First day in Hiva Oa

Today we walked into the little town of Atuona and bought fresh French baguettes, Brie, and Camenbert from two of the three small groceries that line the main street. Rani stopped to chat with a young Marquesan who climbed a nearby tree and picked for her a ripe pamplemousse (a sweet variety of grapefruit). Later, we climbed the hill above the town to the cemetery where the painter Gaugin is buried. Rani observed that, as in many European cities, ironically the dead enjoy the best views.

Atuona is a beautiful place - a sort of French tropical suburb as our friends Mike and Karen on 'Chapter 2', who accompanied us, put it. We ate our picnic lunch with a view from the graveyard out over an impossibly lush 1000 meter mountain, with the surf pounding on the black volcanic beach at its base. The baguettes tasted just like the ones you buy in Paris, the Brie was smooth and delicious, and the Normandy Camenbert intensely flavourful.

It was a sweltering walk back, but a friendly and very tattooed islander generously picked the four of us up and dropped us back near the boat - nice people here! The chilled beer we enjoyed in the shady cockpit of 'Chapter 2' tasted ridiculously good and Mike insisted it would restore the electrolyte balance.

Tomorrow we check in with our agent and the next day we have arranged to take a tour of the island by car to see the archeological sites and other villages.

Land Ho - Day 25/26

Day 25 was the fastest yet. We covered 144 nautical miles, broad reaching in 15 to 20 knot easterlies during the day and lighter easterlies at night. There were squall lines still, but more spread out and with less punch than those of the previous day. Two reefs in the main, then one as the winds died. We kept the jib partially furled to reduce backing and slatting in the rolly swells. Despite this much reduced sail, we still regularly reached 8 knots on the GPS with some 9 and 10 knot surfing - great fun.

At 14:30 Zulu on Saturday April 14, our position was 09 36 S 138 29 W. We ran 144 NMs with 137 made good in the previous 24 hours.

Just before sunrise, this morning, 25 days after leaving Los Frailes, we sighted Hiva Oa lying under a bank of cloud in the pre-dawn haze. We danced on the deck hugging each other and cheering - what a sight after nearly 4 weeks at sea! We dropped the hook at 14:50 Marquesas time (UMT - 9.5 hours) and our friends Mike and Karen on 'Chapter 2' dinghied over to help us set a stern anchor (the anchorage is small and very crowded so the two anchors are needed to avoid swinging into your neighbor).

We are now anchored at 09 48 S 139 02 W in Taahuku a.k.a. 'Traitor's Bay' near the village of Atuona. There is an outrigger canoe race in progress and music is playing from the boat ramp. There is a horse grazing in the woods by a surf pounded beach off our stern and a huge cloud-shrouded green sided mountain rising to starboard. The sights and smells of this paradise are overwhelming. We will sleep well tonight.

The total distance we sailed/motored from Los Frailes, Mexico was 2932 nautical miles by our GPS 'odometer' at an average speed of 4.8 knots. We motored for 36 hours in total, using approximately 15 gallons of diesel. About 8 hours of this motoring was done mainly to recharge batteries due to problems with refrigeration. This did not contribute substantially to boat progress because we were sailing at the time. We stopped for only a couple of hours at Clarion Island and for another hour or two to scrub the boat's bottom.

This will be our last passage report for now but we will try to update the blog regularly while sailing amongst the Marquesas. Our tentative plans are to visit 5 of the islands, spending 4 or 5 days at each, before departing for the Tuomotus.

3000 Mile Diet - Day 24

Who would have thought we would still be eating Greek salad, with fresh green pepper, cucumber, tomato, red onion, black olives and Chiapas cheese, 30 days after provisioning in La Paz?

Living without a fridge for the last three years in the hot climate of Mexico has taught us a few things. We have learned to choose fresh vegetables and fruits with a discerning eye, preferring to buy non-refrigerated produce from the farmers' market. The Mexican vendors do not mind if we handle the produce to avoid bruised or over-ripe fruits/veggies. We have also discovered "new" vegetables, which naturally keep longer, like chayote (a good zucchini substitute) and jicama.

