Crew Arrival
One might have thought that Cartagena would stand in stark contrast to the thrilling last few hours of our previous passage, providing us with calm and serenity after somewhat of a wild ride. But that would have been a vast underestimation of the exciting city that is Cartagena. Indeed, as we approached the harbour, we were overtaken left and right by what one could only describe as party boats. Loud music converged from different boats, crowds—small and large—dancing on the foredecks, twerking on the bow, raising glasses, skyscrapers and a sunset in the background.
After tying up on the outermost berth of our finger pontoon and getting ready to raise our own glasses to our passage, it soon became apparent that there was no such thing as a no-wake zone around here. So much so that in the busy hours of the day, we are experiencing a sea state that can only be described as smooth to, yes, slight. Walking on the floating pontoons becomes a real act of balance at these times. The occasional slap on Falken's stern from the bigger wakes makes the whole boat shudder and is usually met by some loud oohs and aahs, followed by some sailor's jargon emanating from the bow, where Adam has been working on replacing our windlass motor.
Adam arrived on Falken on Saturday morning, with a few important missions in mind. First of all, we had to replace our windlass motor, an essential piece of kit that we will need for cruising and anchoring around the San Blas islands. Maintaining a boat to the highest standards in distant locations sometimes requires a real group effort. In this case, two crew members gracefully accepted to each travel with a separate windlass motor, weighing no less than 20 kg. Big thanks to Susan and Håkan, without whom we'd have to operate our big chunk of steel at the bow manually. Of course, let's not forget Adam—it has been a joy watching him take care of his baby, Falken.
After a few days of maintenance, passage planning, and provisioning, our new crew finally arrived on the boat yesterday early afternoon. It must have been the hottest day for us in Colombia so far, as we were slowly working our way through our different pre-departure briefings. The evening always provides us, if not with fresh temperatures, at least with slightly cooler temperatures, which we enjoyed thoroughly, going out for dinner in the old town.
And as we are today going through all of our remaining safety briefs and POB training, I feel that everyone is getting ready to head out to the fresher air of the open sea tomorrow, first thing in the morning.
- Manot, FALKEN’s mate
ManotBerger
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”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.