DAY 2
Yesterday was the first morning for the crew onboard. Bob has sailed with us earlier this year, and James has already signed up for a trans-Atlantic with us in 2024, but for the rest of the crew, this is all new. After a long morning of safety briefs, we left the docks at Lagos Marina and went out on a day sail to search for the wind. The forecast said no wind, but to our surprise, we had a great afternoon tacking our way over to Sagres. As soon as we got underway and realized we actually had wind, we switched from our big genoa to our smaller jib. Even though it was calm with just a small swell, it still takes quite a bit of time and effort.
The aim was to have the anchor down before sunset at 5:30, but things always take longer and the anchor was down by seven. On our way in, I cooked dinner, and as soon as the boat was put away, we had a nice taco dinner at anchor. Andy made the comment that when you arrive in the dark, it is fun to wake up the next morning and see where you are. Well, this morning we were swamped in fog and could barely see the bow of the boat.
Alex led the morning swim parade. He claimed the water was 17-18 degrees, Knut thought it could not have been more than 13. We settled on a nice 16°C water temperature—nice and refreshing. MOB practice is something we do at the start of every passage; it’s something you cannot practice enough. Karina volunteered to be the rescue swimmer this morning, and Bob (our dummy, not crewmember Bob) went over the side.
We got the anchor up about an hour ago, but today there is truly a mirror on the water and not a breath of wind. Andy is giving a navigation and weather chat, and when we get back to anchor again, we’ll look at the route for the rest of the week and where to go to find the wind. The plan is to lift anchor tomorrow mid-morning and head out for three days non-stop.
— Mia
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.