February 18, Day 9 | What Does the Deep Sea Say?
So many questions; so many answers—some of us take the time to listen, remaining disconnected from the outside world. Captain Erik set a course for the center of a big high-pressure system the other day for a swim. We sailed to the calm, water skier’s paradise. As we were in the eye of the high, we witnessed clouds and squalls all around us, moving in different directions.
How deep is it where we are swimming, in the absolute center of the Atlantic Ocean? Does the chart mean 2,000 meters? 2,000 fathoms? It’s deep, really deep.
As almost everyone jumped in and climbed out, a few of us stayed in for the duration, opening our eyes underwater; sometimes doing the shark-watch 360 spin, otherwise enjoying the sights of humans plunging in beside Adrienne, trails of air bubbles rising back to the surface, and climbing back aboard with ear-to-ear smiles. That night, “MacGyver” said it was the best day of his life.
Our weather briefing that night indicated projections of 4-5 meter swells resulting from our irritable next-door neighbor to the north, the Big Low. This system was pumping out swells of over 11 meters! These are not the ideal conditions for making pancakes or for sleeping off-watch.
After our initial 3-4 days of bashing upwind, we had incredible sailing on a beam reach for several days, at consistent wind speeds of 12-22 knots. We’ve been blessed by bright moonlight, on both ends of the full moon, to watch the 3-5 meter swells dance around Adrienne, sea spray glowing in the moonlight. Before moonrise, we witness the darkest night skies possible. We receive nice moontans, as the moon illuminates our smiles and the monstrous, moving mountains of water that pass us by over and over again.
Unbelievable—is that swell four meters or five? Does it matter? We appreciate the 11-12 second periods between the giant, friendly swells, constantly aware of our privilege that they are not breaking waves with shorter periods, especially since they are generally broadside, or at best, off our stern quarter.
How far could one of these flying fish fly, if determined to do so? Last night at sunset, one must have flown nearly the distance of a soccer pitch!
The ocean speaks, and we listen. Adrienne is charging, loving the swells, and guarding her crew.
Mahalo,
Ryan, ADRIENNE crew
crew@59-north.com
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Ketch us if you Kan
Falken is soon to carry on our preferred route of South, back to (hopefully) warmer climates. We’re all excited to set off and see more of this wild landscape as we head down to Victoria. A thermal trough over Vancouver combined with an offshore high pressure creating funneling NW’ly winds means it is due to be pretty fruity on the 9th. This passage is just under 600 miles, relatively short for Falken, but I’m sure we’ll be kept entertained with dramatic scenery, wildlife and weather!
Final Blog
Falken and her crew arrived safely into port last night around 8pm boat time, 10pm Prince Rupert time. Some spicy weather was anticipated, but luckily the 35kt gusts and 2.5 meter waves were no match for this expert crew. We had an exceptionally smooth docking, despite it being Alex's first time parking this year (!). We all agreed that this was a very special group of people—I for one am so impressed with how everyone stayed so positive, helpful, and appreciative of humor despite an arguably challenging passage. We'll all return home significantly saltier than we were when we left, a mark of a passage properly sailed.
Lessons and a Gift
The biggest lesson is the helm. The lesson here is that even if you don't think you can do it over and over again with no sleep, cold and damp, it has to be done and so it can be done. Flying fish are cool, dolphins are really really cool, but the coolest of them all are the whales. And most of all Alex: "Find your center Carla. Always know where your center is so you can come back to it". He means the helm but it applies to life as well.