Since leaving Mexico’s Banderas Bay (La Cruz/Puerto Vallarta) and arriving in the Leeward Islands of the Societies, comforts of everyday Southern California, such as power, water, communication, and transportation morphed into sought-after luxuries. Easy electricity, washing machines, toasters, microwave ovens, potable water, showering facilities, hot water, flush toilets, internet access, and cars are the stuff of which cruisers’ dreams are made. Here’s a run down of what each port provided:
Galapagos, Isabel Island, Port Villamil
Anchored, $2000 for 2 weeks, (permits, etc.)
No electricity, except at the cafes
Potable water near dinghy dock, (I think, but we used our desalinator)
No showers
Flush toilets at some cafes
Internet access included at some cafes, one in particular: Boob Trap (daily)
Laundry service: $50 for three loads, (we used)
Paved roads outside of town and packed sand smooth enough to bicycle inside town (we used our fold-ups & rented)
Affordable taxis
Trash bins provided
Marquesas, Nuku Hiva, Taiohae
Anchored, free
No electricity, except at the cafes and at friends’ houses
Potable water at three specific filtering stations, free (we used our desalinator)
Intermittent public showers for $1 at the wharf and at friends’ houses (some had hot water)
Public flush toilets were $1 and usually gross; restaurant toilets were fine (no toilet paper provided at either)
Internet access included at some cafes, one in particular, Snack Vaeaki (daily)
Laundry service: $15/small 5 kg load by the locals, but we went to a friend’s house for free
Roads smooth enough to bicycle (bought bikes for the boys and later donated them to a charity)
Occasionally borrowed friends’ cars
Trash bins provided
Tuamotus, Fakarava, South Pass
Mooring buoy, free
No electricity, except at the cafe
No showers, except a hose at the dive center
Potable water, near the dinghy dock, but they don’t have much (we made ours)
Flush toilets at the cafes (no toilet paper provided)
Internet access available (fee, $5/hr) at one cafe in particular: Tetamanu
Laundry service likely, but expensive so we used buckets and elbow grease
Small motu with walking paths
Received permission to leave trash at cafe’s burn pile
Societies, Tahiti, Papeete
Docked, $230/wk
Electricity at the dock (220v), about $3/day
Potable water at the dock, included
Showers (solar hot water), included
Marina flush toilets, included (toilet paper provided, except when a sailor stole the stash for his boat)
Internet access included (7h-16h, not always operational, moderate bandwidth)
Laundry machine provided (usually out of service): $8/sm load, but we went to a friend’s house
Great roads smooth enough to bicycle (bought bikes for the boys) or scooter
Bought a used car (wow, that speeded up getting things done in a day and opened up the island!!!)
Trash bins provided
Societies, Raiatea, Uturoa
Docked, $210/mo.
Electricity at the dock (220v), included
Potable water at the dock, included
Showers (air temp), included (poorly maintained)
Marina flush toilets, included (poorly maintained & of course no toilet paper provided)
Wifi Internet access on the boat, a monthly service, $80 (24/7, good bandwidth)
Laundry service: bought into the co-op, ($30/yr, 2 2-hr sessions/wk)
Roads smooth enough to bicycle (boys have their bikes from Tahiti or can walk to school)
Ferried our used car over (oh, yeah . . . .)
Trash bins provided
Creature comforts working and well-maintained aboard Kandu
Solar panels, wind turbine, and a portable AC generator for electricity (1.5hr/gal of gas when making water, or 4-5 hrs when not)
Lots of battery storage (900 Ah)
Lots of LED lighting
Inverter to convert DC electricity into AC
Transformer to convert 220AC to 110AC (America’s standard)
Microwave (small and seldom used except when docked)
Electric toaster and teapot (used only when docked)
Watermaker/desalinator to make potable water (30 gal/hr)
Electric fresh water pump (can turn on faucets in both heads and galley like at home)
Drinking water filter (to abate chlorine)
Hot water heater (10 gal, engine driven and AC)
Separate refrigerator and freezer, both very cold
Propane oven with three burners
Two heads, fore and aft
Two showers (the cockpit shower (lagoon water temp only) is the only one available; the other is usually a storage closet)
Two folding bicycles
Electric scooter
A wifi booster antenna (YES!)
