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
View more passage logs
24 hours of resilience
Thirty knots of wind, a 2.7-metre cross swell, and a crew being pushed to their limits — the first 24 hours aboard Falken have been anything but gentle. Seasickness has taken its toll, but the boat keeps moving, carving north toward calmer conditions. Last night, between the chaos, the Milky Way stretched clear across the sky.
Pre-departure
Hawaii to Alaska isn't a downwind romp—it's a chess match with the North Pacific High, and the opening move is never obvious. Ten days of refit work, new sails, engine services, and enough provisions to outlast a bad forecast have FALKEN ready for whatever the high decides to throw at us. The crew arrives in an hour, and by Thursday, the bow points north—route TBD.
Ladies who reef
The trade winds have been kind, rolling the boat toward Hawaii in a steady, hypnotic rhythm—until last night, when a squall hit without warning and the wind jumped to 28 knots, slamming everything sideways. With rain driving down and the boat lurching underfoot, the crew had minutes to wrestle two reefs into the mainsail and get things back under control. What followed was a masterclass in wet, unglamorous, deeply satisfying teamwork—with less than 250 miles left to go.
