Saturday, June 14, 2025 | Equator - Bring it on!
Apparently, a spy boarded FALKEN, unbeknownst to the several polywogs aboard—heralding our approach to the royal line. Having been duly notified of the impending rite of passage by King Neptune’s herald and prepared for the equatorial approach by our flamboyant navigator, we anxiously prepare gifts of great worth to offer the famed nautical god. Frankly, if Neptune has an accent as odd as the rest of his court, we may not have any idea what’s going on during the encounter.
This landmark (seamark?) experience aside, we continue to enjoy magnificent sailing! The crew is rested, strong, and incredibly well fed, and Falken reaches like a dream. The stars are brilliant and eventually bow to the spotlight of a full moon. As the moon arcs across the night sky, she eventually concedes the labor of lighting our path to the sun in a glorious display as one sets while the other rises.
The skipper, mate, and bosun continue to impart their knowledge to the crew. In fact, last night Mary informed us that no airplanes flew over the Pacific Ocean—only spaceships. I learn something every day ;)
//Orie
Write your comments below and I’ll forward them to the boat with the daily update :) - Mia (shore support)
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.