Five-man dinghy with a 10 horse outboard motor
Four hatches and 13 port lights all leak free with screens!!
Things we take for granted now: tropical beauty such as unfettered sunrises and sunsets; clear warm water lagoons; isolated islets; colorful fish; fresh inexpensive tuna and exotic fruits; just baked baguettes daily $0.53 each; clean air; quality time we spend together as a family every day; immersing in another culture; making our own schedule; good health, regular exercise and inexpensive health care; safe and secure environment (except some petty theft), and making new life-long friends each month.
It was on this day, 365 days ago, that we left Ventura and headed south, down Southern California, Mexico, Galapagos, and the Marquesas where we’ve been since June 25 and plan to stay until May, before heading off to the Tuamotus, Tahiti, and Raiatea. Based on our original plan, had we left in September and had we held to the itinerary I established years prior, today we should be in India, having crossed the Pacific, through Indonesia, Malaysia, and Thailand. Instead, we find ourselves staying nearly one year in Nuku Hiva and likely a second year in Raiatea. In the extended and expensive process of preparing Kandu and overcoming a series of unexpected problems, having experienced weeks of sailing through unpleasant conditions, we changed the focus of our adventure, altering our purpose, which remains fluid. Rather than visit as many countries as possible in five years as originally planned, we’re immersing ourselves profoundly within selected cultures: contributing within our host communities, learning new perspectives and lessons from our varied interactions, growing closer as a family, while hoping to experience as many other cultures as circumstance and desire allow. Based on our financial resources, we don’t know how long we can maintain our life afloat. We’re still shooting for 5 years; one year spent, four to go. Where we wind up, we cannot know. But what for now seems nearly certain, unless something changes significantly for us, we’re not likely to complete a circumnavigation. Instead, we try to make a positive difference in the small corners of the world we’re blessed to touch, while our sons hopefully gain perspectives and capabilities beyond their years. Ultimately, more than the sights and adventures, it’s life lessons learned that have been some of the greatest gifts so far. Here are a few learned this past year:
ERIC: “Sail the wind you have, not the wind you want” was a big one. Not that a person should feel trapped by their circumstance, but rather use wisely all (legal and morally correct) opportunities available to get yourself from where you are to where you think you would like to be, fulfilling one’s life promise/passion/purpose, or adapt your goals accordingly. We usually get what we wish for, so wish responsibly. Acting slowly, with greater deliberation, often results in a speedier resolution. Convenience is seductive but can bring a person further from simplicity. Living a simple life isn’t simple, or easy. Excessive convenience and entertainment numb us from experiences that might otherwise help us grow. Helping a remote community, especially causes that support its youth, is a fast way to become enveloped within its culture. Doing so, you are offered a seat at the community table, meeting the extraordinary and resourceful people who make a difference. Working with these people brings great joy and happiness.
LESLIE: My birthday is today. The year was spent traveling. Reflecting back, I appreciate more than ever that it is the journey, beyond its motivating force, that leaves the most lasting imprint on life and learning. As anticipated, this year has been full of surprises, mostly of an agreeable nature. I envision parallel journeys to some day present themselves. A big question that the boys may start to ponder is: “What is my purpose?” I have asked this several times over my life. In high school, it was to excel in academics and music: violin, piano and singing. In college, my purpose was to learn the ways of the French: to speak and write French fluently. It was an overwhelming passion. Once I started working, however, I discerned that speaking French in the business world wasn’t my purpose. My purpose then transformed into the business of becoming an opera singer. Now, after growing our family and working in opera for years, I have embraced the reality of journeying and seeing the world via a sailboat with my family. Still I find myself asking, what is the purpose of this sailing-across-oceans goal: to encourage Bryce and Trent to study other languages, to embrace foreign cultures, to learn how to sail, to spread my love for music and language to other peoples, to learn to manage with less, or is it something else? Probably it’s all of the above and yet, I’ve come to truly internalize that it is life’s journeys that carry us in the end, and only after the luxury of hindsight and reflection, will I truly discern what their real purposes were. Thus for now, this past year’s lesson learned is to let go and appreciate the journey, enjoy the ride, allowing purpose to reveal itself some other day, if ever.
