18º 20.7’ N / 052º 35.4’ W
Hello, this is Sarah. We’ve sailed 2,470 nautical miles and finally the air feels warmer. We have sunrises of lemon yellow, pink fluffy clouds, deep golden sunsets, and the sea is a dark aquamarine blue rather than grey. The rain squalls with gusty winds seem to be behind us, although maybe this is too early to say. The size of the waves has also now reduced from about 4 to 2 meters (I may be exaggerating), and the movement of the boat is much less erratic, so we have all had a chance to catch up on sleep while off watch.
We’ve seen very little wildlife on the ocean. The highlight was the group of sperm whales—probably females with calves—a couple of times. Some dolphins, probably Atlantic spotted dolphins, followed the bow when we were off the coast of the Cape Verde Islands. A few white birds with long tail feathers circled us when we were 1,000 miles out from Antigua. Last night, a single big bird with grey feathers flew close back and forth as if inspecting us to see if we would be a good perching point. Occasionally, a flying fish has had the misfortune to land on the deck. Once, in the middle of the night, one caught Emily (our long-suffering skipper) across the forehead when she was in mid-conversation. A real-life ‘slap in the eye with a wet fish.’
On board, we are a very content group. Time on watch together, particularly in darkness, has led to shared stories, discussions, reflections, and laughter. I’m aware of how lucky we are to have experienced something unique in this slow journey under sail we’ve undertaken together.
- Sarah
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.