17°25.8' N 026°47.7' W
October 12, 2025 | 22:15 UTC | 17°25.8' N 026°47.7' W | Looking back at 2000 miles sailed
02:00 - We all gathered in the cockpit to celebrate another milestone—2000 nautical miles sailed through the Atlantic. As we enjoyed our 2am 2000-mile cheesecake, we reflected on how far we have traveled. But really, how far is 2000 miles? It is hard to grasp such a distance. On land, we might drive that far in just a couple of days, or by air in only a few hours. But moving at a slow pace, traveling outside the sight of any land and having nothing as a reference, all we have seen for 12 days is waves and clouds; the sun, the moon, and stars. If it weren't for GPS and our knot log, we would have nothing to truly judge just how far 2000 miles is.
Maybe we could measure the distance by days? But out here, days have little meaning as they run together. None of us even know what day of the week it is anymore. And time on a clock is a blur as we sleep a few hours at a time, then get back up for our watches. Night and day, the cycle continues.
Perhaps 2000 miles is best measured by our growth. As a crew, we have adapted to our life on the sea and to our responsibilities aboard Adrienne. Over the last 2000 miles, we have grown together as a crew, no longer strangers from around the world, but friends who share stories, dreams, worries. Friends to lend support, to share a laugh, to cook with, to point out and savor the wonders we behold of the sea and sky. Together as crew, we have learned how to coax little bits of speed out of the sails, find a more favorable course direction, or smooth her motion to move us closer to our destination. We have grown into a crew that jumps into action when the wind gusts over 35 kts, overpowering the boat and heeling far over. We know it is time to reef in the main even while being doused by the waves.
Ultimately, 2000 miles have culminated in the grand experiences we’ve had. Experiencing being treated to a visitor from the deep during dinner last night—a whale 30 meters off the port side, rising above the surface of the waves and disappearing back into the sea. Feeling the excitement of leaving the doldrums today and entering the refreshing trade winds. Exiting the doldrums marks the end of a chapter of our journey, a chapter full of exceptionally sweet moments and extremely sweaty moments as well from the heat. I won’t miss trying desperately to get bits of sleep in the heat of 31 degrees Celsius (88 degrees F) in the forward bunks, which we now appropriately named the sauna. I will miss but treasure the experience and enjoying the presence of the power in the doldrums. Watching in real time what Captain Erik taught us of the meteorology specific to this part of the world. We admired the power and beauty of towering cumulonimbus clouds as they welled up to great heights and then dumped rain below, releasing strong gusts of wind.
We will never forget the still nights of endless stars and the bright Milky Way, and Mother Ocean’s bioluminescence star show in the water. And the night the yellow moon rose over the clouds that left all of us speechless for 20 minutes, soaking in the stillness and grandeur of the moment, feeling so small in the midst of such stunning luminosity.
The 2000-mile stone marks the close of the doldrum chapter and the beginning of the next. I still don’t have an answer of how far 2000 miles of ocean is. But I can say we have savored the journey, the experiences, and friendships of our journey thus far. And we are looking forward to what the next thousand miles bring us as we near our destinations in Gran Canaria.
Lance | ADRIENNE II crew
crew@59-north.com
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Birds and glows
The sun brought new wind and we were soon putting up the Yankee (jib) and turning off the motor. During the evening tradition of sharing “glums and glows” that follows the crew dinner, our Mate Ryan proclaimed it a “champagne sailing” kind of day. As Alex noted this evening, life goes by so fast that one of the very best things about his line of work is enjoying the passage of time in the slow lane of an ocean passage. But by tomorrow, the green blobs in the weather sailing app indicate we’re going to pick up some significant northwesterly winds and we’ll take them ever further south to the Channel Islands latitude. We’re all super excited for the knots to climb and to see Falken really run.
Golden Day
The Pacific is giving us “the shimmer” - with a still flat sea seven hours out of San Francisco Bay, we’re motoring south along the shipping channel, with an hour to go to what teases now as a stunning sunset against wispy clouds. Throughout this first day of Falken 11 the sails have unfurled and been furled again as skipper Alex tries to fill them a meager breeze indeed. We’ve seen a few whales traveling along the route, and an otter that was sadly just a buoy. It’s the first open ocean sail for many of us and it’s a thrill to anticipate all the new experiences we’ll have.
Seasickness
But maybe, I thought, with some drugs I could stay ahead of it. The first 48 hours I felt horrible. But luckily with 3 health care professionals on board and in a very encouraging environment, my body found its way. Anyway, someone offered me a patch (unavailable in Canada) and someone else gave me some pills for nausea and now I feel much, much better.