November 17, 2016 – #32 – Thankful

Checked In - Four very happy Batuligans hoist the New Zealand courtesy flag
Checked In – Four very happy Batuligans hoist the New Zealand courtesy flag

The pale blue light of the chartplotter reflects off my clammy, salt-coated face as I peer ahead intensely, sensing rather than seeing the waves breaking into moonlit heaps around us. We race them, moving fast as we have been for several days now, but tonight as we approach New Zealand’s coastline our speed has reached a fever pitch, averaging 8 – 9 knots. There is no time for thought now, only instinct, reaction and consequence remain as I hand-steer Batu through breaking seas in 35 knots of wind. The wind vane and the autopilot are overwhelmed and unable to keep us on a safe course.

We have been pushing the boat hard, really hard, for three days in hopes of avoiding this scenario, but it appears we’ve fallen a little short. Concern about this scenario has kept me from sleeping more than a few hours total over the past several days. This morning it appeared we might make Opua in time, but as we approached the 100 mile mark off of New Zealand’s northeast tip the wind backed 20 degrees, forcing us to sail to windward in building 25 – 30 knot winds. Although we still pressed hard, the shift slowed our speed down to 6 knots, delaying our arrival by a few critical hours. Now we continue to press and we hang on, unable to do anything more productive. By midnight, I have been at the helm for four of the most intense hours of my life. We have a little more than three hours remaining until we reach the Bay of Islands and the forecast is for still increasing winds. Worse, the adrenaline-connection between my instincts and my steering arm are beginning to dull. The steering is too quick and intense for me to feel comfortable turning the helm over to anyone else at the moment. We’re in a classic Catch 22; by pressing hard we have reached the relative safety of the coastline, giving us 4m seas rather than house-sized 6 – 9m seas farther out, yet we have too much sail out, so when the peak 35 – 45 knot winds finally arrive around 2am we have no way to tuck in a 3rd reef and we’re flying downwind, surfing at speeds around 10 – 11 knots. With the most intense wind comes a wall of rain around 3am and the utter blackness of a truly stormy night. We are barely more than 6 miles away from the entrance to the Bay of Islands, but with 2 reefs in the main, we’re carrying way too much sail to make the turn. Reducing sail in these conditions is simply not feasible, so we turn Batu away and heave-to. Surprisingly, this works well, allowing us to get an hour and a half of compressed rest before proceeding into Opua in the pale light of dawn. Fortunately by this time, the wind subsides and we arrive just before the reinforced clearing winds fill in to render the already messy sea utterly hideous.


Bay of Islands - Small towns with many, many boats - feels like home
Bay of Islands – Small towns with many, many boats – feels like home
My Girls - Looking downright civilized as we explore the surroundings
My Girls – Looking downright civilized as we explore the surroundings

At this time of year cold fronts cross New Zealand roughly every three to five days. As the fronts swing off to the East, they are typically filled in by high pressure ridges which reinforce winds behind the front. This creates a messy maelstrom of weather that is difficult to approach without getting into the thick of it. In our case, a strong front was reinforced by a 500-millibar shortwave and followed by a strong high, giving it some extra gusto. In retrospect, we fared alright. We know of several other boats who were well out to sea during this weather and each arrived with torn sails, one skipper had a concussion. As another front rolls overhead, we are thankful to be safe in port.


Cleat - It's not the cleat itself, but what it represents - safety & security in a sheltered port
Cleat – It’s not the cleat itself, but what it represents – safety & security in a sheltered port
Quaint Harbor Town - The Main wharf in Opua
Quaint Harbor Town – The Main wharf in Opua

In fact, I’m not sure I’ve ever felt so pleased to simply be tied to a dock. Over the last year Batu has been on passage or at anchor for about 290 days. That’s a lot of “going” and for now it feels luxurious just to stop and rest for a bit. The green hills and sheep-dotted pastures of New Zealand beckon, small island’s entice, quaint villages beg to be explored. These things we will discover gradually over the next 5 – 6 months, but for now we rest, thankful for our safety and the love of family and friends around the world.


Dockline - Gladly tied to the dock for the moment
Dockline – Gladly tied to the dock for the moment
Batu in Opua - Gathering strength for more adventurous cruising while in New Zealand
Batu in Opua – Gathering strength for more adventurous cruising while in New Zealand

October 27, 2016 – #31 – Kingdom of Tonga

Swallow's Cave North - One of many sea caves ready for exploration in Tonga
Swallow’s Cave North – One of many sea caves ready for exploration in Tonga

Thankfully, our passage from Niue to the Kingdom of Tonga was relatively uneventful. Leaving Niue, the wind was forecast to be light for most of the 2-3 day passage, so we carefully planned a slow average to arrive first thing Monday morning. Tonga has a limited number of officials and an extreme religious fervor, so it is best not to arrive on the weekend. The winds were light, but ahead of the beam allowing us to sail faster than anticipated. This was good, except that we were trying NOT to arrive on a Sunday, or in darkness. Despite our planning and fast passage, we arrived in the Vava’u Island group shortly after dawn on a Tuesday morning, having skipped Sunday (or Monday) as we passed West of the International Date line, a feature not shown on any of our charts, and encountered well East of 180 degrees longitude where one might rightly expect it.


Coral Color - Incredible submarine landscapes in Tonga
Coral Color – Incredible submarine landscapes in Tonga

Arriving at the Port of Neiafu, we were prepared for a detailed vessel inspection from the various officials required to board our boat. Instead, several of the glaze-eyed officials stumbled aboard, lurching directly to a seated position and slurring their way through our check-in. We thought perhaps Tongans were unaccustomed to boats, or simply very relaxed, but we later discovered that they were likely quite stoned on cava, a traditional brewed beverage used widely for celebrations and ceremonies in the Western Pacific. It was a somewhat baffling experience, but after a few hours we were officially checked in to the Kingdom of Tonga by the Departments of Quarrantine, Customs, Immigration and Health. Our subsequent experience with other Tongns has proved that they are a kind, generous and engaging group of people. We haven’t met anyone else that appeared to be under the influence of cava, or anything else for that matter.


Puff Puss - Sarah & Sean demonstrate the face of a pufferfish. Nice.
Puff Puss – Sarah & Sean demonstrate the face of a pufferfish. Nice.
Support Boat - Difficult access and significant depths made it best to explore caves by dinghy
Support Boat – Difficult access and significant depths made it best to explore caves by dinghy

The Vava’u (pronounced Va-VA-Ooo) islands are a beautiful, tropical archipelago that are reminiscent of the San Juan Islands in the Pacific Northwest. The inter-island seas are mostly sheltered, making it easy to sail to a different anchorage in just an hour or two. The bays are so calm and protected it’s almost like sleeping ashore, something we haven’t felt in over a year. One could spend a lifetime exploring here. We’re finding beautiful snorkeling, caves, hiking trails and unique wildlife. Listening to the lively variation of the morning birdsong is a delight, in particular because it was almost non-existent in the islands to the East.

