The State of GRACE

grace 

noun

1. Seemingly effortless beauty or charm of movement, form, or proportion.

2. A characteristic or quality pleasing for its charm or refinement.

3. A sense of fitness or propriety.

4. A disposition to be generous or helpful; goodwill.

What is it about a name?  Hers just fits her perfectly.   GRACE is understated, elegant, and undoubtedly charming.   To-date she has brought us safely to many incredible adventures.  And, being the stalwart boat she is, she does not complain one iota.   

We have continued our stay in French Polynesia until the rainy season has set in (and it has with a vengeance).   GRACE will be spending the next several months on the hard within the lagoon of Raiatea complete with her own direct view of both Ta’haa and Bora Bora Islands. 

Our last big “hurrah” this cruising season was the visit of Peter and Jessica.   They arrived with minimal luggage (great guests) and an enthusiastic enjoyment of everything (well, maybe the high humidity and extreme heat were a bit much at first).  

As with Chris' visit, we took them to see how the hermaphroditic vanilla orchid is “violated” by humans in order to meld the female and male parts and thus produce the famous Tahitian vanilla.  Did you know that they have to manually massage each seed pod to ensure that the tiny seeds are evenly dispersed?  All forms of double-entendre are appropriate here.   

We also had a botanical tour of Ta’haa wherein we were shown everything edible and useful in the native plants, as well as learning why French chickens taste so good (they eat coconut). 

We sailed to Bora Bora, did a bit of snorkeling, seeing big rays underwater and hiking onto a mostly deserted islet within the fringing reef.   A friend we had made in Tahiti, and the owner of a sister-ship,  kindly offered to take us all on a private tour of Bora Bora on his helicopter. 

This was a huge treat for Sally, who had always wanted to fly in a helicopter, while Geoff was his 10 year-old self, as he got to be in the co-pilot’s seat. 

Not everyone knows how to sail amidst reefs.  We noticed an expensive charter catamaran mostly submerged near one of the passes in Bora Bora. 

We prefer to be a bit more cautious and keep GRACE in one piece (and our distance from chartered yachts).   A sail back to Raiatea gave Pete a chance to demonstrate his nautical and fishing skills, and we spent the next couple of days in heaven snorkeling the coral garden at Ta’haa.  

There, we took the dinghy ashore to a small motu, walked to the far side of the islet, and then swam with the current between two tiny islands amidst an astonishing assortment of fish, corals, clams and schools of fish.  We have no underwater camera but, take our word for it, it was fabulous. 

Sally had been told about a small family-run “restaurant” where we might have dinner ashore on Ta’haa and so the four of us dinghied to the “The Ficus” one evening.  By the time we arrived at the small dock there were several people waiting for us with fresh Tiare Blossom leis while others were pounding drums.  

We looked around to see who else they were performing for but it was just for us!   An hour later another table of 6 people showed up so the total number of diners was ten while there must have been 40 local Tahitians to entertain, delight and feed us. 

We had an impressive three course meal, followed by more drumming, Tahitian dancing, fire and sword dancing and a local fashion show.  Talk about “grace”, the detailed effort the extended family and their friends made to entertain and feed us was superlative, thoughtful, very personal and totally gracious.   It was a beautiful and romantic setting made even more special by the communal effort to ensure our good time.  Jessica participated in a little fashion show,  and, yes, for those of you who are wondering, we DID dance Tahitian-style.   The consensus was that Peter and Sally were the most authentic.   

We have been spoiled by the fecundity of the trees and gardens here.   We were very happy to welcome  Mr. Henri Tupaii, who came by on his outrigger canoe, with fresh-from-his garden aubergines, long beans, papaya and bananas.  

He was equally happy to receive a pair of nearly new sky blue high-heels that do not fit Sally’s current lifestyle.   
Geoff is convinced that they must be for his young daughter as local feet tend to be very very large.

One of the downsides of the tropics is the bugs.   We have acclimated to the heat and the humidity but not to the pesky insects.   Several nights in a row we were swarmed aboard GRACE at dusk by flying bugs.  We thought, “its a good thing GRACE has all her screens to keep them out”.  Well, not these bugs — some sort of termite we were told — they just shed their wings on deck and squeezed into and through the tiny holes in the screens and then squirmed around below decks. 

Ugh!  We evicted them all in no uncertain terms.    Speaking of helicopters, the mosquitoes here are speedy and very very thirsty.  While they will sip type “O” blood from Geoff, they seem to prefer to guzzle the “A” quality of Sally's.  

Flowers are everywhere here.   Women and men wear a fresh flower daily behind their ear or in a crown on their heads.   Everywhere you look you can see hibiscus, or orchids or Tiare.   The scent is just as compelling to us now as it was when we first arrived.  Nor have we become blasé about the warmth and

kindness of Tahitians. The visual treats in French Polynesia, from the people to the geography to the flora and fauna, never cease to amaze and beguile.

