Marquesas - Tuamotus: Day 3 - From Fun to Frustration

:lat=-14.079483:lon=-144.466200:
Time: 1735UTC, COG 214T, SOG 4.0kts, Distance Remaining: 162nm

The first two days of a longer voyage are always the hardest. You have to get used to constantly being in motion, having to hold on to something at all times and staying up half of the night. All you really want to do is sleep; there is not much interest in anything else and the night shifts take forever. On day three some kind of routine has been established and you feel more inclined to do something productive, like taking a shower, making more fruit salad, or fish, for example.

From the moment the sun came up, we flew our spinnaker (colorful light air sail), while being able to keep the main sail in place. We managed to maintain five knots of speed in ten knots of wind and stayed on course. Not bad! It was a lovely day with sunshine and blue skies, void of squalls. The
sea was as comfortable as it gets, while still being "sailable" and we both enjoyed the ride. We did have to run the engine for a bit to charge the batteries, a necessary evil, but easier than rigging our little generator up.

In the afternoon, Irie drove through a big school of tuna. We did hook one: a fat and tasty yellow fin! But, from the moment we hauled him aboard, he got off the hook. No sushi for us - what a shame and disappointment. Luckily, we still had other food, which we cooked ahead of time. And, lots
of fruit, of course. :-)

Because of the light winds, we wanted to fly the spinnaker as long as possible during the day. Just as I finished up the dishes and we were ready to take the sail down, a squall surprised us with some wind and lots of rain; the exact situation you try to avoid when the spinnaker is in place (and the reason we take it down at night)... With fluky winds, it might end up in the water, where you can run over it, or in heavy winds, it might rip. In this case, we saved it from dipping in the salty ocean and managed to take it down. Everything - us included - was soaking wet, and enjoying turned into annoying.

The wind never restored itself and with the jib instead of the spinnaker we lost speed regardless. During Mark's shift, we moved 10° off course at 4 knots. At midnight, it was my turn at the helm and I was welcomed by a radar screen cluttered with squalls. One rainstorm after the other arrived, sucking out the little wind we had. For hours I sat in the rain and wished for the wind to come back. Floating on an ocean doing less than 2 knots is frustrating to say the least. Not only are you not making any progress, but - no matter how calm the sea - the incessantly flapping sails and erratically banging rigging would drive the most patient person crazy! Plus, no sleep for the person off watch either.

Finally, some breeze arrived, albeit 50° more northerly than predicted, which had us sailing 35° off course. Not something we could make up easily. I watched the phenomenon for another hour and then decided to get rid of the jib all together and adjust course. We had lost enough time and ground. And that's where we are at right now: sailing along at 3 knots and still 15° off course. When the sun wakes up at 6am, we will hang our spinnaker out to dry, if it is not too squally. The mainsail will have to come down and then there's hoping for another fun sail and making Apataki in time...

Marquesas - Tuamotus: Day 2 - All about Wind

:lat=-12.562500:lon=-143.258133:
Time: 1735UTC, COG 220T, SOG 6.0kts, Distance Remaining: 276nm

We had to ask our fellow traveler to leave. He spent the night on one of our solar panels and was still cleaning his feathers there, when the sun rose higher and higher. Any shadow on the panel - even the one of a bird - restricts its input greatly and we need all the electricity we can get. The wind generator is hardly doing anything in this kind of breeze. Yes, we should have charged those boat batteries before we left...

Today, the wind was lighter than predicted, but its angle being 30° off - in the "wrong direction" (more behind us) - had bigger consequences for our speed. We did manage to keep both sails up, but moved slowly towards our destination. We have always said "It's better to have a comfortable trip that takes a bit longer, than a fast and bumpy one!" On this journey, however, if we don't make it in four days and six hours, we will have to "stay out" another 16 hours. I will explain why in another blog. It might be time to fly that spinnaker when the sun comes up!

When you sail, it is all about the wind. Forget the rain in squalls. Sure, it is wet and inconvenient, but it is the wind in them that messes things up. The same goes for waves and swell. The sea would be dead calm if it isn't for the wind. The harder it blows, the more uncomfortable the ocean becomes and the choppier the anchorages get. The wind decides how fast you sail and where you can go. And, how comfortable the ride is.

