Solomon Islands continued

The winds are light to nonexistent. The current has it’s thoughts as to where we should go. We’re outside Honiara with northbound intentions and a west-southwest drift. When the wind does show itself, the desired Florida group is no longer practical and the sail is set for Savu. The art to sailing these waters is both patience and the ability to change our destination. Savo, a volcanic uplift lacking in bays served us fine in flat seas with it’s bounty of friendly villagers.

After expressing our desire to hike the volcano an elder appoints three teenage boys to show us the way. The boys hike barefoot over the sharp volcanic rock and rubble lacking concern on where the foot is placed at a speed to match ours with shoes. The closer we get to the heart of the volcano the hotter the stream gets to the point where our guides must keep their feet dry. The sulfur smell is intense. Steam spews out like small geysers upward and sideways from the canyon walls. Sulfur and calcite deposits cover the ground in natural crystallized formations. We only go as far as the canyon rim in the heart of the volcano. It is here one of our guides finds a megapode egg, difficult to find but easy to capture. The megapode nest is built on the ground and they utilize the warm earth, eliminating the need to lie on the eggs. Now due to human impact, the species’ population declines. About three times the size of a chicken egg with unusually large yolks, it took about 10 minutes to hard-boil in the small bubbling pool covered with leaves.

The sun is setting as a man approaches Chandrika in the motorized panga (small, open skiff powered by an outboard engine and used around the world). The chief, the over friendly drunk that he is, introduces himself as Patrick and boards Chandrika. His double shirt pockets as well as short pockets are stuffed with the unlabeled locally bottled drink of whiskey and coke in clear plastic 4 oz bottles, Saratonga.

Safely seated he states it is eminent that we come to the village for dinner and tradition dictates that he and his wife (meaning his wife) cook us a chicken. Well a drunk with good intentions is a drunk none-the-less. While his sons are watching the boat for security (note: our combination lock had been tinkered with while we were gone, although most likely with innocent intentions) we had something they managed to concoct on short notice with some sort of meat, or should we say blubber. The darkness of night made for a happy dog under the table, need we say more.

The next day with Patrick sober, a proper meal was prepared which was delicious. With good intentions always existing, we were sent away loaded with gifts from their garden and as the dance goes we made sure to not leave them empty handed before parting a day or two later.

The heart of the mountain

Patrick, his wife, and their adopted daughter

Our 3 young guides

The seas were flat, the sails were down. Our 3:00 am departure for only a 40 mile day sail had turned to night with the assistance of our ethical refusal to turn on the engine. Early morning hours brought with them 5 knots of wind and soon we entered Vulavu Harbor, Isla Isabel. The chief’s son greeted us and filled out a complete form, fulfilling his job and including us in the first Solomon Islands population census since 1999. This was followed by greetings from local teens and the Chief. “My job is to know who is here,” he said in official tone. We followed him to shore where he gave us coconuts to drink, he shared his family photo album with us, and he railed us asking for things like magazines, books, pictures, drugs to relieve pain “the red and blue ones”, alcohol, cigarettes, and when Graham was absent Sue was asked for Playboy magazines!

The next morning we returned to shore, armed with a Frisbee and a bottle of Ibuprofen. Not wanting to see the 67 year old perverted opportunist of a chief, we decided to visit the welcoming children and young adults we’d met the previous day. We took a walk to two neighboring villages guided by our new friends, Tom and Andrew both in their early 20’s, who educated us on which palms make good sitting mats, the Sago palm used for roofs, shrubs producing a lettuce type leaf for eating, the Noni fruits used for a hair growth formula, and numerous fruits and nuts on what often looked to us like just jungle forest.

Vulavu is stock full of beautiful happy people who are full of fun and playful energy. It did not take long to introduce Frisbee and soon draw in 10+ people learning the sport, not afraid of those initial embarrassing throws.

Exhaustion drew us back to Chandrika and of course 11+ dugout canoes worth of kids were drawn with us. An hours rest hiding down below in Chandrika and still they paddled circles around us so we jumped into the water and started playing with them. These kids would grab Chandrika’s rails, call out to squeak in the local dialect “pus pus pus”, plow into each other, roll their own canoes, and tip other people’s on purpose. They would stay sitting in a drowned dugout with a foot of bow and a head above water continuing to paddle. It was all smiles, all around, all the time.

Andrew knocks on the hull and it’s near midnight as we lay sound asleep. He has returned, as promised, with two types of lobster, a crab, and numerous fish from a night of fishing and diving. With an underwater flashlight on a moonless night the creatures are stunned and picked up effortlessly. We were happy to be awakened by this giving person from whom we accepted the lobster and crab but had to refuse his offer of fish as well. This was not a trade but just another act of human kindness.

We loved our stay in Vulavu even though on our last evening there we were told by the chief that a “meeting had been held by the high counsel” and we needed to leave. Gathered from his English/ Pijin combo was that their new policy allowed boats to only stay 48 hours and perhaps something to do with us not returning to see him. Though neither blue nor red (maybe he really wants the purple pill) he had managed to stop us, ignorant as he was, moments before giving him a bottle of Ibuprofen.

Regardless of the chief our last evening was filled with many children and one adult playing in canoes and water around Chandrika. We said goodnight and goodbye as the sun set and the children replied saying, “We love you Susan,” “Graham come back anytime.”

2 lobsters and a crab from Andrew

A beautiful sunset

Things go wild

Only a few of the lot

Dorothy sinks

Kids having fun

We are anchored at the town of Peava on the island of Ngatukai in the New Georgia group. 2 high school aged girls, best friends, Thelma and Carina, just came by with the most beautiful assortment of produce including over 20 green peppers, a papaya, a pineapple, a few giant snake beans, bananas, 2 coconuts ready to drink, green onion wrapped together with local foliage, and a bouquet of flowers with a pink ribbon all presented eloquently on two silver platters (not real silver, of course). Both Thelma and Carina are still in school which one must pay for after grade 9 at the most often prohibitively expensive rate of $800 USD per year. We invited them aboard, served them lemonade, and asked what they wanted for a gift. “We just wanted to feed you” and so returning only a superficial scrape to their deep kindness, they were given some hair clips, which is the sort of thing they just wouldn’t buy for themselves here.

We talked back and forth and showed them pictures of Graham’s family while giving them insight into Maine’s four seasons. Carina is half Taiwanese from her father, who lives in the city of Honiara. While Thelma’s family is mostly in Peava, she departs tomorrow to see her grandparents in Choiseul province, two days by boat, who she has not seen since the age of four. The visit was brief and we exchanged emails for future contact. We sincerely hope our eyes and smiles expressed our true appreciation.

This and the four girls in their dugout paddling on the water this evening while singing beautiful local songs provide a striking contrast to teens in the states, giving sarcasm its place when jokingly saying “all these teens do is drive around and get drunk.”

Carina and Thelma

Only one of the 2 trays!

This was a dance competition/ festival we had the honor of attending with our surfer friends on Gizo Island. Enjoy the pics.

Mike from the surfer boat joins for the male dance

The tradition is to perfume the dancers if you like their stuff

Sue shows her stuff.

Joining in.

Contestants #2

The judges

Contestants #1

The natural inclination to dance is in the blood.

Lawrence busts some moves

Crazy Reggae woman!

A little nervous but doing great.

December 2009

THE SOLOMON ISLANDS

After visiting Rarotonga, we sailed to Niue, then the Vava’u group in Tonga, followed by Lautoka in Fiji. Niue was by far our favorite, as we enjoyed some decent rock climbing and having humpback whales swim around our boat at anchor and sing us to sleep at night.

