It feels as though Neptune has sent us through a proper offshore boot camp—though a bit of advance warning would have been appreciated!

Today, squalls swept through in daylight. Had they not been intent on testing (and occasionally damaging) our boat, they would have been a spectacular sight: towering cloud formations with dense curtains of rain racing across the ocean, as if trying to sweep its surface clean.

After last night’s experience, we switched from the Code 0 to the Genoa as we watched the next system approach. You could clearly see the wind tracing patterns across the water. Just as I asked Mark whether we should reef the Genoa as well, Neptune answered: YES! And sent a gust peaking around 38.7 knots—Snap went the pole.

So yes, we did reef. Then we assessed the situation. Technical summary: pole = gone. Not ideal, of course—but ultimately a luxury problem. We liked that pole very much… which is precisely why we carry two. More importantly, no one was hurt, and nothing else on the boat was damaged. In truth, we always suspected that this particular pole was a bit on the light side for the job.

So, no need to lose sleep over it. Still, it was another humbling reminder. As night fell, detecting squalls became more difficult—they only showed clearly on radar once the rain had already arrived, not in that crucial moment before they “switch on,” like the one with the big gust. From now on, if we see even a hint of darkness behind us, we reef early. Yes, we’re slower. Yes, I’ve added another night to the ETA (six instead of five). So far Neptune seems fine with that sending us squalls with hardly more wind in them.

The forecast ahead isn’t exactly encouraging—models suggest more rain and thunderstorms. Let’s hope reality proves kinder. Either way, we’ll stick to a very conservative sail plan to avoid further damage.

Meanwhile, the boys spent the day in a world entirely of their own. It began with a fighter jet simulator (ffp2 masks where used as oxygen masks etc.) they built in the front cabin. When one of their jets “crashed,” they suddenly found themselves surviving in the jungle. Drawing on wisdom from Crocodile Dundee, they cared for injured animals and quickly established an impressively resourceful jungle hospital. This naturally escalated into discovering a magical tunnel leading to a secret animal kingdom. As one does.

They briefly resurfaced in reality when they heard us grinding winches in heavy wind and rain. They noticed the broken pole, found it mildly amusing, and promptly returned to the jungle. Seeing that we remained calm, they clearly decided there was no reason worrying.

Later, Joe completed his night watch alongside Mark. When he came to bed, he spoke about the incredible stars and said he wouldn’t mind if the journey took a little longer—there had simply been too much fun in the day to wish it away.

Meanwhile, I checked the numbers: we’re officially over two-thirds done and under 1,000 miles to go—930 miles as of 02:30.

Now I just hope Neptune decides we’ve passed the course… because this is certainly not beginner-level bluewater cruising.

But hey, all things considered, I think we’re doing really well.