Doldrums…
0° S, 94° W
April 9, 2125 Ship’s Time | 120 Miles South of Equator, 94º W Longitude
Still Motoring
I cannot imagine what the mood must have been like back in the square-rigger days traversing this part of the world. There is NO wind. Hasn’t been for days, but a frustrating swell has us banging around even though we’re motoring at a smooth 6-7 knots. The sea surface is oily, and while there are rain showers all around us, none have yet come overhead to offer any kind of cooling relief from the baking sun.
We’re only 48 hours into this passage and have made 350 miles of progress, so I can hardly complain. Back in the day, those old ships could sit for WEEKS. With livestock and hundreds of crew and itchy wool clothing and no engines. I cannot imagine the stench that must have emanated from belowdecks. It’s frustrating enough on our modern machine here cruising through another moonlit night, here for fun and not work.
We took two reefs in the main earlier today, both for something to do with our time, and also to stop the incessant slatting of the mainsail. “Shaking pennies out of it,” my friend Paul Exner would say. The old ship captains loathed a calm more than a storm for the wear and tear it put on the ship’s natural canvas sails and hemp rope rigging. It’s not any different today—the firm press of wind in the sails keeps the rig taut, but the banging back and forth in a calm shakes everything loose, least of all your brain cells.
We keep downloading the latest GRIB models looking for wind, and even emailed WRI to ask them their thoughts, but the only answer is patience. The trades are south of us still, and we’ve either got to wait until they push back north again, or just keep on trucking and burning diesel. Speaking of which, we thought we had an issue with the fuel transfer pump earlier today, but it was a false alarm—turns out we were just trying to pump from an empty tank. Oops. We’re down to just over half our remaining fuel already, so these trades better fill in sooner than later.
In other news, we celebrated my dad’s 73rd birthday today! He got a leftover pastry and fresh coffee for breakfast, and was gifted an ice-cold afternoon beer to celebrate. At dinner the whole crew sang to him, and I think he enjoyed his birthday at sea.
As I write, the swell is more annoying than ever, the dampening effect of the mainsail reduced thanks to the reefs, but we can only hope the waves portend a wind somewhere that isn’t too far distant. What else to say…waiting for wind, motor-boating south.
HOLD FAST
// Andy
andy@59-north.com
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The Penultimate Blog from Adrienne II
After 20 days, and 3000+ nautical miles, we're back on land. The motley crew of Adrienne II, consisting of 7 happy amateurs supported by 3 professionals, have completed an epic journey many dream of but few realize. So much of this trip has been about being present - with nature, with each other, with this boat. My biggest takeaway from this trip is the amazing crossing of the ITCZ (Inter Tropical Convergence Zone). We all hope you've enjoyed the blog as much as we've enjoyed creating it.
Mother Nature, you’ve outdone yourself!
It’s been a great experience to have a non-traditional trans-Atlantic, as it’s been packed with genuinely cool features. The Doldrums!! A place sailors have been talking about for centuries. The unpredictability is what made it such an exhilarating experience. While some might be frightened or alarmed by this kind of weather, I was embodied with a sense of calm and awe. There’s something wildly beautiful about being reminded how small you are, while feeling so incredibly alive.
A Heavenly High
As you have probably figured out at this point, the drug of choice on board is, of course, celestial navigation- an art which has hooked offshore sailors for centuries. Once addicted, navigators will emerge from down below only to get their fixes two times per day, and spend the rest of their days and nights down below doing complex spherical mathematics. On Adrienne II, our skipper is our dealer. I must confess that I myself gave in to the strange urge which I’ve felt witnessing my crewmates practice this fine art, and yesterday felt an amazing sensation as I was able to wield the sextant for the first time and with it, bring down the tip of our starboard spreader to the top of our front sprayhood, presicely measuring the angle between the two (35deg, 38,8’ min). This afternoon, Naxo then showed me how to get my fix from the very sun itself - and I now fear there is no turning back.