ENJOYING THE ROUTINE
Sailing
There be whales…..This morning we had the pleasure of seeing a small pod of Orca’s in the distance. Following all had a chance for a shower in Falken’s “tub”. We were treated with more sea life as dolphins were dancing in our bow-wake.
Food has been great, with skipper’s fresh baked boat bread and the telling of a sea-yarn by our mate.
- Scott
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We held out as long as possible sailing the wrong direction in light winds this morning. Eventually we had to make the call to roll up the Yankee and start the engine.
We had fun regardless, as we tend to do on the mighty ship Falken. We sang songs from our favorite musicals, played a weird version of rock, paper, scissors, and found out the story behind many turns of phrases that originated with sailing.
I promised I’d commence Sunset Poetry this evening, and treated everyone to The Sea Slug Cocktail. A classic in the Schooner world. Can’t wait to see who goes next!
We now enjoy the sunset and hope for wind.
Love to my family xx
Delaney
View more passage logs
Last night in the Southern Hemisphere!
At midnight, Joey's watch sang happy birthday under a sky full of stars; by 0930, the crew had already swum in 5,000 meters of Pacific blue, chased rainbows through a golden squall, and eaten chocolate chip pancakes with Moorea pineapple. That's the doldrums for you—the wind dies and life somehow gets fuller. Tomorrow, Neptune comes to collect his due as SV Nordic Falken crosses the equator for the first time.
First squall of the trip!
"We're gonna get our ass whooped" — not the sunrise greeting anyone had in mind, but Jim called it. The oldest and sharpest hand on board steered them straight through the squall, soaked to the bone and loving every minute of it. He's got a message for his wife, and it turns out she was right about the water.
Sextants, Polynesian Wayfinding, Captain Cook, and Tupaia, Oh My!
Somewhere north of Tahiti and south of Hawaii, aboard a 65-foot rocket of a sailboat loaded with GPS and Starlink, we pulled out a sextant. Not as a novelty—as a navigation tool. Because it turns out the 2,500-mile passage from Tahiti to Hawaii is less a ocean crossing and more a living museum of how humans have always answered the same stubborn question: where am I, and how do I get home? Captain Cook had his chronometers and math; his Polynesian crewmate Tupaia had the stars, the swells, and a map of the Central Pacific stored entirely in his head—and somehow, they were asking the exact same thing.