Our first evening in Neiafu, we heard what we thought we’re crickets, and watched in amazement as the sky filled with giant fruit bats called ‘flying foxes.’ These unique creatures, officially called pteropus tonganus, are about the size of a large hawk but fly somewhat less adeptly with lurchy, bat-like movements. During the daytime they mostly hang from tree branches, bundled up in their giant wings, occasionally breaking out into loud, cranky bat-fights and caterwauling, periodically taking a quick flight to stretch their wings. But at dusk the air fills with their cricket-like song and the sky beats with their Megabat wings as they go off searching for fruit.


Flying Fox - A good daytime photo of the giant fruit bat. Notice several bundled in the tree
Flying Fox – A good daytime photo of the giant fruit bat. Notice several bundled in the tree
Bats in the Belfry - Several bats take off as dusk approaches. At dark they'll fill the sky
Bats in the Belfry – Several bats take off as dusk approaches. At dark they’ll fill the sky

The variation of yacht crews is increasing as well. As we crossed the Pacific and sailed through French Polynesia, the diverse, international fleet of yachts spread out, some sailing ahead while others took longer to explore or make repairs. A few boats have stayed in the islands – waiting in Tahiti, storing their boats in Raietea, or heading back to the Marquesas (the least likely place in the islands to encounter a cyclone). A couple yachts are heading back to the states via Hawaii. A few have sailed ahead to Fiji, up North to Samoa, or even farther North to the Marshall Islands. But, here in Tonga much of the fleet has re-grouped. We’re meeting up with crews we haven’t seen in months as many boats stage here, waiting to make the passage to New Zealand. There are almost certainly even more boats preparing to leave from Nukualofa, farther south in Tonga.


It Floats! - Karen on one of our many snorkeling expeditions in Tonga
It Floats! – Karen on one of our many snorkeling expeditions in Tonga
On Guard! - Watching the home anemone, a familiar sight
On Guard! – Watching the home anemone, a familiar sight

As the cyclone season draws near, we are becoming more intently focused on making the next passage – the jump to New Zealand. Weather is a critical factor. It is not common to make this passage without encountering at least some nasty weather. Alternating cold fronts and high pressure systems spin off of New Zealand every few days creating a flux of stormy, rainy, contrary winds and then intense ‘squash zones’ of gale-force clearing winds from the opposite direction. This, combined with the close proximity of the Southern Ocean sending potentially significant seas northward, can create some challenging passage weather between Tonga and New Zealand. We need to prepare the boat and ourselves for anything we may encounter. Thus we are working on tuning and inspecting the sails and rig, as well as the rest of the boat.


Coral Shelter - Many happy fish shelter in the protection of this coral head
Coral Shelter – Many happy fish shelter in the protection of this coral head
Christmas? - Not sure what this urchin-like creature is, but it definitely caught our eye
Christmas? – Not sure what this urchin-like creature is, but it definitely caught our eye
Fan Coral - A beautiful one
Fan Coral – A beautiful one

New Zealand officials have made it painstakingly clear that they strictly enforce a broad array of regulations regarding agricultural and biological organisms entering the country. This means that any dried or fresh grains, seeds, beans, lentils, nuts or fruit, and any fresh or frozen meat, eggs or dairy products will be confiscated and destroyed. It also means that, upon arrival, every crevice on our boat and her hull will be carefully inspected by canine crews and underwater divers. Prohibited items make-up a huge list, including anything at all growing on the hull. Boats can be refused entry or required to go into immediate (and costly) quarrantine at the discretion of the officials. Consequently, we have spent many, many hours scrubbing, scraping and cleaning the bottom of every last snippet of seagrass and barnacle base that remains after normal cleaning. Despite the fact that Batu had bottom paint less than a year ago, tropical growth, regular cleaning and nearly 10,000 nautical miles have taken their toll. We are definitely in need of anti-fouling bottom paint, so we’ll try to make advance arrangements to have the work done once we reach New Zealand.


 

Shaka Bro - Sean about 5m beneath the surface in Swallow's Cave
Shaka Bro – Sean about 5m beneath the surface in Swallow’s Cave
Looking Out - Sarah & Sean on the surface, looking out from Mariner's Cave
Looking Out – Sarah & Sean on the surface, looking out from Mariner’s Cave
Exit Hole - Sean & Sarah leaving this underwater cave, hidden from the outside
Exit Hole – Sean & Sarah leaving this underwater cave, hidden from the outside

Thankfully, we have so far managed to stay ahead of critical mechanical failures through conscientious maintenance and a nearly paranoid habit of checking and monitoring. However, our 40 year old engine keeps us on our toes. Having just replaced a failed raw water pump on the passage to Niue, we now need to replenish our spares (fresh & raw water pumps, gaskets, etc.) in order to be ready for anything again. So we will be traveling a bit light, tip-toeing with fingers crossed as we sail for New Zealand where we plan to spend the next 5 or 6 months.


Single Fan - Another beautiful fan coral
Single Fan – Another beautiful fan coral
Swimming with the Fishes - Karen & Peter
Swimming with the Fishes – Karen & Peter
Swallow's South - An outside view of South Swallow's Cave
Swallow’s South – An outside view of South Swallow’s Cave
Home Haven - Coral perfection
Home Haven – Coral perfection
Bait Ball - Swimming through giant schools of  sardine-like fish was an incredible experience
Bait Ball – Swimming through giant schools of sardine-like fish was an incredible experience

October 14, 2016 – #30 – The Rock

Crystal Clear - Sean & Sarah making the most of Niue's crystal clear water
Crystal Clear – Sean & Sarah making the most of Niue’s crystal clear water

Approaching landfall on the island of Niue, I look up from reading and expectantly scan the horizon. After the towering, cloud-shrouded peaks of Polynesia I expect to see the land reaching up to pierce the sky in a splinter of rocky crags. What I see instead actually makes me laugh out loud. It’s a giant pancake.


Coral Gardens Abound - Everywhere we went the coral was happy & plentiful
Coral Gardens Abound – Everywhere we went the coral was happy & plentiful
Tidal Cave - Incredible snorkeling in this tidal cave
Tidal Cave – Incredible snorkeling in this tidal cave
Drop In - Karen is backlit by the sky as she prepares to drop into this cave pool.
Drop In – Karen is backlit by the sky as she prepares to drop into this cave pool.

Like the Tuamotus, the island of Niue was formed as a coral atol, just awash at sea level. Unlike the Tuamotus, Niue was an atol eons ago when sea level was nearly 200 feet higher. As the sea receded, the coral fossilized leaving a rocky pancake of sea-etched limestone nearly 200 feet tall. Niue is unlike anything we’ve seen before. It looks so plain and unassuming that, as we approach I’m already making plans to depart; I mean how much diversity can there be on a giant flat rock? I couldn’t have been more wrong.

Low Tide – A perfect time to explore the limestone cracks that drop 3 – 4 m into tidal flats
More Coral - Can't say enough about it! Beautiful.
More Coral – Can’t say enough about it! Beautiful.
Slightly Damp - We spent 80% of each day in the water.
Slightly Damp – We spent 80% of each day in the water.

For starters, the Niuean people are extremely laid back and family-oriented. The island’s 2000 or so inhabitants nearly all seem to be warm and friendly, invariably giving a wave or a friendly ‘hello’ in passing. Even small children are confident enough to give a stranger a warm smile and a kind greeting. After the somewhat reserved, French-influenced attitudes of the Society Islands, this warmth and openness is a refreshing change. It certainly doesn’t hurt that we’re back in English-speaking territory, both Niuean and English are spoken thanks to Niue’s administrative affiliation with New Zealand.