BRYCE: Bryce says he’s learned three things: 1) a person’s attitudes and behaviors are largely dictated by their cultural upbringing, but do not have to be; 2) American kids are blessed to have so many occupational options, tens of thousands, and don’t know how fortunate they are. In the Marquesas, young people have limited opportunities; farming, fishing, hunting, sculpting, tourism, or a governmental functionary. And 3), to forgive young Marquesans for being mean because they’ll probably grow up to be kind and generous like their parents.
TRENT: Trent says California kids don’t realize how lucky they are that most every one speaks the same language, that they have a car and can go where they want, quickly, and get what they want. The stores here don’t have a lot of things. Here, he’s noticed that Marquesans have to work a lot harder to get what they want because they don’t earn as much. And things costs more and take longer to get shipped over here. Independent of Bryce, Trent too notes that there aren’t a lot of job options here. He says many have to go to Tahiti for jobs, but there’s no guarantee there either. In California, he recalls there are more things to do; activities, entertainment, sports, shopping, etc. Here, there’s only a few sports: soccer, volleyball, basketball, and paddling, and that’s it. No movie theaters, Wi-Fi is hard to get, and there’s not many places to go except the ocean, where there are no-no’s, or the mountains, where there are mosquitos. “I’ve learned a lot about living on a boat. It’s a lot of work,” he says, stating we have to make our own utilities; water, power, sanitation, and get propane for cooking. Fortunately everything is closer here, he remarks. “You can bike to anywhere you need to go.”
I’m pleased with the lessons and perspectives we’ve gained. The first year didn’t go as planned; it went even better. Apparently it’s a blessing to not get everything you wish for . . . oops, another lesson.
When hiking or camping, there’s an expression, “Leave nothing behind but footprints, take nothing but pictures and memories.” For global cruising sailors, there’s a similar expression, “Let their culture change you, don’t let your culture change them.” In essence . . . listen more than you talk. The emphasis is to not interject foreign perspectives or values for fear such may fundamentally alter their unique culture, thus eroding what is special and wonderful about another community of people, the experience of which is an essential reason why many of us travel to other, often remote, regions. It falls in line with the Star Trek, Next Generation television series’s stated “prime directive,” which “prohibits Starfleet personnel from interfering with the internal development of alien civilizations [Wikipedia],” to not alter another society’s culture by introducing technologies or philosophies. For example, today we may unintentionally introduce soft drinks to a community that only knows fruit juices, or ice cubes to a culture that only knows room temperature beverages. Or we may describe forms of marketing and commercialism that could alter currently commercial-free awnings and canopies. So the leave-no-trace recommendation would be to listen, understand, but don’t suggest Southern Californian solutions to Polynesian problems, a very reasonable stance, especially for the casual visitor.
There are many examples of the opposite perspective as well, where cruisers bring gifts of school supplies, fresh water, materials and skill sets to help solve problems. Often cruisers participate in community service days, picking up trash, running 5k’s for causes, etc. Sometimes cruisers group together to provide an organized effort to assist a community, especially in areas where they reside for several months.
