Fresh baked bread!
Last night gave us some wonderful light winds sailing on a relatively flat sea that allowed the whole crew to catch up on much-needed sleep after the excitement of the night previous. There’s nothing like a nighttime kite drop followed by an engine fire alarm to keep everyone alert and full of adrenaline, and after reconciling all issues, it was a huge relief to go from the ridiculous to the sublime.
A very hot day followed, but with a little more wind than forecast, and it was shortly after dark this evening that we finally had to accept the wind shift and resort to the iron sail (engine) once more.
Dinner tonight was a combined effort with freshly baked bread courtesy of Scott, a delicious hummus from Hilary, and a couscous salad to utilize all of the remaining fresh salad vegetables. Add to this the charcuterie that we have saved until the last, and the deck was full of scrumptious delights.
As I type this, we are motor sailing a direct course to Hiva Oa and we have a little more wind forecast for tomorrow, so hopefully we can sail the final distance to make landfall. In the meantime, the night hours are a welcome relief from the punishing heat of the day, and we even treat ourselves to the odd hot drink to while away the hours on the helm.
Less than 200nm...
Emily
EmilyCaruso
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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.