Marquesas Islands.
There are not too many moments that can be described as ‘perfect’.
There is always too much or too little wind coming from just the wrong
direction to hold course.
And the sea is seldom a kindly host.
But yesterday it all came together around sunset. In fact it had been a
good day with gentle swell and steady wind on the beam.
I got all the gear out to go up front and park myself in the bow to stitch
a small tear in the stays’l, but when I got there the conditions were perfect to
get it back up and make the most of it.
The repair would have to wait.
As the sun sank towards the horizon the deep blue sea turned indigo and
there were just a few scraps of cloud to turn pink and gold.
The sun itself turned into a shiny pink disc as it touched the horizon, throwing
a path of mystical light across the water right to the edge of the cockpit.
Sandy and I just sat there drinking it in, knowing words could never come close.
We had anticipated this leg of our little odyssey with a mixture of excitement,
anxiety, denial, inadequacy, and a few other trace elements needed to make
a really healthy fear.
It is the longest passage between landfalls of all the main cruising routes on
the planet. Close to 4,000 nautical miles, (about 8,000 kms).
Most take the Galapagos Islands in as a break along the way but it is ridiculously
expensive and would cost us $1200 for a 3 day stop over, so we had it as an
option if we needed it for an emergency.
We were also conscious of the looks on the faces (naive idiot dream chasers!)
of many a long distance sailor when they heard Sandy and I were sailing long
passages without additional crew on a boat this size.
But we’ve found that things usually work out for us and even the bad experiences
have saved us from worse ones. Our unplanned detour to Ecuador gave us the
opportunity to make yet another round of modifications to the outhaul chafing
issues that have plagued us, and we’ve now gone nearly 3 weeks with no sign of
failure. We also left there better prepared with more diesel and other
provisions than before.
The start of the passage didn’t feel at all like the start of an epic voyage.
It just felt like the start of the shorter passages we already have under our belts.
Right from the first day we had our wind instruments die on us and had to decide
if we’d go back or just push on, guessing wind speed and approximate direction.
We figured if it was good enough for the Vikings.... we at least have hot showers!
The first 4 days were a battle to find favourable wind and to get south. We motor
sailed half the time at a leisurely 4 kts, keen to make our diesel last after our
experience leaving Panama. Once we got below 4 degrees south and 87 west we
started getting enough wind to let the engine sleep.
Most of the trip we’ve had lumpy, uncomfortable seas, sometimes really big,
around 15ft, other times just pitching and tossing annoyingly.
But they’ve been interspersed with some comfortable rolling following seas too.
A few nights we were ‘guided by our muse’.
Sometimes one or two, sometimes up to 5 sea birds, bigger than gulls, would join
us around midnight and fly just ahead of the bowsprit and about 15 ft above it
all night. Just ghostly companions, and at the first light of dawn they’d figure
we’re ok and head off to only they know where.
I expected trade wind sailing to be more constant, but while the direction is
more or less constant the strength varies enormously. It is never really strong
and we seldom get to 7 kts boat speed, a speed I thought we’d easily maintain.
We are mostly sitting between 4 and 5 kts.
There is just no wind out here. Reading up in some of the books we have on board
it seems typical that trade winds in the southern hemisphere are very
inconsistent and totally different to their cousins in the north.
Sandy’s fishing has improved and we’ve had Mahi Mahi to dine on quite a few times.
But we’ve lost quite a few too. We really need a net with a longer handle.
The one break from Mahi Mahi wasn’t to be.
She hooked a big Skipjack tuna and we eventually had it right to the boat.
It was a monster but after a long battle, it offered no resistance to trying to
get it on board.
But it was so big and heavy that it dropped before we could get
the net to it, leaving its gills on the hook! It was dead and as it slowly sank
we envied the many fish that would be enjoying our many dinners.
Her other talent that has hit new highs is bread making. We’ve got loaves of
bread we just eat on their own because they taste so good, usually with some
concoction of seeds that can never be repeated.
I can’t see us being satisfied with store bought bread again, although French
Polynesia has bakeries for us to try.
We won’t discuss chocolate ‘cake’ at the moment. It tastes good...
Since leaving the coast of Ecuador we had not seen another sign of human life
until 2 nights ago. At around 3 am Sandy picked up a ship blip on the radar,
about 10 miles dead ahead. As we closed in it appeared to vary from stationary
to erratic movement. The array of lights was unusual but after seeing the fishing
vessels off Ecuador we suspected it was some kind of fishing vessel.
Eventually it came up on the AIS as a Japanese fishing boat, 30 meters long
engaged in fishing.
We passed within a mile of it and they were busily working away, most likely
catching tuna given the experience we’d just had and the Japanese taste for tuna.
I guess they got the last of them because
we haven’t had a bite since then.
Until next time...