Squalls
The last 24 hours have been a relentless mission of opening and closing hatches as the heavy downpours synonymous with the tropics have kept us on our toes. Had anyone suggested a few days ago that I might find myself cold during this passage, I would have laughed at the incredulous notion, and yet the early hours of the 11th saw just that reality.
The crew have been steadfast in their resolve to keep Falken sailing and mostly in the direction of the Marquesas. As each squall set in, we saw the wind shift teasingly through every point of the compass and switch from almost nothing to strengths that required some positive sail reduction. Finally, it seems that the hatches can remain open as the rain has subsided and the below decks temperature has returned to some level of normality, albeit still oppressively humid.
Eric is currently on the helm (he says hi to his mum), Dennis has just replenished the tea cups, and Hillary is completing the log as the daily tasks continue. The rest of the crew appear to be sleeping soundly as Falken glides graciously through the mighty Pacific waters.
The success of a long passage relies on routine and teamwork, whatever the weather, and the team on Falken have fallen nicely into the rhythm of daily life at sea.
- Emily | Mate on Falken
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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.