Settling in to French Polynesia

The lunacy, violence and exhaustion of the passage from New Zealand is finally beginning to subside.   While it will never be forgotten, it will be shoved into a box deeply hidden somewhere in my brain and heart.    And while I seem to perpetually fail at finding a real home, my true gypsy spirit has kicked in, which means that I am "full on" for whatever new adventures I come across every day.

The bureaucracy in French Polynesia is so completely absurd that rather than be bothered by it, I find myself almost enjoying the comical lengths to which one must go just to complete all the requirements.   We had spent several days in Wellington at the French embassy there to acquire our long stay, resident visas for 6 months in FP.  We thought that process to be arduous and frustrating, in addition to costly.   Upon arrival here, we had to trek to the Port Captain, then to Customs, then to Immigration (where Geoff did not seem to meet the official's approval and was given an almost rude treatment).  Then to the bank to pay a bond of over $3500.  Then back to Geoff's para-military (police wannabe) friend, who grunted at Geoff and then proceeded to talk only to me...  After a failed attempt to purchase duty free fuel, we then had to go back to the Port Captain for additional paperwork.  Phew! 

Unfortunately, upon checking fuel consumption calculations, we found that either there was water now in the fuel,  or someone made a huge error in counting the amount added/subtracted to the starboard fuel tank.    Rather than find out the answer the hard way while in some remote place, we decided that 50 gallons of diesel now had to be siphoned out of the tank into jerry jugs, taken ashore and disposed of in the appropriate facility ( yes, costing even more $).   Tank was inspected and very little water found.  We have no idea where this magic extra fuel came from, and so will have to forego a chance to give some real competition to the local fuel monopoly.

Back to the long stay visa.  Although we had received the appropriate stamps for our passports from the embassy in Wellington, we now had to go buy an additional stamp from the post office (for approximately $100US!) and take that to yet another government office where we were told to leave everything and come back the next day.

Did I mention that the dinghy motor, which we had just had "fully serviced", did not work?  There we were, stuck on a mooring a couple of kilometers from shore, with a dead motor and a couple of oars.   This is one of the very hard things about this lifestyle -- we try to be as self-sufficient as possible in as many ways as possible, but sometimes have to count on someone else.  Upon disassembling the motor, it turned out that despite a "full overhaul" the spark plugs had not been replaced and there was now lube oil streaming freely from the lower unit seal behind the propeller.  After several man/days of motor dissection and analysis, Geoff has finally decided to give up on the motor, and we ended up buying a new, smaller motor, at very inflated French Polynesian prices.

We rowed to shore, took the 45 minute bus ride back to town and, Glory Hallelujah!, were given our long stay visa documents.   Armed with these I trekked back to the airport to get a refund of our $3,500 bond.  (Geoff wisely decided to remain working on GRACE).  I took my number at the bank, waited in line for 20 minutes, got to the window and made my request.  The teller then took the next 20 minutes to look up files, consult with her colleagues, and make copious copies (yet again) of all my documents, passports, visa etc.  THEN she told me that I needed to back to Immigration (Geoff's buddy) and get two stamps on each paper.   At this point it was almost lunchtime and the bank was about to close for two hours.  "Come back after lunch.").  I was able to get to Mr. Immigration, who could not have been more charming to me.  He invited me to wait inside his air-conditioned office (we had been forced to wait outside when we visited immigration the first time).  We discussed France and Colombia's chances at the World Cup, and he gave me the stamps I needed with no problem at all. (Speaking some French really does help a lot.)  Back to the bank two hours later, and they did refund the bond -- after charging another processing fee -- and left me holding $3500 in cash as French Pacific Francs.....  (I had paid the bond originally in US$.)  Quite "amusing" as I walked back to the nearest bus stop.  

