post-race update
Hola! Just as we reached the bottom of Guadeloupe, we noticed that part of the mast track was peeling away from the carbon mast. We continued racing with the trisail, flying it loose luffed to avoid any further dislodging of the track. By the next morning, the wind was so light—and forecast to stay that way—and we were struggling to make headway with the tiny orange handkerchief! So we decided to call it and head home. A hard decision, but one based on consensus. The dock last night probably can attest (from the roaring laughter) that morale was high nevertheless! We are all in great spirits, having had some amazing racing up until that point!
- 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.