I know I’ve already rambled about this… but seriously, it’s still completely mind-blowing.

We’re sailing past what are basically tiny crumbs of land sticking out of the ocean—most of them barely taller than a coconut tree. You can’t even see them until you’re practically on top of them, like 2.5 to 3 nautical miles away. And the only reason we’re not accidentally plowing into one at night is because we have fancy modern navigation.

Meanwhile, hundreds of years ago—before Europeans had even discovered the concept of pants—people were out here finding these places. On outrigger canoes. Crossing thousands of miles of open ocean. In groups big enough to start actual communities. HOW?! Not only did they get here… they casually went back and forth like it was a Sunday afternoon sail. Absolutely wild.

Anyway, now it’s our turn to get there.

A squall showed up this afternoon and basically told us to pack away the spinnaker, so we did. Since then, we’ve been creeping along under smaller sails because we had to slow down—timing is everything. But with the little amount of wind we are easily managing our target of 4.5 knots, aiming to hit the atoll pass at just the right moment. The art of going slow? We mastered it!!!

According to our AI oracle, 07:12 a.m. is the time—current almost dead still, sun high enough to see what we’re doing, and a nice little 30-minute grace window in case we mess it up slightly. We were also promised dolphins… so no pressure, mysterious cloud-based intelligence.

Also—Mark has made a bold claim: Makemo might have an open restaurant. A real one. With food we didn’t cook. After making basically every single meal (and becoming accidental bakers) since leaving the Galápagos, this sounds less like dinner and more like a spiritual experience.

But first… we have to actually get into the atoll.

It’s arrival day!!!

Sunrise… where are you?