26° 2' N, 58° 55' W
February 12 | 26° 2' N, 58° 55' W | Day 3
We’re getting into the groove. It’s our fourth day at sea, and we’re still on our high side, sailing upwind toward the north. By now, we’re all getting used to living in a world that’s constantly tilted. Cooking, cleaning, and even using the bathroom in a space that feels like a ski slope has become part of the adventure. Sailing “the wrong way” across the Atlantic has its challenges, but the only one completely unbothered is Adrienne. She’s loving it, stretching her legs a few times close to 10 knots—not bad for a 42-year-old lady.
Today, the first showers were taken after one crew member remarked, "I smell like a diesel engine." Not exactly sure what he meant, but we were definitely due for a cleanup. We also tested our luck with fishing, but with no success—unless you count the seaweed we caught, which, unfortunately, wasn’t edible. Better luck next time.
A few sail changes were made during the night—furling in the jib, deploying the genoa, taking reefs in, and shaking them out again—all under the bright light of the moon and a sky full of stars. Sometimes, it really makes you wonder if we’re all living in a simulation.
All of the crew impresses, both with their sailing skills and their care for the boat. It’s almost as clean and tidy as when we left the docks.
Dinner is now almost ready—chicken stew with rice. Looking forward to a full stomach and some much-needed rest in a few hours.
See you on the high side!
- Tim Danielson
crew@59-north.com
View more passage logs
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.