44°46.3’N, 148°45.1’W
Thursday, July 17, 2025 | POS. 44°46.3’N 148°45.1’W
02:45 UTC / 16:45 Boat Time
More thoughts from the neophyte…
A few nights ago as we concluded our evening updates, I remarked, “So what should we do tomorrow?” It garnered a laugh, but as soon as I said it I realized that this, for me, unexpectedly and concisely captured the essence of an undertaking such as this. Once everyone knows the tasks that need to be undertaken and the watches have been set, you repeat—day in and day out—until the passage is completed. Clearly, there’s no way that you can NOT know this when you sign on, but for me, when the reality settled in, it was still a revelation.
One more day you stand your watches. You do your assigned tasks. You sleep. You read. You stare at the horizon. You marvel at the remoteness of your position in the world.
When you’re fortunate, as we are, to have great companions, the conversation is interesting and entertaining, but by no means continuous. Even with six or more people in the cockpit, there can be long periods of silence.
The bottom line is that it takes a long time to cross two or three thousand miles of ocean, even in a fast boat like FALKEN. But it’s never been tedious, never been boring, and even as we’re still underway, I’m in awe of the immensity of the undertaking.
Ken T. | 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
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.