We had our passports stamped today. A customs officer came down to the marina. After that, we were allowed to leave. We fuelled up with 400 litres of diesel, checked our gear was properly stowed, put on life jackets – and were off! We’re headed for Nouméa, the capital of New Caledonia, 900 nautical miles (nm) to the north. Getting there should take around seven days. Now I’m sitting in the cockpit, looking out at the vast ocean. What else is out there? I’m about to find out. The sea is a lot rougher today. Everyone’s feeling sick. On the upside, we’re seeing lots of albatrosses. One bird came in so close I saw how big it really was – the size of two bikes! Two large bikes. How crazy is that? We’ve also seen pods of dolphins. We stood at the bow, watching them dive under the boat. I’m tired today. I hadn’t expected it to be so noisy in the cabin. The wind’s picked up now, but yesterday it was so light we had to use the engine. It rumbled all night. Then there’s the noise of the water sloshing and slapping against the hull and the winches clicking when we change the sails. Plus the autopilot is right under my bed. It makes another kind of clicking sound, also annoying! How will I ever sleep? We have lots of equipment onboard – not all of it noisy. The depth sounder tells us how deep the water is, and the wind gauge tells us the strength and direction of the wind. Our electronic chart plotter tells us where we are (using GPS), and we have paper charts in case the electronic plotter breaks. We have a life raft in case our boat sinks and an EPIRB to share our position with search and rescue. We also have a satellite phone, a VHF radio, and plain old life jackets! We can’t see land now. It’s kind of scary. The adults are starting to get grumpy. They’ve had two nights on watch, which means broken sleep. The person on the night watch needs to make sure we sail in the right direction, the sails are properly trimmed, and we don’t crash into other boats – not that we’ve seen any since leaving Northland. I can stay up till eleven o’clock because my parents are too tired to nag. It’s great! A big swell came up last night. Dad threw up in the first-aid kit. Luckily he managed to tip the contents onto the floor first. Dad was the first. Now we’re all throwing up. It’s sort of a family-bonding experience. I vomited over the side of the cockpit when a big the came up on our starboard (right) side. I almost fell overboard. We wear a life jacket and a tether the whole time, but there’s still a risk. As I’m writing this, there’s an amazing sunset over the wide, open sea. Today we finally caught a fish – a huge mahi-mahi! The adults were hysterical with joy. It was an amazing yellow and green, but the colour faded as it died, which I felt sad about. But I’m not going to lie. The fish was delicious. Everyone’s feeling heaps better. The sun is shining, we saw dolphins again, and our bodies are getting used to the motion. Plus the swell interval is high, so there’s much less movement. We sailed today without using the engine. We have two sails: the mainsail and the headsail. Sometimes, if it’s super windy, we have to reef the sails. That way, Dog Star won’t get overpowered by the wind and lean over. This is starting to feel like fun. Last night, I was woken by the sound of sloshing water and shouting. I got up and found the adults frantically bailing water in the engine bay. Mum said it was just a small leak from a hose. She told me to go back to sleep. Seriously? I could see the look on my parents’ faces. Was it bad enough or a mayday? Should I set off the EPIRB? “It’s OK, just a few sloshes of water,” Dad said. “No drama.” I checked our course on the autopilot and tried not to worry because clearly it was a drama. Too much water could flood the engine, and we’d sink. When I next checked, my parents seemed much happier. The water had almost gone. We’re all tired after last night’s excitement.