FIELD NOTES: 30 DAYS SOLO AT SEA
There are easier ways to see the world. You can board a plane, book a hotel, and be in the tropics by sunset. Or you can spend 30 days at sea, crossing 3,700 nautical miles of open Pacific Ocean with nothing but a boat and your ability to adapt to whatever the ocean decides to hand you. That's the path Noa Hopper is on.
Noa stopped by our Newport Beach store before departing on this expedition. His route would take him from Costa Rica across the largest ocean on Earth to Hiva Oa in the Marquesas Islands. A remote volcanic outpost in French Polynesia nearly 3,000 miles from the nearest continent.
But as ambitious as this crossing sounds, it's only one chapter in a much bigger objective. Every mile sailed this year is preparing Noa for the 2027 Global Solo Challenge, a nonstop, single-handed race around the world that pushes sailors through some of the harshest oceans on Earth. Noa is taking any opportunity he can to test systems and refine his skills.
When he was eleven, his parents pulled him out of school for a year and took him around the world. Madagascar and Mongolia, shark diving in South Africa, the Great Wall on foot. They'd saved for two decades to make it happen.
"They knew I'd learn more from traveling than I ever could from a textbook. Because of that, I have a deeply ingrained passion for exploration and adventure. I tried all the traditional paths," Noa says. "University, the finance degree, living in a city. Slowly I began to realise how much more I needed nature in my life." That realization set him on a different course as an adult.
"The ocean is the great equalizer," he says. "She feels no love or hate and cares nothing for how much money you have or what you look like. All that matters when you're offshore is your ability to be creative and solve problems."
It's a philosophy that becomes very real when you're alone in the middle of the Pacific. Thirty days after leaving Costa Rica, we talked to Noa shortly after he made landfall in Hiva Oa.
Unlike his previous Atlantic crossing, the Pacific required navigating across the Equator and through the Intertropical Convergence Zone, a region known for light winds, thunderstorms, shifting weather, and complex currents. It demanded patience, strategy, and constant adaptation.
"The navigation was more complex due to the necessity of crossing the Equator and the belt of calm winds and thunderstorms that reside in that area," he says. "But I learned a lot about how to use the oceanic gyres and circulating currents to best assist with this part of an ocean crossing."
The reward wasn't just reaching land. It was everything that happened in between. At roughly five degrees north of the Equator, Noa experienced one of those moments that reminds you how little of the planet most of us ever see.
"Around midnight I came on deck and the wind was dead still. The ocean had become a perfect mirror for as far as I could see to the horizon."
He watched the stars reflected on the water's surface with such clarity it felt impossible to distinguish where the sky ended and the ocean began.
"Then there was the bioluminescence. All around the edges of the boat you could see explosions of cyan and turquoise at different depths in the water column. It was like underwater lightning."
Hours later, the scene had completely transformed.
"A few hours later, just before sunrise, I watched a squall line approaching from the south. Within minutes the wind was up to 40 knots and howling through the rigging, the ocean had become frothy and waves crashed against the hull."
The stillness was gone. The ocean had changed again. That's what continues to pull him back. "The ocean is never the same two days in a row." When Noa finally stepped ashore after a month at sea, his first impression was exactly what you'd expect.
"Wobbly," he laughs. "When I walked into the customs office in Hiva Oa the whole room was spinning. I had to check out the window to be completely sure that the building wasn't on a floating pier."
It's easy to romanticize adventures like this from the comfort of dry land. The reality is far more demanding. Long periods of isolation. Unpredictable weather. Endless problem solving. Total self-reliance. That's exactly why we're drawn to stories like Noa's.
The ocean remains one of the last true frontiers. Not because it's unexplored, but because every crossing still demands something from the people willing to venture into it. Noa embodies that mindset. He's chasing experience, understanding, and a deeper connection to the places and people whose lives are tied to the sea.
As for the gear, life aboard Penelope has a way of simplifying things.
"I've got three pairs of the Cordura Boardshorts that make up almost my entire wardrobe," he says. "I use them for surfing, diving, lounging and going out. I pair them with the Expedition Shirt. They'll definitely make the cut when I sail in the Global Solo Challenge next year."
From here, Noa will continue west through the Pacific Islands, visiting ocean conservation projects and sharing their stories before eventually turning south toward Patagonia, Cape Horn, and the Southern Ocean. The miles ahead may be even more challenging than the ones behind him. We'll be following along. 🚩
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