Sailing has not been a mainstream sport during Cole Brauer’s generation. The United States’ golden era around the America’s Cup ended long before many young adults today were born, and solo ocean racing has traditionally been dominated by the French. American sailors, especially women, have rarely stood in the spotlight as front-runners or public figures.
So it surprised many when Cole’s Instagram account surged from around 10,000 followers to nearly half a million in a few months spanning late 2023 and early 2024. She was competing in the Global Solo Challenge, a nonstop solo circumnavigation, and her daily updates resonated far beyond the sailing community. Within six months she went from relative obscurity to features in major media outlets and morning television.
For transparency, I should note I split recent months between my role as SAIL’s managing editor and serving as Cole’s media manager. Depending on where she was in the world and the daylight hours, my work shifted around the clock.
Cole didn’t chase fame. She wanted to prove she belonged. Throughout her professional sailing career she had met skepticism and dismissal—paid less than male counterparts on smaller circuits and told during a 2022 Ocean Race tryout that at 5 feet 2 inches and 100 pounds she was too small for the Southern Ocean.
“I’d always wanted to sail around the world before I turned 30,” Cole says. “I didn’t specifically want to do it on my own, but if no one was going to take a chance on me, I was going to have to go alone and prove them wrong.”
Her proof came with victory in the 2023 Bermuda 1-2 alongside co-skipper Cat Chimney. Commanding the Class40 First Light, Cole and Cat won both legs by more than 12 hours and became the first all-female team to take the event. Cole had skippered First Light long enough to know the boat intimately, turning that experience into dominant race performance and local recognition.
“After the Bermuda 1-2 I was planning to take some time off, but the boat’s owners asked, ‘What’s next?’ They encouraged me to dream bigger,” she remembers.
I met Cole in person in September 2023 while she prepared First Light for a transatlantic shakedown before the Global Solo Challenge. The Safe Harbor Newport Shipyard shed was humming with activity in the late summer heat, and Cole took a pause from packing to show us around. What stood out most was not just her optimism and technical knowledge, but the loyalty she inspired: a tight team drawn to her charisma and leadership—qualities that would define her campaign.
The Global Solo Challenge began August 26 from A Coruña, Spain, using a pursuit start that staggered skippers’ departures according to each boat’s rating. Cole started on October 29 as part of the largest cohort of that season. Of the 20 original entries, only 16 reached the course and, by press time, roughly half were still racing. The fleet has faced dismastings, autopilot failures, medical issues, and the ever-present pressure of time gates intended to keep sailors off the Southern Ocean during the most dangerous months.
Completing the race is an achievement in itself. On top of that, finishing would make Cole the first American woman to complete a solo nonstop circumnavigation by racing. As the youngest and only woman skipper in the race, she stood out.
Before the start she told me she wanted to be a different kind of racer. “You see people in these races who are constantly serious—exhausted, miserable. I don’t want that. What’s the point of an adventure like this if you’re not going to enjoy it?” Her posts—painted nails, laundry days, on-deck dance parties—raised eyebrows but also made her accessible. She presented sailing as adventure and humanity, not just relentless hardship.
Her social growth was rapid. Followers climbed past prominent sailors and high-profile teams, and her account reached people who weren’t sailors at all. Comments poured in from new audiences: young women inspired to imagine different futures and older followers moved to see someone living out a dream they themselves never had the chance to pursue.
The Atlantic treated her well early on—the trade winds were favorable and the doldrums brief—until mechanical failures and the Southern Ocean’s challenges turned the race into a constant test of repairs. Autopilot issues and a failing rudder reference led to a violent broach that threw Cole across the boat and badly injured her ribs. The incident was captured on onboard cameras; some footage was shared, though the most severe clips were withheld out of respect and safety.
“I’m OK,” she later reported after checking in with the medical team. “The boat’s OK. You can never lose respect for the ocean.”
Her surge in followers also brought an army of anxious supporters—affectionately dubbed “Cole’s internet parents”—who offered advice, encouragement, and frequent check-ins. Many were not familiar with typical offshore connectivity limits, which became a challenge when Cole’s hydrogenerator began failing in the Southern Ocean. Without reliable power and with thick cloud cover limiting solar gains, she periodically had to shut down Starlink to preserve electricity for critical systems like instruments and the watermaker.
Because many of her followers expected near-constant updates, low-power stretches intensified concern. That tension—the desire for regular content from an audience unused to the limits of offshore communication versus the reality of maintaining a boat at sea—became a recurring theme.
Approaching Cape Horn, Cole and her weather router chose a cautious tactic: hold back a day to thread two large systems during the rounding. Low-power mode followed, leaving fans waiting until she got back online. Even so, her energy and joy remained central to her approach. She used content as a creative outlet to fend off isolation but never let it distract from safe seamanship.
Northbound in the Atlantic, conditions turned brutal: heavy seas, sargassum fields, and relentless weather that forced several competitors to retire. In late February three skippers withdrew in one week. The attrition rate underscored how unforgiving solo ocean racing can be.
Yet Cole’s campaign included unmistakable highlights—New Year’s Eve dancing in a pink dress, live-streaming Cape Horn—and her mixture of competence and personality sustained her momentum. She kept First Light ahead of the October 29 pack, used the Indian Ocean to pick off rivals, and rose to second place as other boats paused for repairs.
Cole was the youngest and only female skipper in the race.
Cole’s success in the Bermuda 1-2 launched her offshore racing fame.
Ultimately, Philippe Delamare’s Actual 46 completed the race first in 147 days. Cole crossed the finish line second on March 7 after 130 days at sea, having started a full month later than the leader and closed half the gap. Beyond becoming the first American woman to complete a solo nonstop circumnavigation as a racer, she set a new Class40 record for a circumnavigation, trimming seven days off the previous best.
Cole credits her familiarity with First Light—years of miles and hands-on maintenance—for much of her success. She can hear the boat’s needs and anticipate wear, an advantage that paid off repeatedly. Financial backing from a private sponsor also made the campaign possible, highlighting how difficult it can be for American sailors to secure funding and how success might encourage future sponsorship on this side of the Atlantic.
Starlink was another game changer, providing near-constant connectivity that would have been unimaginable a decade ago. The technology helped Cole share her story in real time and build meaningful connections with supporters. That visibility raises questions for the sport: will future campaigns be expected to cultivate social followings as part of their business model, and how will that shape sponsorship and athlete priorities?
Cole plans a short break to regroup before returning to competition by summer. She is exploring an upgrade to an IMOCA 60 and considering a Vendée Globe campaign in the years ahead.
The Global Solo Challenge
The inaugural Global Solo Challenge routed skippers around the world by the three Great Capes, starting and finishing in A Coruña, Spain. Sixteen skippers launched over three months in late 2023, including three Americans. The event allowed stops for repairs with time penalties, outside support, and a wide variety of boat types so long as they weren’t purpose-built for the race—making the event relatively accessible. The pursuit start corrects for boatspeed differences but has been criticized because skippers who started weeks apart faced different seasonal conditions. Despite that, the race produced intense rivalries and high-stakes routing decisions at every turn.