Take our example: we currently live aboard our Tayana 42, Kandu, in Taiohae Bay on Nuku Hiva Island in the Marquesas archipelago. We have “Certificates of Residence” for Taiohae, which allows our sons to attend the public secondary school here. As with most any society, with kids in school, we are internalized within the community, interacting the many friends and acquaintances time and time again. After I get to know, trust and admire a person, I find I don’t see this person as his or her culture, but as a friend with whom I share the planet. The leave-no-trace position perhaps supposes that people from another culture need protection from ideas that may be unnecessarily complicated, perverse, and/or possibly irreversible corruptive, which may be true. But once I get to know someone, I approach cultural immersion from a different paradigm: treat others as I wish to be treated. If someone from another culture who knew and cared about me were made aware of a particular challenge of mine, and had a solution to offer, I’d want him or her to share it. Let me and the regulations of my community decide its merits. I don’t want to be “protected” from foreign ideas. Under these circumstances, sheltering a community from outside influences, by not sharing with them, could be considered patronizing; that a more technologically and commercially exposed culture needs to guard its solution from simpler cultures. I am attracted to entrepreneurial, community service type people. They are extraordinary, intelligent, kind, multi-talented, creative people who crave options. I am less attracted to the economically or politically ambitious. I do not suggest that a Southern California alternative is preferable. I only suggest that, if applicable, it be placed on the table. It may be a bad idea, but let the receiver decide. Let’s trust their sensibilities, their life experience to decide the fate of a given proposal, indigenous or foreign. I often work with them, helping them calculate the pros and cons of various options to determine what may be the most appropriate response for them. I avoid “selling” them an idea as I have an incomplete understanding of the complexities of their society.
Here’s an example. For decades, an older Marquesan couple Marie Antoinette and her husband, Jean Baptiste, harvested coconuts for copra, a common labor-intensive way to earn a living in French Polynesia. Into their 50’s, Jean Baptiste wanted to find another, less back-breaking way for his wife to earn a living. Being that she’s an excellent cook, they decided to open a restaurant together, something neither had any experience doing. As with any business, there are challenges. Locals frequent her restaurant foreigners do not. Without foreign customers, she’s barely breaking even. Her competitor next door, Henri, has a thriving clientele of foreigners. He speaks English, Spanish, and German as well as the local French and Marquesan. And he offers free Wi-Fi. All the visiting sailors frequent his establishment. When cruise ships pull into port, many of their passengers come to take advantage of his Wi-Fi. When Henri’s “Snack Café” is bursting with people trying to find a place to sit, Marie Antoinette’s has only a table or two of locals, wishing to avoid the hubbub of foreigners. If she is not able to increase business, Marie will have to close the café and return to harvesting coconuts. Marie is a friend of a close friend of ours. She asked Leslie to stand outside her restaurant and help pull cruise ship passengers, mostly English-speaking, into her place. So Leslie did. In the process, we learned how Marie might be able to attract more foreign business, simple things like offering on her printed menu an English translation of her dishes, taking and posting pictures of her plates so foreigners could point to what they wanted, holding and placing flatware and napkins on the table to show that it is a café, and making a deal with her beverage provider to paint her café’s name on a canopy with the beverage logo, so visitors could recognize immediately that her establishment is a restaurant, and not just a bunch of tables outside a communal fishermen’s shack. These simple practices are commonplace in Los Angeles, but not so in the Marquesas. Had she more funds, she could hire an English-speaking server and install a WiFi service as well. Will Marie’s café lose some of its local charm by adopting proven urban practices? Yes, but practices acceptable to locals may prove detrimental for her. Having a successful business, keeping Marie out of the coconut groves, is more important to me than guarding a more “local” experience that bankrupts.
In addition to offering local businesses ideas on attracting more American/Euro business, we find other way to “interfere” with the local culture. We support the community through community acts. Here’s a list to help me remember as well:
Conduct free English language classes to locals, three times a week.
Offer choral instruction, direction, and chorography for the secondary school’s bid to perform in the island’s annual music festival
Assist in weekly dining room instruction and support in the community’s restaurant vocational training center.