Once onboard, we carefully wrap each delicate item in brown paper, cut-up bags we had saved from bakery and wine purchases. Newspaper also works but glossy magazine paper is not good because it does not breathe. Our produce locker has stacking plastic baskets with holes in the sides for airflow and we almost always leave the lid off this locker to allow air in. These two steps seem to help prevent the goods from chafing and going moldy, keeping things dark but ventilated and not too dry.

This voyage to Polynesia is on a different scale from our usual 2 or 3 week Mexican stints. We bought enough produce to last 4-5 weeks, in case we got stuck in the doldrums, and were prepared to sacrifice some along the way. The oranges and apples were hung in hammocks, the vegetables split between the galley produce locker and an open Rubbermaid container under the quarter berth. I unwrapped and aired vegetables, other than potatoes and onions, every day or second day, depending on the sea state. We placed the most ripe tomatoes, green peppers, cauliflower and avocados in the fridge, once space became available, 7-10 days after leaving La Paz. The same applies to cut vegetables which have been partially used, like cucumber for example.

Our loss has been minimal - in more than 4 weeks of sailing - two grapefruits, one orange, one tomato and several carrots. We ate the last zucchini two days ago and still have kilos of onions and potatoes, several cukes, some carrots, cabbages, jicama, chayote, poblano peppers, and even a few tomatoes and an avocado. Admittedly, the carrots and peppers look rather gnarly. In the fruit department, we have ten oranges, lots of limes and a few dozen 5000 mile apples from Washington (via Mexico). No scurvy victims on Ladybug!

Now - we just have to get through Friday the 13th and hope that when we make landfall, the inspectors in French Polynesia allow us to keep our hard earned veggies and fruit!

More on favourite at sea recipes at a later date as I am feeling a bit nauseous in the bouncy seas today.

Our position at 1430 Zulu on Friday April 13 was 8 12 S 136 35 W. We sailed 136 NMs in the last 24 hours and are 155 NMs out of Hiva Oa. Note that the captain had us going to the wrong waypoint (40 miles east of where we should have been aiming), so our previous entries for miles to run are wrong and we will probably reach Atuona by tomorrow afternoon. He should leave the navigation to the first mate :)

Light and Dark - Day 23

Three full pages in the log on day 23 - mainly devoted to describing sail and course changes to deal with squalls. Two of these had enough rain for showering and catching and I blocked a scupper and topped off the starboard tank during the second one. Last night, the stars were repeatedly blocked by towering walls of blackness and we slept little. I woke a couple of times to Rani's frantic plea for help and a frightened 'doe in the headlights' look on her poor little face. We sailed the whole night through under 2 reefed main and 1/2 furled jib - maybe 225 square feet of sail, easily pushing our 10 tons of boat at 6 knots through the pitching blackness.

Our friend, Kurt, requested some comments on the changing 'starscape'. The stars are indeed different below the line, with the southern cross being the most notable. The milky way is stunning when the moon is not yet risen, but I am sorry to admit that I have been too sleep deprived and busy with keeping the boat going to delve into constellation identification. In fact we welcome the bright, star-obscuring moon of the last few days as it better shows up the squalls. More on stars, perhaps, when we reach port.

On the light side, we can see the end of the tunnel. Our progress through 'squall alley' has been very fast with a 135 NM run in the last 24 hours. We are less than 270 NMs from our destination and may even reach Hiva Oa in the daylight on Saturday. A green and tranquil vista will be most welcome! Our position at 1430 Zulu on Thursday April 12 was 06 22 S 135 19 W.

