February 22, Day 15 | Mid-Atlantic Pizza Shop! Day 13…? Or something like that. The days fly by as we sit in shorts and sunglasses, basking in the sun and listening to music. The weather has really been on our side. Apart from the high pressure with no wind, we are now forcing our way through by engine. On the other hand, it feels like a little sun holiday in the middle of the Atlantic—not bad for us coming from the North.
The morning watch was nicely visited by 15-20 dolphins who seemed to enjoy Adrianne's company. When the wind lets us down, we find other joys. Besides nice music on deck, we usually discover treats in the kitchen’s hiding places, with a little help from hidden talents like Vegard fixing pancakes for breakfast and Ken baking the best pizzas a few hours later—all in an oven that passed its best a few decades ago.
The night that passed was really dark. Now the old man in the moon has disappeared for a while, and last night some stars tried to act as a night light but didn’t get very far with it. With that said, we have now done a safety check on deck, gone through sheets and lines, fittings and blocks—all before the downhill race we hope to have in the last 24 hours, starting Monday morning.
It now feels like we are a slightly bigger dot on the map as we slowly approach the GC with 530 NM to go! GC—here we come!
Jacob Gellerstam, Crew Adrianne
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.