Atlantic Crossing West-East Live Tracker
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Here is our live tracker for our upcoming Atlantic crossing – this time from west to east. After sailing from Panama via Jamaica and the Bahamas to Bermuda, we spent a fortnight there relaxing. With the weather looking brilliant and beer prices of at least $11 threatening to drive us to financial ruin, it’s time to weigh anchor – and we’re really looking forward to a Superbock (a beer in Portugal). We’re sailing from Bermuda, a distance of around 1,800 nautical miles, to Flores, the westernmost of the Azores. This leg will take us about 14–18 days. This time, it’s just the two of us on the crossing across the pond. The current forecast looks good – let’s see what’s in store for us.
You can follow our progress live here. We’ll update our position twice a day and post a short blog entry about life on board once a day. We’d love it if you joined us for the journey!
Bermuda – Azores Day 1
Fri 12 June 2026 20:36:00 GMT-0300 (Atlantic Daylight Time)
After discovering yet another issue during yesterday’s rig check – which we were fortunately able to fix – we had even more to do today than expected. Tidying everything away, cleaning the hull, cooking, shopping, clearing out, and cleaning and stowing the dinghy. Instead of setting off at 12 noon, we’re not leaving until 5 pm – but never mind, we’re out at sea for at least 14 days, so a few hours don’t matter.
The weather couldn’t be better for setting off; with winds of 10–15 knots, we’re sailing on a half-wind course towards the NNE, making good headway at 5.5–6 knots in glorious weather. We were pleasantly surprised by Bermuda, and we weren’t entirely disappointed that the weather window took a little while to open up. But now it’s time to move on, and nothing but blue skies await us for the next two weeks.
Distance to Flores: 1771 nautical miles (routed), 1680 (direct)
Meals: Gazpacho, cold fried chicken, sandwiches
Portuguese man o' war: 1
Bermuda – Azores Day 2
Sat 13 June 2026 19:50:00 GMT-0300 (Atlantic Daylight Time)
The night begins with little wind – almost too little. At the same time, the swell is building. We have to get used to the rocking again. We notice this particularly when we spend a bit longer below deck. After midnight, the wind picks up slightly and we’re gliding through the water at nearly 6 knots on a downwind course.
The lights of Bermuda stay with us for a long time. The bright strip on the horizon is still visible up to 40 nautical miles away. Then it fades too. We haven’t yet realised that the Atlantic now lies ahead of us and that we’ll see nothing but water for about two weeks.
At breakfast, we hear the familiar high-pitched, short “beep, beep, beep” again. Just as on the way to Bermuda, tropical birds are visiting us once more. This time there are three fully-grown specimens, which circle us repeatedly and accompany us for over an hour. We’re already curious to see how often we’ll spot them again, as we’re now heading into increasingly cooler waters. Meanwhile, wrapped up in jumpers, long trousers and two blankets, we wonder whether we’re just spoilt or whether they’re snowbirds.
The wind and waves continue to pick up throughout the afternoon. It also starts to rain, so we reduce our sail area: we’ve now reefed the mainsail and jib to the second reef. We settle down below deck whilst it rains and winds outside. After dinner, we consider reefing further, but when the high-wind alarm, which we’ve set to 35 knots, starts beeping, it’s immediately clear what needs to be done. We reduce the mainsail again and have now set the third and final reef. We roll the headsail away completely. This brings calm back to the boat and we’re sailing 160 degrees off the wind. We’re caught between two thunderstorms and hope the lightning spares us. Our peaceful sailing is over in a flash and the Atlantic is once again showing us what it’s made of!
Daily average: 107 nautical miles (in 19 hours)
Distance to Flores: 1668 nautical miles (routed), 1604 (direct)
Meals: Deluxe ham and cheese toast, banana pancakes with Nutella, ramen
Portuguese man o' war: 5
Bermuda – Azores Day 3
Sun 14 June 2026 18:20:00 GMT-0300 (Atlantic Daylight Time)
The night was anything but peaceful, as we’d apparently unwittingly booked a light show – and an extra-long one at that. From 8 pm onwards, it starts to rain lightly and we see lightning on the horizon. In terms of sailing, we’re well reefed and with gusts up to 35 knots. The lightning keeps us very restless, especially as we hear the thunder getting louder and louder. When it isn’t lightning, it’s pitch black, so there’s no point in looking out. Below deck, we set up our new ‘command centre’: an iPad with Navionics charts including AIS (showing other nearby vessels) and on the other screen we display wind angle, wind speed, boat speed and course. With this, we are well prepared. It’s not until 4 am that we finally emerge from the storm. The most important crew member during the night was undoubtedly our autopilot, which steered us reliably even in that weather and spared us from sitting in the wet.
