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