Cliff Jump - We couldn't resist this 8m drop. Sarah styles it out.
Cliff Jump – We couldn’t resist this 8m drop. Sarah styles it out.
Giant Arch - This arch and tidal flat made for some great exploring
Giant Arch – This arch and tidal flat made for some great exploring
Happy People - Sarah, Karen & Sean
Happy People – Sarah, Karen & Sean

Perhaps the most surprising thing for me about Niue, however, is the incredible diversity of creatures and spectacular destinations. In a very short time we saw limestone caverns, sea-carved arches, steep chasms, freshwater pools, coral gardens, whales, spinner dolphins, deadly (but friendly!) sea snakes, colorful reef fish, tide pools, tidal caves, cliff drops, and more. Even sites that were only a few hundred meters apart had completely different things to see and do. Naturally, we tended toward the water-oriented features, which were stunning, but made even more incredible by the crystal clear water clarity. Because the island is actually one big hunk of limestone (it’s affectionately called “The Rock” by those who know it) the water is almost completely devoid of sediment, making the diving and snorkeling some of the best in the world.


Chasing the Chasm - Karen & Sarah head into Matavai Chasm
Chasing the Chasm – Karen & Sarah head into Matavai Chasm
Top Down - Observing the Big Guy in his natural environment. Peter about 5m below.
Top Down – Observing the Big Guy in his natural environment. Peter about 5m below.
Beneath the Arch - One of my favorite angles of the giant arch.
Beneath the Arch – One of my favorite angles of the giant arch.

Simply put, we were gob-smacked by this place. Because of brewing weather systems we felt it best to leave after just a week, but I put Niue toward the top of a future return list. The locals would prefer to keep this a well-kept secret, but I’ll say if you ever have the chance, don’t miss a stop at “The Rock.” For me, it’s a good reminder not to generate expectations, and certainly never to judge a book by it’s cover.


Feathers - These green feathery creatures made for great color contrast on the red rock
Feathers – These green feathery creatures made for great color contrast on the red rock
Buddy - Sean sporting the shaka, reminds us all to keep it loose
Buddy – Sean sporting the shaka, reminds us all to keep it loose
Impressionism - Peter & Karen shimmer like a painting in the mix of fresh and salt water. No affects.
Impressionism – Peter & Karen shimmer like a painting in the mix of fresh and salt water. No affects.
Niuean Sunset - Some changes in the weather are apparent as cyclone season approaches
Niuean Sunset – Some changes in the weather are apparent as cyclone season approaches

October 6, 2016 – #29 – Threshold Passage

Approach to Bora Bora - The Turquoise lagoon beckons
Approach to Bora Bora – The Turquoise lagoon beckons

After years of reading and research I expected to be dazzled by the shallow turquoise lagoon and towering heights of Bora Bora. If we had flown in from the states, we would have been floored. Having just completed five months of traveling through the Marquesas, Tuamotus and Society Islands, honestly, our Bora Bora experience was a little flat. The scenery was fantastic, the lagoon clear and beautiful, the beaches white, the trade winds balmy, but through our travels we had almost become accustomed to these things and in Bora Bora there was a noticeable press of tourism which soured the taste just a bit. More importantly for us, I suppose, it was simply time to move on. We could feel our time in these French islands coming to a close.


Lagoon - Bora Bora's interior lagoon is beautiful and spacious
Lagoon – Bora Bora’s interior lagoon is beautiful and spacious
Conning - The shallow lagoon necessitates careful conning to avoid coral heads
Conning – The shallow lagoon necessitates careful conning to avoid coral heads
Shoreside Lodging - The lagoon is dotted with tourist accommodations
Shoreside Lodging – The lagoon is dotted with tourist accommodations

Weather is one reason for apprehension; the cyclone season officially begins November 1, and one can see the change happening already. In general, there’s more weather, more moisture, more convection; just more stuff to be concerned about. It’s easy to become a bit blasé about the weather when island hopping the trade winds in French Polynesia. Passages are short and it’s not difficult to avoid what little bad weather does exist. Traveling West of Bora Bora one begins to encounter more tropical disturbances, longer stretches between islands as well as low pressure trofs and cold fronts. In addition, the frequency, duration and intensity of these tropical weather disturbances all increase as the as the cyclone season approaches, creating a lively weather mix and making travel and forecasting a bit tricky.


Dinghy Cut - One of many preparations for passage
Dinghy Cut – One of many preparations for passage
Backside - Nice sunset seen from the East side of Bora Bora
Backside – Nice sunset seen from the East side of Bora Bora
Touristville - We felt the strong press of tourism in Bora Bora
Touristville – We felt the strong press of tourism in Bora Bora

Many boats we meet prefer to jump the shortest possible distance, no matter what, but we’ve found that sometimes it’s best to just make some miles. Once the Batuligans get into passage mode, we just want to go. So it was that we left Bora Bora and headed straight for the island nation of Niue, 1055nm away. Our Polynesian visas expired, with light winds astern we sailed right past the outposts of Maupiti and Maupilia, through the Cook Islands and past the island of Palmerston, arriving in Niue after 10 days on passage. The raw water pump failed, but luckily, we caught it just as it happened, and managed to install our spare the following day. We crossed through one low pressure trof with a couple days of rain and electrical storms all around us at times, but thankfully we managed to get through the voyage without too much kerfuffle.


Mahi Mahi - Caught on passage
Mahi Mahi – Caught on passage
Spin Run - One of the magical days; running fast before a warm breeze
Spin Run – One of the magical days; running fast before a warm breeze

While on passage we celebrated my 50th birthday; a significant milestone. I can still remember the day my father turned 50. He proudly declared himself an antique and, subsequently, wore his advanced age as a badge of honor, clearly intended to impress. I’m not quite ready to be classified as an antique. However, I am (apparently) beginning to exhibit some signs of possible deterioration in the form of inadvertant grunts and groans associated with advancing years and the various yoga-esque positions required for boat maintenance. Justifiably, Karen and the kids have a blast ribbing me about my ‘old-man’ noises. Truthfully, I think it may be a genetic trait so I try not to stress too much about it.


Filet - No fancy filet table on Batu. Old school - that's how we do it.
Filet – No fancy filet table on Batu. Old school – that’s how we do it.
Bora Bora Sunset - One of our last before departing Polynesia
Bora Bora Sunset – One of our last before departing Polynesia

I have to admit, the fifty year mark is something of a milestone and I’m grateful to have no regrets as I sail past it. All we can ask of ourselves is to be fully engaged in living, and that is precisely why I find myself crossing 1000 miles of ocean with my wife and kids. My birthday also marks one year since we left our home in Hood River and began the voyaging life. I can scarcely believe it has been a year; we still feel we are just getting started. There are many challenges to rise to and so much more to learn!