At breakfast, at least one tropical bird briefly keeps us company again. The grey weather doesn’t seem to be putting it off yet, even though for us it’s anything but tropical.
At midday, the sun actually comes out again and we take the opportunity to dry our wet jackets and life jackets. The wind and waves have calmed down again and we are sailing comfortably towards the east-northeast.
The wind is easing off a bit and is expected to die down a little during the day tomorrow before picking up again. We are now firmly in Portuguese waters. Portuguese man o' war are patrolling everywhere; fortunately, we’ve been able to pass through unhindered so far. There were 15 of them today. Portuguese man o' war are jellyfish with a sail and quite long tentacles (up to 40 m) and are reportedly very unpleasant to touch, though only extremely rarely fatal.
Daily average: 133 nautical miles
Sailed miles: 240
Distance to Flores: 1547 nautical miles (routing), 1506 (direct)
Meal: Deluxe ham and cheese toast (again, we have to use up the toast), banana pancakes with Nutella (the remaining 3), potato hash
Portuguese man o' war: 20
Bermuda – Azores Day 4
Mon 15 June 2026 19:19:00 GMT-0300 (Atlantic Daylight Time)
What a difference 24 hours can make. There’s hardly any wind or swell, and after a beautiful sunset we’re treated to a starry night. We’ve booked a visit to the planetarium today, just in time for the new moon.
In the sky, for the first time in a long while, we see old acquaintances that had disappeared below the horizon in the southern latitudes, such as Cassiopeia and the Summer Triangle (consisting of Vega in the constellation Lyra, Deneb in Cygnus and Altair in Aquila). What’s more, both the Big Dipper and the Little Dipper are higher up in the night sky again. The Great Bear is on display in all its glory, and the Dragon and Scorpion are also particularly easy to spot. Oh, and then there are the shooting stars. During his watch, Peter sees the biggest one he’s ever seen and briefly expects the end of the world. The shooting star left a trail almost a finger’s width long!
We’re not quite heading in the right direction, but then again, we’re not going very fast either. As there’s so little wind, we have to bear away further, because a half-wind course is faster than a downwind course. As a result, however, we’re heading north-northeast instead of the direct course to the Azores (ENE), which isn’t too bad though, as the Azores lie both further north and further east of us.
Around mid-morning, the wind picks up and we find the Gulf Stream. At first, it’s pushing us nicely southwards, but by evening it’s supposed to give us a strong push in the right direction. At least, that’s the theoretical forecast. However, we don’t feel any increase in wind and the sails keep flapping. Eventually, we give up trying to head north, as the Gulf Stream is pushing us far to the east and we’re making very slow progress. We jibe again and accept that the Gulf Stream will take us further south than we actually want to go. In theory, it should turn northwards soon, at which point it should push us back in the right direction. We will see…
Daily average: 101 nautical miles
Sailed miles: 341
Distance to Flores: 1441 nautical miles (routing), 1414 (direct)
Meal: Sandwich with carrot and horseradish spread, baby spinach and a fried egg; gnocchi with spinach, tomatoes and feta; Asian cabbage, carrot and cucumber salad with sesame seeds
Portuguese man o' war: 50
Bermuda – Azores Day 5
Tue 16 June 2026 20:12:00 GMT-0300 (Atlantic Daylight Time)
For our first night shift, we luff and sail northwards for three hours at 7 knots, carried by the Gulf Stream, to be better positioned for the next currents and to make the most of this free ride northwards. After all, we’re still about 2 minutes of latitude – or 120 nm – away from Flores.
Note on latitude and longitude:
Latitude lines run parallel to the equator, extending north and south towards the poles. On the vertical axis of the Mercator projection, 1 minute equals 60 nautical miles. However, unlike on a clock, one degree does not equal 60 minutes but only 10 minutes. Accordingly, a one-degree vertical change is 600 nautical miles.
This calculation does not apply to the horizontal east-west axis, as lines of longitude run from pole to pole and are therefore not parallel due to the spherical shape of the Earth. Consequently, the distance between two lines of longitude is greatest at the equator and shortest at the poles (where they all converge).