After leaving Fiji we had a quick sail with strong winds to the Solomon Islands. At their peak while running, the winds abaft reached apparent 40-45 knots steady with a couple gusts as high as 60 knots. Seas were a solid 20 feet and sometimes jumping into the cockpit……..not so pleased to make your acquaintance mr. wave wee thought. Other thoughts included; glad to have made that water tight engine control panel cover.

Our first anchorage was in Star Harbor on the island of Makira, where we were treated like family by the village chief, Willie, and his wife, Rebecca. They bestowed us with their generosity, presenting us with fresh pineapple, leafy greens from their garden, and they cooked us a few delicious meals of sweet potato in coconut milk, their main diet. The village of Mwarairaro in Star Harbor consists of a few families living in thatched homes and has no electricity. The people live simply with a subsistence based life-style. They have little, but have a lot to give. We responded to their generosity with gifts of fishing hooks, lures, sunglasses, a snorkeling mask, a bracelet, nail polish, etc. As soon as they gave us a gift, we would respond with a gift, which would be reciprocated by another gift, and so the "giving wars" began, each side trying to repay their indebtedness to the other. Graham received a beautiful chief’s necklace complete with shell money, which can be used for purchasing a wife. The giving war culminated in a large feast held aboard Chandrika. Willie and Rebecca provided a variety of sweet potatoes and a hen. At first they were going to give us the live hen the day before, to keep aboard Chandrika overnight and to slaughter the day of the feast. Not wanting to kill, feather and gut the hen on our boat with Squeak’s assistance, we asked if they could do this part for us, to which they kindly agreed. We had a lovely meal.

the primary school in Mwarairaro village

Casper (the village chief's nephew) with his wife and children

After hopping across slippery mangrove roots we reach the village's old drinking water source. Here is chief Willie with our local guides.

The children in Mwarairaro village have a natural sense of balance and were soon walking across our slack-line with ease.

The police stopped by, disappointed that we had failed to sail half way down the island chain just for the sake of government paper work (‘haus bullshit’ in Pidgin English proper), and kindly informed us we must leave next day for the city of Honiara. The night before our hasty departure, Willie and Rebecca came by to say goodbye and to present us with a very kind letter. Rebecca burst into tears as we gave her a goodbye hug. We will dearly miss our friends in Mwareraro village in Star Harbor.

Together with our friends, Rebecca and Willie, aboard Chandrika

We are currently in Honiara, the capital of the Solomon Islands, taking care of business, before we depart to explore more of the small villages on the outer islands. 24 November, 2009

RAROTONGA

Rarotonga is the largest of the Cook Islands and is home to the capital of this independent nation. Vegetated volcanic peaks rise up sharply in Rarotonga’s interior making for excellent hiking with spectacular views. As in the Societies, the hikes are strenuous and often involve fixed ropes up steep eroded inclines. Rarotonga’s booming tourist industry feeds the economy, providing well-paved access roads and established trails, which are all shown on the tourist map available at the information center.

While in Rarotonga, we enjoyed speaking English with the locals (as this nation was formerly a New Zealand colony). We also appreciated the variety of locally grown vegetables and being able to find imported mozerella cheese for our home-made pizza.

The Needle

One of our favorite adventures was climbing one of Rarotonga’s most prominent features, called the Needle. While most likely metamorphic, this 150-200 foot spire resembles harder igneous rock, such as granite. After hiking to the base to survey what equipment we would need to climb it, we discovered an easy route up the Needle’s east side. We decided to give it a go without ropes and gear. A few tricky moves up a wide crack led us to a path, which we followed to the base of a chimney. After shimmying up the chimney, we reached the top offering a view of the entire island. A few days later we would climb it again with our friend, David, on Tystie.

David in the chimney

July- August 2009

FROM FRENCH POLYNESIA TO RAROTONGA IN THE COOK ISLANDS

Rarotonga, in the southern group of the Cook Islands, lies 540nm distant from Bora Bora in French Polynesia. Because of our previous light wind passages, we were looking forward to the forecasted wind speeds ranging from 15 to 25 knots. The winds during our southwesterly passage were expected to shift in a counter-clockwise direction and were predicted to turn full circle. While this would mean that the wind would be right on the nose during part of our journey, the wind was predicted to only be brief and light from the southwest and would soon return to moderate SE trade winds (25 knots predicted). We sailed out of the cut in the reef of Bora Bora on July 20th in ideal conditions. Once outside the pass, with calm seas and 20 knots abeam, we were reaching in the SE trades at a swift 6 knots under full sail. For the next day and a half, we enjoyed pleasant sailing as the wind gradually shifted to the east and then the NE. By mid-day on July 22nd, our wind stopped. We could see squally weather in the distance and we sat and waited for our expected shift in wind. When our wind returned, it hit with surprising force. It was blowing 30 knots, which would have been fine except that the wind was coming straight out of the southwest (the direction we were trying to go). The wind also came with stronger gusts in the 40s and lower 50s. We beat our way forward into the building seas. By morning, the winds (still from the SW) had increased with sustained wind speeds between 40 and 45 knots with gusts in the lower 50s. The seas were confused and were probably around 20 feet in height. We could feel Chandrika being lifted by the swells and then dropped into the troughs with a loud thud against her hull. By this point, we were both beginning to grow sea-sick. The thought of food was nauseating. Periodically, we would poke our heads outside to look for ships and to check the sails. If we needed to venture outside to alter course or make an adjustment, we would quickly slide back the hatch, jump outside, adjust our Monitor self-steering system, and then leap back down below, trying to do so quickly before a breaking wave would douse us with salt water or splash through the open hatch. Occasionally, as Chandrika dipped into a trough, green water would pour over her bow and rush along the deck. Due to the confused nature of the seas, a breaking wave would periodically hit her sideways with a loud thud, sending spray flying. With our double-reefed mainsail, we decided to heave-to, a technique in which the sailboat lies with her bow quartering the oncoming waves as the vessel slowly slips downwind, creating a slick of calmer water upwind in her wake. As soon as we hove-to, the motion felt more comfortable. As we lay on the sole (floor) of the main salon on our settee cushions, we managed to struggle down some much needed dry cereal. We remained hove-to for 18 hours, as we slowly ate and regained our strength. The wind was gradually shifting to a more favorable direction; although at the time it seemed to be doing so incredibly slowly. At 4 am on July 24th, we resumed sailing in a gusty 25 to 45 knots of wind at a beam reach using a triple-reefed mainsail and our staysail. Within 24 hours, the wind had shifted to the East and had subsided to 20 to 30 knots, The seas had also decreased to 12-16 feet. At 1pm on July 25th, we finally dropped sail and motored into Avatiu Harbor in Rarotonga. After a lot of anchoring, re-anchoring and shifting around, there was eventually space for us to tie to the wharf next to the other sailing vessels. July 2009