As I approached the bus stop, a man came right up close to me -- clearly a vagrant, and there was no one else around.   He asked where I was going, and which hotel I was staying at.  I opted to be pleasant rather than be scared.  I told him I was taking the bus south and that I was not staying at a hotel but with friends.  I then asked HIM where he was heading.  He told me he was going up into the hills about 5 km.   I asked if the bus went there from here and he said "no".  He walked there, but was just resting at the bus stop.   I asked if he was ever able to hitch a ride and he replied "sometimes".  As my bus approached I wished him "good luck" with getting a ride.   He replied that he depends on "good attitude" rather than "good luck."   What a smart man.  I made it safely back to the boat armed with all my cash and a new respect for strangers.     

There is a certain "aroma" in lesser developing countries...  And while French Polynesia doesn't quite fit the LDC description, it certainly smells like other places I have lived.   For some reason, the smell of burning garbage or tires brings back lovely and very pleasant associations for me back to  my youth.   Add in the omnipresent "tiare"  flower blossoms placed behind one's left or right ear --  depending on one's sense of fidelity or availability--  and fruit trees bursting with juicy mango or papaya, the dirt roads filled with potholes and blown garbage, and in some ways I really do feel at home.  I am already on a first name basis with the little dog who is owned by my favorite dirt road-side fruit purveyor.   

The air here is heavy, hot and laden with moisture.  Something about the tropics makes me feel almost ethereal, very sensuous or perhaps an extremely unholy mix of both.   It is a wonderful feeling that I wish I could share.

Men are funny creatures, regardless of nationality.   They seem to all respond very positively to a feminine creature who shares a passion for World Cup Football/Soccer and has a working  knowledge of boats too.   Even if the female in question is not a "cute young thing".   Once a day (games here are only in the am),  I treat myself to a trip to a local cafe/restaurant/bar to watch one of the day's World Cup matches.  Sometimes I am the only woman, but when France played Switzerland there were three others in a crowd of men.   By now the "regulars" are used to seeing me and share their insights into various plays.   I was bowled over several days ago when the young Tahitian bartender insisted on buying my 'cafe au lait' for me.   These sorts of things never happened to me when I was young, but then, when I was, I did not hang out at bars.   Since I cannot watch the games with Chris and Peter, as we did when they were little, this is my substitute and "gypsy" way of finding a home too.  

Work on GRACE continues perpetually.  Sail chafe needs repairing, stuffed bearings on new block needs replacing, steering blocks need attention, as well as the usual engine, battery, and rigging work.   Since we have had to order replacement parts and items from abroad, we anticipate yet another round of play with the local bureaucracy.  Wish us "good attitude" as well as "good luck" --  we can use both.

Drinking the Ocean

Drinking the Ocean, soaking the sunshine and catching the wind….

written sometime towards the end of May, 2014

We have been at sea for three weeks now.   In that time the only other living things we have seen are the albatrosses, the petrels, and the tropic birds along with the explosion of dolphins waving goodbye to us as we left New Zealand.

A last minute crew change 4 days before planned departure was necessitated by a family emergency, causing Sally to end up dropping her plans to fly to meet GRACE in FP and instead stay aboard.    This is no passage for sissies.    Lets just say not only her mettle was tested...

On board, Geoff, Martin and Sally continue to try to keep Maslow’s Hierarchy in balance.  Giving safety, shelter, water, food, priority, and then, if time permits, moving on to hygiene, social interaction amongst the three of us on board.    Many of the other parts of his famous pyramid are distant memories, or perhaps dreams. With few outside stimuli, we are reduced to living in our own small world, surrounded by only our immediate problems and, indeed, these seem to take up all but every waking moment.  We have been thousands of miles from any other person for a while now.  

In 2,400 nautical miles of ocean there is a prodigious  amount of water passing by and underneath us.   The current color is almost impossible to describe — it is so clear and yet so deeply indigo blue.    Nights are alternately supremely peaceful and almost mystic, or horrific and diabolical. 

Some amazing aspects of even the relatively little technology we have aboard keep us forever in good stead.   Thanks to a fairly simple “water maker” we are able to use reverse-osmosis and do, actually, end up drinking the water from the ocean around us.  Because the system is so good, it is able to filter out, not only the salt, but the Albatross (and other) poop, and also any bacteria and even viruses.   