Squall Line Dancing - Day 22

They began steam rolling in east to west at 4am on Day 22 and are still with us. The towering cumulus clouds with dark bases that brought wind in the 20-25 knot range were easily seen during the day. In between were smaller cumulus clouds but all together they formed a line that looked like a freight train. Most of the time one train would pass in front of us and one behind us as if someone were actively guiding Ladybug in between two sets of tracks.

We kept the radar on to trace their path. The rain bearing fronts were visible at around 12 miles and it was fascinating watching their shapes changing as they neared. Chris judged the wind by the advancing white caps and waited till the very last moment to put in a second reef in the main or furl the jib. Within minutes of the squall passing, he would be up on deck shaking the reef. Wind continued at 15 knots as each set passed by and we used it to gain as much distance as we could.

At night, before the moon rose, it was harder to see the non-rain bearing squalls as they were not up on radar, so we kept a second reef in the main at all times, using the jib for finer control when they arrived. Early this morning there was a sinister looking black mushroom cloud that was 2 by 3 miles in size. It looked like a towering inferno as the sun rose behind it and back-lit the sky a golden orange. Its younger sibling trailing close on its heels caught us broadside and we both took turns to shower under the cool rain. When I looked at the radar afterwards the two were joined like Siamese twins.

"Weather forecasters define a squall as a sudden increase in wind speeds by at least 16 knots, resulting in the speed rising to at least 22 knots and lasting for at least one minute. In some areas squalls are most frequently associated with land masses, whereas in others they may occur frequently in open waters. The majority of tropical squalls are moderate (wind speeds less than 35 knots) and rarely pose a problem for sailors." - Tropical Cruising Handbook by Smaalders and Rochers. I take heart in this and am happy to report it has been so in our short experience.

The after effects of the squalls are sometimes worse. The seas build up and as the wind drops down, we have short choppy seas which toss and turn Ladybug up to 20 degrees in either direction. Cooking is no longer fun!

At 1430 Zulu on April 11, our position was 04 40 S 133 56 W and distance run within last 24 hours was 129 nautical miles. We were 400 miles from Hiva Oa, with 121 miles made good.

Drying out and Squall Prep - Day 21

We are currently sailing in a world of towering cumulus clouds, squalls, and rainbows.

Most of yesterday was spent going through the long term 'dry' locker (a misnomer on a boat, surely), which was the recipient of a gallon or two of sea water in the previous evening's squall. Rani removed all the items, soaked up and bailed out standing water, and wiped everything down. I made water with our water maker and washed the sheets, towels, sail bags, etc. The boat was pandemonium all day with 6 months of food and all the 'stuff' that accumulates in a V-berth spread out to air. Of note is that, due to Rani's excellent packing, we ended up with sea water infiltrating only 2 bags of sugar. The result is kind of like salt water taffy and I look forward to an extra ration of sweets...

We were much better prepared last night and had 2 reefs in the main all night with the hatches battened down and a vigilant radar watch. Of course we had no direct hits from squalls of any size and made miserable progress in very light airs. Early this morning the wind disappeared completely and a rolly swell began to toss Ladybug on her ear. We turned on the engine and motored for the longest period to date - about 6.5 hours! We saw a SE wind return this morning and are encouraged by reports from boats to the south that this has been consistent now for 24 hours.

Our position at 14:30 Zulu on April 10 was 02 56 S 132 43 W. We sailed/motored 91 miles in the previous 24 and are 521 miles out of Hiva Oa.

Docile day turns into a stormy night - Day 20

It was another light air day with an easterly wind of 1-4 Knots most of the morning changing to 4-8 knots from the ESE by the evening.

At 8.45 am we took down the sails and Chris jumped into the warm ocean to swim and clean the bottom. There were gelatinous masses of gooseneck barnacles clinging to the propeller shaft, strut, all along the aft section of the bottom, and along the keel. It took him almost an hour to scrape the worst areas. I stood on "jelly watch". Last year a friend of ours had an encounter with a Portuguese Man O'War mid-Pacific and he suffered for days from the poisonous sting. Well, I did not see any jellyfish but screamed the alarm when a three foot long transparent animal appeared. It must have been about 3-4 inches in diameter, had a faint pink colour around the edges and was slinky-like in shape. I had no idea what it was but warned Chris to swim away as it seemed to be drifting in his direction. If anyone can identify what it could be, please let me know.