Connected the secondary school’s English class with a class of similar age group in Southern California, a cultural exchange opportunity
Assisted in demonstrating and teaching young school kids how to make their own yogurt in an electric rice cooker, a common household appliance here
Assisted in repairing outrigger canoes for use by the secondary school as part of an after-school paddling program.
Participated in Career Day, presenting options in cinema and television
Provide free Friday movie nights with popcorn at the secondary school for the boarding students who don’t leave school for the weekend
Produced 3 radio spots and provided presentation support for the island’s two community breast cancer awareness seminars.
Produced 12 individual video spots and a consolidate spot of, and for, the adult graduating class of state-supported entrepreneurs
Supported the local documentary film festival, offering gratis labor and use of our projection equipment.
Photographed and videotaped communal festivals, offering the images and videos free of charge to the community via the City Hall and city library
Shared the photos and videos of the community’s largest festival to draw locals to participate in a charitable affair. The proceeds aided a family with an 18 yr.-old son being treated in Paris for a rare form of cancer.
Recovered a 36’ Marquesan fishing boat, adrift 120 nautical miles in open-ocean, helping four families earn a living.
When it comes to leaving Nuku Hiva untouched, we’ve failed miserably. The mayor even has our cell phone number in his mobile phone’s contact list. But I’m proud of the service we’ve provided “our” community. Although we offered more, not all offers were accepted. Ideas tend to be met with greater enthusiasm than follow-through. We’ve lived in Taiohae, Nuku Hiva for eight months now, with our kids attending school, and plenty of time to get to know people and help them, and to follow through the obstacles. It’s a different set of circumstances when a sailboat and its crew are here for a few days or weeks, especially if no one speaks the local language. Leaving a community to its own devices to solve its problems, especially when one doesn’t have the time or communication capacities to make a difference, is a reasonable approach. That said, cruisers often come together to support a myriad of local causes, especially those sailors enjoying a prolonged stay for whichever seasonal reason. So if one has time, ability, and fortitude, helping a community is often well received and very rewarding.
Sailing between Galapagos and the Marquesas, an uncomfortable 24-day crossing for us, I reflect on features missed of my life recently left behind. Departing California for Mexico and the South Pacific on a 42-foot sailboat, life significantly changes as one would expect, but exactly what changes and how these changes affect a person one cannot know until engulfed in the new circumstance. In the cost-benefit analysis, we would only leave if, by leaving, we calculate a better overall outcome for ourselves, ultimately gaining more than we forfeit. But I find one particular adjustment difficult to make: “Convenience,” specifically the lack thereof.
Convenience is seductive. I miss her. She gets me what I want, when I want. All I have to do is figure out what I want, something I’m exceedingly good at, and she comes through for me. Dressed in Amazon Prime, 24hr grocery stores, next day parts from West Marine, Jack’n the Box drive thru, the big box stores, Costco, Walmart, Target, or the mall; she gives me what I want, when I want . . . and I am capable of wanting so much.
Car is great too; a cozy cocoon, it entertains, it comforts, and it takes me where I want. It asks little of me. Entertainment, I miss too: movies, television, theater, art galleries, music, opera, dining out, etc. It, too, asks little. I merely have to decide what it is I wish to see . . . Car takes me there.
Convenience has a bathroom near your bedroom, a large shower, washing machine, dryer and dishwasher. She’s water, power, gas, phone, sanitation, and Internet. She’s so there, so ready to serve. I miss Convenience.