In addition to the water-maker, which does need a certain amount of power to run each day, we have the ability to “soak up the sun” using our two solar panels.   Between them and the wind generator we are able to produce more than enough of our own electricity to power not only the water maker, but also the single side band radio which is how we transmit our daily position to those watching us.   

Since we tend to not trust electronics on a boat, we don’t have an auto-pilot to steer the boat.   We use a simple servo pendulum wind vane (ours is a “Monitor”) which keeps GRACE on course vis-a-vis the apparent wind.   This tireless piece of equipment is easily one of the most important aboard.  

In a passage with weather as violent as this, there are inevitable breakdowns and losses.   Almost within the first 24 hours, Martin's watch stopped working.  Sounds like a small thing, but it can be hard to keep to a watch schedule without one.   Next to go, for no reason we can discern (close to electrical storms? but we didn’t think we had a strike aboard), the Garmin GPS and chart plotter packed up.    Next to go was the laptop used for communications via the SSB.   That was killed instantly when a large wave unexpectedly slammed the port beam, jumped up into the cockpit and then with astonishing accuracy, fell right on top of the computer sitting down below at the Nav Station.   We’ve had some injuries too, but none that required me to pull out the injectable heavy weights.  And anyway, we are three tough cookies…

Back up plans:   It is not enough to have the right equipment aboard on a trip such as this, you have to have contingencies and think about them well in advance.   Thus, much of the past 6 months have been spent in extensive and expensive re-fit of GRACE.   While we had already put all computers, hand held GPS, VHS radio and SAT phone into the oven when we were passing the electrical storms, the GPS is hard wired into the bulkhead and not easily removed.   However, we do have paper charts, a hand held GPS, and electronic charts on (good thing…) both computers.   

This passage we have also found that communication with special people elsewhere in the world,  albeit brief, has made the hard parts a bit easier.   Out here you are really and truly alone, and the combination of high stress, huge bursts of intense physical activity, elusive sleep and  in conditions that sometimes feel like we are in a tiny capsule being shaken erratically in James Bond’s martini shaker by a palsied bartender, can make you feel lost and forgotten and not a small bit insane.  Given the expanse of the ocean and sky and the vagaries of Mother Nature, you can feel very tiny and irrelevant indeed.   The people far away may not be able to help in any palpable way, but the connections are life saving and life affirming. 

When those who read this think next of the ocean or of the sun or of the wind, please think of us and how they keep us alive and heading towards our destination.

Shaken, not stirred….  on to Tahiti!

ADRIFT... and UN-TETHERED

Despite not adding to this blog in a couple of years, we continue to travel and live part of each year aboard GRACE.


Life aboard continues to be basic and yet it is a good and fine life.

Unexpectedly, and very quickly, Sally’s mother died this past year.  With her usual courtesy and desire never to be a burden, she did so while we were there.  She was the biggest fan of this website, reading each passage multiple times, making comments, asking questions, and always proofreading.    While more of a homebody later in life, she had travelled much of the world in her earlier years and had great perspective on what we were up to.  

She loved the photos, and studied them intently.   Almost all of them...   The nearly naked ones always made her comment, but we think she secretly enjoyed those too.

Samba, a most versitile dog, is now happily with our family living in the house where she was a puppy.  A true sweetheart, she brings much joy to us as she did to Doris. 

It is a bit hard to add to this site now,  knowing that Sally’s mom will not be reading and enjoying it anymore.   But we didn’t want any other reader (anyone out there?) to think that we had given up.  We have done no such thing.

New Zealand continues to be stunning.  GRACE continues to be home.  Despite all the current re-fit and associated upheaval, we are doing well.   No TV, lots of books, good walks and good friends keep us busy.   Geoff did a bit of racing on a Dragon again, thorougly enjoying one-design racing.    We also make a point of getting away from the boat and seeing the landscape and flora/fauna of this precious country.

When in the US, we are lucky enough to spend some good times with our sons,  dear friends, and doing projects that give us pleasure and keep us out of trouble.  Geoff completely re- designed and built our kitchen from the studs – all by himself. And the finished kitchen is a delight.

Sally taught herself how to knit this past year, and also got a tailor-made part-time job in a local bakery and specialty food store while in the US, -- finding great satisfaction in both. 

