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Of course I knew I wouldn’t starve on this journey. I did not, however, expect the breadth and quality of the bounty available to us every day.
Clear expectations were laid out on the first day aboard. Each crew member is responsible for managing their own breakfast and lunch. Staff cooks dinner and we all eat together al fresco (i.e. on deck) while debriefing events of the day and discussing the upcoming weather conditions. The 3-6 PM watch does dishes after dinner and everyone chips in with that task throughout the day.
Breakfast consists primarily of cereal—granola, cornflakes, muesli—or porridge (that’s oatmeal for us Americans). There’s plenty of goodies to add to the oatmeal. At one point someone stirred in a big spoonful of peanut butter—extra protein and extra deliciousness! I’m now hooked. If you’re short on time, a nice variety of granola bars resides in the snack cabinet. One morning I came off watch to see that first mate Mary had made chocolate chip pancakes served with real Canadian maple syrup. What a treat!
The cabinets and day refrigerator are stocked with tortillas, cheese, deli meats, lettuce, tomatoes, and various condiments for everyone to make their own wraps for lunch. Sometimes we have leftovers from dinner which can also be utilized for lunch or snacks.
OMG the snacks! The snack cabinet is incredibly well-stocked. In the first few days, when I was recovering from a nasty case of sea sickness, I discovered an array of ginger items—chews, crystallized, hard candy. Then I learned an amazing secret cure for my ailment: Pringles. Any flavor will do, but I like plain ones the best. They help. Trust me on this. In addition to these medicinal snacks, we have trail mix, pistachios, dried mangos, M&Ms, and an array of fresh fruit. As the trip has gone on, more snacks have emerged including Kind Bars, berries, and dried pineapple. Yum!
Dinners have been nothing short of restaurant quality dishes: lasagna, chili, several types of curry, risotto, shepherd’s pie, and bolognese. Most of these were made without meat and the few that do contain beef have a veggie substitute that is simply delicious. I am definitely taking these recipes home with me!
I was thrilled to find that dinners typically end with a couple of chocolate bars passed around to share. Then yesterday Mary announced that she made pudding. American English translation: dessert. One of the crew divined that “pudding” and “dessert” have the same number of letters with the double letter in the same position within the word. Go figure! These are the things that occupy our minds on a long ocean passage. The pudding was a blueberry crisp that was absolutely delectable!
The tea kettle gets frequent use for making French press coffee, hot chocolate, and a huge assortment of teas. Everyone participates in keeping each other’s mugs full with the beverage of their choice.
Five stars for food and ambiance aboard FALKEN!
Stephanie | FALKEN Crew
PS. If you read this blog and your loved ones are onboard, please write a comment here and we’ll send them over to FALKEN! - Mia (shore support)
crew@59-north.com
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.