FLYING THE KITE + DOMESTIC CHORES
1810 Ship’s Time
Sailing
Lee & Liz are in the galley cleaning up from chili dinner tonight. We have routines at sea, where each day each watch rotates through the various domestic chores to keep the boat fresh, clean & tidy. The morning 09-12 watch is responsible for sweeping/vacuuming the interior living accommodation; the 12-15 watch washes out the cockpit; and the 18-21 watch does the dishes and ‘resets’ the galley, the biggest job of the day after 11 people have eaten dinner together in the cockpit. That’s done, of course, following our Glums & Glows ritual, the best part of every day in my book.
We staff share in the routines as well. Each day we rotate through who cooks the meal (I was on chili duty tonight, my specialty), who cleans the heads (that’s done on whoever has the 1930-2230 watch…we stagger the staff watches with the crew watches so that we get a chance to overlap and sail with everyone in the crew). In most cases, we’ve got three staff in the crew - a Skipper, Mate & ‘Extra Bunk,’ which often goes to an Apprentice and occasionally to friends, family or media. Later this season, for example, James Evenson of Sailing Zingaro on YouTube, will be joining in that extra staff bunk to film the passage from Tahiti to Hawaii. James famously sailed his wooden catamaran on that same route, the boat breaking up just before he made landfall in dramatic fashion, so he’s hoping to close the loop with us on FALKEN and document the experience.
We’ve been sailing since I shut the engine down just before midnight last night, enjoying a light but steady breeze all day, a nice change of pace from the motor-on, motor-off inconsistency of the first 24 hours. After “snack hour” today around lunchtime, we rigged and hoisted the big pink symmetric spinnaker, and the 3,000-sq-ft sail gave us two extra knots of boatspeed and steadied the helm. I think we touched 9 knots a few times in only 10-12 knots of breeze. The foredeck work was a fun respite from the mellow lounging around the cockpit. We struck the kite just before dinner, but left it in its bag on the foredeck in anticipation of maybe another round with it tomorrow. Dinner is served early at this latitude this time of year, as it gets way too dark by our normal mealtime of 1800.
Thus far this has been a slooooow passage, but extremely pleasant. What wind there is tends to be right on our stern, and there’s not enough apparent wind to set the pole and sail dead-downwind, wing-on-wing, so we’re forced to sail gybing angles. While the boat’s making 4-6 knots through the water, our VMG is less, so Cabo San Lucas and our rounding mark into the Sea of Cortez feels an awfully long way away.
But then again, who’s in a hurry?
// Andy
View more passage logs
”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.