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
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*queue Coldplay’s ”Sky Full Of Stars"*
Somewhere in the doldrums, under a sky so thick with stars that the Milky Way looks like cloud cover, the line between sea and space stops being a metaphor. The bioluminescence below mirrors the galaxies above, Venus sets on the horizon like a distant ship, and at 3am it hits you that you're watching sunlight ricochet through an incomprehensible tangle of celestial bodies to land on glassy Pacific water. Then the equator arrives — no painted line, just a countdown, a crew holding their breath, and Neptune waiting to collect his due.
Last night in the Southern Hemisphere!
At midnight, Joey's watch sang happy birthday under a sky full of stars; by 0930, the crew had already swum in 5,000 meters of Pacific blue, chased rainbows through a golden squall, and eaten chocolate chip pancakes with Moorea pineapple. That's the doldrums for you—the wind dies and life somehow gets fuller. Tomorrow, Neptune comes to collect his due as SV Nordic Falken crosses the equator for the first time.
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.
