Latitude: 13° 14.349' N
Longitude: 35° 32.445' W
Ship’s Time: 0214
13º 14.349 N, 035º 32.445 W
Steering 280º at 8-9 knots
It is the start of day 5, which is officially the longest I have ever sailed at one time without seeing land. I am Captain Jen, normally a skipper of one of the two schooners, Woodwind and Woodwind II in Annapolis, MD. This is also my first trans-Atlantic crossing.
Tonight (slightly after midnight), under wing and wing sailing, it feels more like we are sailing through the night sky than sailing through the water. There is a mesmerizing ocean swell that is rocking everyone to sleep below. On deck, for me, is this weird sail plan of the mainsail that is safely prevented almost all the way out on one side (think of a right triangle with the top pointing up to Orion), while the high-footed jib, aka “blast reacher,” is poled out in the shape of a rooftop where the top of the roof is pointed opposite of the main boom. It is a sight I have never seen. And now add endless stars with no moon and it feels like we are at the helm of a tiny spaceship, not a sailing ship, and more like a satellite. Amazing!
This was the cherry on top of a great day that included freshly baked focaccia by Manot. The talent of this crew is melding together so nicely and the routine from day to day has set in. We are about to hit 700 nautical miles sailed as I wrap up this report. Back to the spaceship—now I know why Andy got a tattoo of the Millennium “FALKEN” on his forearm.
— Jen
Photos are from our previous boat ICEBEAR, a 1991 Swan 59, sailing wing-on-wing as Jen described above.
FALKENCrew
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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.