26° 2' N, 58° 55' W
We’re getting into the groove. It’s our fourth day at sea, and we’re still on our high side, sailing upwind toward the north. By now, we’re all getting used to living in a world that’s constantly tilted. Cooking, cleaning, and even using the bathroom in a space that feels like a ski slope has become part of the adventure. Sailing “the wrong way” across the Atlantic has its challenges, but the only one completely unbothered is Adrienne. She’s loving it, stretching her legs a few times close to 10 knots—not bad for a 42-year-old lady.
Today, the first showers were taken after one crew member remarked, "I smell like a diesel engine." Not exactly sure what he meant, but we were definitely due for a cleanup. We also tested our luck with fishing, but with no success—unless you count the seaweed we caught, which, unfortunately, wasn’t edible. Better luck next time.
A few sail changes were made during the night—furling in the jib, deploying the genoa, taking reefs in, and shaking them out again—all under the bright light of the moon and a sky full of stars. Sometimes, it really makes you wonder if we’re all living in a simulation.
All of the crew impresses, both with their sailing skills and their care for the boat. It’s almost as clean and tidy as when we left the docks.
Dinner is now almost ready—chicken stew with rice. Looking forward to a full stomach and some much-needed rest in a few hours.
See you on the high side!
- Tim Danielson
crew@59-north.com
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.