2026 UTC | 30° 46.86’ N 034° 10.18’ W
Sailing
The last 24 hours have shown Adrienne II the many colors and moods of the Atlantic. We had spent Tuesday into Wednesday in a calm, with no wind and an autopilot at the helm.
The watches were permitted to slightly alter their schedules: two folks on deck instead of the four; swapping duties so that those of us who needed more rest got some. Knitting came out; books were read.
As Wednesday progressed the cold front Erik had mentioned made itself known: first by a wall of clouds to the north; wind shifting around to the northeast. By suppertime it was clear some of the clouds had rain in them; all of them were on their way to us. And a few even brought rainbows.
Erik had explained at the dinner briefing that the cold front would reach its peak during the 2200 to 0200 watch, with gusts to 25 or 26, and sustained winds of 16 or 17. The after dinner watch hoisted the main to reef one, then down to reef two. The cutter jib, the smaller of the two was deployed, and for the first time in the almost two weeks we've been sailing we were on port tack.
I went to bed, missing those festivities, knowing full well when I was awoken for the 2200 to 0200 watch I'd find out how things looked.
The night that greeted me was wild. The steady breeze roaring through the rigging; Erik up overseeing the watch change, there to help us as we put hands on an active helm.
And it was a blast. Pitch dark but for the moon and the clouds chasing it; Adrienne II powered up in a building sea state. The helm was light but powerful, the slightest move on the wheel met with instant response.
The Atlantic, a 3-D dynamic landscape, with a three to six foot seas, provided new lessons as we learned how to power up the helm coming up a wave, then bearing off slightly at the top of the wave to carry her power into the trough.
Adrienne II charged along in the night, each of us meeting ourselves as we took the helm. For some it was a chance to feel our fully powered vessel cut a path through a driving sea; for others helming brought up doubts and fears that they wrestled as they steered; for others it was confirmation that driving close-hauled in the dark mid Atlantic on a breezy March night was the finest kind of adventure.
Molly Mulhern
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Turning the corner
Yesterday found Falken on a Northward course, still heeled to port, climbing and falling over waves. Sunrise this morning found Falken in an entirely different condition, one familiar to her, but not yet to the current crew. And then a truly magic moment, a pod of dolphins at least fifty members strong came to dance on Falken’s bow wave. We are now joyfully headed northeast, on course toward our eventual destination of Prince Rupert. Falken has turned a corner.
Onwards and upwards
Today is set to be the calmest day of our trip so far, waves subdued, wind veering off more south-east, light clouds. What an exhilarating ride it has been, beating upwind non-stop directly north for 6 straight days! What ahead of us is a mostly downwind sail to Prince Rupert, but a very exciting one. This makes it an interesting few days going fast and closely watching the weather, and I’m very much looking forward to it. The crew is happy, everyone seems to be getting good rest, enjoying watches and time in between.
Quadruple digits!
We are still headed north away from Hawaii, though today we have started to veer ever so slightly east. Speaking of miles, we hit quadruple digits today and are currently 1051 nms into our journey to Alaska. The sea state continues to calm down, and the famous North Pacific high is just out of our reach. The next few days will be a delicate dance of riding the outskirts of the high while avoiding the pesky low pressure systems that are dancing nearby. In his very wise words, we need to get north but not too far north, stay south but not too far south, continue heading east but not too far east, and avoid going west but also stay west.