THE SOCIETY ISLANDS OF FRENCH POLYNESIA

Upon departing Tahanea in the Tuamotus, we were again plagued with light winds. In an often constant state of experimentation on sail trim, weather helm, point of sail, and sail area/ combination, we were gaining on Tahiti, 3-1/2 days away. Well vegetated, the volcanic up-thrusts of the Societies are protected by barrier reefs and surrounded by a ring of calm, protected aqua blue water. We utilized the benefits of a first world country, such as paved roads and developed hiking trails, while ignoring the tourist industry’s recommendations and requirements of hiring a guide. Directions to a trail head were similar to those given by a taxi driver, only to be punctuated by fear of lawsuit. Trailheads were unmarked but effort and persistence paid off. We got everywhere by bicycle or on foot, which only added to our long missed and much enjoyed full days of exercise. Peaks came in and out of the clouds as we ascended their ridges and valleys. A day in our own private swim hole in the jungle was an enjoyed rarity compared to the long, narrow and often exposed ridge walks. The steepness of the ridges, sometimes resembling irregular elevated stone sidewalks allowed for both nice views and a good bit of shade first through the larger trees and tree ferns, followed by shrub brush, tree entanglements, and small fern groves in the windier parts, starting at about 1200 to 1600 feet above sea level. Hanging ropes were common as was the question of whether or not to trust them. It was 5:45am on the island of Moorea as we biked the 27 km to Mount Moa Puta, rising 2600 feet above Chandrika. Taller than wide and wider than narrow, the peak is shaped like the blunted tip of a knife. At the top of the sharp fin, a hole penetrates through the center, making the summit the top of an arch. Our goal was to reach the summit and then rappel inside the hole. The trail climbed steeply up until it crossed the top of a waterfall and followed along a river. It then split off from the river, where we quickly gained a ridge. The ridge climbed up steeply along loose earth. There were fixed ropes along much of this section to prevent erosion and to keep us from slipping. The summit offered gorgeous views of the coral reef below. A short scramble down the far side of the peak brought us to a bolted anchor, where we hung our climbing rope and rappelled inside the hole below the arch. To ascend back out of the hole, we climbed back up to our anchor on the crumbling rock and scrambled back up to the summit. We then reversed our steps and returned back down the trail. By the time we reached our bikes in the mid-afternoon, we were quite tired and were looking forward to returning home for a big meal and a good night’s sleep. As we approached our bikes, we discovered that the seat to our folding bike had been stolen and the thieves had released the air in the back tire of our other bicycle. On closer inspection, we discovered that our bike lock had been dented, as if someone had tried unsuccessfully to smash it with a rock. Fortunately, we had carried a bike pump with us, but we were not looking forward to biking the 27 km back to Chandrika standing on the pedals the entire way. With our terrible French, we attempted to ask around the neighborhood to see if anyone had seen anything suspicious. At one home, we met a kind English-speaking Polynesian woman, who was concerned about how we would return to our boat without a bicycle seat. Her teenaged daughter then offered us the bicycle seat off of her own bicycle that she no longer used. With relief, we begrudgingly accepted the gift, happy to know that we would be able to get home and would be able to use our bicycles for more adventures in the Societies and beyond.

Moa Puta

climbing out of "the hole" on Moa Puta

Often on our hikes and explorations, we enjoyed the company of various fellow cruisers. Despite the large scale of the South Pacific Ocean, there is not much land, and we see our friends at various anchorages. Our exploration of the Societies also brought us to the Leeward Islands of the Societies, such as Huahine, Raiatea and Bora Bora. In Huahine, we met up with Kirk on Salsa and Martin on Anima. Kirk, always looking for entertainment, proposed setting up a zip-line from the top of his mast to the mast of neighboring Anima, anchored about 200 feet away. As the zip-line idea did not involve the mast of Chandrika, we were more than happy to give it a try.

hiking the narrow Rotui ridge in Moorea

a view on the hike of Mt. Pahia in Bora Bora

June-July 2009

The Tuamotus

The Tuamotus of French Polynesia consist of about 78 islands. These islands are basically rings of coral reef, fringed with patches of sand and small islets that enclose a lagoon in the center. Many of the lagoons can be entered by sailboats. Their passes are often relatively narrow. As the tide goes in and out, the water inside and outside the lagoon is squeezed through very small openings making for strong currents (sometimes as high as 9 knots). Additionally many of the passes wind their way through coral outcrops, creating navigational hazards. These islands are also poorly charted, which means that the navigator must enter during times of good visibility and must pilot by eye. Fortunately, the water is remarkably clear, giving excellent visibility when the sun is high. Being so remote, much of the coral is pristine and untouched, making for remarkable snorkeling. Only some of the islands are inhabited. The islanders make their living either working for the French government and their nuclear testing program (in the southeastern islands) or they make a lucrative living farming black pearls. We chose to visit only one uninhabited atoll, named Tahanea, which is about 30 miles long by 15 miles wide. We chose this atoll, because it has a wide, easy to enter pass and boasts some of the most colorful fish and coral in the Tuamotus. We departed Ua Pou on June 4th. Unfortunately we had delayed our departure by a day, because other cruisers entering our anchorage had seemed overwhelmed by the big seas and strong winds offshore. When we left there was almost no wind. We would have much preferred the 30 knots of wind abaft of the day prior, as Chandrika really prefers a strong wind over a light one. We spent the first day of our passage crawling along under sail in light wind, or lying ahull (floating with no sail up) when the winds were too light. Fortunately, the wind gradually improved and we had decent wind with periods of nice sailing. To our luck, we arrived at Tahanea on June 8th, only 10 minutes past low tide. During high or low tide is often the best time to enter the passes of the Tuamotus as there is less current making its way through the narrow openings into the lagoon. Our entrance was easy and pleasantly uneventful. We stayed in Tahanea for a week. We did a lot of snorkeling. The fish here were incredible, sporting bright colors and unusual patterns. We encountered a school of fish (which looked similar to surgeon fish), but they had long horns growing out of their foreheads. Other fish had long snouts, resembling the narrow proboscis of insects, which they used to eat microorganisms that lie in the crevasses of coral. We did not do any spear fishing as many of the reef fish in the South Pacific carry the deadly toxin of ciguatera. Locals often know which types of fish are safe to eat in a given area, but as Tahanea was uninhabited there was no one to ask. We decided to play it safe and not eat any of the reef fish. One night during the full moon, we went lobster hunting with a bunch of other cruisers. On the outgoing tide, we walked in the inter-tidal zone in the dark with flashlights. The lobsters lie in small recesses and holes in the coral. You can see their eyes reflecting in the rays of the flashlight, which also causes them to freeze, much like a deer caught in headlights. Unfortunately our LED headlamps were not quite bright enough for the task, but Graham was still able to catch one nice large lobster. It was very sweet and delicious. We had a wonderful time exploring the coral reefs and hanging out with cruising friends, both old and new. We also explored the sandy islets, called motus, covered with hermit crabs and coconut palms; however, land exploration was limited. It was time to move on to the mountains and the reefs of the Society Islands, another group of islands in French Polynesia. June 2009

