We often find comfort in constants. Those wonders of each day that don’t let us down, those relentless events that create the cadence of our lives. I reached a degree of comfort here in the doldrums, due in large part to three constants—sun, sea, and soup. Yep! Plenty of each of those to be found.
The sun and I don’t always get along, but as the crew glummed and glowed at dinner time, I had to concede that we were enjoying wondrous sunsets, some pretty fine sailing, and the weather that makes it all possible because of the sun. Thank you, Sun!
The sea keeps on giving—everchanging vistas, constant mesmerizing motion, and vast power manifest in the grace of gentle rolling swells. We did see some more dolphins in the distance, and the flying fish continue to entertain. Thank you, sea!
And now we come to the soup. Although not as vast as the sea, there may be enough to constitute a body of liquid visible on Google Earth. Fortunate for us, it is delicious, nourishing, and a beautiful shade of green not otherwise seen in our current environment. There has been some chatter about mandatory soup ingestion to mitigate the situation, but we continue to be fed wonderful dinners and are grateful that the soup is there for us, constant and plentiful. Thank you, soup!
What about the boobies, you may ask? They have accompanied us on our voyage and are more frequently taking the opportunity to rest and preen on the anchor (to the bosun’s delight). This is in contrast to the boobie that took a bit of a ride on the wobbly Windex the other day. Fortunately, it did not tolerate the raucous ride for long, and the Windex was not damaged. The boobies add a little beauty and action to our day. Thank you, boobies!
We have experienced a lot of fun on the trip thus far, but the doldrums did strip some of the spice from our day. But never fear, Tara is here. She produced some of the finest tasting cold Coca Cola I’ve ever had, and shared this precious resource with the entire crew. Thank you, Tara!
Oh, the squall… Yeah, everything was feeling pretty predictable and plain until the dark clouds rallied on our flank and swallowed us up. This is the longest sustained squall yet and is appreciated as the temperature has dropped by a few degrees. Although, I do think it is appreciated most by those not on watch. Thank you, squall!
Grateful to be here with this marvelous crew! Cheers!
- Orie
Write your comments below and I’ll forward them to the boat with the daily update :) - Mia (shore support)
crew@59-north.com
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.