2:30 am: I am waking up for the next watch, a smile crosses my heart. We are under sail… in the middle of the doldrums. I take the helm, feel the breeze on my face, marvel at the ease with which FALKEN moves upwind, and wish this—somewhere between the Colombian coast and the wide Pacific—could go on forever. An added layer is keeping me warm.
12 noon: Time to start the next watch. The sun is scorching and we are back on motor. There comes our great skippering team with a wonderful idea: the pool is open! We all go for a refreshing dip and lounge in our towels on deck, marveling at the exquisiteness of our surroundings and the joy of sharing the moment. I am reminded that it is about the journey, even if the destination is Galapagos.
- Nina Z. | FALKEN Crew
P.S. If you are reading this blog, please write some comments in the section below and we’ll send it over to the crew to read. I am sure they will love it :)
- Mia & Andy (shore support on Leg 5, Panama to Galapagos)
FALKENCrew
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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.