Several nights during the passage the sky has been filled with shooting stars. Tonight, there is a meteor, so large and close that it looks like a flaming ball of fire strafing the night. I gaze at the sky, awestruck, as I stand at Batu’s helm. We sail silently over the wide arc of the globe, bioluminescence sparkling in our wake. Tears well up in my eyes as I declare solemnly to the stars “I wish I were…right here.” No matter what the cost in time, energy and money, I am so grateful to be able to live this way, together with my family, right here and now. Our lives are finite, and there’s no time to spare.


500 mi Mark - About halfway through the passage from Bora Bora to Niue.
500 mi Mark – About halfway through the passage from Bora Bora to Niue.
Signs of Age - Our vane cover is also showing it's age - sporting many patches at this point
Signs of Age – Our vane cover is also showing it’s age – sporting many patches at this point
Passage Sunset - A little rough, but still beautiful
Passage Sunset – A little rough, but still beautiful

September 8, 2016 – Pattern Recognition  – #28

Batu in Paradise - At anchor in Opunohu Bay, Moorea
Batu in Paradise – At anchor in Opunohu Bay, Moorea

To my loving family and great friends around the world, thanks for your care and support! We are safe, we are well, and we are underway again. It seemed for a while that we were stationary, tangled in a Sargasso Sea of endless repairs and fruitless struggles, but perhaps we were ‘underway’ all along. As one thoughtful friend noted, you can’t really have an adventure if nothing ever happens to you! Words to live by. So now our transmission is transmitting, our refrigeration is refrigerating and the myriad of other odds & ends projects like rebuilding the head (toilet) patching the spinakker, stitching the mainsail and many, many others have finally been ended. The immigration service, known to me only as ‘Monsieur le Haute Commissaire,’ has been mollified with numerous letters and reams of documentation so we have a brief time to experience the Society Islands before our twice-modified visa extensions expire. Ultimately, we spent seven weeks at the dock in Tahiti.

Since leaving Papeete we’ve had several days exploring the lush, tropical islands of Moorea, Huahine and now Tahaa. There’s been incredible snorkeling with myriads of colorful fish and spotted eagle rays (in one instance, thirteen of them!) flying in formation. In Haapiti (West Moorea) we had a couple days of surfing in hollow waves breaking on treacherous coral reef. Forever etched on my brain is a moment of terrifying beauty and clarity as I looked down the glassy barrel of ‘my wave’. Yesterday we sailed into the lagoon in Tahaa and had just enough time for an evening kiteboarding session; turquoise water below, an artist’s rendition of a colorful sunset sky above. We saw pods of whales fishing and breaching up-close. We even caught a couple fish during our inter-island sails: a nice Bonita and a Wahoo small enough to receive our gratitude and be released on good behavior (my cousin Sal will be thrilled). The kids are finding a good balance of school and fun. Sarah is avidly focused on marine biology and learning Japanese. Sean, interested in nautical engineering, is focused intently on math, physics and beginning French. I am deeply in love with my beautiful wife and, unlikely as it may seem, she loves me too. Life is good.


Anchorage Haapiti - West Moorea
Anchorage Haapiti – West Moorea
Left Break Haapiti - The "beginner break" 2 - 3m faces breaking over coral 1m deep
Left Break Haapiti – The “beginner break” 2 – 3m faces breaking over coral 1m deep
C'est Bon...Bonita - A nice Bonita caught on passage, Moorea
C’est Bon…Bonita – A nice Bonita caught on passage, Moorea
Thar She Blows! - One of several humpback whale pods, we diverted course to avoid them
Thar She Blows! – One of several humpback whale pods, we diverted course to avoid them

Although there’s no sense in dwelling on the negative, the analyst in me wants to better understand how we became tangled in that Sargasso Sea in the first place, and how we got out. The details are specific to our voyaging lifestyle, but the basics are applicable to life. What happens when you are presented with a fairly long string of bummers? What can you do when, despite all efforts to avoid and resolve them, more bummers just keep coming? I still don’t know, but here are a few thoughts on the matter.

We humans are naturally inclined toward pattern recognition. It’s in our genetic code. Therefore, it’s easy to understand how we come to perceive and focus on naturally occurring patterns in our lives, like a series of negative events for example. Once we recognize a pattern it often becomes what we see. Our minds work to resolve the pattern amidst the chaos of other events in our lives. There are likely other patterns happening simultaneously, but they exist in periphery because our minds work so hard to identify the primary threat. This is the classic example of perception becomming reality, and I believe it is partly what pulled my adventuring spirits down during our difficult time in Papeete.


Dolphins off the Port Bow - Haapiti Greeting Committee
Dolphins off the Port Bow – Haapiti Greeting Committee
Sarah & Sean Snorkeling - Here we are watching an eel defending his territory
Sarah & Sean Snorkeling – Here we are watching an eel defending his territory
Reef Fish Series I - These small gold fish are beautiful, some of our favorites
Reef Fish Series I – These small gold fish are beautiful, some of our favorites
Spotted Eagle Ray - Swimming beneath the boat in about 25 ft depth
Spotted Eagle Ray – Swimming beneath the boat in about 25 ft depth

During this time I had the pleasure of meeting a uniquely positive person, the visiting parent of a young cruising friend. She wasn’t any more or less fortunate than anyone else, she was simply more positive. She seemed naturally inclined to identify the positive, hopeful patterns in life just a bit more than the average bear. Although our interaction was brief, it was for me a timely occurrence that helped me to ‘flip the switch,’ allowing our own series of negative events to slip into periphery while I chose to identify a more positive pattern. What I saw was a loving, caring network of amazing people in my life whom I am honored to know and love in return. I think it’s pretty incredible that we have the power to choose what patterns we see in our lives, and that those perceptions become our reality.


Reef Fish Series II - This fish is not named Nemo, but he gets that a lot.
Reef Fish Series II – This fish is not named Nemo, but he gets that a lot.
Reef Fish Series III - These fish usually swim in pairs, this one is still single
Reef Fish Series III – These fish usually swim in pairs, this one is still single
Our Front Yard - Million dollar view
Our Front Yard – Million dollar view
Coral Sculpture - I love this coral and its perfect background
Coral Sculpture – I love this coral and its perfect background

Around the same time I had another paradigm-shifting thought. It’s heavy, so hang tough. The Buddha, said “life is suffering; the key is attachment.” I wasn’t there, but that’s what they tell me. During our difficult time in Papeete this quote kept coming to mind. Life is suffering, I am struggling, what a bummer! But what I love about this initially depressing phrase is the beauty and simplicity of the hopeful message it contains. One could argue, perhaps, that  the human condition is to suffer, to stress, to fear and to struggle. We certainly do a fair bit of these things in pursuit of our petty lives. However, the thought that we alone hold the key to release ourselves from the bonds of suffering by identifying and releasing our attachments is powerfully human, and ultimately empowering. In this case I was attached to the ideas that I should be completely in control of my life, that I should be able to prevent all negative events, and that it’s unfair to have such a long and costly string of problems. Once I was able to see how desperately I was clinging to these points and let them go, there was no more struggle, only forward steps.


