The Long Haul to Marquesas

You may have received an email the other day of Rob’s post of our crossing. Here is mine. As you can see, it’s much longer (Sorry! As I said before, this is also to help us remember our trip.) Heather.

We’re off! Finally tackling the crossing that’s been in the back of our minds since we contemplated signing up for this journey. As we watch the Galápagos Islands fade in the distance, we find ourselves in the Doldrums, the area where wind drops to almost nothing, from the equator to approximately 5 degrees north and south of the equator. Thus, we motor for several days in a southwesterly heading until we run into the trade winds and once again raise the sails, rejoicing in the sound of only the wind and the waves.

What is it like to live aboard a boat for three weeks? Hmmm. Consider traveling in a RV. Your trip will take three weeks. However, you can’t get out of your RV until you reach your final destination. You have to stock up on fuel, food (short term and long term items), paper products, soaps, reading materials, everything you can imagine you’ll want/need. You may open windows. And even climb onto the roof of the RV to take in the scenery. But, you can’t get out onto solid ground. Ever. For three weeks….

Today is Day 6 of our crossing. Gorgeous blue sky with sparse smattering of feathery white clouds, mostly on the horizon. The sea is a little swelly, but the angle the swells collide with the stern of the boat downplays the roll. Perfect day of downwind sailing. Calvin and Rob raised The Big Banana parasail two days ago. Unfortunately, at the very peak of the mast, a piece of the collar of the parasail wrapped around the top of the headsail. The decision was made this situation needed to be remedied now. Calvin donned the harness and with Ellie’s assistance at the winch, Rob keeping a close watch, while I tended the helm, he ascended the mast to the very top. The sway of the boat is magnified at such a distance from the deck, which is quite unnerving to watch as Calvin grabbed lines to keep from swinging away from the mast and then colliding back into it. I can’t imagine being up there! He calmly completed his task and Ellie carefully lowered him back to the deck with Rob feeding her the line. He’s a courageous, young Irishman, that one! Rob and I are grateful neither of us has to go up there!

We settle into our crossing routine of rotating two hour watches, day and night, which shift by two hours as each day passes. Basically, every 6 hours, we’re on a two hour watch. Fishing periodically, then taking a break from fishing after catching 5 yellowfin tunas.

Some random thoughts as we’re sailing along the big blue:

-The Pacific Ocean is really, really, really big.

-Galapagos to Marquesas is about 3200 NM (we can’t sail as the crow flies, so longer distance for us.) A long way to fly, much less sail.

-When at the helm and a squall hits that threatens to overpower the boat, simply turn downwind. But not too far because then the sails will gybe and that’s a problem. I’m working on not over-turning.

-The autopilot is a godsend!! And ours has been working well. Some boats have had autopilot issues and they have to hand steer 24 hours/day. That makes me tired just thinking about it!

-Filleting a fish is harder than it looks on YouTube.

-Be happy when a 200 lb Marlin breaks the line before getting it to the boat. They violently thrash around their bill, which is surprisingly sharp.

-Night watches mean there’s no guilt over a long afternoon nap. Or a middle of the night snack. Which could become a bad habit.

-There’s lots and lots and lots of sitting. Sitting at the helm, sitting in the cockpit, sitting in the salon, sitting on the couch in the bedroom. In rough or rolly seas, standing can be treacherous, so sitting is a good option.

-When we do get off our behinds, and the sea is rough, always, always, hold onto something when moving about the boat, with one, or sometimes both hands, which makes it very tricky to cook. I now understand why we have a strap for around our waist, which clips us onto the front of the stove. Then, we may use two hands, instead of sacrificing one hand for holding on. For instance, it’s hard to stir a pot with one hand when you also need one to hold the handle.

-Jolie is a sound vessel. We appreciate her keeping us safe every day.

-We’re lovin’ the Big Banana parasail. Great for downwind, light to medium winds. And it’s quiet - no harsh slapping sound that the other sails make when the wind is too light.

-If you rush to reach something, you WILL stub your toe. Especially Rob and Calvin. And the pinky toe is usually the casualty.

-We LOVE ice. It’s an American thing. If we go to a Brits’ boat, they’ll make a gin and tonic with one, small ice cube. Even at the equator.

-It’s really great having Ellie cook for us!! She prepared many meals ahead of time and froze them. A quick thaw and Voila! we have lasagne or chicken curry or cottage pie…. We’re eating surprisingly well!

-As we sit at the helm at night, we see the Southern Cross above the horizon on our port side and our comforting, familiar Big Dipper to our starboard. The North Star is no longer visible above the horizon.

-Making a birthday cake, without a gimbaled stove to use, yields a lopsided, wonky cake. And takes half the day. However, it is much more appreciated than a cake baked at home.