At the midnight watch change, the wind has also picked up to 15 knots and, for the first time, the sails aren’t flapping, so we decide to carry on sailing with the first reef in. However, the wind has other ideas and, after two hours, Ines wakes me up early to put the second reef in the mainsail. The wind is blowing at 20 knots and the swell has built up a little too. Still half-asleep, I look at her from my cosy, snug sleeping nook and need a good five minutes to snap out of my dream world. The temptation to go out to the mast, where it’s windy, cold and very likely wet, is about as great as most people’s desire to go out and shovel snow at 3 am when it’s -10 degrees. I overcome my inner reluctance, put on my oilskins and lifejacket whilst the boat is rocking quite a bit, and head outside. The reefing goes like clockwork – we’ve done it a few times now, after all. Afterwards, Ines lets me crawl back into my cosy den for another 1.5 hours.
When my watch begins before sunrise, it’s cloudy, dark and cold. It’s rocking more again today. As on the last few days, I place a Comfortseat on the cockpit floor – you can’t slide around there – cover myself with a cosy blanket and use the second one as a cushion. I set an alarm for 30 minutes and close my eyes. Not a minute later, water is splashing into my face from the side. I scurry back inside. Even after its ‘rise’ in the morning, the sun still hasn’t made an appearance. Since I didn’t get any sleep last night, I’m making my morning coffee at 6 o’clock so I can look a bit more awake whilst staring into space.
During Ines’s shift in the morning, the sun does manage to peek through briefly, but the rest of the day is grey and cloudy. We’re due to be hit by the tail end of a weather front that’s passed north of us this evening. That means the wind is set to pick up, as are the waves, and it might even rain – hopefully no thunderstorms.
We spend most of the day below deck sleeping, reading, crocheting or simply watching the coordinates on the radio change (yes, Prinzi, ‘rawdogging’ at its finest). Vaquita heads steadily eastwards; only now and then does a cross-wave turn the stern or bow out, causing the port side to dip deep into the water before the autopilot brings us back on course. It’s tiring, of course, and makes things like cooking and moving about on the boat a bit of a hassle, but it’s not dangerous otherwise. By evening we’re well reefed (both sails on the third reef), making good mileage and ready for the tail end of the front, which is due to pass through during the night.
Daily average: 133 nautical miles
Sailed miles: 474
Distance to Flores: 1340 nautical miles (routing), 1297 (direct)
Meal: Quesadillas, Mediterranean pasta salad with pesto, fresh tomatoes and capers, curry with tofu and courgette
Portuguese man o' war: 58
Bermuda – Azores Day 6
Wed 17 June 2026 19:07:00 GMT-0300 (Atlantic Daylight Time)
Tonight is the exact opposite of yesterday. Peter wakes me up towards the end of his watch, just before midnight, as there’s less wind than forecast, so we can shake out a reef. This time I’m standing in the cockpit, still a bit groggy, but the cold air quickly wakes me up. Whilst we’re at it, we jibe straight away, as the wind has shifted slightly and we want to stay on a north-easterly course.
Today’s watch is an exciting one for me, as the World Cup match between Austria and Jordan kicks off at 1 am. I can’t actually watch the match, but at least I can follow it via the live ticker. So here I am, sitting below deck in front of our command centre, in the middle of the North Atlantic, with the book by Kirsten Neuschäfer – who won the Golden Globe Race 2022 vintage sailing regatta – in one hand and my mobile with the live ticker for the Austria match in the other. It’s quite bizarre!
The Golden Globe Race is the exact opposite of that. The original race took place in 1968 and was the first non-stop single-handed round-the-world regatta (strangely enough, solo sailors are called ‘single-handed sailors’, even though they have two hands). It set off from England into the South Atlantic, heading west round the Cape of Good Hope in Africa, Cape Leeuwin in Australia and Cape Horn in South America, before returning to England. Back then, of course, there were no technical aids such as GPS, weather reports via GRIB files, electronic chartplotters, let alone the internet at sea.
At the time, there were nine participants, but only two more or less completed the race: Sir Robin Knox-Johnston and Bernard Moitessier. The former finished officially and was therefore declared the winner. The latter disagreed with the commercial philosophy behind the race and, although he was in the lead, changed his mind and, after completing one lap, sailed another half-lap to Tahiti without finishing the race. As a result, the £5,000 prize money went to Sir Robin Knox-Johnston. He is thus the first person to have sailed solo and non-stop around the world.