In preparation for going offshore (for the first time in 5 years) we are giving GRACE a thorough going-over:  removing all the cap-rails and fixing leaking bulwarks (likely leaking since the boat was built), new heat exchangers for the engine, we have renovated the steering system, and are going over every inch of the engine, sails and rigging.

The current plan is to head due East to the Austral Islands, and from there head on back up to Tahiti.  This time around, we are hoping to have much more time to explore more of French Polynesia.

The palm trees, the sounds of distant drumming and the gorgeous "scenery" beckon us both back. 

Stay tuned…   Grace is on the move again!  The adventure continues.

Here be dragons!

Typical scenery when sailing Alaska

s/v GRACE's CREW GOES GLACIAL -- IN ALASKA

How could we resist?   In mid July just when life was feeling a bit static, we received a phone call from a sailing friend, Dan, whom we had originally met in Fiji and have subsequently seen in Vanuatu, New Zealand and Washington.   Dan was with his sailboat in Alaska having sailed her all the way from New Zealand to the Aleutian Islands last year and was between visits from his wife Brenda and regular crew.  

We ate it too!

Digging for geoduck clams

“Would we be interested in coming to Alaska” and helping him deliver his yacht to a place where it would be easy for his family to come an join him two weeks hence?  How can you say “no” to such a chance? 

A tufted puffin

 This is the same Dan who roasted a whole pig for friends and took us "Geoduck clam" digging in spring.

Sally has been crazy about Puffins since we saw some 5 years ago off the western coast of Vancouver Island and Dan promised that she might be able to see some in Alaska.    With long underwear, camera and cooking utensils in hand, we headed off to Alaska. – A place neither of us had visisted.

We made it!

As it was, we only saw a tiny portion of Alaska but we were both impressed with the vast enormity of the place.   We sailed for several days without seeing another human or boat.   We were not only out of Internet and cell range but also out of VHF weather coverage, too.   We have spent a good deal of time far from “civilization” and all that purports to be such, but the sense of scale and emptiness in Alaska was a different experience.

Bears are everywhere

When we went ashore it was not with a local guide to explain the terrain or the plant and animal life - it was just the three of us.   We spoke in loud voices to alert any bears to our presence and a mama bear very considerately growled from its cave to reciprocate.   We took the bear at its first “hello” and were sure to give it its space.

Mountains cry straight into the ocean

We anchored at the base of glaciers, in the lee of Yosemite-like granite cliffs, in the seclusion of hidden lagoons surrounded by rocks and even, once, amidst the spars of a sunken fishing boat.  In Alaska the mountains and the sea typically merge seamlessly without the benefit of an intervening beach.  Instead, the tall peaks slope sharply downwards into the sea while supporting large patches of loose rock, boulders and glacial ice.

Yet another quiet anchorage

Even in summer we found some of this ice, sculpted by waves and the sun, floating in the bays nearby.  On old charts one can see the legend: HC SVNT DRACONES or “Here Be Dragons”.   As we saw pieces of sculpted ice float by we could imagine just what the ancient mariners meant. 

Scuba saviors

 Our few exposures to other people were all memorable: the young couple whom Dan had befriended who came by in Seward and treated us to pounds of halibut and salmon; the young crew of a small boat who came to disentangle the anchor from the (uncharted) sunken fishing boat using their on-board scuba gear and even the Coast Guard who showed up unexpectedly for an inspection of safety gear aboard. 

  

Hot babe from cold climate

Local suppliers of fresh fish

People in Alaska to a man/woman, all proved well spoken, well read, and eager to be helpful to others.  Geoff even got to embrace a local 'celebrity' in Anchorage. Well, perhaps there is one exception...

