Life on Starboard Tack
We currently travel north through the Trades towards the Azores High. Maybe there is a potential end in sight to the relentless beating to weather we’ve experienced over the last 5 days at sea. There are some perks to being close-hauled on a starboard tack for an extended period of time. The electric kettle, for example, is perfectly nestled in the corner of the galley right next to the plug.
We’ve all had a good workout on our right shoulders, as the heavy gusts produce a bit of weather helm to be overcome. Those of us who have been graced with a portside bunk have enjoyed being nestled between the hull and the mattress on off watch, while those of us who sleep on the starboard side might find ourselves having to apologize to the skipper for falling out of bed and kneeing him in the gut. (Sorry Erik, it was the boat’s fault.)
We’ve all learned how to brace ourselves for this specific tack in a fresh breeze. We occasionally wonder if the boat feels the same way, with her starboard-side rigging standing tall and taut for so long.
I have a feeling when we come about in 4 days or so, we’ll all have to relearn how to live and move about comfortably on our 70 ft home in constant motion. All is well.
// Delaney, ADRIENNE II Mate
View more passage logs
First squall of the trip!
"We're gonna get our ass whooped" — not the sunrise greeting anyone had in mind, but Jim called it. The oldest and sharpest hand on board steered them straight through the squall, soaked to the bone and loving every minute of it. He's got a message for his wife, and it turns out she was right about the water.
Sextants, Polynesian Wayfinding, Captain Cook, and Tupaia, Oh My!
Somewhere north of Tahiti and south of Hawaii, aboard a 65-foot rocket of a sailboat loaded with GPS and Starlink, we pulled out a sextant. Not as a novelty—as a navigation tool. Because it turns out the 2,500-mile passage from Tahiti to Hawaii is less a ocean crossing and more a living museum of how humans have always answered the same stubborn question: where am I, and how do I get home? Captain Cook had his chronometers and math; his Polynesian crewmate Tupaia had the stars, the swells, and a map of the Central Pacific stored entirely in his head—and somehow, they were asking the exact same thing.
Star gazing and celebrating
Birthdays at sea hit differently—no cake, no candles, just brownies from a rolling galley and the Milky Way as a backdrop. It's day three aboard, and the skipper's birthday is just one of three to celebrate before landfall. Meanwhile, six crew members sat in silence last night, not from exhaustion or tension, but because the Southern Cross was doing something worth watching.