The Marquesas and the Islands of Paradise

The town of Atuona in Hiva Oa is one of the largest towns in the Marquesas with a population of almost 2000 residents. We stayed in the harbor for one week while we spent time with friends, went on walks, climbed fruit trees, ate delicious tropical fruit and gave Chandrika some TLC. During our 42 days at sea, gooseneck barnacles grabbed hold of Chandrika and colonized her hull. She was coated with these thick sea creatures and covered in green slime. Because we were almost exclusively on a port tack the entire passage, her starboard side had green slime and barnacles half-way up her topsides. We did the best we could, but the growth has rooted in the paint, so we will have to settle for looking a little dirty until we sand and paint her topsides. We also removed our roller furling unit and our headstay. We cut off the Norseman compression fitting at the end of the cable. It took us an entire day to relay the wires, as they had a mind of their own and somewhat resembled a strangling octopus. Eventually we were able to relay the wires and reattach our old Norseman fitting. Because we did not have a spare cone (the internal part of the Norseman fitting which is not supposed to be reused), we had to reuse the old bronze cone. We plan to purchase a new cable and a new Norseman cone (and some spares!) when we reach Tahiti. Until then, we would have to do the best we could. The entire repair took us 3 days. We were unable to conclusively determine if the broken wires had been caused by the flogging of the sails or by the roller furling unit binding to the cable at the top. Our repairs made, it was time to go and play. We sailed to the neighboring island of Tahuata. The first of the two bays we visited was HanaMoeNoe bay, which is uninhabited had no formal trails but there where wild goats – that is to say inland exploration required serious bushwacking. Where the shoreline cliff yielded access to the mountainside we headed up through vegetation and shrubbery of the 1 inch diameter variety with heights of 5 to 8 feet and plenty thick. Upon gaining the ridge we continued on up. We were drenched in sweat which stung the minor scratches from the thicket. Our clothing smelled of basil like fragrances with a few burrs here and there. It was clear that goats had walked this ridge before but often we would loose their slight trail after walking with our heads more than 3 feet off the ground. A hundred yards of good walking would bring our hopes up that we would reach the summit. This was soon followed by crawls on hands and knees through the brush or that strange combination of walking and swimming over and through it. Such cycling played with our minds drawing us further towards the peak. The last straw (no pun intended) was upon walking into the third nest of wasps, which were in the thicket, and Graham receiving his fourth sting. Sue, who is very allergic to bees and wasps, carries an epinephrine pen. We turned back a few hundred feet below the summit with a good bit of exercise. Next it was Hapatoni bay, which has a small village. We went on hikes, snorkeled and played with the children of Hapatoni and taught them to slackline. The residents of Hapatoni were very friendly. Every afternoon the children and their families (mostly the mothers) go to the pier and swim and play together. We also went on a 6 mile hike with our friend Steve on Tulak, that crossed over 3 ridges and took us to the neighboring village of Vaitahu. It was a holiday, and most of the residents had gone elsewhere, but the hike was very rewarding and offered some beautiful views. Along the way back, we gathered mangoes, bananas and papayas from the trees that were growing all along the sides of the road. On May 24th just before sunset, we raised anchor and set sail for the island of Ua Pou, some 60nm distant. We had excellent winds and arrived at first light. Our first view of the island revealed stunning vertical spires of rock jutting up towards the sky. The peak of Motutakae with its sheer face rose some 750 feet straight out of the water. Wanting to do some climbing, we attempted to find an anchorage right at its base, but to no avail. The ocean floor was too deep for our anchor and strong willawas gusted past Motutakae’s face. Willawas are strong gusty winds, occasionally reaching minor hurricane force (80 knots) that are caused by the trade winds getting funneled through the steep mountain valleys of the Marquesas islands. These gusts are so short lived that they rarely cause any harm; however, we were reluctant to anchor in the path of such gusts, which at the time were reaching 45 knots. We continued on and eventually discovered the bay of Uapo, which cuts inside two rock walls that rose one to two hundred feet high. Cruising has become incredibly popular here in the South Pacific, and we have been amazed at the sheer numbers of cruising sailboats that we have seen so far. We were delighted to discover that we had the entire bay to ourselves. We spent the next couple days bouldering on the rocks and exploring the small beach at the foot of the bay. We discovered a small farm (with no people) that had mango, grapefruit, lime, orange, pamplemousse (a citrus fruit similar to grapefruit) and pomme citron (lime apple) trees, as well as patches of some sort of watermelon type of fruit. We also went on a two to three mile dinghy sail out to Motutakae to take a closer look.

