0600 – Mr. T, David, Max, and myself are wrestling 60 knots of wind as we perch off the bow and wrestle the headsail like we’ve never wrestled before. It’s like holding onto the cape of a giant, flying grizzly bear. All hands on deck. No cameras were rolling. It’s not documented anywhere. A moment that is just for the three of us to keep.

We’re currently experiencing a different side of the ocean than what we’ve grown so accustomed to in the previous 6,700 miles. We seem to have ventured into the land of 60 knot winds and 25 foot waves.

Being on the helm is the most dramatic view of the situation. Physically, you’re about a foot away from the edge of the boat, so as a wave builds, it seems to be building especially for you. Though waves hit the side every 3 seconds, the biggest waves come in sets; about every 1 minute, and there’s usually 3 per set. These are the monsters.

I will now try to put into simple words the feeling one feels as one of these barreling, blue mountains comes towards your body: Helpless.

There’s nothing you can do. You just steer the ship and watch what happens. As Jo put it, “We’re just going to survive”. So comforting.

Now, not every wave actually crashes on the side of the Plastiki. 90% of the waves just pick the boat up and, after passing under, drop us back down into the trough. At the bottom of the trough, you look up the face, and it might as well be 100 feet of water. Your stomach sinks as you wonder if this will be the one that crashes on your crying little face.

I’ve tried filming these waves, trying to put them into perspective. I’ve tried different cameras, lenses, angles, f stops, shutters, but I’m not really able to capture the same image and feeling I get being here. But, I think there’s something poetic in that. Some of this is just for me.

Then there’s that 10% of the time…

During daylight hours, you can usually tell if a wave is going to crash about 3 seconds before it does. You have some responsibilities to accomplish within those 3 seconds. First you yell “Wave!!” to warn those inside to brace for impact. Second, you grab a-hold of the helm and brace your feet in an aggressively wide stance. Third, you cover and, quite naturally, pray and hold your breath simultaneously.

It feels like a 3 story apartment building made of water has fallen on your back.

All better. You look up and recover. You’re alive. You yell or laugh something at having accepted Mother Nature’s biggest bear hug.