The Team
It’s the seventh day since we embarked on our voyage, with the simple stabilities and securities of land a distant memory. The sea is now our master, and the wind our courier. We battle to stand, concede to fall, and settle for the rhythmic rocking and rolling motion as Nordic FALKEN traverses the unending, undulating Atlantic Sea, carrying us towards land, liquor, and loved ones.
Yet, we no longer stand on shaky legs or see through weary eyes. We walk in strides, with the creases of smiles littering our eyes. Supporting each other, fighting for the whole, being a team, working our way home.
This casts me away into this log, setting my course not for the thoughts of home, but for the ones that sail with me today. For the ones I work with, sweat with, and fear with. The ones I’ll remember when I share our story of cunning, bravery, and a splattering of jovial humor.
Our skipper is Emily, a brave sailor with knowledge to rival the eldest of veterans. Yet, she isn’t doom and gloom, her way or the highway, but has enough charisma to make even Davy Jones chuckle with glee. Her first mate, Mia, continues this trend, bringing smiles aplenty, mirth of the merry, and stories—stories of heroism, endurance, and humor—passing the time as we dawdle away in mother nature.
This leads me to the youngest of the group, the apprentice, Vilgot, who shouldn’t be considered any less wise because of his age. For he too brings experience in bundles, stories in droves, and enthusiasm in spades.
Next on our list is us, the crew, divided into two teams: Team A and Team B. Team A holds Jillian the bold, who’s letting her dreams come true; Paolo the speedy, flying to master every task; Janette the brave, turning her fears into memories; and Kevin the conundrum, the American who can dream of more than a large house with a big garage.
The better team, my team, Team B, has Derick the jovial, a lawyer that can laugh the real laugh; Scott the cheerful, always smiling, no matter the challenge; Sarah the unexpected, a gentle voice with a history of mischief; and then there is me—the least experienced of the lot, but perhaps the one with the most ambition.
And that is us: the crew, the team, the family aboard NORDIC FALKEN, sailing across the Atlantic Ocean in 2025. Sharing stories, laughter, knowledge, and just having a cracker of a time.
B.P. Ryan
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.