At sea, South Pacific Ocean
Blazing along today at 4 kts flying just the Code Zero sail in light, almost non-existent wind we have come within sight of land, the first such sighting since we skirted the Galapagos over two weeks ago. This particular island now broad on our port beam is one of many in the Tuamotu Archipelago in southeastern French Polynesia. After 28 days at sea there is a great temptation to run the pass into the atoll, drop the hook and spend a little time free of the routine of constantly sailing west. But alas we lack the appropriate visa and would have to come up with a $1,700 bond for each of us. Plus Harley has to get to Tonga to catch a flight back to the States for work and return with Sophia. And while a respite would be welcome, it is extremely difficult to get up the enthusiasm to go back to sea for another 1,800 nm, the rhumb line distance remaining to Vava’u, our ultimate destination.
And so, we harken back to memories of the last time we sailed these Polynesian waters 20 years ago – hence the throw-back photo above, a delightful anchorage on the island of Taha’a where we spent Thanksgiving in 2004. Anyway, in an effort to get you all to read our musings, we lured you in with a picture of ourselves taken on that day and I’m sure you’ll agree we haven’t changed a bit.
The nearly 4,900 nm in our wake since leaving Panama plus the remaining 1,800 nm we have yet to cover will definitely make this the longest passage we have ever made. Rather than enjoying the traditional trade wind sailing the weather has been unusual to say the least. This has forced us to bob and weave as we cut through the Tuamotu which is a bit of a navigational nightmare since there are literally hundreds of motus, atolls, and reefs to avoid. (See screenshot below, pink highlights land hazards marked so we can see them when we zoom out on the electronic chart). And the charts, while up to date, still carry notations of offsets of up to a mile and in some places confess to being “Inadequately Surveyed”. The light air is also backing and making courses difficult to maintain, and our speeds have been so atypically slow, we console ourselves by saying “well, this would be have been a good day on Manu Kai” (our first boat, for which 6 kts would have been fast).
Our days are governed by routine, which admittedly all goes to hell when the weather does not cooperate. Since one of us has to be awake at all times, our watch system is six hours on, six hours off. I take the 7pm-1am watch, where Harley takes the 1am-7am. During the day we are more flexible about those times, with Harley taking a nap before or after lunch (or both if it was a rough night), and I try to get a good couple hour nap in before my 7pm shift. Our life is pretty much dictated by weather, with the forecasts updated twice daily. A lot of good it has done us however, as up to now as it has been accurate less than 15% of the time.
So the priorities are: sail the boat, sleep when you can, eat when you can. There have been days out here when we have done 10 sail changes in a day, sometimes spending 4-5 hours changing our set up. After each of these sail plan changes our cockpit reminds me of photos I have seen of an ER room “post trauma” – the carnage in this case being all of our various lines and sail sheets strung out around winches and on the cockpit sole. And I think it may be time to finally retire my old sailing gloves. I am trying to decide if they should be buried at sea or hung on a wall, since they have been with me for 20 years of sailing, over 50,000 miles. Since reaching the “trade winds” the sailing has been the most fickle, at times with us running solely with our Code Zero (light air sail), dropping the main sail completely. We cannot remember a passage EVER, where we have completely taken down the main sail so many times – at least six so far. To offset this light air sailing we have been poled out wing-and-wing, double reefed, and have hove-to twice so far. It has been strange.
But in spite of all this our life goes on. People often ask – “don’t you get sick of each other? Don’t you go stir crazy?” Well, no, we actually hardly spend any time “together” due to the watch schedule (and by the way, we enjoy spending time together :)). We typically only share tea together in the morning and lunch at midday. In terms of stir crazy, well, not really. There is a lot more to do out here than one may imagine, starting with just sailing the boat, maintaining her systems, and changing sail plans and navigation in accordance with weather. As a crew of two, we also prioritize sleep when we can.
Otherwise, each day we do our respective chores. There is the “gardening”, my term for checking on our stores to prevent spoilage and making sure the day’s vittles are accessible, which means “shopping” from the various stowage spots throughout Kailani to resupply items as the pantry gets low. Each day the eggs must be rotated, and the cabbage, potatoes, and onions inspected and adjusted to keep from spoiling. Items in the fridge also have to be inspected since once rot sets in everything starts to go. We bake bread, make yogurt, make beans, maintain the charge on the batteries, insure the fridge and freezer stay at the proper temperature and run the water maker to keep our fresh water tank full. Then there is the usual cleaning up of the galley, the heads, daily rinsing of the cockpit, and sweeping up floors down below. And let’s not forget the daily deck walk to check for chafe, gear mishaps and removal of the night’s roadkill.
Finally, there is the occasional load of laundry (literally only one so far). On top of those chores, I try to get some daily stretching, pilates spring work or bike time in to keep from melting away. Harley on the other hand keeps fit by fixing all that needs it (which has been blessedly little so far, touch wood). One of the only things easier on a boat at sea than on land is trash management: everything except plastic goes overboard. Sorry all you eco-warriors, these are the maritime rules when greater than 25 miles from land.
We also get asked about fishing out here. We have thrown out our lines still to no avail, and honestly after passing through a fleet of Chinese fishing boats earlier on our run (see screenshot below), feel more dispirited about our poor ocean and how many fish there actually may still be out here. But we will continue to put out our meat line, with the “priest” (basically a billy club) ready to go if we manage to hook one and supplement our protein supply.
And so we send our greetings from French Polynesia, an incredibly beautiful part of this world’s oceans and one we feel lucky to be traversing through a second time, even if we can’t pull in for a Hinano beer, or six. We sign off with another throw-back photo, the companion one to the lead in above, which some of you may have seen already if you have read Our Journey page on this website.
17 34.7 S 142 57.1 W
At sea, South Pacific Ocean
Day 28 of passage
1,774 nm to go to Vava’u, Tonga
It’s a lot of fun reading about your adventures, thank you for sharing
Dear Harley & Jen! What an adventure! Thank you so much for sharing. I’ve both laughed and cried reading about your many experiences. Travel safe.
Love, Deborah
These are a true joy to read, and I always look forward to them. They are extraordinarily well written and provide a unique perspective.
Thank you! Such truly high praise from a Harvard professor and published author, among your many other life accomplishments!