I realize the weather is not always perfect in the Caribbean, but at least the predictions are pretty accurate and the wind consistent. Often, we arrived at our destination quicker than planned and the trips were straightforward. That might have had something to do with the fact that we never had the wind behind us going up and down the island chain, but, nevertheless, unobstructed by land, the wind was reliable. Downwind sailing is easier, but slower, and we have been looking forward to it on this ocean.

The wind can be your friend, your enemy or your acquaintance. When we plan our trips, it is based on the wind promising to be our best friend, if not a good friend. That's why we leave when we leave! Once at sea, reality kicks in and the wind becomes more of an acquaintance. It pushes us along and is
friendly enough to help us out, but it doesn't go out of its way or really cares about us getting there fast or direct. At some intervals it becomes our enemy, working against us with annoying shifts, becoming fluky or dropping out altogether. Or by going crazy, blowing hard and kicking up the seas. Luckily that doesn't happen too often and - knock on wood - real storms have stayed away.

As for tonight, the wind seems to have freshened a bit. It appears to do so after the sun is down and we hope to make up some speed during these twelve hours. After a few squalls, I am settling into my nightly routine. In the Caribbean, a squall meant shortening sail and picking up speed. Here in the Pacific, a squall causes wind shifts and then sucks up everything, leaving the boat bobbing aimlessly, sails flogging, boom banging, until the previous conditions resume. Usually.

All our fruit has turned yellow. Maybe I should have specified our preference of unripe fruit when asking for it? No scurvy for us, and if someone would like to share our 70 ripe bananas, 4 full-size papayas, 8 sweet and juicy grapefruits or 10 massive mangoes, you know where to find them: about halfway between Ua Pou and Apataki!

Marquesas to Tuamotus - Day 1: Slow Start

:lat=-10.929183:lon=-141.668017:
Time: 1735UTC, COG 220T, SOG 5.3kts, Distance Remaining: 411nm

As a side note I want to apologize for the crappy quality of the photos in the previous blog (I will improve them in the future) and for the old location status "Ua Pou" to the right. Blame the lack of (decent) internet in our last anchorage. We are underway now and Mark will update our position on the map daily.

The weather looked promising when we lifted anchor in Hakamaii, Ua Pou around 8am this morning. While the villagers went to church, I hauled Mark up the mast to check the rigging and by the time the service finished, we were underway. The land effect kept our progress to a minimum for quite some time. A massive pod of dolphins sent us off towards the Tuamotus. Floating in the water, swimming back and forth, they got slightly bored with our idleness in the water, but they didn't give up. When we finally gained some speed, so did they. It was a sight to behold.

Ua Pou became smaller, while the distance to the atoll of Apataki slowly shortened. By 1pm the last island of the Marquesas was gone, swallowed up by the clouds. We were all alone in the big, wide ocean. We checked the instruments. We adjusted them. We checked the sails. We adjusted them. We ate fruit. Lots of fruit. As usual at sea, we need to consume bananas as quickly as possible. They are turning yellow as we speak! When the sun makes us drowsy, we take a nap.

A few hours into the trip, the weather did its own Pacific thing again: it changed without any reason. The wind speed dropped five knots and later on even ten (!) knots, the direction became less favorable. At one point, it shifted 60°! All of a sudden we couldn't stay on course anymore. Our speed dropped from an expected 6 knots to 5.5 (required to get there in four days), to 5 and less. By 4pm we were sailing under main sail only and barely doing 3 knots. Half a knot of that was current. Now what? And, today was supposed to be our fastest day, since the wind speed is predicted to go
down...

We hoped for more wind. We asked for more wind. We screamed for more wind. All the while wondering how the breeze could be so inconsistent and unpredictable on this ocean. There were no squalls nearby and we were far from the equator! Our only explanation were the gray clouds in the area or a weather system further away. By 6:30pm, my bedtime, our situation had improved some and we were sailing under full sails again. A boobie (brown and white seabird) landed on the solar panels and joined us for the ride.


