0151 UTC | 12 33.73N, 91 31.47W
Sailing
The blog comes today from the whole crew, which basically entails them shouting random animals we’ve seen today at me.
The multiple boobies on the bow of the boat led us into the day (record of 5 on the pulpit as it stands). First came the electric dolphins before sunrise, which was quite a sight to see. The whole of the pre-sunrise watch was kept company by 100s of very acrobatic dolphins, and it continued from there. A shout of "WHALE! WHALE!" came from Marella, which had everyone running, only to find it was an oceanic manta ray leaping clear of the water. This seemed to commence a symphony of leaping smaller mantas all day; everywhere you looked, they were somersaulting into the air like agile pancakes. That was just the start of it. We saw a manta 10’ from the boat with remoras attached, a booby floating along on the back of a turtle, and a minke whale accompanied us for a good while before disappearing into the depths again. The boobies are still on our bow, giving a new meaning to a poop deck, but the entertainment value is worthwhile.
So much has happened today that what would usually justify a whole blog is suddenly being remembered—the brightest stars of the trip so far, with a multitude of shooting stars and a clear Milky Way—and of course, after our salt baths crossing the Gulf of Tehuantepec, we have finally all had a fresh shower. Christine looks particularly smart in a dress and cardigan tonight. Has she run out of boat clothes, or is she simply dressing for the evening she wants (cocktails and canapés)?
Also, Delaney and Jake are in the galley cooking grilled cheese and tomato soup—all from scratch, including the bread—and the sextant was taken out for some pretty successful sights, only 11 miles away from our actual position.
All in all, a lovely day on Falken.
Mike (ish) and the crew of NORDIC FALKEN
Sailing
The blog comes today from the whole crew, which basically entails them shouting random animals we’ve seen today at me.
The multiple boobies on the bow of the boat led us into the day (record of 5 on the pulpit as it stands). First came the electric dolphins before sunrise, which was quite a sight to see. The whole of the pre-sunrise watch was kept company by 100s of very acrobatic dolphins, and it continued from there. A shout of "WHALE! WHALE!" came from Marella, which had everyone running, only to find it was an oceanic manta ray leaping clear of the water. This seemed to commence a symphony of leaping smaller mantas all day; everywhere you looked, they were somersaulting into the air like agile pancakes. That was just the start of it. We saw a manta 10’ from the boat with remoras attached, a booby floating along on the back of a turtle, and a minke whale accompanied us for a good while before disappearing into the depths again. The boobies are still on our bow, giving a new meaning to a poop deck, but the entertainment value is worthwhile.
So much has happened today that what would usually justify a whole blog is suddenly being remembered—the brightest stars of the trip so far, with a multitude of shooting stars and a clear Milky Way—and of course, after our salt baths crossing the Gulf of Tehuantepec, we have finally all had a fresh shower. Christine looks particularly smart in a dress and cardigan tonight. Has she run out of boat clothes, or is she simply dressing for the evening she wants (cocktails and canapés)?
Also, Delaney and Jake are in the galley cooking grilled cheese and tomato soup—all from scratch, including the bread—and the sextant was taken out for some pretty successful sights, only 11 miles away from our actual position.
All in all, a lovely day on Falken.
Mike (ish) and the crew of NORDIC FALKEN
View more passage logs
Hat overboard!
On June 4, we reviewed our passage plan before our departure from the marina in Hjellested.
Departure from Bergen!
The crew on the women’s sail training on Isbjorn is settling into a great routine for managing the boat and life onboard.
The sun sets on another journey
The hardest part of sailing across French Polynesia wasn't the night watches, the heat, or the open ocean — it was the prospect of being trapped on a small boat with a group of strangers. First-timer Natalie boards as a self-described land crab and discovers that the sea has a way of reshaping both your sea legs and your assumptions. What follows is dolphins, sharks, the Milky Way in full technicolour, and a crew that somehow made the whole thing better than she ever imagined.