Day 7
June 1, 2024 | 1857 UTC
Our last few weather forecasts have been uncertain. As we are getting closer to the Azores, we have been monitoring a shallow low that keeps shifting in unpredictable ways from day to day. The center, originally predicted east of the Azores by the time of our arrival, is now predicted to be west of the islands, seemingly at our exact latitude. This means that a big no-wind zone could lie just ahead of us. Our point of sail for the next few days will now depend on the movement of that center. If it stays as predicted, we might have to motor for a while. If it moves north by just a few miles, we could have some favorable westerlies, but if it moves south, we might end up beating upwind for some time. As of the time that I am writing this, we have good wind from the NNE, which indicates that we are in the northwestern quadrant at the moment. We will keep a close eye on the evolution of that system, as our ETA in Horta will depend on it, as well as our comfort onboard.
In another department, there has been a strong desire to see wildlife, and so far we have seen dolphins on multiple occasions, birds regularly, and electric dolphins once (dolphins in bioluminescent algae). But yesterday definitely stood out as we were visited by a small group of whales just before sunset. A humbling few minutes, observing each other, before they disappeared again in the distance.
- Manot
ManotBerger
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Ladies who reef
The trade winds have been kind, rolling the boat toward Hawaii in a steady, hypnotic rhythm—until last night, when a squall hit without warning and the wind jumped to 28 knots, slamming everything sideways. With rain driving down and the boat lurching underfoot, the crew had minutes to wrestle two reefs into the mainsail and get things back under control. What followed was a masterclass in wet, unglamorous, deeply satisfying teamwork—with less than 250 miles left to go.
Yankee Doodle Died at Sea, Riding on a FALKEN
A thin, foot-long tear in the yankee sail—50,000 miles of ocean behind it—and suddenly the final stretch to Hawaii just got a lot more interesting. The crew of FALKEN had been running a tight ship through the trades, reefing in squalls like clockwork, when the last dance finally caught up with them. How a skipper handles the moment everything goes sideways says everything about the voyage itself.
A Gen Z Perspective
At 31, the crew thought they were reasonably fluent in the English language—then they met Kip. Today, the crew's self-appointed Gen Z correspondent takes over the log from somewhere in the middle of the Pacific, delivering dispatches on Milky Way night sails, focaccia-induced visions, and the singular mission of getting eleven people's "badonkadonks" to Hawaii. Consider this your glossary.