01:08 UTC | 16°16.337’ N 099°12.440’ W
Sailing
Remember sleepaway camp when you were a kid? Bunk beds and cabin mates, sing-alongs and traditions, color wars and duties, friendships formed and cemented in hours. Memories and experiences that last a lifetime. In many ways, Falken is a grown-up floating sleepaway camp.
My bunkmate is also my watch mate, and together we share countless hours talking, sailing, not talking, giggling, doing dishes, and restlessly napping above and below one another. I share my cabin with three other people, our bunks decorated with drying towels, dirty clothes, dangling shoes, and our little nests of comfort.
All eight of us together are a crew, led by our three fearless and eternally joyful camp counselors (not to be taken lightly—their sailing, cooking, and leadership skills are unmatched!). We eat together. We share glums and glows. Dolphin and whale sightings are sounded. Cookies, croissants, and watermelon magically appear. Sing-alongs spontaneously erupt. Tales and stories are shared. Laughter abounds. And together, we make this floating camp move through the water to a common destination.
We are all overtired and definitely over-dirty. But no one cares.
The past two mornings I have found myself lying in bed, looking through the few downloaded pictures (no internet) of my family on my phone and feeling homesick. I haven’t felt this feeling since I was a kid myself, away from family and home and all that was known and safe. I miss them so much. I never knew I could miss them this much. Yet at the same time, I want to hold on to this magical floating world. There must be a word for that feeling, but I am too tired to pull it from my memory. For now, I will just call it joy.
— Marella
Sailing
Remember sleepaway camp when you were a kid? Bunk beds and cabin mates, sing-alongs and traditions, color wars and duties, friendships formed and cemented in hours. Memories and experiences that last a lifetime. In many ways, Falken is a grown-up floating sleepaway camp.
My bunkmate is also my watch mate, and together we share countless hours talking, sailing, not talking, giggling, doing dishes, and restlessly napping above and below one another. I share my cabin with three other people, our bunks decorated with drying towels, dirty clothes, dangling shoes, and our little nests of comfort.
All eight of us together are a crew, led by our three fearless and eternally joyful camp counselors (not to be taken lightly—their sailing, cooking, and leadership skills are unmatched!). We eat together. We share glums and glows. Dolphin and whale sightings are sounded. Cookies, croissants, and watermelon magically appear. Sing-alongs spontaneously erupt. Tales and stories are shared. Laughter abounds. And together, we make this floating camp move through the water to a common destination.
We are all overtired and definitely over-dirty. But no one cares.
The past two mornings I have found myself lying in bed, looking through the few downloaded pictures (no internet) of my family on my phone and feeling homesick. I haven’t felt this feeling since I was a kid myself, away from family and home and all that was known and safe. I miss them so much. I never knew I could miss them this much. Yet at the same time, I want to hold on to this magical floating world. There must be a word for that feeling, but I am too tired to pull it from my memory. For now, I will just call it joy.
— Marella
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Wing on wing!
Falken is officially on the highway to the Marquesas, as Alex calls it, also known as the southeasterly trades. She is cruising along with the swell (finally) on her stern and the sails wing on wing.
Plan, go, learn, do. Why?
Mia prompted the group to provide the answer to why are we doing this trip?
600nm from land
At night, between the clouds, the Milky Way stretches down to the waves. The southern cross tumbles slowly in place near the horizon, across the sky the Big Dipper disappears to the north.