
17.03 BOAT TIME | 09° 01.1’ S 116° 55.1’ W
Sailing, Motoring, In-Port, Anchored, Whalewatching, Sing-A-Longing, etc.
Previous crew member blogs have referenced the song Southern Cross and how David Crosby romanticizes this classic downwind passage. However, recently we have chuckled at what hasn’t been mentioned and that is apparent wind speed (AWS). Although sailing downwind making 8 to 12 knots is beautiful, we are reminded of the fact that the apparent wind speed drops very low as we are moving with the wind ”square rigger” style. The result being, it’s hot 9 degrees south of the equator and the cooling windspeed is greatly reduced to apparent wind speed on this downwind passage! Regardless, the benefits far outweigh the heat as our ”wing on wing” sail configuration provides us evening dinner shade as we sail west into beautiful sunsets.
On night watches we continue to be impressed with the southern night time sky and stars the Ancient Greeks didn’t know existed below their horizon. There is no light pollution to spoil the view where we take Falken, our night sky views are nothing short of spectacular and much better than the Milky Way images we’ve seen in our science books. Each night the Southern Cross is the rock star as it transits it’s arc across the southern sky while continuing to point south.
We’ve got 65 feet of the waterline nicely making way!
Vince
View more passage logs


The Rhythm of Boat Life
On land, your biggest daily challenge is finding a routine. On a boat in the middle of the Pacific, routine is a survival strategy. Tilt your world 15 degrees, swap solid ground for a restless, heaving ocean, and suddenly the basics—eating, sleeping, brushing your teeth—become a negotiation with physics. The question isn't whether boat life is hard. It's whether the hard is the point.


An Equator Crossing for the History Books!
By royal decree of the high seas, nine unsuspecting souls aboard NORDIC FALKEN were summoned before Neptune's mischievous emissaries to confess their sins, offer their sacrifices, and drink the blood of the ocean. What followed was equal parts absurd, sacred, and deeply human — pomelo-husk hats, Cheerio bracelets, and all. The equator has been crossed, the pollywogs are gone, and nothing about this crew will ever quite be the same.


*queue Coldplay’s ”Sky Full Of Stars"*
Somewhere in the doldrums, under a sky so thick with stars that the Milky Way looks like cloud cover, the line between sea and space stops being a metaphor. The bioluminescence below mirrors the galaxies above, Venus sets on the horizon like a distant ship, and at 3am it hits you that you're watching sunlight ricochet through an incomprehensible tangle of celestial bodies to land on glassy Pacific water. Then the equator arrives — no painted line, just a countdown, a crew holding their breath, and Neptune waiting to collect his due.

