Latitude: 07°47.32S
Longitude: 153°31.27W
Sunday, June 11, 2025 | 15:00 Boat time | 01:00 UTC | 07°47.32S 153°31.27W
The Pacific is, it turns out, rather large. Mind-bogglingly so. Current estimates suggest it’s 79,108 miles across. North to south, about 530,012 miles, which, in a curious turn of coincidence, is the same temperature in the forepeak cabin this morning. Just our little jaunt from Tahiti to Hawaii is the driving distance going from Bangor, Maine to Clearwater, Florida by way of Boise, Idaho. Now, some of you may question these estimates, which is fair, but in our defense, Falken has come down with a case of the 1990s and we can’t Google stuff. Alex has embraced this with enthusiasm and taken to spontaneously emerging from the aft hatch shirtless, with his Andalusian locks billowing in the wind, to make unverifiable proclamations about the spiritual practices of yellow-footed boobies.
So, the Pacific is pretty big, thus you can’t blame her for occasionally misplacing the wind. After dodging squalls yesterday and celebrating Mary’s birthday with cake (thanks, Adam), watching her reel in a tuna, and (also thanks, Adam) getting it filleted and into the freezer, today has been windless and hot. We’ve motored north along course, still in the little latitudes of the south, aching for any breeze to justify shutting down the motor. But, absent the breeze, we did the only sensible thing a bunch of sweaty, unwashed people can do in the middle of a very large body of water: we jumped off the boat.
Istvan and Tara were hanging from the stern line, Stacy was languidly treading water, and Orie was enthusiastically lathering himself while Jim did cannonballs into the ocean. Alex aggressively defended his exceptionally expensive conditioner from the rest of the crew. Amidst this joy was a moment of gratitude; we didn’t get to sail today, but nothing can replace the immense smallness of floating, untethered, in the blue vastness of the Pacific, rising and falling with the swell and watching beams of sunlight venture into the depths of the thousands of feet of water beneath us. Such smallness that makes every other thought still until the only thing your mind can hold is the notion: "I Am Here."
P.S. For those desperate for an update, the heat rash is almost gone thanks to Dr. Bronner’s and his magical miracle soap.
- Jacob Davis | FALKEN Crew
Write your comments below and I’ll forward them to the boat with the daily update :) - Mia (shore support)
FALKENCrew
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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.