pre-departure
2019 Ship's Time, dockside in Mindelo, Cape Verde.
1st Mate Manot and crewmembers Sara and John are sitting around the saloon table. I'm at the nav station with the fan on over my right shoulder. A few of the crew are showering, the rest are outside in the cockpit lounging. Dinner's been cleaned up, the boat is shipshape and ready to sail, and we've got one more sleep until departure.
I'm relaxed. My 8th trans-Atlantic will begin tomorrow. They're never routine, especially when you're coming and going to new places (never been to Cape Verde before), but I feel less anxious than I normally do before a big passage, which I'm delighted about (but can't explain). Maybe because it's warm and sunny and the Tradewinds are steady but gentle and the forecast looks perfect.
I was surprised to find half the Sahara desert at the top of the mast today during the routine rig check. I was also surprised at the elevator ride the crew on deck gave me. Rene and Veiko jumped my primary halyard at the mast while Sara and Nigel took up slack aft on the winch, and I barely had to climb. Each heave sent me six feet up the mast in one big jump, and I had a bird's eye view of Mindelo. Anyway, from the 'Calima' dust storm they sailed through on the last passage, the sand has accumulated on lines and rigging aloft where we couldn't wash it off and everything is stained red (including now my shorts).
After the MOB drill we organized for the local restaurant here in the marina to cook us a wahoo curry meal, which we enjoyed onboard to 'simulate' a meal at sea, including my classic glums & glows routine afterwards and the normal washing-up drill down below. The food was delightful, and once the dishes were cleaned we did one last top-up on the water tanks and that was that.
Tomorrow we sail.
// Andy
View more passage logs
”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.