Out here in the vast blue, the ocean has been eerily still—so still, in fact, that we’ve been motoring for yet another day. The sails hang limp, waiting for the wind to return, while the hum of the engine fills the void. In the meantime, life aboard Adrienne II continues in its own rhythm. The crew has settled into the routine of ocean passage—washing clothes, showering, squeezing in workouts on the aft deck, and turning mealtime into an art form with increasingly gourmet creations. Books are being devoured, music drifts through the air, and moments of quiet reflection come naturally in this endless seascape.
Yesterday, we had an unexpected visitor—a Bermuda Longtail, clearly exhausted, trying to rest atop our mast. Unfortunately, our windex thwarted its landing attempt, and it was forced to find another perch. The encounter was a stark reminder of how remote we are, yet still connected to the natural world in the most unexpected ways.
With about 670 nautical miles left to go, we’re gearing up for the final stretch, hoping for a breeze to carry us home.
- Lars Vegard Guttormsen, Crew
crew@59-north.com
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”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.