I left Convenience for a more challenging relationship with Self-reliance. This new one taps me for everything I’ve got: brain, heart, body, and soul. I don’t demand of her . . . she demands of me. Convenience never asked for anything. Each day with Self-reliance, I’m spent. I bed and rise early. I’m uncomfortable, and yet somehow I no longer seem to need to work out or visit medical specialists. I no longer ache. I’m thinner. I’m fit. With Self-reliance, I don’t get to buy things. I must watch what I spend, and try not to. She requires that I wait to get the things I want, and/or do without. Entertainment under Self-reliance is simple too; cards and board games with wife and sons, watching together a video on a 9” screen, meeting new and fascinating people from around the world of all walks of life, walking or swimming by exotic animals and plants, hiking active volcanoes, picking unusual produce from a local farmer’s field, but mostly, just solving problems. I chose this new relationship because she’s supposed to offer my family and me more substantive rewards, but who knows? It’s too soon to tell. Still, the other relationship was pretty good. Learning to live with less is not as much fun as learning to live with more. I miss Convenience. Fortunately for me, she harbors another easy-going quality: Convenience never gets jealous. No matter how long I’m away from her, she’s always willing to take me back.
Leslie and I dreamed of Bryce and Trent learning to some day speak fluent French. Although it was not our original intention when setting off to sail around the world, the new emphasis toward cultural immersion in lieu of sailing around the world affords us this opportunity. It is one of the main reasons for our extended stay in French Polynesia, allowing us to enroll Bryce and Trent in a French public school; first in Nuku Hiva, Marquesas, then maybe in Raiatea, Society.
At first, we were all excited to start school, all of us except Trent. He was, and remains, less convinced of the benefits surrounding the acquisition of a new language. For Leslie and I, learning to speak French has become a requirement of them. In August of this year, Bryce and Trent made Nuku Hiva history, perhaps even Marquesas history, becoming the first Americans ever to attend school here. At first, Bryce welcomed the attention his unique circumstances offered. Everyone watched his every move. Girls flocked to him, requesting instant girlfriend status (being a small island of limited population, many kids are related, making it difficult to date, so new blood represents new possibilities). He was instantly popular. Trent on the other hand did not welcome the global attention. No matter where he went, on campus or off, he felt the inquisitive gaze of locals. When at the store, what products would he buy, what items interested him? At school, kids stared to see what clothes he wore, what technology he brought, what skills and attitudes he might introduce. He did not welcome the unsolicited attention that being a blond-haired, blue-eyed, white-skinned American brought him in a school 98% brown-haired, brown-eyed, brown-skinned Polynesian. Conspicuous simply for his differences was an uncomfortable circumstance for Trent. I tell the boys to remember how it feels to be different in appearance from the general population and to be treated like a freak, so that when they find themselves in a circumstance where they see someone different being introduced into their cultural, that they reach out to them to help them feel at ease, to welcome them in a more constructive and caring manner than their current classmates are.
Another challenge for the boys is entering a scholastic social structure unable to communicate. Not understanding what kids are saying to you or each other, not understanding what the teachers are saying when they are teaching, describing the assignments, the homework, and handing out the tests is akin to living a nightmare for an honor roll student like Bryce, or a student like Trent who likes to please others, especially his teachers. “They think because we don’t speak French that we’re idiots. They can’t believe we’re so dumb, coming from America. It’s not fair. We know more about most of these subjects then they do. Just because we don’t speak their language, doesn’t mean we’re dumb. Even little kids think they’re smarter than us just because we can’t answer even simple questions,” they protest. Again, I ask that they always remember this injustice so that when they meet someone learning English, or even a new skill, that they accord them the same allowances that they feel the Marquesan students, and even some of the French teachers, should extend them. For the first 6 weeks, most all the teachers were sympathetic to their circumstance. After the first school break, a one-week vacation, patience ran out. Nearly all of their teachers began treating them as if the grace period for learning to speak French were over. Apparently for many, six weeks is all it should take to be able to speak French.
