January 23, 2025, 18:35 UTC | 18º 35.1’ N / 029º 35.6’ W | Shift 33 | Log 21
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
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.