Fast forward six hours. Irie is cruising along at more than five knots. The wind keeps fluctuating a bit, there are some squalls around and a skinny moon tries to pop out. Wherever not obscured by clouds, the stars twinkly. Our winged hitchhiker is still here, taking a nap, and so is Mark. We are comfortably sailing for now, so no complaints! :-)

Marquesas to Tuamotus, Starting off

:lat=-9.496667:lon=-140.186700:
Time: 1845UTC, COG 225T, SOG 5.5kts, Distance Remaining: 534nm

We are on our way. Large pod of dolphins said goodbye as we leave the
Marquesas.

A Time of Gifts and Goodbyes

(By email)

Knowing that a weather window to sail to the Tuamotus was available, Mark and I moved on from Ua Pou’s capital Hakahau to another anchorage along the island’s west coast. We would stage from there for the four day trip to the atoll of Apataki, 530 miles SW of Ua Pou.  Irie tucked her nose into the bay of Hakahetau, from where the famous “cathedral” peaks offer a spectacular sight during cloudless days, but, we decided to skip the town and sail onwards. The anchorage of Vaieho looked very peaceful and comfortable. Nobody lives on the shores of this tranquil bay, but the presence of five other sailboats (a lot of the cruising families came from Taiohae, Nuku Hiva to Ua Pou this week, because their kids had off from school) encouraged us further south.

Hakahetau Bay

Our destination was the remote village of Hakamaii, beckoning from a tiny valley. We dropped anchor in the clearest water we have seen in the Marquesas (I saw the bottom in 33 feet of water) and were satisfied with the picturesque surroundings of this small bay. Only then, did we read in a few cruising guides about Ua Pou’s anchorages. We learned that most boats prefer Vaieho and that barely anyone stops here, because it is usually too rolly. Mark and I were in luck, however, since the weather has been very benign with little wind and hardly any swell. Taking the dinghy to shore was another adventure… There is no breakwater, no beach and no dock. We took the engine off – required for the passage to the Tuamotus anyway – and rowed ashore. There, some nice person usually greeted us and helped us pull our little boat out of the foamy water and onto the rocks. An action that was one time wetter than another…

The village of Hakamaii

Other than the peaceful and pretty location, the draw of this village is the friendliness of the people. Yesterday, we were invited into one house for some coffee and a whole bunch of food was put on the table. We had just eaten breakfast, however. The friendly lady of the house gave us a baguette she had picked up in another village earlier and wasn’t happy until we left with a bag full of ripe mangoes. At another place, we traded a water toy we had no use for on Irie, for a wheelbarrow and bags full of fruit: two stacks of bananas, pamplemousses, limes, and papayas. We hope it doesn’t all ripen at once, because we would like to provide some of the islanders in the Tuamotus with these goodies, which are unavailable there. While I write this, the local kids are laughing and playing in the water with the toy. On the way back to the dinghy, another family offered us the use of their internet so we could check the weather and emails for a last time.

The necessary vitamins for the sail trip and upon arrival in the Tuamotus

Today, during a little walk on shore to take pictures (I forgot my camera yesterday), we were offered some breadfruit and more mangoes. When we learned that Eric, this friendly Marquesan offering the fruit, was a stone sculpture, we followed him to his main house to see his art. He uses the local “flower stones” (which can be found on one certain beach in Ua Pou) to create animals and objects of different sizes. The big ones were amazingly made and unaffordable. Out of nowhere, he decided to give us a small turtle as a gift, and later – when we temporarily split up – he handed me a small pestle made of the same kind of stone as well. To top it up, he wanted us to come back and pick up some freshly caught goat and peppers as well, after our walk. Such hospitality and generosity is very humbling and rare in our western world! We invited him over to Irie to repay our respects and offer him a few gifts, before we finished up preparing the boat for another big journey tomorrow. There couldn’t have been a better place to end our stay in the Marquesas and say goodbye to its unique inhabitants and scenery.

View of Ua Pou along the north shore

Obelisk in the water at Vaieho Bay. From afar it looks like a tiki!

Our first sunset in a long time! The joy of being anchored on the west side of an island.

Yes, the pamplemousses (grapefruit) are big here!

Cleaning Irie’s bottom once more. Every week!

Fishermen from Hakamaii in an outrigger canoe

The river in Hakamaii, dividing the village in two

Temple in Hakamaii

Irie in Hakamaii Bay

Ready to launch the dinghy again?