Suffering - Sometimes life is just suffering...
Suffering – Sometimes life is just suffering…
Isle Mahea - Entering Tahaa Lagoon at Passe Toahotu
Isle Mahea – Entering Tahaa Lagoon at Passe Toahotu
Reef Fish Series IV - The little fish is a rare one,  Sarah tracked him down
Reef Fish Series IV – The little fish is a rare one, Sarah tracked him down
Reef Fish Series V - Karen posing as a mermaid to lure sailors into the deep
Reef Fish Series V – Karen posing as a mermaid to lure sailors into the deep

At the moment, our forward steps take us farther westward, toward the Cook Islands, Tonga and ultimately New Zealand, where we plan to spend about five months exploring and waiting-out the Southern Hemisphere cyclone season. Looking ahead to a more-or-less stationary voyaging environment, and contemplating what our subsequent plans will be brings up plenty of questions about our next career steps and how (and if) we might return, someday, to lives ashore. For the moment, all we can do is have faith and trust that everything will work out as it should. We are living today, and life is good.


Colors Abound - Happy corals make for a happy ecosystem
Colors Abound – Happy corals make for a happy ecosystem
Reef Fish Series VI - Good looking pair
Reef Fish Series VI – Good looking pair
Psychedelic Fish - Seriously, this is not camouflage here people!
Psychedelic Fish – Seriously, this is not camouflage here people!
Black Tip Reef Sharks - We're very used to swimming with them now
Black Tip Reef Sharks – We’re very used to swimming with them now
Stingray - These almost tame stingrays will let you touch them
Stingray – These almost tame stingrays will let you touch them
Impossible Sunset - Tahitian flames, Opunoho Bay, Moorea
Impossible Sunset – Tahitian flames, Opunoho Bay, Moorea

August 8, 2016 – A Real Bonehead – #27

Mug - Would you let this man into your country? Visa application approved, believe it or not.
Mug – Would you let this man into your country? Visa application approved, believe it or not.

Like it or not, extended voyaging on a sailboat is an excellent way to discover all sorts of things about yourself. On the basis of full disclosure I should probably mention that I’ve reached something of an emotional low point. I realize it’s difficult to fathom given that we are currently in, of all picturesque vacation spots, Tahiti, but it’s true nonetheless. Yes, the sun is shining. Yes, the water is actually that miraculous blue and turquoise seen in the travel brochures. These posts are about our perspectives while living the voyaging life, so please, allow me to explain.

After about a month exploring the Marquesas, s/v Batu moved on to Fakarava atoll in the Tuamotus, where we met up with Karen’s Mom, spending almost three weeks resolving some of our long-standing engine issues and enjoying life in, and on, the water. Our next stop, Tahiti, was to be a short one. For all visitors to French Polynesia a check-in/ check-out with the main immigration office in Papeete, Tahiti is mandatory. We had hoped to pick up a few key supplies and replacement parts while in the city of Papeete and move on quickly to the less populated, more scenic leeward islands of Raitea, Tahaa, Huahine and Bora Bora.


I Do Believe in Ferries - Many times each day...
I Do Believe in Ferries – Many times each day…
Papeete Harbor - Constantly busy with shipping
Papeete Harbor – Constantly busy with shipping
Passed de Papeete - The pass through the reef is a straight shot even for the big ships
Passed de Papeete – The pass through the reef is a straight shot even for the big ships

We arrived in Papeete after a decent two-day sail from Fakarava – Granny’s first-ever ocean passage. We had decent winds in the 15 – 25 knot range and all went more or less as planned. The Stugeron we gave Granny as a prophylactic for seasickness knocked her out for almost a full 24 hours. Once recovered Granny enjoyed the remainder of the smooth passage with the rest of us and synced flawlessly with our shipboard ways. Despite being a crew of 5 people aboard a 40 foot monohull (perhaps 350sq ft of living/ storage space), we have gotten on incredibly well in terms of living arrangements.

While many of our pending engine issues like the heat exchanger, transmission oil cooler, v-drive cooling seals and raw water strainer cap have been resolved by recent parts infusions, we have new problems we’re managing now, most notably the leaking transmission seals. This was underscored on arrival in Papeete when, after carefully topping up the transmission fluid and sailing right up to the pass entrance, our very short 20 minute motor through the pass and directly to the most central marina left us with just barely enough transmission fluid to drop into reverse and stop the boat. It took me several days to acknowledge that this confirmed the looming transmission seal issue we were wrestling with upon departure from Mexico.


Missing Stuff - The rear end of our engine with the transmission and V-drive removed
Missing Stuff – The rear end of our engine with the transmission and V-drive removed

Grudgingly, I ordered a transmission rebuild kit and main oil seal kit for our 1977 4.108 and Paragon hydraulic transmission. These parts were so unlikely to be found in Tahiti that, after asking around a bit and receiving laughter in response, I didn’t waste much time trying. So this is what “overnight” shipping looks like from the US to Tahiti:

Transmission Rebuild Kit                     $189
Overnight Shipping (US address)    $128
FedEx International (US to Tahiti)   $134
Duty                                                                  $0
Agent’s fee to clear “duty free”         $70
Dinghy fuel (25 miles traveled)         $30
Total time to “in hand”                           11 days
Calls to arrange (@ 3am local)            5
Emails to arrange (various)                  12

   Total Cost                                                        Best not to think about it

This is for one of the three shipments ultimately needed. Suffice it to say, these things are complicated. To be expected I suppose.

Add to this, me removing the shaft coupling, v-drive, reduction and transmission for the first time on my own and with the boat in the water (where a mistake means we sink). Daunting, for sure.

Next, the refrigeration system begins to act crazy and, in a moment of weakness, we call in an expensive specialist who KILLS the system without apology or remuneration. This forces us to order a new electronic control module from the US (repeat list of extended costs and hassles above).

Naturally, once he has our transmission in hand, the mechanic won’t return my calls, so I focus on smaller tasks around the boat which take ridiculous hours and numerous excursions to find the most basic of parts. Despite our best efforts to solve the transmission problem quickly, while we wait, our 90-Day tourist visas expire, forcing us to gather reams of documentation to prove our situation and apply for an extension with the Haute Commissaire. None of the required letters or interviews are in English.


Batuligans Better Together in Papeete, Tahiti
Batuligans Better Together in Papeete, Tahiti

Because of the transmission issues, we stay in Marina Papeete, which is pleasant because of the beautiful city park wrapped around it and ideal because of it’s central location. Marinas, however, aren’t cheap. Like any city, Papeete has beauty such as the park, the grand market and the municipal pool we use regularly, but there’s also  real ugliness like the poverty, homelessness and pollution that are plainly visible. The Marina and nearby park are clean and well-kept, so we were surprised when we found evidence of rats on board after leaving a trash bag in the cockpit overnight. We fought them off mercilessly, and appear to have won, but we still remain vigilant in case the nasty critters get the idea to return.


Granny & Sarah - We are swimming daily at the municipal pool
Granny & Sarah – We are swimming daily at the municipal pool
Papeete Grand Marche - Huge daily market with everything, except boat parts
Papeete Grand Marche – Huge daily market with everything, except boat parts

I must admit, this – all of this – stacked atop months of relentless, self-applied pressure to keep our family safe and keep us going; this has gotten to me. I need a break. We came for freedom, but nonetheless we are trapped here, at least for the moment.

