Heading Offshore

Offshore Bergen
The first 24 hours of any trip with a heavy upwind start are always going to be chaotic. This past day has not been an exception. A scene akin to the climax of the film Triangle of Sadness came to mind as Mia and I handed over to one another at 10pm last night. “There is a bucket stationed in every area,” she said to me, to the familiar background track of hurling. Someone had gone for round two. But I’ll tell you—I’m not sure I’ve ever seen so much puke come with so many smiling faces. The crew are determined to soak up every last second that they can on deck. And so on they go, braving the undressing and dressing manoeuvre again and again and again. Impressive!
The good news is that the wind has veered around to the west now as forecast. So hopefully we will have a bit of reprieve from the bashing soon. It’s already tracking round to the right, with Kaitie on the helm doing a stellar job following her course whilst the crew of Jaime and Lindsey trim sails to the changing wind. We had the staysail up all night with three reefs in as the wind exceeded 30 knots. Now happily flying a slightly reefed jib and one reef in the main, zooming straight at Amsterdam at 8 knots! But now thinking that through… you can probably see that on the tracker :)
— Nikki
NikkiHenderson
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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.

