
23:55 UTC | 30° 34. 712 N 051° 03.428 W
Dearest Mother,
I hope this, my first letter, finds you well. I know I promised to write you often after leaving St. Martin, but alas, I have just now been feeling well enough to do so.
My first week as apprentice on board Adrienne II has been far from easy, although highly formative. Skipper Erik is firm but fair. It has now been six days since we picked up our anchor, cast off our lines, and caught the four o’clock bridge opening out of Simpson Bay. We then set our sails and, on our skipper’s command, made one tack and have since then been sailing on the same northeastern course for the past six days and nights. My left leg is now around ten centimeters (that would be about four inches, Delaney) longer than my right, which comes in very handy on board, and most certainly so when helming this seventy-foot beauty we are now lucky to call our home. Just how useful it will be once we get to Gran Canaria remains to be seen.
The North Atlantic waves have kept us company from our starboard bow ever since our first and only tack, and although rations are a-plenty, my appetite as of recently has been about that of a wee baby. First Mate Delaney is a talented cook, and thankfully, at around five-thirty each evening I have been feeling well enough to partake in every delicious meal she has prepared for us.
As I alluded to earlier, I learn new things every day on board. One of my most recent discoveries has been the existence of a form of life, likely much older than ours, known as the diesel algae.
According to Skipper Erik, these creatures have lived long and peaceful lives inside the diesel tanks of our dear Adrienne for the past forty-something years. That is, again according to Erik, until famous owner and skipper Gurra poured highly poisonous diesel biocide right into the long-lived habitations of these fragile creatures, just before departing Gran Canaria in January. This caused them to flee, most likely in a complete panic, into our diesel feed manifold and various filters downstream. Here, they have now taken up residence, all while blocking the flow of this precious fluid to both our generator and main engine, much to the dismay of us all, not the least Skipper Erik. Luckily, they have not yet made it past any of our filter defenses and thus stayed out of both spreaders and cylinders of our main as well as our generator.
Skipper Erik has condemned the existence of these creatures on board. Thus, every five hours, I and either Skipper Erik or First Mate Delaney join forces to oust these creatures from their new habitations to allow life as we know it, with cold fridges and fresh water, to continue uninterrupted aboard Adrienne. Rumor has it, once we get to Gran Canaria, they will be eliminated once and for all.
Yours Truly,
Apprentice Anton
S/Y Adrienne II
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Death on the high seas
I’m not going to lie - I really miss my dog. As we’re just now approaching Cap Verde (two thirds of the way) I can’t help but think of all the wonderful things that happen on a trip like this; strangers become friends, terror turns into confidence, and ignorance into knowledge. It’s not for everyone. But if you do decide to cross some of most isolated spaces on the planet in a small boat, you’re definitely in for a mighty interesting ride. And next time I’ll bring my dog with me. 😊

Eleven Snippets from Adrienne
This list of little moments might just shed some light on all the other stuff happening out here as we make this massive journey together. The back aft deck takes on many roles, like a salon (Anton gave Naxo an award winning haircut), a butcher shop (Kif cleaned his first fish), a yoga studio, gym and a dance club (Manot is an excellent DJ - and Captain and Katelyn keeps us moving wither energy and enthusiasm). Culinary magic happens nightly in a tiny galley by three amazing chef - sailors. Big thoughts, life's questions, personal histories, paths taken and talk of family (pets too) are shared. I'm beyond grateful to be a part of this little community in the middle of the Atlantic.


The Wheel Keeps on Turning
Helming is basically steering the boat by hand. Helming is so completely unlike driving anything else. How each of us put all this information and sensation together to guide our hands and keep Adrienne going where we want to go - to stay the course as the saying goes - is as different as the individuals on this boat. Well there you have it helming as described by six people who approach the same basic task with highly varied perceptions, feelings, and even emotions.
