
June 25, 2024 | 07:30 UTC
As we wait to check in at the Port of Galway, I finally have a minute to reflect on this epic adventure. First, what can I say about Chris, Manot, and Athena? They are quite literally the best sailors I have ever had the opportunity to learn from. They are also wonderful humans who have demonstrated endless patience and leadership for the entire crew, all while creating a culture of community for us—a group of strangers from all over the world with varying degrees of sailing skill and experience.
For me, I will hold close the memories of our nightly crew dinners in the cockpit—someone always sacrificing hot food to stay on the helm—while we shared our “glums and glows” of the day. The “glows” helped us focus our attention on good things and gratitude, resetting us after days and days of no more than a few hours of sleep around the clock, biting cold weather, anxiety-producing dense fog, sore and dysregulated bodies, heavy sea swells, and way too “spicy” sailing.
Each day I heard “glows” about Manot’s focaccia, sightings of whales and dolphins, spectacular cloud formations, the indigo color of the sea, good sleep in cozy hammocks, Athena’s warm yummy pesto, finally mastering the complicated life jackets, favorable weather and wind, Chris’ patience with our ongoing and repeated mistakes, countless speed records, previously unimaginable achievements on the helm (mine), and so much more. The “glows” list grew long, and each day we became a tighter-knit crew, united in helping each other while we sailed FALKEN to Ireland.
As we end this final chapter of our voyage, I have no words to adequately express my “glows,” so I will keep it simple.
With my deepest gratitude always,
- Raquel (FALKEN Crew—Azores to Galway ‘24)
crew@59-north.com
View more passage logs


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.

