Taking Off Into the Unknown
One of our trusted crew members asked us during our South Pacific passage, “Why would anyone do this?” Meaning, what inspires people to take off into the unknown, into a passage dubbed by everyone we have encountered here in the past two months as the “milkshake run”—rather than the easy “coconut run” it was supposed to be. Our 23-day passage was neither gentle nor easy; it wasn’t terrible, either. But the huge rolly swell on the beam (the side of the boat, which causes a consistent cradle-rocking effect), the lack of calm in the doldrums at the equator, the inability to do much of anything, including making a meal in the galley, wore on all of us like dirty socks. The four of us stayed positive but tired quickly of the routine and constant motion.
As we crossed from the North Pacific Ocean into the South Pacific, we witnessed the Southern cross for the first time, heard the persistent swish of water passing over the hull, stared at the royal blue color of the ocean depths, and rode each swell lifting and propelling the boat forward; these rhythmic forces demand simplicity of living and being at the mercy of the natural elements. Annoyingly loud land neighbors or political turmoil or the latest TikToc video garnering vacuous attention—none of these daily realities permeate our existence.
Staying Secure While Working
The daily challenges multiplied for me as I work behind a computer screen all day. This past Spring, Kevin and I had tried to time our ocean crossing with my work schedule so I could minimize my grading time. I usually have weekly or even daily Zoom meetings with students or colleagues, but grading means sitting and reading for hours (like a normal job, haha). Due to our troubles in exiting the boatyard, our timing to leave got pushed to April 20, almost 3 weeks after we anticipated leaving Mexico. This meant I was finishing my teaching semester while at sea—grading all of the end-of-semester writing projects, final exams, and extra credit.
The rolly conditions meant finding a comfortable spot in the boat that didn’t make me nauseous. I’m not prone to seasickness, but hours of looking down, holding my body erect, and trying to comment on papers in a sunny location (staying in the cockpit with fresh air beats the rougher conditions inside the boat) made me incredibly exhausted. Passages are already tiring—with the rotation of night watches and tedium of life aboard: spreading eagle in the galley while meal prepping or cleaning, holding your body against a wet shower wall (also spread-eagle in the bathroom stall), gripping the handholds and ducking while slithering along the boat’s corridors, taking a step—only to have the boat soar down a wave….well, hopefully you get the picture. It’s hard to move around, let alone sit while typing.
Humility Coupled with Reality
Please understand that I’m not complaining. I know how lucky I am to be able to live this lifestyle and continue to work full time. I couldn’t believe the reality that we were in the middle of absolutely nowhere—and I could still get Internet. Starlink worked beautifully. There was only one day where it took about 45 minutes for Starlink to connect—the longest it has ever taken. Otherwise, I had no issues. We used the Mobile Regional with Priority data as soon as we were 12 miles from land. Last year when I reported my working conditions, Starlink had already imposed this “12 mile” distance from land—but they did not enforce this until early 2024. The funny thing is, we found this out—the enforcement—after sailing away from Puerto Penasco.
We were under sail and exactly 12 miles from the nearest island in the Sea of Cortez when Starlink shut off. The good news about this is that we knew exactly what to expect when we finally left Mexico, and this included how to switch our plan mid-stride using the Starlink app. When we toggled on “mobile priority” using the app, our Starlink reconnected without incident.
Starlink Plans Once You Cross an Ocean
I finished my semester exactly 2 days before we made landfall in French Polynesia. We were within 3 miles of Hiva Oa, where we planned to check in, and Kevin turned off Priority data because we fell within the golden “12 mile” rule, which means Priority data isn’t necessary. But Starlink knew we were no longer in our home country—and Kevin received a message telling him that our Starlink would no longer work.
Ironically, this day fell on the same day our plan resets for the month. The solution was to move our Starlink account to a country within the “Oceania” region. We accomplished this by changing our address to one in Australia once we made landfall. It’s important to note that we could not have changed our address at sea as there must be a separate Internet connection other than Starlink in order to make the change. I mention this only because we know of sailors who tried to make the switch during their ocean passage, and they could not do so.
The Cost of Using Starlink While Crossing an Ocean
The good news? We were spending $150 for our monthly Starlink plan while in Mexico, and we never used (last year) the Priority data because we never lost connectivity—even though we criss-crossed the Sea of Cortez three times and were definitely beyond the golden 12-mile range. When we switched our country to Australia once we arrived in French Polynesia, we set up a new account (you can’t just switch your home country through the Starlink account settings), and now we are paying $120 per month. We discovered only recently that had we switched our plan to Fiji, the cost would be $70/month. As many of you know, our plan is to haul out our boat in Fiji in October 2024. We will shut down Starlink (we don’t use it at home)….and when we return next season, we will open a different account to get the much cheaper Fijian plan.
One more thing: we had two crew on our ocean crossing from Mexico to French Polynesia, and I worked for at least 6 or 7 hours per day in the last two weeks of our crossing; this meant daily Zoom sessions with students and hours behind my laptop. Our crew could scroll through Facebook, make phone calls back home, and do anything online that they might normally do. So what was the cost of using Starlink at sea for one month? About $400.
Starlink's Potential
I’m still amazed by how inexpensive the cost was—and even more amazed that I could do my job in relative obscurity (no one except a couple of colleagues knew where I was). I should mention that I never inform students of where I am or tell them what I’m doing because so many of them lead challenging and stressful lives. But I will be honest: I wish I could share more with them! The reality is Starlink throws open a window of life-altering interactions and professional opportunities, ones that I’m hoping my students and future generations will embrace.
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Great information! Love these posts!!!
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