We flew our spinnaker from 10 am to 9 pm with a couple of hours of downtime mid-afternoon when the lack of wind and large swell forced us to turn on the engine. Taking advantage of the extra power, we made water and I started to wash laundry using a couple of plastic buckets in the cockpit. Soon we had our t-shirts and pillow slips flying from the life-lines and rat-lines while the smalls had their own line crisscrossing the cockpit. It all looked colourful.

After the sun had set I gathered up the larger clothes and we watched a bit of "television". At first watch (9pm), I asked Chris if we could take down the spinnaker as it can be a liability at night when only person is on deck. Since the wind was now 8 knots, he agreed and we put up the main and jib. I went to sleep on my fresh smelling pillows with a peaceful mind while he stood first watch.

At 11.30 pm, I was woken with a light kiss on the cheek and a request to assist with reefing the main. As soon as I poked my head out of the cabin, I could hear the wind howling. Chris shouted " There is no time to reef, I have to steer us downwind, dog-down the hatches!" I ran below to close the port lights in the cabin and was dismayed to see saltwater spraying over the bunk where I had been sleeping. Worse was the sight of gallons of water pouring over the v-berth from the hatch above it. I secured everything and rushed back up to the cockpit. It was a sickening feeling, watching Chris struggling to keep the boat under control with all his might. The wind was probably 35 Knots from the northeast, gale force, and Ladybug was screaming downwind at 8 Knots. Chris ordered me to furl the jib and that was hard even using the winch as there was so much force on the sails. The rain started to pour, so I passed out a coat to Chris and closed the main companionway hatch.

The radar showed a 4 mile radius of squalls but we could not dodge them even if we had tried as the NE wind forced us to steer SE to SW to keep the boat under control.

It was a nightmare that lasted for about an hour. There was one accidental gybe which caused damage to the traveller. A bolt attached to a tang at the end of the starboard traveller line sheared off and the tang was completely straightened out by the wind. Chris found it lying on the deck after the squall had abated. We shall see if it can be fixed in the daylight. Thankfully the traveller is still functional.

When the wind abated a little we double reefed the main and hove to, later we turned and ran southwest with the same configuration. The rest of the night was spent sponging off the salt from the contents of the v-berth, watching the radar very closely and, in my case, praying for a quieter morning.

At 1430 Zulu today our position was 01 33 S 132 11 W on a course of 205 degrees magnetic. Our 24 hour run was 93 nautical miles and we were 612 NM from Hiva Oa.

And we are now into sunshine with some blue sky ahead...

Champagne, rice, and prayers - Day 19

At 10 minutes to 9 last night we sailed into the southern hemisphere at a sedate 3 knots. All day we had discussed how to celebrate, settling on a nice mixed veg and soy/pea curry dinner, followed by Spanish 'champagne' and dark chocolate. We tried to capture this on film, realizing too late that you cannot snap a picture of the GPS at the equator and pour a libation over the side to Poseidon at the same time. So we went with Poseidon's drink and captured the GPS reading a bit south.

Rani made a traditional Hindu offering of rice - wrapped in a paper boat, which followed the champagne. I read Rani a short poem that I had written for her. Rani played a recording of the Sikh evening prayers and bowed her head in prayer. In all the rolling we spilled yet more bubbly, so hopefully Poseidon has been appeased. His friends - the various winds - must require something other than champagne because we have had little to no wind all day and night! This may change today, for I see a mass of black cloud approaching from the north as I type.

Our position at 14:30 zulu on April 8 was S 00 29 and W 131 19. We ran 73 nautical miles yesterday and have 695 more to go to Hiva Oa.

