DAY 3
After breakfast, Andy gave a magnificent weather lesson. It is so nice to see someone teach their passion to other people—it really is contagious! After that, everyone got briefed on their duties for their watches, and we proceeded to hoist anchor and head out to the open sea for our offshore phase.
The wind might have been one of the only glums for the day, failing to fill even the slightest puff, but making a stunning sight to watch. We managed to keep busy by taking sun sights, practicing reefing, and enjoying a great lasagna cooked by Mia.
Just a few hours ago, as the sun was setting down over the oily, windless sea, the breeze started picking up a little bit. We unfurled the jib, turned the engine off, and are now underway—not making a lot of way, but enjoying the peace and quiet of a very starry night.
I managed to get a sight on Vega, and I’m like a kid with a new toy taking sights on this trip. My last sights were back five years ago when I was training with my Mini 6.50, and I never really understood the bigger picture—just followed my proformas and got my plots. Having seen the way Andy teaches and explains it has really woken a passion inside of me. I never thought I was smart enough to be able to understand celestial navigation, so I’ve either become really smart in five years or it really is down to who you learn from, and I couldn’t have asked for a better teacher.
Time to put the kettle on and wake up the other watch. Signing off the Portuguese coast. — Alex
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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.