Glums & glows
003º52’S, 096º09W
Full Mainsail & Jib Top, Happily Reaching
Based on the heading above, I’m sure you can assume the mood aboard today. Anyone who has spent time with Andy on a 59º North passage will be innately familiar with Glows and Glums, our nightly ritual of sharing personal highs and lows of the day, followed by the cathartic sound of your choice. The majority of today’s glows were simple and truly what this trip is all about. We’re doing a steady 9.0 kts SOG, with the sail reflecting the nearly-full moon onto the smiling faces of the watch. The cool breeze of the trades tempers the unrelenting hotbox this boat has become in the past few days and relieves us from the drone of the engine. The Bangers and Mash for dinner were particularly excellent, the perfect fuel for a night of riding this sleigh.
Eric interestingly shared that his glow for the day was the rather painful peppering his hands received in yesterday’s early morning squall—our only glimpse of double-digit speeds in the time since we weighed anchor in the Galapagos. As someone who is deep in the process of learning better strategies for race navigation and weather systems, cruising is always a humbling arena to practice in, and the last few days have been full of wind-deprived glums. I wish I could name-drop, but at some US Sailing Summit one of the panelists gave the expert advice to “not speak up when the boat is slow” at the risk of becoming the scapegoat for a poor result—the room laughed at the honesty. The Doldrums are a new experience for me; there is no avoiding the slow. If these past 72 hours were a race, I would already be at the bar.
That said, today was markedly different. Today, powered by the building SE’ly trades (and a full round of showers), the entire boat was glum-free.
// Aidan Gray
59ºNorthApprentice
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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.