Excess of halibut in Seward

While the gold fever has long since faded in Alaska, the fervor to catch fish has not.  We were astonished to see how many people flew into and out of Alaska with their elaborate prize tools to catch huge fish.   One man and his son were talking as we were leaving Anchorage airport – they were flying back home with over 800 pounds (362 kilos) of fish that they had caught! When you hear this slaughter it brings to mind a concern about sustainability, but hopefully, most people are sensible fishermen and there will be plenty for everyone.  

tools of the trade

Dan was a patient and generous instructor in the skills needed to catch halibut, rockfish, and salmon.  He has been fishing his whole life for fun, and his son Ben is an expert on all things fish and fishing.  We were the lucky beneficiaries of this know-how.   Geoff was quite successful in catching ‘keepers” using Dan’s equipment and lures and which then gave Sally the delightful task of cooking the freshest seafood ever.  The halibut and salmon effectively jumped from the water into our mouths and melted.

Sally fisher-woman as adult

Sally fisher-woman age 6

Fish for dinner

Over the course of the cruise, we were able to eat halibut multiple ways, rockfish, cod, and even "silver" salmon, which Sally was allowed to reel in. 


While a bit awkward, pin-boning a fish on a moving boat is well worth the effort.  We even got to experiment with cooking and eating the milt of the salmon -- bringing forth a true sense of the pure umami and deliciousness quite like sweetbreads or truffles.   It was luscious, and now we are spoiled and wonder if we will ever get to eat such a fresh delicacy again.   

The most wonderful food is rarely pretty 

Salmon in love

As we went ashore we were walking amongst streams that were filled with salmon – doing what salmon go up river to do – so thickly packed and dense you felt as if you could walk on the water from fish to fish.     No wonder the bears like to come down to the water’s edge to feed – they just have to stand there and watch as their dinner presents itself.

Loons in love

Despite not getting close enough to the puffins to get any remarkable photos, Sally was ecstatic – sitting on the bow of the boat – watching carpets of puffins in the water (both of the Pacific species), seeing flotillas of sea otters, hearing the haunting call and then watching the crazy and beautifully choreographed mating dance of the loons. 

jellyfish or floating fried egg breakfast?

We anchored in the midst of jellyfish habitats – including the “fried egg” jellies that Steve and Pat introduced us to 5 years ago when we first met.     We never get over having dolphins swim with the boat and were happy to greet them as they joined Dan’s boat plowing through the waters.   A floating log we approached turned out to be a tiny piece of a huge humpback whale – which was taking a silent snooze on the water.   He woke up and did a stunning dive to get out of our way.  

A royal wave

Keeping busy

We would not be willing to take a trip like this lightly.   When you are used to sailing your own boat and have your own routines and procedures it is not so easy to “let go”.  This was never a problem with Dan, a world class sailor,  who made a point of ensuring that each of us felt useful on the boat.  Geoff was absorbed in tweaking an already fast boat, helping with a minor sail repair, and Sally was kept busy with provisioning, meal prep and was even allowed to back-seat drive with the navigation.   Not all skippers would have been so generous and accommodating.  There was even enough time for Sally to knit ¼ of the sweater she is arduously trying to master. Thanks Dan and Brenda for making this memorable trip possible.

Seward, Alaska

Night time in Summer

The long summer daylight in Alaska ended up being the only “downside” to our trip and its consequence was totally unexpected: usually the first to fall asleep (by 9pm) we found the perpetual daylight a complete shock to our circadian rhythms and found sleep to be an elusive part of this adventure. 

Otherworldly scenery

There is no computer “app” to substitute for the magic of our experiences in Alaska.   There is neither DVD nor any photo that does justice to the place.   We can only be impressed by the people who live in Alaska year-round and make lives for themselves in that very big, largely empty place.  We are indeed appreciative of this combination sailing, adventure, wildlife, culinary and geological expedition to yet another corner of the globe.    Living on the edge of what is "easy" and "comfortable" is remarkably rewarding and deeply gratifying.   We aim to continue the “Gypsy” life as best we can! 

Pretty profile

Dreams of what's next

Evidence of bears nearby

Aggressive scenery

King Neptune's glitter

Wild World Warrior

Glaciers everywhere

Peace

Fish gills are stunning!

No, we did not eat the eyes. 

Dan sailed from New Zealand to Alaska -- impressive

Otter Family Reunion

Flying with the wind

60 degrees North Latitude

Three Old Salts