February 20, Day 12 | Star Gazing and Sugar Withdrawal
The trade winds held steady at a perfect 15 to 20 knots, propelling Adrienne II smoothly across the Atlantic under a sun-soaked sky. The only real inconvenience was steering into the blinding sunrise, making us all appreciate our sunglasses and questionable hat choices. Despite the nearly ideal conditions, morale took a hit as we realized our candy stash had been reduced to a few sad wrappers and a couple of melted leftovers.
The universe, however, must have sensed our plight, because during the night watch, we spotted a cruise ship glowing like a beacon of temptation on the horizon. Briefly, we entertained the idea of an impromptu boarding mission—just a quick sprint up the gangway to refresh our chocolate supply, maybe even try our luck at the casino before security caught on. But alas, common sense prevailed, and we stayed the course, compensating for our sugar withdrawal with the usual barrage of terrible jokes and puns that would make even the ocean groan.
Early in the day, we crossed the Mid Atlantic Ridge, marking another milestone on our journey—one more invisible yet significant line on the chart conquered. As night fell, we turned our attention skyward, where the stars put on their usual mesmerizing display. After weeks of speculation, we finally solved the mystery of the bright triangular formation we’d been puzzling over—turns out, Mars, Pollux, and Castor had been winking at us all along.
Later in the night, as the clouds rolled in and obscured our trusted steering star, we decided to get creative. Enter the experimental "reverse steering" technique, in which I faced aft and used Venus as my guiding light. It was unconventional, slightly ridiculous, and surprisingly effective—a perfect summary of life aboard Adrienne II.
Ken Cascio, Adrienne Crew
crew@59-north.com
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Ladies who reef
The trade winds have been kind, rolling the boat toward Hawaii in a steady, hypnotic rhythm—until last night, when a squall hit without warning and the wind jumped to 28 knots, slamming everything sideways. With rain driving down and the boat lurching underfoot, the crew had minutes to wrestle two reefs into the mainsail and get things back under control. What followed was a masterclass in wet, unglamorous, deeply satisfying teamwork—with less than 250 miles left to go.
Yankee Doodle Died at Sea, Riding on a FALKEN
A thin, foot-long tear in the yankee sail—50,000 miles of ocean behind it—and suddenly the final stretch to Hawaii just got a lot more interesting. The crew of FALKEN had been running a tight ship through the trades, reefing in squalls like clockwork, when the last dance finally caught up with them. How a skipper handles the moment everything goes sideways says everything about the voyage itself.
A Gen Z Perspective
At 31, the crew thought they were reasonably fluent in the English language—then they met Kip. Today, the crew's self-appointed Gen Z correspondent takes over the log from somewhere in the middle of the Pacific, delivering dispatches on Milky Way night sails, focaccia-induced visions, and the singular mission of getting eleven people's "badonkadonks" to Hawaii. Consider this your glossary.