After days of smooth, near-effortless sailing westward in the North Equatorial Current, we are now transitioning across the Equator toward the South Equatorial Current, and traversing the doldrums, the horse-latitudes, squall alley – pick your own name if you will.

For a few days there, it looked like the wind had simply lost interest. We had long periods of nothing — not light breeze, not “gentle airs” — just nothing. The kind where sails flap lifelessly, rigging slaps in protest, and you can hear your own heartbeat. Every breath of wind was followed by a squall. Every squall was followed by a wind shift. Every wind shift meant another sail change. And every sail change meant dragging heavy sails around a rolling deck. We motored, quite a lot.

We’re tired. The kind of tired, where even simple decisions take effort and tiny mistakes compound into big ones. Deciding when to reef with squalls about is driven by apprehension, rather than sailing the conditions. I managed to drop the genoa in the water during a sail change. Nearly pumped our diesel overboard while transferring to the main tank.

But… the sea state has mellowed, the South Equatorial Current has taken hold. We’re making miles again.