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
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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.