Day 1
34 02.3N 63 16.5W
34 02.3N 63 16.5W
A little under 24 hours ago, we slipped the lines from the fuel dock in St. George’s, Bermuda. The excitement amongst the crew was palpable, and it didn’t take much to get a departure picture filled with bright smiles. We knew that we’d have to deal with light weather for a little over a day, but the engine didn’t stay on very long as we’ve been sailing along in a gentle 7-10 kts breeze on a NE course. Perfect conditions to softly ease into the experience. And it doesn’t take much to get FALKEN gliding; I’m always impressed when I see strong boats transform into what seems like featherweights at the lightest touch of air.
Pretty soon we’ll have our second lunch of the crossing, couscous salad. And as we’re going to start doing things for a second time, watching a second sunset, the novelty of the departure will slowly give way to the routine that will be our little universe on FALKEN for the coming days. What a life!
- 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.