climbing in Uapo Bay

more climbing in Uapo Bay

Motutakae

We then moved two miles up the coast to the town of Hakamaii. Again, there were no cruisers here. There was a little swell coming into the bay, so we set a stern anchor to position us stern-to the swell, allowing for a much more comfortable motion. Wanting to do some laundry, we headed towards the shore in our dinghy with our dirty clothes. The shore-line was full of large rocks and small boulders, and the swell was crashing onto the coast. Since the shore shallowed quickly it was not possible to exit the dinghy before the waves which were crashing on the beach. After studying the pattern of the waves, Graham rowed in backwards and dropped Sue off with the clothes. Sue quickly jumped out and was up to her waist in the water, with the laundry bag held high over her head and waves crashing up against her, making it difficult to walk without falling over. Somehow, she managed to make it to dry land without submerging the laundry. Graham rowed out, anchored the dinghy, and swam in to shore. Many of the townspeople were sitting near the beach and were watching our entry. As we prepared to do laundry in the water faucet at the beach, a woman approached and bestowed us with two cold orange drinks and two large perfectly ripened mangoes. ‘How sweet of her!’ we thought. She soon came back baring more gifts. She had brought us lunch! Our meal consisted of cooked chicken in a sweet brown teriyaki sauce (chicken is a true treat for us, since we eat so much fish these days), plain white rice, fried rice with corn and thin green beans, cooked red banana bathed in a tapioca and coconut milk pudding, cooked local crab in a lime coconut sauce and bread fruit (similar to yucca or potato) to soak up all the delicious sauces. We were unable to engage in much conversation with this very kind woman, since neither of us speak French or Marquesan, but we learned that her name was Andaline. The townspeople were gathered under the communal gazebo beside the beach preparing for the Kids’ Day Festival that was to be held in the island capital of Haketao in a few days. The residents of Hakamaii had spent the past 2 months weaving grass hats, skirts and other apparel in preparation for the festival. After washing the laundry, we went back to the boat and actually managed to keep the laundry salt free. When we returned to shore that afternoon, we anchored the dinghy and swam. We had brought soap bubbles, and we played with the local kids, who were all hopping around on stilts, practicing for the upcoming Kids’ Day Festival. Then we went for a walk, to be followed by a hoard of kids, some on stilts. The kids immediately took to Graham when they discovered that they could point at a fruit tree and Graham would climb right up it and toss fruit down to them. The kids typically had to settle for over-ripened, bruised fruit that had fallen to the ground. They also enjoyed watching Graham climb up the steep side of the 20 foot tall boulders that were strewn along the path. On our way back to the dinghy, we saw Andaline. We gave her a bottle of nail polish and some dragonfly hair barets as a thank you gift. She thanked us and invited us to her house for lunch the next day. The next day, when we returned to the village for lunch with Andaline, we packed dry clothes and a loaf of fresh homemade olive bread in a five gallon plastic paint bucket with lid and dressed in our bathing suits. We anchored the dinghy, swam to shore with the bucket, rinsed off the salt in the fresh water spigot beside the beach, and then walked to a nearby cave along the beach where we changed into clean, dry clothes. We walked to Andaline’s house, a small middle class home with a colorful interior and a spacious feel due to its strong indoor-outdoor integration of spaces. Andaline, who is probably in 40s, lives with her parents. Andaline and her parents run a small convenience store that is right next to their house. Her parents were away visiting Tahiti. Andaline’s youner sister, who lives with her husband in a nearby house, was joining us for lunch. Lunch was amazing. The table was full of different delicious aromas and flavors. We ate poisson crux, a raw fish salad with cabbage, corn, tomato and shredded carrot, raw local crab in a lime fish broth, imported cooked King crab in a salad with tomato and hard-boiled egg with home-made vinaigrette dressing, stewed chicken, raw fish dipped in a lime fish broth, manioc poi-poi, a Marquesan pureé made with either bread fruit or manioc, fried rice with corn, diced chicken and fish, dried, salted fish, and our contribution of olive bread. We were pleased to learn that Marquesans traditionally eat without utensils by using their second and third fingers as a spoon to scoop food into their mouths. For dessert we ate a Tahitian brand of chocolate covered vanilla ice cream and homemade coconut cake. The Marquesan hospitality did not end with lunch. We left with dried fish, coconut cake, fresh green tomatoes from Andaline’s garden, 2 seed necklaces, a flower stone from the nearby bay of Hohoi, and a large coffee table book with gorgeous illustrated (in French) photographs of the island of Ua Pou. After lunch, a number of women from town gathered outside Andaline’s house to weave grass hats and apparel for the festival. Graham learned to weave the hats. Andaline’s sister then took us to her house. Andaline’s sister’s house was much more modest and was constructed from plywood with a tin roof and concrete floor. It had an outside patio that was connected to the house, which you entered through a curtained doorway. Surrounding her home was number of fruit trees and a little land for their pig, chickens, and cats to roam. We learned later that dogs and cats are not pets but are eaten here in the Marquesas. In case we did not have enough gifts, Andaline’s sister gave us 15 pounds of pamplemousse, many key limes, pomme citron, cava, and two green coconuts. Her and her husband also invited us to lunch the next day. Her husband offered us a lift to our dinghy in his outrigger canoe, so we would not have to swim with all of our many gifts. He could take one at a time, so first Sue climbed in. She was told to get in, while the canoe was still sitting on the beach on top of rocks. As she got pushed off the rocks into the water, she could hear the outrigger canoe cracking and could feel it bulging and flexing as it got pushed along the rocks. Andaline’s sister’s husband (we wish we could remember his name) hopped aboard, just as Sue glanced up and realized that the take-off had been timed very, very badly. A huge breaker was coming right at them. As our friend looked around for his oar, the wave crashed right on top of them. Fortunately it just gave them a good wash. Having found his oar, our friend began stroking madly to take them out into the bay outside the reach of the breakers. But first they had to go through one more. This one was even larger than the first and Sue was afraid it was going to pitch-pole the canoe bow over stern. As it broke right on top of them, they managed to stay upright but the breaker completely swamped the canoe. Safely outside the breakers, they had about 3 inches of freeboard sticking out above the surface of the water, but they didn’t sink! The Marquesans have one of the most beautifully carefree and happily positive attitudes we have ever encountered and we immediately fell in love with this mindset. With a huge grin on his face, our friend chuckled as they searched in vain for the small cut-off soda bottle that he uses to bilge his canoe. We have watched a number of the locals land their outrigger canoes on the beach of Hakamaii. While they have lots of experience doing this and show impressive paddling skills, it is still no small feat. About half the time they land, they get either completely soaked or end up entirely under water. Sometimes, however, their landing goes without a hitch. Regardless, their canoes take considerable abuse and we did not want to risk cracking our plastic dinghy on the rocks. We much preferred to swim with our five gallon bucket to keep our belongings dry. The following day, we returned to shore to enjoy a lovely lunch with our new friends and their son (about 10 years old) and young daughter (about 5 years of age). We ate white rice, stewed chicken, fried fish, raw fish dipped in lime coconut milk, octopus in coconut milk, bread fruit poi-poi, and dried shredded coconut. We were aware through these dinners that our hosts tended towards rice and some of the less fancy and less expensive foods showing that they normally do not eat so well and that they were going out of their way for us. This awareness brought about appreciation and conservative eating on our part as well. We gave our thanks with a gift of fishing line and hooks, which were greatly appreciated since they sell at a price ten fold here. We played with soap bubbles with their children and watched their son play around on his stilts. The son and his mother (Andaline’s sister) soon left to travel to the Kids’ Day Festival in the distant city of Hakahau. The kindness that we received in Hakamaii was astounding and really made our visit to the Marquesas feel complete. The swell inside the bay of Hakamaii was increasing as was the wind and we decided to move up the coast to find another more comfortable anchorage. We raised anchor and set sail for the short 6 mile trip to the bay of Hakahetao. We were on a starboard tack at a broad reach sailing in 15 knots of wind, when instantly the wind switched hitting us on our port beam at 15 knots. We had not yet tied off our boom to prevent an accidental jibe, and our boom slammed across to the other side. The winds were incredibly shifty and unpredictable since we were so close to the tall mountains of Ua Pou. Since it was only a few miles, we decided to drop sail and to motor. Soon after doing so, we began to get strong gusts, called willawas, that blew down from the mountains. As we were approaching our anchorage we were hit right on the nose by a 62 knot gust! Since we were only traveling a few miles, we did not bother to stow the sliced bananas that we had drying in the sun on our foredeck. As the gust hit, we were showered by sliced bananas along with the sheet of plexiglass they were lying on. The gust was brief and we continued on our way. We enjoyed the anchorage at Hakahetao, where we explored the rocky coast, and enjoyed a pot luck dinner on the shore with other cruisers, the mayor of Hakahetao and number of locals.

Hakahetao village

During our stay in the Marquesas, we had acquired the usual cuts and scrapes. However, for some reason our cuts were not healing well and were becoming easily infected. While playing with the children in Hapatoni village on the island of Tahuata, we had noticed that the childrens’ cuts were also heavily infected. There is probably some bacteria here in the water that easily infects wounds. Sue had a small scratch that swelled up, became pussy and had a huge red blotch projecting out from the cut, the classic sign of an infected wound going septic. Fortunately, with numerous antiseptic cleanings, the wound eventually healed. Graham, however, who is constantly getting cuts and scrapes, did not get off so easy. He had a badly infected gouge in his knee and a deeply infected blister in between his toes, along with numerous other smaller infections. Even his wasp stings became infected! We decided it was time to leave the Marquesas and move on to cleaner water. Graham went on oral antibiotics, waited to make sure he was improving and then set sail for another region of French Polynesia, known as the Tuamotus. May 2009

Our Pacific Passage

We departed from Panama on March 30th from the island of Contadora in the Las Perlas islands, about 35 nautical miles (nm) south of Panama City. The winds were light and we sailed and rode the current southward through the Bay of Panama. While leaving the Bay of Panama, in the pitch darkness of a new moon, bright stars and the numerous lights of the Milky Way shone brightly overhead. Almost appearing to be a mirror reflection of the sky above, the twinkling glimmers of phosphorescence sparkled in the ocean below. A school of dolphins swarmed around the boat, sending bright streamers of glitter shooting from behind them as they twisted and weaved about. Stars appeared to burst from the ocean in spouts, as the dolphins surfaced, blowing out the air from their lungs. It was as if they were wishing us a beautiful passage as we slowly drifted south in the current leaving the bay.

Sailing with the dolphins

It was a slow sail towards the Galapagos Islands. Often we were only able to sail because the current was carrying us south and west at about 2 knots. This increased our apparent wind just enough to make sailing just barely possible. As we got closer to the Galapagos, the current began carrying us westward. These conditions made us decide to pass North and West of the Galapagos Islands. While wanting to get a view of the islands, we also did not wish to get too close. With the frequent calms and the strong currents that rip around the islands, we thought it prudent to keep our distance. We experienced nice sailing conditions as we passed north of the islands, but once we were past them and trying to make our way south along the west side of the islands, we lost our wind. We had an agonizing 4 days being becalmed with a north setting current pushing us in the opposite direction that we wished to go. We seized every opportunity to sail, making the most of every tiny puff of wind. Through our desperation not to lose ground and to attempt working our way to the Southern latitudes, we discovered that we could actually forereach into the wind with our asymmetrical spinnaker and mainsail. All we needed was 2 knots of South wind to gain speed and then we could create enough wind from our own forward propulsion to continue sailing. It was painstaking work. At times the boat was so barely sailing that if we moved around too quickly we would throw Chandrika off balance causing the sails to flog and us to stop sailing.

