Hove-To at Taiaro
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
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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.