Hove-To at Taiaro
15 May, 2025 | 0435 Ship’s Time | 10 Miles S of Taiaro | Hove-To
FALKEN made landfall at tiny Taiaro, an uninhabited atoll about 25 miles northwest of our goal, Kauehi. Ryan spotted the palm trees poking above the horizon about 8 miles out, just before 1500, and called an enthusiastic “LAAAAAAND HO!” As we approached at speed, the island soon resolved into that classic image of a South Pacific desert island—a white sand beach facing us, fringed with palm trees and low scrub brush, the ocean swell crashing onto the fringing reef and not a soul in sight (though one of the crew swore they saw Gilligan).
With plenty of daylight, we sailed right close in, rounding the northwestern corner about a half-mile off, careful to keep a close eye on the wave action and water color for fear of shallowing depths. We needn’t have worried—the soundings go to 400+ meters only a few yards off the beach, and our depth sounder never picked up anything despite the fly-by. Once into the lee, we could have anchored if it had just been shallower. The seas calmed right down and a light breeze blew off the beach. A few dilapidated huts were spotted amongst the grove of palm trees.
Earlier we’d hoisted the staysail in anticipation of heaving-to. We can’t do it with the yankee up for all the chafe, but with the staysail and three reefs in the main, we finally managed to park FALKEN quite happily at about 45º from the wind. Emily served burritos, most of the crew had freshwater showers on the stern, and as the sun set and the stars came out, we drifted slowly south, making about 1.5–2 knots SOG on a perfect course clear of the other atolls to our south. I went to sleep.
We’re sailing again as I type this, moseying along around the bottom of Raraka, still wildly underpowered for the benign conditions, but waiting until after we gybe to put more sail up. We’re still not in a hurry, trying to time the pass at Kauehi for around 1000. FALKEN is a tough boat to slow down—even with just the staysail and triple-reefed main, we’re still sailing 7 knots in 14 knots apparent on a deep broad reach. Though with so little sail up she’s rolling heavily. The dishes in the sink are clanking around, and the crew in their bunks will need to be wary of their heads lolling back and forth if they’re not properly wedged in. Sleeping downwind is tough too.
35 miles to go.
—Andy
andy@59-north.com
View more passage logs
HMS Night Watch Party
Wing on wing worked well until the wind shifted then the helm became the cone of despair for our night watch crew of three (H, M and S) Alex made the decision to drop the pole, shifting wing on wing to a close reach. Wind increased to low teens and speed picked up to a flying pace. Day spent wandering toward Ensenada. Alex, Adam and David got us into port under another starry night.
No Kitemares Today
After a night marked by sudden wind accelerations peeling off Point Conception, and a vibrant, pulsating sky blistered with shooting stars, the off-watch woke to commotion on the foredeck. The wind had gone light and the swell had tapered just enough to raise the spinnaker. The sail filled with an urgent pop, the sheet strained and Falken charged down the face of the next wave. By mid-day, we doused the spinnaker and set our minds to the more precise task of safely punching through a gap in the notorious Cortez Bank. The border to Mexico looms ahead.
The California coast
We had a very lively first day of sailing with steady winds between 25 and 30 kn gusting to mid 30s. All of the crew got experience at difficult downwind helming as we covered 200 nautical miles in the first 24 hours. This morning brings winds in the teens and calmer seas. The sun is still shining, and the green monster has been slayed by those afflicted!