Accordingly, the rules for the revival of the Golden Globe Race (to mark its 50th anniversary in 2018 and for the second edition in 2022) are as follows: classic boat types, no GPS but celestial navigation, and solo sailing non-stop around the world. In 2022, 16 competitors (including just one woman) lined up at the start, and only three managed to complete the race non-stop without assistance: Kirsten Neuschäfer from South Africa won ahead of Abilash Tomy from India and the Austrian Michael Guggenberger, who had very little sailing experience. The race lasted more than 10 months. That’s in a completely different league.
Back to football… To be honest, I’m glad I’m just following the match via the live ticker rather than watching it, as it’s more than nerve-wracking, so I keep escaping into the book and Kirsten’s descriptions of the wild South Pacific whilst we sail comfortably, yet swiftly, across the North Atlantic. After over 100 nerve-wracking minutes, Austria finally wins 3–1. So I can settle down in my bunk with peace of mind and start the best watch of all (the sleep watch).
I (Peter) try not to go outside at all at the start of my early morning watch today. I look out, assess the situation and set an alarm for 30 minutes. So I doze off until, at 5.30 am, I catch sight of a magnificent sunrise and make myself a coffee. It’s still quite chilly to start with, but as the day goes on, the sun breaks through and becomes really intense. The wind is gradually dying down, so the only thing to do is hoist the gennaker, our largest sail for light winds. Whilst we’re still trimming it, I suddenly spot four sleeping whales gliding peacefully past the boat, fin to fin. It looks as though they’re holding hands so they don’t lose each other in their sleep. Definitely the highlight of the day.
The wind is now borderline too light, and it looks as though we’ll have to resort to our ‘fossil eater’ (engine) for the first time tomorrow. On Friday, however, we’re due to have good wind again. We’ve covered a third of the route today.
Daily average: 148 nautical miles
Sailed miles: 622
Distance to Flores: 1186 nautical miles (routing), 1146 (direct)
Meal: Omelette with feta and spinach, leftover pasta salad, iceberg lettuce, Snack with pumpernickel, Gouda, cream cheese, and ham spread
Portuguese man o' war: 72
Whale sighting: 1
Bermuda - Azores Day 7
Thu 18 June 2026 19:56:00 GMT-0200 (South Georgia Time)
Yesterday we sailed the gennaker almost until the very last breeze. At 11.30 pm, with a brisk 6.5 knots of speed in 8-knots of wind, the wind veered too far south for us to maintain our course. We took it down with the help of our deck light and were able to carry on sailing briefly under the jib. By 1.30 am, it was all over. Ines kept trying. It’s pitch black, cold and wet. She manages to steer the boat roughly in the right direction at a leisurely 3 knots. Towards the end of her watch, she has to admit defeat to the wind, which is too light for us and coming from the wrong direction. I stow the headsail, set the autopilot to a half-wind course and go to bed, setting an alarm for 30 minutes. We drift up and down; it’s not until early in the morning, after sunrise, that we can sail in the right direction again. It’s so cosy that we set up the table inside and cook breakfast on our induction hob. With toast, tea, coffee and soft-boiled eggs, we have breakfast at the table as if we were in a quiet marina, whilst we glide along at 4–5 knots.
By early afternoon, the wind dies down completely and we have to switch on the motor for the first time. Today won’t be a record-breaking day. We enjoy the peace and quiet, put our watches forward an hour – it takes a while to find a place that’s in our time zone. The one we find is incredibly far away: South Georgia – not the country, but the island off the coast of Antarctica. We give ourselves a wash again and clean our shoes, as our shoe cupboard has got completely wet and the shoes are consequently damp and smelly. The temperature is a bit too chilly to call it a ‘spa day’; for our spoilt, sun-tanned tropical bodies, it’s more like an ice bath. It’s a bit of a luxury complaint, though, as at least we have hot water from the engine. Whilst we’re enjoying our farmhouse toast, we spot a whale. It’s a bit further away, but we can see its blow and its back when it surfaces. We wouldn’t mind to get used to these daily whale sightings. Let’s see what the night brings – according to the weather forecast, we’ll have to keep the engine running until midday tomorrow.
Daily average: 96 nautical miles
Miles sailed: 718
Distance to Flores: 1,105 nautical miles (routed), 1,062 (direct)
Meals: Toast with a soft-boiled egg, curry with soy mince, pumpernickel farmhouse toast with bacon and pepperoni
Portuguese man o' war: 83
Whale sightings: 2