My reaction is frustrating and disappointing to me, but it’s real and it’s human. Once I stop railing against it and simply accept, then I can move on. The movement comes slowly, and in increments so small they are hardly noticeable. We’re not out of the woods yet, but if we keep working at it, we might be eventually, or perhaps we’ll just move into different woods. To struggle and fail is only human. To fail and keep trying takes a real bonehead, but it’s also the only way forward. Perhaps part of my therapy is to start a club for other boneheads. We can sit in a sharing circle and discuss stationary boat life. I’m quite sure the officials will forceably remove us from French Polynesia when our visa extensions (and cash) run out, so forward ho, on we go! I’m feeling better already.


Karen with Une Casse-Croute - Delicious baguette sandwich
Karen with Une Casse-Croute – Delicious baguette sandwich
Batu Crew at the Dock - With Ben & Gabby of s/v Cool Runnings
Batu Crew at the Dock – With Ben & Gabby of s/v Cool Runnings
Papeete Sunset - Moorea beckons to the West
Papeete Sunset – Moorea beckons to the West

June 30, 2016 – By the Time You Get Here… – #26

Hirifa Anchorage - The closest to heaven I've ever been
Hirifa Anchorage – The closest to heaven I’ve ever been

Have you ever found yourself wondering what heaven looks like? Sometimes I imagine a tropical paradise where the white sand seems to exist solely to anchor waving palm trees and to separate the blue of sky from the blue of water. Is it really possible for the sea to be crystal clear as well as turquoise, azure, and cerulean at the same moment? I can tell you now that such places do exist, but it’s not exactly what I thought.


Treasure-keeper - Karen guards accumulated shells and hermit crabs
Treasure-keeper – Karen guards accumulated shells and hermit crabs
Happy Happy - Sarah & Granny, Hirifa, South Fakarava
Happy Happy – Sarah & Granny, Hirifa, South Fakarava

We are now at a small anchorage called Hirifa in South Fakarava. There’s no doubt, this place is special. Sheltered from the strong prevailing trade winds, the anchorage at Hirifa tucks in behind the reef and behind a small boomerang-shaped spit of sand and palm trees at the SE corner of the atoll. Batu lies placidly in 25 feet of extremely calm, clear water over white sand and coral. Every day we dinghy, swim or paddle a few hundred yards to shore to snorkel, SUP, kiteboard, or just walk along the shallow waters of the lagoon. With a perfect combination of white sand and coral bommies, this is a very relaxed place to see an astounding array of corals, and to watch the tropical fish, turtles and reef sharks do their thing. The flat water kiteboarding here is an incredible experience, riding just inches above the coral. What an amazing thrill it is to gaze at all the life beneath while gliding effortlessly above it. I have grown almost accustomed to dodging corals and startling 4 to 6 foot black-tip reef sharks as I skim along the surface on a kiteboard. For jumping, learning or simply more forgiving riding, we head for the deeper water so as not to be raked over (or damage) the jagged corals. Both Sean and Sarah have quickly taken to kiteboarding in this stunning setting. It certainly helps to have warm, steady winds and luxurious, clear waters. It is like heaven, and we soak it up.


Submerged Selfie - Sarah with amazing water clarity
Submerged Selfie – Sarah with amazing water clarity
Granny On Board - A big part of the heavenly feeling is catching up with Granny
Granny On Board – A big part of the heavenly feeling is catching up with Granny
Serious Coaching - Sarah and I run through things while Sean preps the gear
Serious Coaching – Sarah and I run through things while Sean preps the gear

This perfection is real, but it’s only part of the story. Beneath this heavenly tropical backdrop is an undercurrent of stress, pressure and isolation. Since just before leaving Mexico we’ve had a fairly constant stream of mechanical concerns with the boat. First we needed to replace our fresh water pump, then it was the heat exchanger. Since it was not possible to find or import the proper heat exchanger in Mexico, we jury-rigged the best temporary one we could find. This, however, created continual stress by significantly limiting our RPM’s for fear of overheating. On top of this, we had a blockage in the raw water cooling line which blew up an impeller causing chunks in the cooling system and subsequent taking-apart, back-flushing, reassembly and repeated priming of the entire cooling system (while underway). We also experienced repeated leaks at the strainer cap which had to be continually managed until we could find the proper O-ring to seal them. Next, the transmission oil cooler began to develop a leak, followed closely by the raw water seals on the V-drive, necessitating continual oil changes and very active management.

After Granny arrived in Fakarava with our new heat exchanger and oil cooler, we were looking forward to having some these uncomfortable issues resolved so we could relax, just a bit. While the replacement parts did solve several of these points, we pulled into an anchorage to discover that we had no gears – either forward or reverse. This was caused by failing transmission oil seals. Keeping transmission fluid actively topped up is gives us some mobility. However, attempting to raise anchor one day we again found no gears. This time a shift cable support had aged-out, necessitating a day’s worth of custom fabrication and repairs inside an impossibly tight space.


Granny Dives - Part of the daily grind in South Fakarava
Granny Dives – Part of the daily grind in South Fakarava
Close to Perfect - "It doesn't suck" as they say
Close to Perfect – “It doesn’t suck” as they say

The Marquesas and the Tuamotus are incredibly beautiful, but also incredibly isolated. Parts and mechanical help are simply not available, or would come at a ridiculous premium in terms of time, money and effort. While sitting comfortably in a marina these issues would be an annoyance. But when they affect our ability to safely move the boat through the reefs and passes we have to navigate to find replacements, it creates continual stress and relentless pressure.

Is it just us? No. Nearly every other cruising boat we know is experiencing something like this. For some it’s radar, for others, alternator, auto-pilot, generator, or even rigging (a few boats without masts). They say that cruising means fixing your boat in exotic locations. I thought I was well-prepared for this pressure, but perhaps not. I expected there would be occasional relief. I expected our proactive approach to mean that the pressure would be less serious – like needing to replace worn lines at the next major port. In fact, our proactive approach has meant we haven’t been stranded or washed onto the reef somewhere. For this, and the heavenly places we get to be stranded in while making repairs, I am thankful.


Sean Rides - We managed to get a lot of riding in at Hirifa
Sean Rides – We managed to get a lot of riding in at Hirifa
Heading out - Clearly we take things seriously around here
Heading out – Clearly we take things seriously around here

Perhaps heaven really is a balance of chaos and harmony. I reflect on all of this as I sit on deck watching the sun set and sipping a cold cervesa – the last of our stash from Mexico. I imagine the scene making a beautiful cover shot for the cruising magazines. I visualize the caption “By the time you get here, you’re really going to need this.” While I don’t think the magazines will like it, that’s truth in advertising. At the moment, my heaven is a 50/50 affair. It’s heaven after all, but there’s a twist-ending.


Fakarava Sunset - 'Nough said
Fakarava Sunset – ‘Nough said

June 16, 2016 – Miracle Wind – #25

Trade Winds - We had great sailing leaving the Marquesas
Trade Winds – We had great sailing leaving the Marquesas

We departed Fatu Hiva on a beautiful, sunny day with warm, moderate trade winds filling our sails from astern. What could be more perfect? The weather forecast was looking great, with steady trades and mostly stable conditions forecast for the estimated 5 day passage. We settled in for a nice, easy broad reach to the Tuamotus. But with sailing and with life, you get what you get and you make the best of it.