Comment on the Slocum post

My friend Kurt wrote an interesting comment on yesterday's post...

"Your comment on the Slocum factor was interesting, but I think you left out a very critical part. Old Josh sailed off in to a world which he knew to be finite and went from A to B because he was a ship's captain by trade. But for 99.999999% of the world's citizens then, a journey of 50 miles was huge. And any journey left you vulnerable to little or no contact with loved ones at your root. Another continent was unfathomable. I am sure that any desperate immigrants to the US and Canada had next to no idea where they were going. We live in a world that is not necessarily smaller, the usual comment, but rather our minds and awareness have expanded to encompass it, to say nothing of our technology. We "think" the whole blue marble into existence now, and see it as one thing. In Slocum's day any journey, even by rail or steamship, required steely nerve of overwhelming need. Today we can afford to think of a sail to the Marquesas as a grand adventure, a choice, even a bit of retro wind powered fun that sets us apart from everyone else, both literally in the moment and in another way permanently. In part we do this stuff in search of that feeling that says we are "different" and have "been there". And it makes us part of a smaller "family" than simply of "those who pay their taxes on time". But you still need to be excruciatingly careful!"

Thanks for this perspective Kurt - technology is probably not the most important factor in what we attempt or achieve...

Advantages over Slocum - Day 18

The ARC rally has just left the Marquesas en route to Tahiti. These sailors are part of an organized, 'guided' cirmcumnavigation that they will complete in less than a year and a half. This got me thinking about all the people like us who are out here cruising on small boats. Sailing boats across oceans used to be reserved for professionals and the occasional publicity or thrill seeking adventurer. This is clearly not the case any more. What has changed to allow an average couple to sail a small boat across the Pacific or around the world?

When Joshua Slocum became the first person to sail alone around the world at the end of the 19th century, he did so using tools and techniques that were hundreds, if not thousands of years old. He navigated via sextant and clock, used kerosene to light the interior and for running lights, and sailed in a boat that was built by hand of wood and iron. The radio had yet to be invented, let alone, navigation assisting satellites. He carried water and salted food in barrels and jugs. His sails were made of cotton canvas (or possibly flax) and needed constant care.

Here is a short list of technological changes that have made what we are doing feasible:

* Beginning in the 1950's Fibreglass and polyester resin enabled the mass production of sturdy cruising boats. Polyester and nylon also replaced cotton in sails and natural cordage in lines.
* Reliable small diesels made getting in and out of harbour or crossing the doldrums far less challenging.
* Wind vane self-steering, first widely used in the 1960's made short handed cruising infinitely more pleasant, reducing the need to stand at the helm staring at a compass for hours. Electric autopilots provided similar benefits.
* Radio and satellite communications made it feasible to obtain up to date weather information and stay in touch with other sailors and those who remain at home.
* Radar allowed us to 'see' over the horizon to avoid being run down, to move with more confidence in fog and poor visibility, and to enter strange harbours.
* Satellite navigation (GPS) removed the need to learn celestial navigation (although some still argue against over-reliance on this technology).
* Solar panels - another product of the space age provided silent 'free' power. Small wind and gas or diesel generators also provided power for the comforts of life that many of us take for granted.
* Refrigeration, propane stoves, and water makers brought the comforts of home on board.

These technologies are enablers - taking much of the risk and discomfort out of long distance cruising. I am sure it is no coincidence that dozens of people now complete circumnavigations each year compared to the handful who had done so before 1950.

Our position today at 14:30 zulu was N 00 41 W 131 16. We sailed only 93 miles (with 1 of those under motor this morning). Winds have varied from 1 knot to about 12 mostly out of the east and we had a decent spinnaker run in the afternoon. We also fixed a problem with the fridge thermostat by relocating it from the cockpit locker to the inside of the fridge. We hope to cross the equator sometime today, being only about 40 miles from it now! The champagne is chilling.