Successfully Crossing the Pacific - Twice! Part 1
Over the past 6 weeks, Atalanta sailed an epic journey of nearly 5,000 nautical miles from California to Hawaii.. and back! She proved herself to be an extremely capable offshore voyaging yacht, taking her crew of 8 in comfort and safety across the wide expanses of the Pacific Ocean. The intrepid souls who joined the voyage used words like “transformational” and “life altering” to describe the experience. Here is a description of leg 1 of the trip, from Monterey to Honolulu from August 18 - 30, 2026.
Our first group of 6 arrived in Monterey for a fun and informative safety briefing by the captain and mate, moved their gear onto the boat, and enjoyed one last night ashore. As predicted, the initial hours and days getting off the coast were cold and rough, and some of us needed extra time to acclimatize to the motion. On the first night, close reaching with gusts of 28 knots, we set our second reef and our staysail and still had plenty of white water on deck as Atalanta surged ahead at 9 knots. Despite the conditions, the crew settled into our watch schedule and everyone got used to helming the boat through the waves.
By day 3, we had crossed the ridge and the winds and temperature moderated, and we were able to shed our heaviest outer layer of foul weather gear. By day 4, the breeze lifted us enough that we were able to set Atalanta’s huge asymmetric spinnaker on the pole, which we enjoyed during the day but doused at sunset for low-key night helming.
Life on board settled into a routine that revolved around standing watch, cooking, navigating, changing sails, and gybing occasionally as we worked our way south and west in the trade winds.
The sunsets and sunrises got more and more spectacular, and it was easy to get lost in their mesmerizing beauty. More layers were shed as the water and air temperatures warmed, passing the 80 degree mark a few days from our destination.
One challenge this year was a particularly active storm season in the Pacific, exacerbated in part by warm El Nino waters. We stayed in constant communication with our shore-based router and weather guru discussing options. Because we timed our departures well, we never had any close brushes with storms, although there were some unusual cross seas generated by distant hurricanes that affected the boat’s motion.
The crew stood watches of 2 hours on and 4 hours off, affording plenty of rest time and even allowing some to test their celestial navigation skills using a sextant, sight reduction tables, and a calculator. We were able to determine our location within 8 miles - not bad for our first try.
Eventually, we were wearing shorts and T shirts during the day, with light parkas at night for the refreshing squall spritzes we encountered. Our approach into Honolulu shaped up to be from the north. We entered the Molokai Channel and sailed all the way to Molokai before gybing toward Oahu. The channel lived up to its reputation of having large swells and high winds, and the helming was intense and enjoyed by everyone.
Then, as if on cue, the unmistakable form of Diamond Head crater hove into view, framed perfectly by the setting tropical sun. It was a sight none of us will forget, poignant in its beauty and a reminder of our place in the universe, a just reward for our 13.5 days at sea.
Words to sum up such an experience are hard to come by. Here is a journal entry from Alisa, which captures the essence of the voyage beautifully:
Fourteen days ago, I stepped aboard SV Atalanta in Monterey knowing I was about to cross an ocean. I thought the journey would be about sailing 2,100 nautical miles to Hawaii. I was wrong.
Somewhere beyond the sight of land, time changed. Days were measured by watch changes, sunrises, sunsets, stars, and the rhythm of the sea. The Pacific stripped life down to what truly mattered—wind, weather, teamwork, trust, and the quiet confidence that comes from doing difficult things together.
There were moments of awe that no photograph could ever capture: the endless horizon, brilliant night skies untouched by city lights, dolphins dancing in our bow wave, and the profound silence that exists hundreds of miles from anywhere.
There were also moments of challenge. Fatigue. Salt. Constant motion. Solving problems with what we had aboard. Learning that resilience isn’t something you talk about—it’s something you practice every watch, every sail change, every decision.
Crossing the Pacific wasn’t just a voyage from California to Hawaii. It was a journey inward. The ocean has a way of reminding you how small you are, yet at the same time revealing strengths you didn’t know you possessed.
When Diamond Head finally appeared on the horizon, it wasn’t simply landfall. It was the realization that we had become different people than the ones who cast off the dock fourteen days earlier.
The Pacific doesn’t just take you somewhere. If you let it, it changes who you are.
Stay tuned for part 2 as a new group ventures north and east from Hawaii to the cool waters of California.
