Today, we cut the lines—time to shove off. In only a day and a half since meeting each other, we have developed as a strong crew. In that time, already, we’ve grown to share humor, trust, and confidence. For some of us, this is the biggest undertaking of our lives, by far. For others, this is another treasured lap across the pond. We come from opposite sides of this great ocean we are about to cross, and we will work together to do so successfully and safely.
This morning, as I walked on shore to greet the rising sun, I said out loud to myself, “You’re crossing the Atlantic Ocean today, Dude,” and I cried for several minutes. We know not what we will find out beyond the islands that surround us. We have a confident and empowering Captain Erik, who gave his crew a thorough safety and weather briefing all day yesterday, and his First Mate, Tim, has made us feel confident in his knowledge of this beautiful vessel and its systems, with his humble and kind demeanor.
Lee cloths and lee boards are installed for the first few days, at least, as we beat “uphill” for a few days to the northeast. We’ve got our watch teams established, and our nicknames are already developing (we actually already have two “MacGyvers” on board). A happy crew is a safe crew, and we are ready to cut the lines. All the ‘Aumakuas are out there, waiting for us to pass by—10 friendly humans on a beautiful and prepared vessel, the beautiful Swan that she is, Adrienne.
We are stoked. We are confident. We are safe. The wind is up, the sails are ready to be unfurled, and the anchor will take a siesta for 3–4 weeks. Mahalo, Adrienne, for carrying this strong crew across the great Atlantic Ocean!
/ Ryan Redmond, Adrienne Crew
crew@59-north.com
View more passage logs
”For some things, we will never be ready.” - Moana 2
After 852 miles of open ocean sailing, the crew of Falken dropped anchor in Moorea's Cook's Bay—not with a quiet glide in, but surfing down waves in a squall, breaking speed records and cheering each other on through the rain. What started as a plan to "just dip a toe" into offshore sailing turned into something harder to explain: the worse the conditions got, the more alive everyone felt. Turns out the question was never whether the crew was ready—it was whether they even needed to be.
Kauehi conundrum
Kauehi atoll was always on the itinerary—until the forecast made it a gamble not worth taking. Squalls, bommies, a tidal pass, and no clean escape route: sometimes the hardest call in sailing is the one that keeps you out of a place, not in it. The Tuamotus will have to wait.
Hove-to!
Falken is too fast—a problem most sailors would kill for, yet here we are, tacking back and forth across the Pacific just to kill time. A rogue low pressure system south of Tahiti has stolen the trades and scrambled our timing for the tidal window into Kauehi's pass, leaving us hove-to 45 miles short of our target in the Tuamotus. Salt licorice, dream sandwich debates, and a philosophical question about mermaid reproduction are helping pass the night.