A log entry — May 23, 2017, Pacific Ocean

This article was originally published on Substack

Mar 10, 2026

It’s 6 a.m.

I’ve been lying in the cockpit since my shift began at four, watching the swells rise and fall behind the boat as they carry us toward the Marquesas. Sometimes they lift the stern just enough to let us surf for a moment while the gentle wind presses quietly into the sails.

The sun hasn’t risen yet, but the sky is already beginning to glow. The moon hangs just above the horizon, as if it’s not quite sure where it belongs.

Water rushes along the hull when the swell pushes us forward, then falls silent again between waves. The rhythm repeats itself endlessly — surge, hush, surge again.

Clouds stretch along the horizon like a heavy blanket waiting for the sun to arrive.

Every now and then a swell looks like it might climb right into the cockpit with me, but so far none of them have.

Four thousand meters below us, the ocean floor doesn’t notice our passage at all.

A bird glides past the stern — sometimes a gull, sometimes something that looks like a swallow. Often just one, occasionally two. They follow the boat for a while and then disappear again into the empty sky.

What the hell are those birds doing all the way out here?

I always wonder what they’re doing out here, hundreds of miles from land. It would make more sense if there were a flock, but usually it’s just a single bird, wandering across the Pacific like the rest of us.

I’m thankful for GPS. It gives us the comforting illusion that we know where we are, and the equally comforting illusion that we know where we’re going.

Good morning from the Pacific.

The Marquesas are less than 600 miles away now.

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Matt Ray
Living Large by Living Little

About the Author
Matt Ray is a sailor, writer, and cybersecurity tinkerer. He once circled the globe by hitchhiking on sailboats—and somehow lived to write about it.

Author of the practical crewing guide, Global HitchHiking
Global HitchHiking: How I Sailed the World Without Owning a Boat