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On Thursday, we continued our course for 140 TWA, eking out the last miles we could from our starboard tack that started back in the trades. By mid-afternoon, we were driving more east than north, and it was time to gybe FALKEN to set us up for our coming approach to the coast. As one would expect from this crew, everyone took up their positions and made quick work of the maneuver and subsequent trimming.
After dinner, the evening watch team was treated to a view of the sun as it set unobstructed into the horizon. The tranquility was soon broken, as shouts of “WHALE!” woke all sleeping crew and everyone was back on deck within seconds. A young humpback had time for a handful of breaches and playful splashes off our port beam before full dark set in.
The clear skies continued overnight, giving the night crew a sky full of stars and the Milky Way. Not a bad day!
Rob W. | FALKEN Crew
PS. If you read this blog and your loved ones are onboard, please write a comment here and we’ll send them over to FALKEN! - Mia (shore support)
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.