTIVE sentences under control. The boat is white, the house is big. Hopefully it'll keep up and I'll be reading Baudelaire by the time we get to the Marquesas!

Sailing across the equator will be one of the ultimate highlights in my collection of memories, that I know for sure. Not being able to see the North Star anymore but then being able to see the Southern Cross come up in the night sky was telling that we were getting nearer to 00 degrees, 00 minutes latitude. We watched the degrees tick down by the day and then on Saturday morning, March 13, the time had finally come! It must have been a funny sight to see us all crowded around the GPS with cameras ready, counting down tenths of a minute of a degree like it was New Year’s Eve... Watching the GPS flip from 00 00 01N to 00 00 01S at 11:46am was unreal and quite the once-in-a-lifetime Kodak moment that we all wanted to catch for posterity.

There are all kinds of sailing traditions to commemorate the big occasion of crossing the Equator, and we had a wonderfully memorable “Passage de la Ligne” ceremony, full of various secret rites and not-so-secret rites. The not-so-secret rites actually started at 5 miles to go. That’s when the hair clippers came out and the guys went to work shaving their heads! I half-expected them to hold me down and shave my head too in solidarity when the clippers went into high gear, but thankfully they’re the only ones walking around bald... As for the secret rites, what happens on the boat, stays on the boat! We finally toasted the big moment with Veuve Cliquot champagne that had travelled all the way from France for the occasion, danced to silly songs on the deck, and had our first dip in the waters of the Southern Hemisphere being pulled by a line off the back of the sailboat. I called home from the Iridium phone and I’m sure the message I left on my sister’s voicemail is from a place like no other that she’s ever gotten before! To top it off, maybe it was the glare of a bright sunny day on the water, but I swear I saw a big white whale in the distance just as we crossed the Red Equator Line in the sea!

Our first night in the Galapagos will probably be the most memorable for us, even though we will probably see more on other islands. One of France’s sailing heroes, Bernard Moitessier, has written extensively about his trip around Cape Horn, which included the very route that we were on. Barrington Island in the Galapagos was a highlight, and visiting the place that the guys had read and heard so much about seemed fittingly appropo. L’Ile Aux Phoques was everything that Bernard said it would be – an idyllic bay with sea lions lying all over the beaches and rocks, sea lions swimming around the bay, marine iguanas sunning themselves, and huge pelicans and blue-footed boobies diving for fish. He spent six weeks here and I can totally understand why. I hadn’t been in the ocean since February in Les Saintes so I jumped right in. Snorkelling with seals is wild – you’re both extremely excited that they’re swimming right next to you but at the same time a bit freaked out that they’re swimming right next to you. And again, they aren’t in the least bit scared of you, just mostly curious. We swam right up to a bunch of them sleeping on the rocks and they barely blinked an eye... What a great place to end the day and this part of our voyage – we were happy to have had the sail that we had, and we were happy to be where we were. Dinner was under the stars and we fell asleep to the sound of barking seals. Thanks Bernard!

We pulled up anchor at sunrise and headed to Puerto Ayora on Santa Cruz island, the hub of the Galapagos Islands. You know you’re in the Galapagos when you see hammerhead sharks as you’re sailing and blue-footed boobies dive bombing for fish as you’re anchoring, which is one of the most spectacular things to see. If the last 24 hours here has given us a hint of the wonders of wildlife that we’re going to see, I can only imagine the number of rolls of film that I will plow through in the next 7 days!