14°06.3' N 026°42.8' W
October 11, 2025 | 20:15 UTC | 14°06.3' N 026°42.8' W | Life at sea from Adrienne's perspective
The Brazilian heat nearly makes my deck boil. The sun reflects off my polished rigging — I think I even managed to blind one of my neighbors here in Bahia Marina. This time I'm in Salvador. Twice before I’ve sailed to Rio — one of my favorites. I overheard someone from the film crew saying it was too long a trip. A shame, really — motorboats somehow look a little sexier in Rio than they do here. Still, the sea is just as warm and gentle, and I feel a little sorry for my sisters still trapped in the cold waters up north.
Thank goodness the film crew has left! That old skipper and his celebrity crew are actually funny and kind, but there were just too many landlubbers for my taste. Too much talk of hot showers, clean sheets and how life is better on land.
For a few days it was blissfully quiet — until David and Tim came aboard. Only two of them, but it felt like a small army had invaded. They opened all my lockers, cleaned my engine room, tinkered, fixed, and filled me up with food and water. That’s when I knew: the voyage home was near.
After a week, more people arrived. Curious eyes inspected me, eager hands touched my lines and winches — it tickled, but I rather liked it. They seemed a little nervous, talking constantly about life rafts and safety gear. Even in the harbour they walked around my deck in life vests and tethers. I must admit, I felt a bit embarrassed in front of my cool Brazilian neighbours.
Then the day finally came. How wonderful it felt to stretch my sails skyward again, to feel the jib unfurl and when the engine went silent, peace returned — at least for a while. Soon, something vile splattered over my stern. Vomit. I had almost forgotten how fragile humans can be when the sea begins to dance. Luckily most of it got quickly washed away from the ocean spray.
The moonlight lets me see the waves even at night. The crew’s stories make me chuckle sometimes — especially Nicole’s tales of tricky toilet visits in the rolling seas, or Lance’s booming laughter echoing between my rigging. Andrew speaks wisely of the planet, and Brittany tells stories sailing one of my sister ships around the world. But best of all is the smell of Vilgot’s cooking — the young man’s creative hands make the whole crew cheer at dinner.
Days blend into one another. The heavy heat from the sun is still around, the breeze and the beam is cooling me down. “Speed record!” Jim shouts — 11.5 knots. Not much for me, but I like his enthusiasm. He’s impatient, that one — always talking about performance, always wanting half a knot more out of me.
Life at sea is the best life I know and to keep the crew on their toes, I have to play a few tricks, of course. A few drops of saltwater through the teak deck, and suddenly Jim, Lance, and David wake up with damp pillows in the forepeak. I’m kinder to my fellow female guests — Nicole and Brittany sleep dry. Tim, who’s probably spent the most time with me lately, gets the occasional sprinkle on his face as I make sure drops reach his bunk. Erik, the skipper, I tease by tangling the jib halyard, and I make sure Vilgot sweats in the galley by sending some extra engine heat his way.
We’re nearing the equator — King Neptune’s realm. Someone boasts they’ve crossed it three times before during their lifetime. Pff… I’ve done it six times in just the past two years. Still, I never lose respect for the sea’s great ruler. Around 2 a.m., under a sky bursting with stars, my VHF crackles to life. Orders go out: “Swimsuits on!” The Neptune ritual is about to begin.
Dressed only in life vests, the crew crawls around my deck, imitating whale sounds as they circle me. Laughter and singing fill the air, yet there’s a certain reverence too. To pass through Neptune’s waters is no small thing. My old friend receives a fine gift — a splash of aquavit poured into the sea. They’ve done it right. Neptune lets them pass.
At dawn I smell freshly brewed coffee. On my aft deck, I feel hands and feet moving gently over me. Deep breaths, small sighs — “mmm, ahhh...” not sure what is going on. Later I learned that they call it yoga. Someone says it stretches their bodies and makes them soft. It sounds not unlike when my own lines stretch as my gennaker rises — halyards tighten, winches hum, my mast reaches forward. Life is in harmony.
It’s day eleven at sea now, and everyone onboard seems to have found their own harmony and rhythm. Cape Verde is close astern, the hot doldrum air replaced by cooler winds from the north. I’m content with this crew. They care for one another — and just as much, they care for me.
Grateful once more, I sail on, showing these land-dwellers the beauty of the sea. To be continued…
Tim | ADRIENNE II first mate
crew@59-north.com
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A last hurrah
Under the dome of stars in a moon-less sky, each of us during our time at the helm used the most rudimentary celestial navigation, keeping a star or two lined up with the mast as a helper to following the heading range. It was a whole crew event to set the spinnaker, reef the mainsail and practice the heave-to in case of man overboard. Alex stressed that the key to success in all of these crucial activities is preparation. It was hugely satisfying to accomplish these tasks through teamwork. We share a constant good hearted back and forth full of stories, one-liners and comebacks that also means constant laughter.
One little bird!
Falken has almost rounded the Channel Islands and is cruising along splendidly about 100 miles offshore. Though several models predicted some slightly fresher winds today, we were met with a consistent 18-20 kts of pure bliss. It seems that from the moment we left the dock in San Francisco, there has been much laughter and conversation amongst everyone. The plan is to gybe in a few hours and begin our approach to Ensenada. As much as I do appreciate the jokes and intellectual musings, I equally appreciate the natural, silent moments we share at night, all of us on watch gazing up above to the shooting stars, constellations, and planets putting on their quiet show.
Birds and glows
The sun brought new wind and we were soon putting up the Yankee (jib) and turning off the motor. During the evening tradition of sharing “glums and glows” that follows the crew dinner, our Mate Ryan proclaimed it a “champagne sailing” kind of day. As Alex noted this evening, life goes by so fast that one of the very best things about his line of work is enjoying the passage of time in the slow lane of an ocean passage. But by tomorrow, the green blobs in the weather sailing app indicate we’re going to pick up some significant northwesterly winds and we’ll take them ever further south to the Channel Islands latitude. We’re all super excited for the knots to climb and to see Falken really run.