As one might infer from the above foreboding, a low pressure trough forecast to pass West of us, saw it’s opportunity and swung overhead giving us generally adverse conditions for the majority of the passage. The trough came with strong squalls, rain, shifty winds and contrary swell that slapped us around, filling the cockpit several times during one white-knuckle, midnight to 4am watch. Karen is amazingly robust, but everyone has limits and this watch approached her’s. After the wind passed, we were left with exceedingly light conditions making progress difficult, at best. In fact, we were bobbing like a cork on glassy, rolling seas. We ultimately resorted to motoring slowly, a difficult decision given that we were nursing the boat through several mechanical issues including a jury-rigged heat exchanger, a corroded oil cooler and newly leaking v-drive seal.


Some Rain - A frequent sight on this messy passage
Some Rain – A frequent sight on this messy passage
On Watch - Sean attempting to stay dry
On Watch – Sean attempting to stay dry

The Tuamotus are a group of doughnut-shaped coral atolls that surround the place where ancient volcanos used to exist. The original volcanic islands have been worn away by many millennia of pounding seas so that only the fringing reefs remain around beautiful coral lagoons. Some of the Tuamotus are closed, while others have reef passes allowing boats to access the lagoon. With strong currents and hidden coral obstacles, reef passes can be dangerous and challenging even to a vessel in strong mechanical health. Because of this we choose to visit Fakarava, a large, beautiful atoll with an airport and relatively easy reef pass. The airport was necessary so that we could meet up with Karen’s Mom for a long-awaited visit. Even with an easy pass, it’s imperative to properly time an atoll entry with the tides, which effect and amplify the already powerful movement of water in and out of the lagoon. If not timed properly, one can easily be swept into coral heads, large breaking waves, or be unable to maintain enough speed to enter or exit the lagoon.


Other Passage Activities 1 - Laundry in the cockpit
Other Passage Activities 1 – Laundry in the cockpit
Other Passage Activities 2 - Baking bread
Other Passage Activities 2 – Baking bread

Based on the original weather forecast, we had hoped to make the 550nm passage from Fatu Hiva to Fakarava in 4 or 5 days, but as time marched on it appeared clear that we were not going to make the afternoon slack tide through the North Pass. The updated GRIB file and forecasts predicted continued light winds. This meant another night at sea, going slow and standing-off at the entrance to await the next day’s slack tide. Knowing that Granny was waiting for us in Fakarava made this a difficult point to accept, but as the light evening air freshened we were thrilled and grateful to finally turn off the motor and ghost along at a similar speed under sail.


Banana Art 1 - We left Fatu Hiva with several stalks
Banana Art 1 – We left Fatu Hiva with several stalks
Banana Art 2 - Misguided youth or just hungry?
Banana Art 2 – Misguided youth or just hungry?

During the wee hours of the morning a surprising thing happened. Ever so gradually the light air filled in to a zephyr and increased to a breeze, continuing to freshen so that, as we sailed between our first atolls into relatively smooth, sheltered water, Batu was happily churning along at 7 knots or more. My brain was telling me we’d never be able to sustain this speed through the coming hours. The responsible thing to do would be to reduce sail and slow the boat down. At least that way we’d have fewer hours to stand-off at the entrance. My heart, however, said Batu was too well-balanced, too perfect, too joyous to slow down. She was doing what she was built to do. So, I threw reason astern and let her run on our miracle breeze. Godspeed, I think.

Impossibly, we pulled into the North Pass of Fakarava 15 minutes early for the afternoon slack, and just as another squall was darkening the skies, bearing ominously down on us. Despite the rain, the heavy chop and several miles of excruciatingly slow progress into 25 knot winds, we pulled into Lagoon de Fakarava, laid our anchor down, and celebrated togetherness with Granny just as darkness slid over the last of passage day 5. It’s a small thing, but for us it was magical to feel as if miracles really do happen.


Fakarava Rain Squalls - Temporarily darken the skies
Fakarava Rain Squalls – Temporarily darken the skies
Fakarava Anchorage - Finally!
Fakarava Anchorage – Finally!
Small Cell - This one, just a baby, makes a good parting shot
Small Cell – This one, just a baby, makes a good parting shot

June 8, 2016 – Drums in Fatu Hiva – #24

Tropical Vision - Batu in Hanavavae Bay, Fatu Hiva
Tropical Vision – Batu in Hanavavae Bay, Fatu Hiva

Tonight I stand in the cockpit with the towering confines of Hanavavae Bay surrounding and enclosing me. I am still deciding if it feels protective or foreboding. The wind moans through our rigging and this curious song entwines with the rhythms and tones of tribal drumming which whip, with the strong and gusty winds, out from shore. I also hear the crash and swoosh of swell mixing and tumbling on the rock walls of the bay just a boat length away. It raises in me a curious mix of interest, apprehension and concern. I imagine what it must have been like for the first explorers, little more than 100 years ago, to have heard the same sounds.  I’m certain they would have been filled with dread and foreboding in this wild place. The deep thrumming of those drums awakening primal emotions, the chorus and coordination of them suggesting a well-organized military precision and almost certain, grizzly death as someone else’s dinner.


Tiki Rocks - Mystery abounds here, even the rocks look like tikis
Tiki Rocks – Mystery abounds here, even the rocks look like tikis
Tight Space - Difficult to show just how narrow the bay really is
Tight Space – Difficult to show just how narrow the bay really is

Hanavavae Bay, on the island of Fatu Hiva, is a special place. Named originally for the distinctively shaped rocky pillars which surround it, it feels spiritual, almost mystical, and possibly a touch magical. Like many places in the Marquesas, the rocky walls are improbably tall and impossibly steep – near vertical for almost 2500 feet,  enclosing the bay. Here and there the rocky walls are dotted with overhanging rock formations which look for all the world like huge carved tiki faces watching the bay and the narrow gateway to the deeply cut valley beyond. To be truthful, not all the rocks look like tikis. Several in this valley look exactly like giant phalli dotting the valley like so many erect,…er, spires. Apparently, this place was originally named Baie des Verges (Bay of Penises), but since early Christian missionaries felt the name inappropriate, with what one might consider healthy irony, they renamed it Baie des Vierges (Bay of Virgins) to protect the locals from the obscene reference. Surveying the immediate landscape, I’m not sure if anyone was much fooled.


Irony - Seriously, does this look like a virgin to you?
Irony – Seriously, does this look like a virgin to you?

During our first approach of Hanavavae Bay we did something we said we’d never do; we entered an unfamiliar anchorage at night. Having just completed a very rough passage beating upwind into 20 – 25kts (true), we were knackered. The passage from Hiva Oa to Fatu Hiva took almost 14 hours, and was made even more exhausting by choppy 12 foot seas and occasional rain squalls. Karen was stuck below with a nasty infection and the cockpit was a wet, splashy affair, so I was basically single handing for the duration. When we arrived around 9:30 pm, we hoped there would be room in the small anchorage for us to drop the hook. We crept the boat in slowly using HD radar plus a sliver of moon to shed some light. After one brief, nerve-wracking pass through the anchorage we determined that seven boats (only 3 with mast lights!) in this particular space makes the anchorage tight – claustrophobic actually. There was no way we were going to try setting anchor in the dark. In fact, just creeping out of the anchorage put us extremely close to the other boats and the rocky edges of the bay. Once out of the bay we hove-to in the lee of the island, the thundering sound of waves smashing into Fatu Hiva’s nearly vertical face echoing eerily for the rest of the night. In daylight we returned to Hanavavae and saw just how tight the anchorage was. The bottom contour is so steep that the depth changes from 150 ft to 50ft in one boat length. The sides of the bay go from 50 ft depth directly to vertical to rock walls. The six boats already anchored were packed in like sardines, and we would need at least 400 ft of chain, 120 ft more than we carry, to anchor safely in the deeper water. After three unsuccessful attempts to set the anchor well with suitable room, we were relieved when one boat cleared out, making our fourth attempt a successful one. Finally we were well-set in 50 ft depth, although we still swung to within a boat length of the precipitous side walls.