Sailing in light winds with the assymetrical spinnaker

On April 13th we crossed to equator. That night we sat on watch becalmed gazing at the four stars of the Southern Cross beckoning us southward. On the opposite side of the sky, we could see the Big Dipper and the North Pole Star. We still had not caught a glimpse of the Galapagos and had assumed that we would be unable since we were too far offshore. However, stepping out on deck one night, we saw a bright red stream of lava outlining the right-hand side of a mountain, as a plume of red smoke billowed upwards from its summit. We were witnessing a volcanic eruption on Isla Isabela! What an amazing site! The next 2 nights (being in relatively the same location since we were still becalmed) we could here a rumbling like thunder, which we presumed could only be coming from the volcano, although we could no longer see any lava or smoke). On April 16th, the winds began and come April 17th we had made it through the Doldrums. We were moving along in East South-East 20 knot winds with 2 to 3 foot chop on top of 6 foot swell. It was great to be moving again. We threw out our 300 pound monofilament hand lines and soon we we had caught a 10 pound Skipjack Tuna.

Skipjack Tuna

The trade winds continued and so did the catch. Next was a 16 pound Mahi Mahi (also called Dorado), which made for great ceviche and a couple of meals. The rest was dried for preservation, to be eaten in the next few days. These fish were a bit large for us, as we prefer to eat it fresh and not dried (as we do not have refrigeration). We were therefore happy that our next few catches were 3 to 6 pound Mahi Mahi. Mmmm….

Mahi-Mahi

The fishing was great and we kept at it. Graham set a line early one morning and soon noticed we had taken a 30 degree zig zag on the GPS recorded track. Almost as strange was that we had dropped in speed by 1 knot. Sure enough a fish had bit our line, and this was not a little fish. Sue was awoken from her peaceful sleep, and we took turns hauling in the line. The fish was a fighter and we got a great workout as we pulled it in. “Damn that’s a Big fish!” Sue said. Graham had recently made a noose out of stainless steel cable and a 6 foot wooden rod in anticipation of catching a “Big fish”. We ran the hand line through the eye of the noose and eventually over the head of the fish. We tightened it down at the tail, so that we now had the fish by both ends. Graham lifted the fish up by the tail and successfully landed it onboard. We had caught a huge yellowfin tuna. While only 4’ 2” long, this fish had a girth the same as Sue’s (over 2 feet) and it weighed 60 to 70 pounds! Now we understand why this is a commercial fish. We quickly jabbed an ice pick into its brain for a speedy death and for our own safety. Before prepping the fish, Sue let out the tangled and bloody line and was coiling it back in for storage, when… “Oh Shit!” she cried. “What’s wrong?” “We just caught another fish!” Yes. It was another large yellowfin tuna. We pulled this one up as we contemplated how we were going to release it without killing it. To our luck, the stainless steel hook broke and we lost the fish. What a relief!

Yellowfin Tuna

We cleaned and gutted our catch. We only kept 40 pounds of meat. We cut steaks and lay them out to sun-dry. The whole process took about 6 hours.

Preparing the tuna to be sundried

The trades kept blowing from the South East at 10 to 20 knots, and we were moving along well, covering anywhere from 120 to 140 nm a day. We liked having at least 20 knots of wind, because with any less wind the sails did not stay full as Chandrika got tossed around in the large Pacific swell. On April 20th we passed through a system of squalls one after another after another. The wind between the squalls was about 20 to 25 knots, with anywhere from 30 to 40 knots of wind inside the squalls. One particularly strong squall had gusts in the upper 40s, topping out at 48 knots! We stayed heavily reefed as we were slammed every couple hours by another squall. This weather lasted about 48 hours. When the squall system finally passed, the swell had grown to about 9 feet with 2 to 3 foot seas overlaid on top. While we still had moderate trade winds, varying from 10 to 20 knots, it became more challenging keeping the sails full, especially when the wind dropped to between 10 and 15 knots. We were still making good mileage, but it became difficult and stressful to keep the sails from flogging. We did our best to minimize the slapping of the sails, but at times it was unavoidable. The swell gradually lessened as did our wind and by April 28th, we were sailing along in 5 to 10 knots of East South-East wind and calm seas with a gentle 1 to 3 feet of swell. On April 30th with about 850 nm remaining until the Marquesas, we decided to furl in the jib and bring out the asymmetrical spinnaker. The jib would not furl. Graham went up to the foredeck and looked up. He noticed a few wires protruding from the top of the forestay. We pulled the jib down, removing it from the roller furling system. Graham tied into a halyard and shimmied up the mast. In the 3 feet of swell, he did his best to keep from swinging around and slamming into the rigging. To our horror, Graham discovered that four wires had broken at the bottom of our swageless compression fitting. The wires had unraveled down to the top of the roller furling extrusions. Graham had been aloft 3 days prior, when the sheeve for our asymmetrical spinnaker halyard had broken, shredding the sheath off of the halyard. At that time there were no wires protruding from the headstay, so the wired must have just recently broken. For the next 3 days, we sank into depression. We were not worried about getting to the Marquesas safely. We had brought 80 gallons of diesel and so far had only used 1 gallon. Our engine is very fuel efficient for a marine diesel engine, using only a little over 1 liter per hour. With our diesel capacity and a slight westbound current, we could probably motor to the Marquesas if we sucked our tank and fuel reserves dry. What we were concerned about was being able to repair our headstay, since we will have a long way to go after the Marquesas. We suspected that the flogging of the jib had placed enormous strain on the cable just below the fitting, which had caused the break; although, we could not be certain Unfortunately, we could not fully assess the damage without removing the roller furling unit, which would have to wait until we were in harbor. For now, we would have to focus on the rest of the journey. No longer able to use our jib without risk of causing further damage, we were limited to sailing with just the mainsail, our spinnaker and our small staysail. Fortunately, since the trade winds were coming from abaft, there should be little strain on the forestay. Furthermore, since we are a cutter rig, our baby inner forestay provides some redundancy. If decided that if we needed to forereach, we would do so with a reefed mainsail and our staysail, in order to eliminate strain on the mast above the inner forestay attachment point. The last thing we wanted to do was to fracture our mast or even lose the top piece of it. For the rest of our passage, we had extremely light winds directly astern, and we were frequently becalmed. We mostly sailed with our asymmetrical spinnaker. On May 10th, at first light, we saw land. Hive Oa and the surrounding islands of the Marquesas shot out of the ocean. Their majestic summits and lush green vegetation beckoned us. As we were approaching Hiva Oa, we caught sight of our friend, Steve, on Tulak, sailing in and completing his 44 day long passage from Costa Rica to the Marquesas. We had last seen Steve in Panama City about 2 and a half months ago. We sailed in together towards Atuona harbor.

