Friday, June 20, 2025 | It’s 19:40 and I am on the helm again. The sun is well set, as the first hundred or so stars are making themselves visible. A so far moonless and nearly cloudless sky promises excellent star watching as the night progresses. We have 22 kts apparent wind at 50 degrees on a starboard tack, with relatively calm seas. We race ahead at nearly 10 kts, with the running backstay singing “Wooooooo” in my ear, confirming we are well set for the conditions. I am jockeying a racehorse, as Jim and Stacy (my Watch-Mates) sit nearby in darkness with their own thoughts, but at this time, FALKEN is under my control.
It hasn’t been this way in recent days, as we motored through the doldrums, in clouds and occasional rain while putting up with confused winds that added nothing to our progress or our comfort (hot and humid, and unable to open hatches for ventilation). Last night on midnight watch, the significant rain had me in full fowlies and my Dubarrys. Perhaps personally over canvassed, at about 00:50, the winds came, and all at once. Two minutes later it was 18 kts on the beam, the rain was gone, the motor went off, and we were back in business at about 00:52. Open the vents in the rain gear, and hold on tight—it’s going to get bumpy. We found the trade winds.
The Big Dipper has been visible after sunset since we departed Tahiti 13 days ago, but my friend Polaris has only been visible this week, reminding me that I am in my native hemisphere and getting closer to our destination. Oahu is 600 miles ahead, and as long as the clouds cooperate, I can follow him nearly all the way to Waikiki.
This experience is really something—visceral and introspective, while at the same time communal and participatory. Being my 4th leg with 59-North, I love this experience and would consider this the best trip yet. I look forward to discovering what my future adventures on this good ship will bring me.
- Adam Baker | FALKEN Crew
Write your comments below and I’ll forward it to the boat with the daily update :) - Mia (shore support)
crew@59-north.com
View more passage logs
Ladies who reef
The trade winds have been kind, rolling the boat toward Hawaii in a steady, hypnotic rhythm—until last night, when a squall hit without warning and the wind jumped to 28 knots, slamming everything sideways. With rain driving down and the boat lurching underfoot, the crew had minutes to wrestle two reefs into the mainsail and get things back under control. What followed was a masterclass in wet, unglamorous, deeply satisfying teamwork—with less than 250 miles left to go.
Yankee Doodle Died at Sea, Riding on a FALKEN
A thin, foot-long tear in the yankee sail—50,000 miles of ocean behind it—and suddenly the final stretch to Hawaii just got a lot more interesting. The crew of FALKEN had been running a tight ship through the trades, reefing in squalls like clockwork, when the last dance finally caught up with them. How a skipper handles the moment everything goes sideways says everything about the voyage itself.
A Gen Z Perspective
At 31, the crew thought they were reasonably fluent in the English language—then they met Kip. Today, the crew's self-appointed Gen Z correspondent takes over the log from somewhere in the middle of the Pacific, delivering dispatches on Milky Way night sails, focaccia-induced visions, and the singular mission of getting eleven people's "badonkadonks" to Hawaii. Consider this your glossary.