19° 45.899’ N 068° 18.695’W
Sailing
The first 24h of sailing are past us.
We crossed the draw bridge at 4pm yesterday local time, to the cheers of a group of people watching from the sidewalk. I wonder if they knew that we’re about to cross the Atlantic and not just hopping to the next island over.
And then it was straight to sailing. We tacked between St. Martin and St. Barts and have been on that tack ever since, sailing upwind. If we’re to trust the forecast (which we do, there isn’t a lot of variance between the models) conditions will be stable like that for at least the next few days. We might not be able to cross over to the north of the Azores high.
On board all is well, the crew settled in to their watches. A few of us (me included) struggled with sea sickness on the first evening/night, but by now everyone has gotten their sea legs.
Adrienne II is doing well too, cutting through waves cleanly. Unfortunately on leaky hatch in the saloon roof got tested when we took a bigger wave over the bow and it dumped quite a bit of salt water on our cushions, pillows and our dear skipper Erik. That’s going to take some time and effort to dry out.
// Bartek, Adrienne Crew
View more passage logs
”For some things, we will never be ready.” - Moana 2
After 852 miles of open ocean sailing, the crew of Falken dropped anchor in Moorea's Cook's Bay—not with a quiet glide in, but surfing down waves in a squall, breaking speed records and cheering each other on through the rain. What started as a plan to "just dip a toe" into offshore sailing turned into something harder to explain: the worse the conditions got, the more alive everyone felt. Turns out the question was never whether the crew was ready—it was whether they even needed to be.
Kauehi conundrum
Kauehi atoll was always on the itinerary—until the forecast made it a gamble not worth taking. Squalls, bommies, a tidal pass, and no clean escape route: sometimes the hardest call in sailing is the one that keeps you out of a place, not in it. The Tuamotus will have to wait.
Hove-to!
Falken is too fast—a problem most sailors would kill for, yet here we are, tacking back and forth across the Pacific just to kill time. A rogue low pressure system south of Tahiti has stolen the trades and scrambled our timing for the tidal window into Kauehi's pass, leaving us hove-to 45 miles short of our target in the Tuamotus. Salt licorice, dream sandwich debates, and a philosophical question about mermaid reproduction are helping pass the night.