Arriving at Atuona Harbor on the island of Hiva Oa

As soon we had dropped our anchor in Atuona harbor, we were greeting by a red trimaran named Migration. The trimaran motored past us, as a man and woman shouted, “Welcome to the Marquesas!” and proceeded to toss fresh tropical fruit at us. They bestowed us with bananas and juicy pomplemousse, a local citrus fruit akin to the grapefruit. Our friends, Rebecca and Patrick, on Brickhouse, arrived to welcome us and to help us set our stern anchor, the customary anchoring technique in Atuona harbor. They told us that Bruce and Alean aboard Migration had invited us to dinner. We began our meal that evening with poisson cru, a delicious Polynesian version of ceviche that uses coconut milk, cabbage and small pieces of fruit. The main course was lightly seared fresh yellowtail tuna sashimi bathed in a garlic ginger soy sauce, rice, and fresh slices of perfectly ripened mango. Apparently Bruce is a former professional chef. The best part of the evening was enjoying the company of our friends both old and new, Rebecca, Patrick, Bruce and Alean. What a perfect welcome we received in the Marquesas! April to May 2009

Panama City

Since coming through the canal at the end of October, we have stayed in Panama City and the surrounding area. Panama City has served as an excellent port for preparing Chandrika for our upcoming crossing of the Pacific Ocean. Panama City has a wide selection of materials and supplies available. That said, it is not always easy to find them. Latin America works on a different time scale than the US. It seems that every other week there is a major holiday and stores are closed. Furthermore, stores are not centralized and computerized like back home. For example, Novey’s is a hardware store chain throughout Panama. If they are sold out of a particular item, they are unable to look in their computer and tell you if another one of their stores has it in stock. They also are unable to call the other store to ask for you. Sometimes they claim they do not have a telephone. Somehow I find this hard to believe. Additionally, many stores in the area do not display their merchandise. Instead you must walk up to the counter and ask them if they have what you are looking for. This would not be so bad if it were not for the fact that many of the employees have no idea what they sell. When purchasing a valve for a propane tank, we went to the Tropigas store and asked them if they had a US propane tank valve. They told us that they did not and sent us on a wild goose chase looking for one. Exhausted and empty-handed we rowed back to Chandrika. On the way, we stopped to talk to some fellow cruisers. We discovered they had bought a US propane tank valve at the Tropigas we had visited that very morning. Our friends gave us their receipt, which showed the purchase of a “USA valvula ” which incidentally was exactly what we had called it at the store. We returned the next day armed with the receipt and yes, they had plenty of them. Perhaps it just depends what sales representative you get. We began trying to call stores in advance to see if they had what we needed in stock, but soon realized that this approach was pointless. Often they would say that yes, they had selection of the item we wanted. Then after spending two hours traveling all over town on buses, we would arrive at the store to discover that there was nothing of the kind available. As the city is extremely loud with horns honking, street venders yelling, and music blaring out of the open shops, it was always a relief to get back to the relative quiet of the anchorage. Despite many frustrations and various set-backs, we have accomplished a lot over the last few months. We’ve undertaken numerous electrical projects, such as installing a new Garmin GPS, a fish-finder that serves as a back-up depth sounder, and a Single Side Band (SSB) radio and antennae for receiving weather forecasts and for listening to news. Our previous SSB radio had very poor reception and it was so corroded, it was difficult to change frequencies, making it virtually useless. We’ve also fixed various other electrical problems that involved rewiring a few systems. In addition to our electrical projects, we’ve tackled our rigging and have made some modifications. We’ve added two halyards for hoisting our new asymmetrical spinnaker. This sail will allow us greater sail area for sailing in light downwind conditions. We’ve also improved our reefing system so that we can more easily reduce sail area when we encounter strong winds. Chandrika’s mainsail now has 3 reef points, allowing us to further reduce sail area should we get caught in a serious storm. Up to now, we’ve had only 2 reefs, which has been sufficient for the winds we’ve encountered so far. We’ve moved the cheek blocks that we use for reefing and have improved their attachment to the boom by riveting them in place. The cleats for putting in the third reef are through bolted. We’ve also added lazyjack lines and have re-rigged our running backstays to allow for greater tension adjustment. In preparing for our passage, we’ve also inspected all of our hoses and thru-hull attachments, replacing hose-clamps when necessary. During our check, we discovered that our sink drain had corroded, leaving the hose (that is attached to a thru-hull) standing upright but completely detached from the sink. This discovery followed an incident in which we and fellow cruisers rescued a boat at anchor from sinking when a hose burst off of its thru-hull. This incident served as a reminder of the importance of vigilance when living afloat. We’ve also made a few improvements to our creature comforts as well. We scraped away the old flaky paint inside our storage lockers and added some fresh paint. We’ve also installed a new 2 burner propane stove, which runs off of a large 25 pound propane tank that we have secured on deck. Our old stove was a one burner propane stove that ran on small green camping stove propane bottles. These bottles can be hard to find and are difficult to refill. Our new tank can be refilled easily in many places around the globe. Our biggest improvement to Chandrika, however, is our installation of a Monitor self-steering device. This device mounts on Chandrika’s stern and uses the wind to keep her steering on course. We will no longer have to sit at the helm 24/7 keeping Chandrika on course. This will be greatly appreciated as we will be doing a lot of sailing the next several months! The installation of the Monitor wind-vane went fairly smoothly but was not without its difficulties. Its installation required us to remodel our bimini (our shade structure). Since the wires for some of our electrical equipment ran through the bimini frame, this involved rewiring our radar, our wind-speed indicator, our solar panel and our GPS antennae. While rewiring the radar, we discovered that the previous owner had accidentally mounted the scanner at a 90 degree angle. No wonder we had never been able to understand the images on the radar screen (not that we had ever put much time into it). Mounting the Monitor itself, involved suspending the 80 pound unit over the water, aligning it with Chandrika’s stern and drilling 8 holes through her transom, no small undertaking. Our time in Panama City hasn’t been all work. We’ve met many sailors here who have become great friends. We celebrated Thanksgiving aboard 50’ Warrior, with our friends Robin and Michelle and about 20 other cruisers. Graham baked a turkey in our oven using a cut-off tin can filled with denatured alcohol. It was delicious. We’ve also had a couple of visits from family. Sue’s mom and dad visited for 5 days at the beginning of December. We took Chandrika to the nearby island of Taboga and enjoyed a few relaxing days, spending time together. On our return to Panama City, we visited the Panama Canal and watched ships transit through the Miraflores Locks. We also went on a tour of the city. Graham’s mother and sister also came for a short 6 day visit at the end of January. Since dry season had just begun with its prevailing North winds, we decided to leave Chandrika anchored and visit Taboga by ferry. The anchorage at Taboga is exposed to the north, and it can get quite rough inside during the dry season. We spent a few days on Taboga, hiking, kayaking and relaxing on the beach. After Taboga we returned to mainland and visited Gamboa, a resort on Gatun Lake along the Panama Canal. We had wonderful visits with our families. We really cherish these visits and wish we could spend more time with our loved ones. Over the winter holidays, we took a break from work and sailed to Las Perlas Islands, about 40 miles south of Panama City. We had a wonderful time exploring the islands. At our last anchorage at the island of San Jose, we discovered a waterfall along the coast that could be reached by scrambling along the rocks at low tide. What a beautiful shower spot, right on the ocean. Our visits with family and our trip to Las Perlas were a much needed break from our hard work on Chandrika. In addition to boat maintenance, we’ve been loading up with spare parts and supplies, such as a spare alternator, spare blocks and sheaves, engine oil, etc. Additionally we’ve stocked up with food and toiletries. We’ve heard that imported foods and toiletries in many of the South Pacific Islands can cost over 10 times as much, so we’ve made the best of Panama’s low food prices and have heavily provisioned. We’ve also increased our water capacity to 130 gallons, by adding several more jerry cans, and we’ve expanded our diesel fuel capacity to 80 gallons. With Chandrika heavily loaded and down to her water line, we are finally ready to set sail. We plan to leave Panama City on either March 26th or the 27th. We’ve decided to skip the Galapagos. Entry fees are expensive and to explore the islands, it is obligatory that you hire a guide. We plan to sail non-stop to the Marquesas in French Polynesia. From Las Perlas islands off the coast of Panama to the Marquesas is a distance of about 4150 nautical miles. This route takes us across the equator and the doldrums, where there is often little to no wind. After passing this area, we should eventually meet up with the strong South Pacific trade winds. It is difficult to estimate how much time it will take us to sail this distance, because it depends so much on the winds that we find along the way. It could take us as much as 50 days, but without catching rain water, we have enough water for over two months. Right now our minds are focused on the journey and we are looking forward to spending a month at sea. November 2008 – March 2009