GRACE will remain in Polynesia for the Summer season here but

she will not be lonely as she is surrounded by the beautiful flowers, dolphins, boobies, turquoise water, views, (and hopefully no insects or rats) while we head back to the cold and grey of the northern hemisphere winter.

A bientôt.

IDYLLIC ISLAND ADVENTURES

ADVENTURES IN PARADISE

Yes, this really is paradise!

This is THE stuff that people dream of and write about.  The Tuatmotu Archipelago is made of up atolls with miles of empty sandy or coral beaches fringed with palm trees, warm sun softened by constant tropical breezes.  Aquamarine water so clear that you can see 15 meters to the sand and coral below.   Fish with colors to astonish and amaze.   Sharks so blasé  that you don’t really mind swimming with them as neighbors.   Ashore there is every kind of tropical flower.  People, when you actually see any, are courteous and always smile and wave or nod to say hello, and they are gorgeous too.   Not just the young “vahine" with skin that looks so soft it could have been burnished with 1000 grit sandpaper, but also the men, often shirtless and muscular and brimming with good health.   

Entering the lagoon at the South End of Fakarava was like passing through the gates of heaven — however, in this case, the path is perpetually strewn with coral and coral heads, making GRACE dance on tiptoes to be sure to avoid snagging any.   We swam and snorkeled and explored and marveled at each sunrise and sunset being more spectacular than the one that preceded.  At night, the Milky Way was a crowded highway indeed.  Shooting stars just added to the experience.   

 Sea urchins did their best to work their way under our feet and fish and sharks were just a meter or so away from us.   All they served us was fish, made three different ways.   It seemed a bit unfeeling of us to sit amongst the fish and eat their brethren.   With wet and salty ankles we eventually found our way back to the dinghy and then, in the dark back to GRACE.   

Most boats cut straight through the lagoon in Fakarava and head straight for the North end in one day.    We opted to go up the atoll hugging the Eastern shore.   This was a memorable sight as motus (islets) formed a chain hung together with coral reef and forming the atoll of Fakarava.     We dropped the anchor in pure sand in one bay about halfway up and were in a world by ourselves:  our own beach, our own coral reef to explore.   

We made it to the North of Fakarava the night before the weekly cargo ship arrived.   What a sight.  Every single soul on the island went to meet the boat and claim their shipment of everything from food to fuel to toilet paper.    We went ashore and found the local store and were able to score some fresh vegetables and, of course, our ration of baguettes.   

We then sailed through the northern pass of Fakarava, a bit like going through the tide rips in British Columbia or The Race at the East end of Long Island Sound, and once we were through, headed up to the mostly uninhabited atoll of Toau.

This atoll is now one of Sally’s favorite spots in the world. We spent alot of time in the water here and saw every kind of fish imaginable.   We rode the tide through the pass, explored ashore and in the water.   Strong winds kept the batteries topped up, so that was an extra bonus.  

Our next stop was Apataki.  Here,  the village is in the lagoon just inside the pass and was picturesque built on motus and forming miniature thatched roofed Venice.  The passage across the atoll was one where an eagle eye was required, as there are plenty of big hunks of coral, many not charted, as well as pearl farming buoys pockmarking the lagoon.   Our favorite spot was an anchorage in the stunning uninhabited NE.   
We did not see another boat nor human for 10 miles.   We had an idyllic spot, all to ourselves.  Ashore, saw more reef sharks, and had one of the best sunsets ever across the lagoon.

Our final stop in the Tuamotus was in Rangiroa.  Our friend Dan had recommended several places to visit and we are very glad we heeded his advice.    We traveled to the SE of the atoll and again, were totally alone and had only sharks, fish, birds, palm trees and sand to keep us company.   Here we explored the “Haos” or lagoons between the fringing reef of the atoll and the small strip of land.  

A really fast sail back to Papeete, 173 miles in 24 hours, and we were back to “civilization” — much to our consternation.  However it was worthwhile as we were there to pick up our son Chris who flew in for a week’s visit.   

We spent some time snorkeling and exploring Moorea with Chris and then did an overnight sail to Huahine, which we had enjoyed visiting 6 years ago.   We were able to also visit Ta’haa and Raiatea with Chris.   In one short week we ate many kinds of tropical fruit, a few more baguettes, downed a few “Hinano” Beers, visited vanilla and pineapple plantations, a pearl farm, saw waterfalls, and had an introduction to the useful properties of the botanicals here.   It was beyond wonderful to have our son aboard.  He was great fun, a big help with the sailing and day-to-day life aboard, and we already miss him.    We look forward to Jessica and our son Peter's visit in a few weeks.  

What a life!

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.