Since the last blog entry, Sunny Spells has covered a good slice of the Atlantic — and celebrated Christmas in the most nautical way possible: with dolphins, Prosecco, and Sargassum.

After a solid week of trade wind sailing, we’ve passed the halfway mark to the Caribbean. Conditions have been remarkably kind, with the wind mostly around 15 knots from the east, the swell settling into a longer, more regular rhythm, and the autopilot largely behaving itself — though it’s starting to show signs of needing a bit more positive reinforcement.

Sailing has been so stable that we went six days without changing the sail trim — an unprecedented stretch in Sunny Spells’ history. We finally gybed and poled out the headsails on opposite sides in textbook Atlantic crossing fashion, mostly to dodge a windless hole forecast east of the Windward Islands. It felt almost indulgent to do something as radical as adjusting the sails.

Meals have remained, if you’ll forgive the pun, consistently top notch. From Thai green curry to Spaghetti Carbonara with Pecorino, from a vegetarian medley of polenta and panic-picked vegetables to Christmas Eve potato salad and Christmas Day sushi — the galley has done us proud. Highlights include homemade risotto with porcini mushrooms followed by panettone and mascarpone cream, a proper fruit salad, and a dolphin-lit sunset with sails gleaming silver in the moonlight.

Speaking of dolphins: we’ve had a few pods cruise by to check on our progress, most recently on Christmas Eve when they played in the moonlight beside the boat. Magic.

Of course, not everything has been perfect. The autopilot has taken to disengaging randomly, usually in the wee hours when one is least inclined to hand steer. We’ve also had a mystery vibration from the propeller, traced to a tangle of Sargassum wrapped around the prop shaft. A snorkel inspection cleared it up — quite literally — and the engine is now purring along as it should.

The Sargassum itself deserves a dishonourable mention. One morning we awoke to find ourselves not in the Atlantic but in a soup of floating seaweed. The stuff stretched as far as the eye could see — an unwelcome development with light airs ahead and a need to motor. Thankfully, our southern detour seems to have left the worst of it behind.

We’ve now turned our bow northwest again, pointing toward Martinique — though Grenada was briefly on the cards when it looked like we’d be too far south. The forecast shows gentle winds and small seas all the way to the finish line, with a full moon lighting our path and a likely landfall on New Year’s Eve.

We’ve crossed time zones (UTC–3 now, greetings Brazil), passed the halfway mark, and adjusted to life afloat in a rhythm that now feels almost domestic. Uno has emerged as the official board game of the crossing. A full match can apparently outlast a night watch.

More soon — but for now, fair winds, full bellies, and a very Merry Christmas from somewhere out on the wide blue sea.