2315 UTC | 3°30.76’ N | 88°33.01’W
Sailing
Today started with a Blue-Footed Booby on the bow amongst his Red-Footed, Nazca, and Brown Booby friends. They come and go as they need and crowd on in the evenings for safe sleep in the open Pacific. The twilight hours left glimpses of the stars, bioluminescent plankton in our wake, and the joy of knowing we have another day at sea. It has been a life of luxury onboard S/V Falken for this crew.
The sound of breaking ice for water bottles can be heard from the deepest post watch nap. Cold pineapple and stern showers remain supreme in the heat and stickiest part of the day. Shade from the staysail has added additional relief for those of us in the bow from the sun, more luxury. The cheer of the crew is consistent through the day with chatter and laughter as we huddle around the shady parts of the deck, feeling the easterly winds we’ve been gifted. We’ve been under sail most of the day with steady 7-8kts, confirming we are in fact making progress towards the Galapagos and the sighting of new seabirds.
Books of birds and animals are open in the saloon and being discussed as we get closer to our destination. The smell of the coconut curry made by Zoe has everyone on deck early and inspired a pre dinner concert from Jeremy and his guitar.
At 3°N we let ourselves start to think about the other side of being a pollywog. We might be fortunate enough for a visit from the deep. More Booby birds are settling in for the night as we welcome the sunset, with an early evening glimpse of the stars that will guide us into dawn… for another luxurious day at sea aboard S/V Falken.
Sheri Hashemi
View more passage logs
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A Gen Z Perspective
At 31, the crew thought they were reasonably fluent in the English language—then they met Kip. Today, the crew's self-appointed Gen Z correspondent takes over the log from somewhere in the middle of the Pacific, delivering dispatches on Milky Way night sails, focaccia-induced visions, and the singular mission of getting eleven people's "badonkadonks" to Hawaii. Consider this your glossary.
Fuel fears and back in the trades!
Five hundred miles of open Pacific, no wind, and a fuel tank that wasn't going to cover it. Falken's skipper Mary had a problem: the ITCZ had ballooned from a manageable sliver into an 8-degree-wide wall of doldrums, and the arithmetic wasn't pretty. This is the story of how rum, restraint, and some very attentive helming got them out the other side.
