Day 1
38°29.68N 26°17.58W
The boat is already smelling of coffee as I am getting up. Passing by the port aft bunks, I see them already empty and made to perfection. In the galley I hear a few quiet “good mornings” as I greet the still sleepy but visibly excited crew. An hour and a half to go before everyone meets on deck. A last phone call, a last stroll down to the shore heads, we are on the doorstep of an adventure.
0800, everyone meets on deck. Chris quickly distributes roles and we get the lines ready to slip. A few moments later we tie up at the fuel dock. There, things slowed down for one last time—waiting for our turn, filling our tanks, chatting, waiting… and finally slipping the lines.
1200, we are sailing! Some of the brightest smiles that I have seen were from people taking the helm of a cool boat like FALKEN for the first time. And today was no exception—all the time spent waiting for this day to arrive after first making the plans, all the excitement, maybe a bit of nerves, then realizing how easy it is to steer, the power, the speed, yet it feels so light… bright smiles!
Later, still smiles. We are sailing upwind, in 10-12 knots of wind. It’s perfect. The sea is smooth, steering is easy, we are gliding. Somewhere at sea in the setting sun, the smell of baking vegetables is spreading through the boat… What a lovely day! - Manot
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.