After just one night in Las Perlas, we set sail for the Galápagos.

The reason: the ITCZ — the Intertropical Convergence Zone — better known among sailors as the Doldrums.

Our route leads straight through the heart of this mysterious belt of ocean, a region that inspires both fascination and fear. Along this low-pressure zone near the equator, the trade winds cancel each other out like two stubborn siblings, often leaving vessels drifting in glassy calm for days. In centuries past, ships could be trapped here endlessly, their sails limp and crews restless… cabin fever is real!

Fortunately, we have our two trusted “donkeys” to carry us most of the way. Almost, at least — because calculating diesel for roughly 900 nautical miles requires some strategy. A few proper sailing days along the way are not just romantic, they are essential.

And just as we arrived at the threshold of the ITCZ, we spotted a promising band of wind forming — hopefully enough to work together with the Panama Current and carry us for a couple of days.

So we set sail… and what we got was champagne sailing.

With the spinnaker flying over a nearly silky sea, we made a steady 6 knots — and building. As I write this, we are gliding along at 7–9 knots, depending on wind and current.

Simply amazing.

The magic was interrupted around 10 p.m. Mark was on watch and called me to the cockpit. Out of nowhere, a ship had appeared uncomfortably close. With no moon and very little ambient light, the night was dark — and the vessel showed no AIS signal. It was impossible to tell what it was doing.

We quickly dropped the spinnaker for better maneuverability. The moment we switched to engine power, its navigation lights disappeared. It went completely dark.

Only the faintest radar echo remained — something sizeable, judging by the distance between its bow and stern lights before they vanished.

Needless to say, we were slightly shaken.

What was it? An illegal fishing vessel? A smuggler? A navy ship? We’ll never know. But whoever it was operated in “dark mode” with remarkable professionalism — we couldn’t even detect the faintest instrument light through binoculars.

Spookey stuff 

Since then, though, we’re back to extraordinary sailing — the kind that fills you with gratitude and makes you feel utterly blessed to be out here.