2216 UTC | 08° 10.72’ S 107° 23.94’ W
Sailing
I woke up this morning to a delightful smell and stumbled out of bed to find Mia making her famed hurricane eggs— obviously, a debate regarding the real name of this genius breakfast creation ensued. To make matters more exciting, a small tear spotted in the leech of the main shortly after breakfast had Alex up the mast Spider-Man style. A special shoutout to Vince—I have never seen someone cut sail tape with such precision and mathematical accuracy.
FALKEN is officially on the highway to the Marquesas, as Alex calls it, also known as the southeasterly trades. She is cruising along with the swell (finally) on her stern and the sails wing on wing. I wasn’t sure the term ‘highway’ could accurately apply to sailing until about five minutes ago, when Kate surfed down an above average wave and reached 17.6 kts of boatspeed. I can confirm that down here at the nav desk, I certainly believed that I was on a highway to something.
The yankee is rigged to the pole, which means I’ll finally stop tripping over it every time I go to the foredeck. It’s been an eventful past 24 hours to reach this point, and I’ve lost track of how many reefs I’ve put in and shaken out. I’m almost convinced that a few of them were just for Alex’s entertainment. The breeze is ever present but constantly in flux, and in a way, I find it strangely comforting that it will never fully make up its mind.
All is well with the crew—we’re enjoying conversations ranging from European bears (they exist, right?!) to electrolytes to sea stories. Some of us even laugh at Ken’s extraordinarily niche jokes. Flying fish constantly zip just above the surface, raising questions of what could possibly be chasing them down below. We’ve stopped keeping tally, but many have found their unfortunate end after flinging themselves onto FALKEN (or worse, straight into Beven).
As for me? I’ve found myself most in awe at night, when bioluminescence sends glimmers of wave crests across an otherwise dark expanse. I’ve seen more shooting stars than I thought physically possible, and I love how Venus is always the first bright spot to appear in the sky as the sun sets. I’ve been thinking much about how space must not be all that different from the open seas, empty and incomprehensible from afar but alive and intricate once you zoom in. I find myself smiling as I realize it’s no surprise those who explore space were named after sailors.
Love to all,
Zoe Peach-Riley (Apprentice)
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Lessons and a Gift
The biggest lesson is the helm. The lesson here is that even if you don't think you can do it over and over again with no sleep, cold and damp, it has to be done and so it can be done. Flying fish are cool, dolphins are really really cool, but the coolest of them all are the whales. And most of all Alex: "Find your center Carla. Always know where your center is so you can come back to it". He means the helm but it applies to life as well.
Making the most of it
This passage has thrown pretty much every atmospheric condition imaginable at us. It reminds us not only of how much we’ve learned, but of how far we’ve literally come since that acceleration zone off the northwest corner of Oahu. The resilience this group has shown has been nothing short of incredible, and I couldn’t be prouder to be part of it. Maybe that’s why it’s the hardest passages we remember the most. Not because they were easy, but because they reminded us what we’re capable of.
Passages and Purposes
As of today, Falken has taken us over 1800nm across the North Pacific. We’ve learned about water-makers, starter motors, furling, taking in and letting out reefs, easing and grinding, weather and wind, helming by course and by wind angles, and the difference between rest and sleep. For now, the latest challenge is to stay in the moment. The memories we’ve made here are priceless, even if we only connected for a few moments on our various paths in this world. So few people get this opportunity to “go dark” and live simply for a moment.