-My favorite watch is one that enables me to watch the sun gradually rise. From deep darkness, followed by the very first hint of brightening of the sky, until the orange ball breaks the horizon. Sunsets are gorgeous, but darkness follows, which is more unsettling in the middle of the sea(at least for me). Sunrises hold such hope.

-A bright moon is our friend.

-The smaller I feel out in the vastness of the Pacific Ocean, the bigger God feels.

-Rob and I were talking about funny things we do on the boat. He said, “Like when you have to press your head against the wall to put your pants on.” I laughed and said I didn’t do that. He asked how I put my pants on. “I sit down.” Men are from Mars.

-When Jolie is really heeled or the swells cause sudden rolly motions, one may have to put his/her feet on the opposite wall of the bathroom in order to stay on the toilet.

-Watching the movement of the ocean as it passes underneath and around us is kind of like watching a fire. Calming (most of the time), mesmerizing.

-Sunscreen, sunscreen, sunscreen

-Flying fish defy gravity. The ones we’re seeing are larger than the ones we’ve seen in the Caribbean. These soar for much longer distances, sometimes turning as they fly. In the morning, the sunlight catches their wings and reflects reds, pinks and greens. At times, a large school, (a hundred of them?)fly at once in perfect unison, skimming across the top of the waves.

-Homemade cookies taste especially delicious and baking helps fight some of the periodic feelings of monotony, but only when on a calm sea.

-Nature teases us. We spend hours watching, scanning the ocean for wildlife, objects to avoid (tree trunks, stray containers from cargo ships, etc), occasional large swells so we may warn everyone below to “Hold on!” And every so often, nature responds with a pod of dolphins, jumping and playing along the bow or false killer whales swimming up to our stern (and me scaring them off by screaming “WHALES!!” to all below deck). Sitting at the helm, I spotted an odd reddish shape floating right by me. Initially, I thought it was part of a palm frond. As it went by, I realized it was a huge red squid - about 4 feet long! It was gone before anyone else could appreciate it with me. Dang. I hate when that happens. It’s much more satisfying to share an encounter with nature with another nature-lover. Yesterday, Rob was at the helm and yelled to me to come quickly. I dropped the toothbrush from my mouth and ran to the cockpit. Whales off in the distance. Actually, quite far away. We could see the large, dark form breaching high out of the water, but what made it remarkable was the immense size of the splash on smashing back into the sea. Literally, like a car was being dropped from high above. Sprays of dense white water shooting 30 plus feet in the air in opposite directions. This replayed several times and then was gone. We’re guessing they must have been humpback whales.

-Nature also provides some nuisances. At first, we liked the Brown Boobies (birds, that is) that would hunt for flying fish around the boat and then land on the bow or the top of the mast for a rest. However, we realized two things… They are prolific poopers! The ones on the mast have the opportunity to hit anything below, from all down the sails, to the deck and all over the windows, as well as frosting the top quarter of the mast. The ones on the bow cover the entire bow. Yuck. The second issue is the ones landing on the mast are not sure where they wish to perch. As they experiment with different landing options, they try landing on critical structures, like the wind vane. As we watch the vane bend 90 degrees under its weight. Rob decides he’s had enough and pulls out the air horn. Loud and obnoxious as that thing is, it didn’t phase the boobies. Rob yearned for his pellet gun back home. We tolerated them for several days until they decided it was time to move on.

-The cedar plug is by far the best fishing lure.

-The total solar eclipse occurred after sunrise as we sailed along Hiva Oa, the first of the Marquesa Islands. Laaaand Hoooo!!! An amazing welcome. Land was so very good to see! And smell!(Who knew how good land can smell??) Calvin has been working hard this crossing, learning to properly use the sextant to calculate our position. None of us have been especially interested in using it until the eclipse. It was the perfect way to safely watch the eclipse! Suddenly, it became quite popular.

Looking back on our longest crossing of the trip, I’m surprised how really quite pleasant it’s been. Thankfully, we had decent weather - no really scary squalls, etc. It took us all a week to really settle into the rhythm of our days and adjust to having abundant time to read, write, allow our thoughts to freely flow, etc., without thinking we’re being completely unproductive. There’s a collective sigh among all of us who have completed the passage (Serafina, Tir Na Nog, Poco Loco and Sartori still haven’t arrived), having this now successfully behind us. Phew!!

Now, we are safely situated next to a number of other OWR friends, in tiny Hapatoni Bay, tucked close to the rocky shore of Tahuata. Feels really good to be here and exchange crossing stories with friends, over an adult beverage, or five. (Most of the vessels remain dry during crossings.) We’re looking forward to seeing and experiencing the gifts of French Polynesia.