We released the mooring ball (actually four small balls) and bid farewell to Cocos Island just as the sun was rising. I would like to say that we had smooth sailing all day, but the reality was very smooth motoring. An attempt was made to pull out the Yankee, but that was an exercise in futility, and it was quickly pulled back in, so we motored on. This has been the most pleasant day of motoring, since the sea is very calm, almost perfect for water skiing. Relaxing in my forward cabin berth when off watch, I could hear the sea swishing along as Falken stayed very stable and flat.
After the evening meal, we shared our glums and glows once again. The only gloom was leaving Cocos Island. Glows included watching the Cocos boobies land on the bow pulpit. At one point we counted 21, with several of those trying to balance on the lifelines. Another glow was the simple pleasure of some ice cubes to fill our water bottles in the heat of the day. And of course, the peacefulness of moving along the Pacific Ocean with a great crew.
// Anne
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Taha’a-haha (say that correctly five times fast)
Ten heads bobbing around the stern, cold beers hidden a meter below the waterline, and coconuts dodged through the reef — the crew of NORDIC FALKEN have arrived at Taha'a, and they're wasting no time. First Mate Pheebs reports from a golden-hour anchorage in the Society Islands, where strangers became shipmates somewhere between Papeete and paradise. Manta rays and what might be the world's best coral drift snorkel are on tomorrow's agenda — if Skipper Mary's mushroom risotto doesn't slow anyone down first.
Tahiti-Taha’a and a birthday
Bora Bora who? Leg 6 crew are aboard and setting their sights on the lesser-known gems of French Polynesia — Taha'a and Huahine — where vanilla farms, manta rays, and drift coral snorkels await. The new anchorage booking system is a noble idea in theory, though its website appears to share the reliability of the wind, which has cheerfully decided to blow from exactly the wrong direction. It's upwind sailing, birthday cake, and uncharted territory from here.
”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.