Colón and The Panama Canal

Many of the cruisers are well-off Los Estados Unidos gringos who have spent most of their lives at home being filled with fear from the media. We therefore took our warnings of the dangers of Colón with a grain of salt. After all most cities can be dangerous if you don’t use common sense. However, while not quite as bad as most made it out to be, Colón is a city of great economic disparity, a 50% unemployment rate, and therefore unusually high crime. A fellow cruiser aboard World Wind was yanked into an alleyway at gunpoint close to where he was doing laundry. After taking a swing at the man with the gun, he lost only his passport, pants and perhaps a little dignity walking back to the laundromat in his underwear. An unusually unlucky man, on his second visit to the city (and only his second day in the city), his dinghy and outboard were stolen right off his boat. So, while we almost always go for walking, we took cabs at night and when going through dangerous sections. It was our goal to be out of the city as quickly as possible and yet, while never having been through the canal, we wanted the experience in order to be comfortable bringing Chandrika through. While waiting for an opportunity to line-handle on another boat, we were visited by our good friend, Steph, who hoped to share the canal experience with us. Unfortunately, Steph was unable to stay long enough to go through the canal. She left after a brief but wonderful four day visit. Having had no luck going through on another vessel, we opted to get the show on the road. We paid our fees, including signing a contract that we would owe an additional $400 + if we went less than 8 knots through the canal (with a hull speed of 7.5 knots, we told them we did 8), along with another additional $800 + if we damaged the canal walls (likely story).

Steph visits, bringing many bursts of happiness to Colón

The next step was to get 4 heavy ropes over 125 feet and many tires to protect Chandrika’s topsides, prior to the official inspection and measurement necessary for canal transit. The canal traffic was low, and the scheduling office gave us a date only 4 days post inspection. Our friends, Slim and Gail, aboard Miss Gale and their daughter, Wendy, and Sue made up the four necessary line handlers. Graham took on the role as captain for our transit. We were ready to go. On October 28th at sunset, our advisor (the Autoridad del Canal de Panamá, ACP, personnel in charge of assisting us through the locks) came aboard. We motored towards the Gatun Locks, the first set of locks for the canal. There are several ways a sailboat can transit through the locks. The preferred method, which we were fortunate enough to experience the entire way through, is to be “center-tied”. This means that the sailboat motors into the center of the chamber. Four long dock lines are used to secure the boat to the side walls. The engine is put in neutral, and now the lines are used to control the position of the boat. On the way up, the water enters the chamber. As the boat rises, the distance between the boat and the top of the sidewalls, where the boat is secured, becomes shorter. To compensate, the line handlers on the boat take in the slack, being careful to keep the boat straight and in the center of the chamber. After the chamber is full, the lines are released from the wall. The captain then uses the boat’s engine to motor into the next chamber, where the procedure is repeated. We passed through the three chambers of Gatun Locks so quickly (in 1 and 1/2 hours), it was difficult to register everything that happened. Part of the haste was because the canal workers were in a hurry. They double-culverted us, meaning that they filled each chamber twice as quickly as normal. It being our first time through, we did not realize that this was unusually hectic. As soon as our lines were placed on the cleats of the sidewalls, the water would rush in, creating circular swirls of turbulence. On the 3rd and last chamber of Gatun Locks, our lines were secured to the cleats by the ACP workers up above. Then, for some unknown reason, one of the workers removed one of the lines from the cleat. With the engine in neutral, the turbulence from the water coming into the lock immediately pushed on our bow sideways and Chandrika was now positioned perpendicularly in the chamber. Our wonderful advisor began screaming into the radio, yelling at the authorities not to run water into the lock, because “my vessel is in a compromised position” at the fault of an ACP worker. Thanks to our excellent advisor and some serious line-handler sweat, no harm was done. (We have been through the canal twice since bringing Chandrika, and we have yet to meet an advisor as good as the one we had while going through Gatun Locks.) After passing through Gatun Locks, we motored to a mooring buoy, where our advisor departed and we prepared to spend the night. We were now on Gatun Lake, just over 80 feet above sea level. In the morning, we woke on the calm stillness of the lake to the sounds of howler monkeys. Graham, Sue, and Slim went for a morning dip. After spotting a crocodile, we decided it was time to dry off and to wait for our new advisor.

Slim and our Panamanian advisor

Our advisor (not the same one as yesterday) finally arrived at 9:45am, over three hours late. We were finally on our way. We motored through the 23.5 mile long channel that spans Gatun Lake. We entered the Pedro Miguel lock at 1:30pm, having averaged a little over 6 knots. Now began our descent back to sea level. We were the only boat in the entire lock. 10 million gallons of fresh water was spent to down-lock a single 34 foot sailboat, giving us images of a Cheerio being flushed down the toilet. Down-locking was much more relaxing than the hasty up-locking of the night before.

Gail after an exhausting 2 days and a brief squall

An ACP worker crossing the canal on top of the chamber door

After the Pedro Miguel Lock, we continued on to the Miraflores Locks and our final two chambers. While we waited for a cargo ship to arrive, we were told to dock against the wall. After an hour and a half, the ship arrived, and we were instructed to pull away from the wall and prepare for center tie-up. The ACP workers passed us the ends of two lines, called monkey fist lines, that we would use to send them our dock lines after our boat was positioned in the middle of the chamber. One end of the line was therefore on our boat and the other end was in the hands of the ACP worker on the wall/ dock. Being too lazy to feed out the appropriate amount of line as we pulled away from the wall, he decided to throw a huge 100 foot long wad of line into the water, right at our propeller.

The ship behind us in the Miraflores locks

Chandrika has a keel-mounted rudder with a small cut-out just for the propeller. Protected as it is, the line became entangled, and Graham quickly threw the engine into neutral. We were not allowed to dive the prop and after going between forward and reverse, the line twisted free, but we doubted that was all of it. We down locked without trouble and upon exiting the locks, we throttled up to 80% maximum speed. The shaft and propeller shuddered. While still in the canal, we convinced the advisor to allow us to pull to the side, drop the hook at 2:1 scope and dive the propeller on the basis that the shaft could come free and the boat could sink. Graham dove with a knife and found a wad of rope 20 layers thick on the 1” of exposed shaft between the boat and the propeller. Cutting off the rope revealed that it had eaten 1.5” into the rubber lining of the bronze cutlass bearing (a bearing around the shaft that keeps the shaft from wobbling). Further inspection of the shaft at the coupling (where the shaft attaches to the engine transmission), we found that the set screws had come loose, allowing the rope to pull the shaft about 1” out of the coupling. Without divots in the shaft, we put in the two spare set screws we had, wired them together, hauled up the hook (anchor) and were on our way to drop off the line-handlers. With a ripping current, darkness upon us and stress high, we were fortunate to have a panga come up to Chandrika and bring them ashore. (Docking was the only other foreseeable option at the time.) “Welcome to the Pacific,” we thought, as we dropped the hook for the night. We soon discovered after much effort and frustration that the shaft was permanently out from the coupling (unless we pulled out the engine), as we could not get it to go in the final ½”. Graham carefully drilled new divots into the shaft for the set screws, which along with the key and machine fit will have to do until Chandrika gets hauled out again. Furthermore, while we could have tried to get the ACP to take responsibility for the damage, the foreseeable bureaucratic hoops made it not worth the effort. Hey! Look on the bright side – we can now fit a larger and better zinc anode onto the shaft (to prevent corrosion of the propeller). With headaches behind, an ocean lay ahead.