Depth Chart - Hanavavae Bay, Fatu Hiva
Depth Chart – Hanavavae Bay, Fatu Hiva

Despite the ominous nighttime drumming, our daytime explorations proved the locals to be quite friendly. One afternoon, as kids and I explored the valley, we spotted several bee hives and heard beautiful music coming from a small home nestled near a stream. We turned to go, but an older woman came out of the home and gestured repeatedly for us to come visit. Josephine and her husband spoke no English, but they welcomed us graciously into their modest home, just happy to meet and talk with us as we passed by. They showed us their simple home, which had no furniture at all, only a mattress and a large freezer chest on the floor. The walls were filled with family photos and achievements. Fortunately, we were able to make my rusty French work well enough to find out about this couple, their grown children and grandchildren. The most-used area of their home was the back porch, nothing more than a handmade shed roof over an earthen floor, with several large picnic tables and piles of fruit. They gave us delicious honey that tasted of mango blossoms, and a potent home-brewed honey-wine that, although tasty, echoed through my gastro intestinal system for the next 24 hours. Josephine’s husband played music for us on his hand-crafted Polynesian banjo, an 8-stringed affair that sounded just right for this rustic setting. We shared stories and when we finally left, we did so with arms filled with fruit and faces filled with smiles, having made new friends in what initially seemed like a very strange and ominous place.


Explorers - In search of bananas & pomplemousse
Explorers – In search of bananas & pomplemousse
Hanavavae Valley - On approach to serious mango honey
Hanavavae Valley – On approach to serious mango honey
Steep Walls - The rule in this tight valley
Steep Walls – The rule in this tight valley

June 26, 2016 – Polynesian Culture – #23

Serious Perfection - Snorkeling in Hanamoenoa Bay, Tahuata
Serious Perfection – Snorkeling in Hanamoenoa Bay, Tahuata

The Marquesas are governed by France and, as such, French language and culture are predominant. After spending 6 months in Mexico, the transition from Spanish to French is still a little awkward for me, despite the fact that my French used to be fairly passable. Although the language is no surprise, some of the other aspects of French culture still catch me off guard. Mornings start early – really early. If you don’t make it to the market by 4:30 – 5am you can forget about fresh veggies. The fish sellers close down by 8am. Fresh bread? The baguettes are cheap and fantastic, but you’d better get there before 9am or you’re not likely to find any. Nearly all stores close for lunch from 11:00am until 2pm, and some reopen from 2 or 2:30 to 5 or 5:30pm.


Good Tiki - There are many archaeological sites in the Marquesas
Good Tiki – There are many archaeological sites in the Marquesas
Ancient Enata - The symbol on this petroglyph is called an Enata, a human symbol
Ancient Enata – The symbol on this petroglyph is called an Enata, a human symbol

As one might expect, the prices for imported provisions in these remote and sparsely-populated islands are quite high. Restaurant prices are like the US, plus 30% or more. After Mexico, where food is ridiculously cheap, the prices seem especially steep. But the economy is subsidized by the French government, so some grocery items are staggering, while others are strangely reasonable (red-tagged items are subsidized). We gear our provisioning to the subsidized items and have done alright. Sadly, French wines don’t appear to be on the red-tag list, but we have found some staple foods at decent prices including Brie & Gruyere cheese! We’re also enjoying local fruits, such as papaya, and pomplemousse (sweet Polynesian grapefruit). There’s also fresh-caught fish like tuna and wahoo that are cheap, plentiful and seriously delicious. One of the few restaurant meals we enjoyed was “poisson avec sauce vanille” (fish with vanilla sauce), a shockingly scrumptious combination!


Pomplemousse! - Stunningly sweet and plentiful Polynesian grapefruit
Pomplemousse! – Stunningly sweet and plentiful Polynesian grapefruit
Here Piggy! - Wild pigs, goats and chickens roam everywhere freely in the Marquesas
Here Piggy! – Wild pigs, goats and chickens roam everywhere freely in the Marquesas

In most of the Marquesas, pigs, goats and chickens roam freely, not just in town, but also in the mountainous wilderness. It makes driving fairly exciting, but I suspect it makes putting food on the table a simple affair for most Marquesans. Between this, the bountiful fish and the unbelievable plenty of fruit available everywhere (literally falling off the trees), most Marquesans don’t really need much from the “grocery store.” Therefore, all that’s offered through the Marquesas and Tuamotus are simple convenience stores called magazines (pronounced maga-zhan).

This plentiful bounty affects many things, even (I think) the culture. Polynesian culture has a strong respect for the past, and focus on the present, but there’s no such thing as planning for the future. In fact, we’re told that Polynesian languages have no words for “future.” Why would you, after all, with only minor seasonal variations in weather and harvest? This creates very subtle, but profound cultural differences that can puzzle and surprise visitors like us.


Sean-mug - Submerged in Tahuata
Sean-mug – Submerged in Tahuata
Diving Anchor - Hanamoenoa Bay
Diving Anchor – Hanamoenoa Bay
Little Blues - Just a few of the colorful reef fish
Little Blues – Just a few of the colorful reef fish

Unfortunately, the clock is ticking on our time in French Polynesia. The standard visa only allows US citizens a visit of 3 months. So we’ve moved on from Nuku Hiva to the Marquesan islands of Oa Pou and Tahuata. We found one of the loveliest anchorages in Hanamoenoa Bay, Tahuata; the water is crystal clear with white sand bottom and fringing coral all around. The underwater visibility is amazing, and there are loads of happy reef fish to enjoy it with us. The kids are now regularly free diving to 30 – 35 feet, much easier to consider when you’re swimming through turquoise glass than in the dark murky depths we’ve been previously accustomed to. It has been a real joy. As we contemplate a rendezvous with Granny in the Tuamotus the time is growing tight; we consider skipping our visit to Fatu Hiva, the last Marquesan Island we’d hoped to visit. All is well. We are together, exploring and learning about ourselves and our world as we go; you can’t ask for much more than that!


Approach to Ua Pou - Amazing geological features abound
Approach to Ua Pou – Amazing geological features abound
Ua Pou Anchorage - s/v Ocean Star in the foreground
Ua Pou Anchorage – s/v Ocean Star in the foreground
Critical Hardware - Our over-sized Rocna 33kg anchor keeps us sleeping well at night
Critical Hardware – Our over-sized Rocna 33kg anchor keeps us sleeping well at night