Lunchtime swim!
Another glorious sunset tonight; the Pacific has not failed to deliver on that front at all so far. The steady thrum of the engine and a flogging mainsail suggest what we are lacking—wind! The doldrums seem to have found us earlier than hoped for. Despite that, we have kept entertained, always ready to kill the engine and eke out as much sailing as possible from the occasional localized breezes.
Sextant class was this morning, followed by an extremely welcome lunchtime swim. After a couple of days roasting in the near-equatorial sun, a dip into the cool water meant no one was upset about being woken mid-nap. After bobbing about in 3,000 meters of water, we carried on as the wind filled and we got a few hours of sailing in.
We’ve had no more whales since the incredible orca sighting, but dolphins have visited, and boobies (the birds) are becoming more common. Only masked and brown so far—still looking for the famous blue-footed! A very content little boat as we go into another phosphorescent and star-filled night.
P.S. Hope you have an amazing birthday party, Gran. Sorry I’m not there!
- Mary, FALKEN Skipper
If you are reading this blog, please write some comments in the section below and we’ll send them over to the crew to read. I am sure they will love it.
- Mia & Andy (shore support on Leg 5, Panama to Galapagos)
FALKEN|Skipper&Mate
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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.