The boys were learning. And as in when learning any language, they were beginning to understand what was being said, more than they could speak, especially when others made the effort to speak very slowly and deliberately. When a debutant linguist asks a native speaker to speak slowly, he or she slows down from 70 mph to 55 mph, but still freeway speed. What a very beginning student of a language wants is for a person to speak at 5-10 mph, crowded parking lot speed. You want each word clearly spoken and separated from each other with a fair pause in between. Only someone in the process of learning a new language seems to appreciate this requirement. Others soon tire of the effort and slowly ramp back up to freeway speeds. As parents introducing non-speaking students to their class, it’s not fair to ask teachers to teach their class in a manner necessary for Bryce and Trent to understand, either by translating in English or by slowing speech to a snail’s pace. So, to assist their learning, we hired a professional French-as-a-second-language teacher, experienced in teaching French to Americans. Bryce and Trent meet with him outside of school, 3 times a week. In a constructive environment, he instructs them in basic French, addresses their language questions related to any recent experiences, and helps them with their homework.
Language is not the only challenge confronting Bryce and Trent’s introduction to school in the Marquesas. Cultural differences make for difficult and unpleasant social lessons. Petty theft, lying, vulgar acts and language, and threats of violence are commonplace behaviors in Taiohae’s secondary school. The boys’ backpacks are pilfered through when they’re not looking, during recess, lunch, or physical ed. Bryce and Trent’s stationary supplies are taken from their desk when the walk away to approach the teacher with a question. Locker locks are picked open and items removed. Those whom Bryce thought were his frie
Years of preparation for a five-year circumnavigation were expected. The labor and cost to update systems on an older boat were expected. The amount of time it would take and the “discoveries” of unintended repairs/upgrades/costs were unexpected. We planned to start our circumnavigation leaving within a community of 125 cruising boats, a fun way to force our departure date while meeting other like-minded families and forging new lifelong friendships. The Baja Ha-ha Rally departs San Diego for Baja California, Mexico in late October.
Appreciating that the further away from Southern California we got, the more time-consuming and expensive working on the boat would become: thus our plans changed. With the five-year picture in mind, we forewent departing with the Baja Ha-ha Rally, preferring to have a more comfortable, less stressful departure and subsequent ocean crossings. The five-month delay would also mean not stopping in Central or South America–bummer. After missing the Ha-ha departure, we delayed still further our departure into Mexico in San Diego. Sailing down the Southern California coast revealed more “discoveries.” Delaying our San Diego departure was a calculated gamble.
In exchange for more stable boat systems (diesel flow to engine, wind generation of electricity, etc.), we would cut short our stay in Mexico, sailing directly to the Galapagos from Puerto Vallarta.
Unfortunately, problems cropped up on our way to La Cruz, Mexico (autopilot, VHF radio, etc.) and we were held up longer in Mexico than intended. Repairing a boat in Mexico is more time and cost effective than in the Galapagos or the Marquesas. The additional delay caused Easter Island, one of Leslie’s bucket list destinations, to be removed from our itinerary. All of a sudden, the additional costs, combined with an unexpected substantial tax bill, threatened to reduce our trip from five years to three, perhaps only two, years. It was a depressing set of circumstances for me.
Additionally, along the way we kept missing events and weather windows, sometimes by a week, sometimes by a few days. It was more than frustrating to learn we’d missed petting the grey whales, “There were so many last week, but they all left four days ago.” We missed a very animated Mexican village’s St. Patrick’s patron saint’s celebration by two weeks. We missed the favorable weather window between Mexico and Galapagos, and when we arrived in the Galapagos, the customary sunny and calm weather of Puerto Villamil turned unusually rainy with a large sea surge. The family was growing somewhat discouraged by the prospect of our future travels, especially Leslie. I was not spending the promised time of adventure and exploration with the boys.
These weighty circumstances were not the expected outcome of so much thoughtful effort and planning. By the time we reached the Galapagos, the combination of rough passages, missed opportunities, and troubling breakdowns caused me to reflect and re-evaluate my goals. An optimist (generally), I often find opportunity within crises. I was digging deep to find the good, sifting through the weeks to recognize events worthy of the sacrifice. It is under these conditions, after 24 days of uncomfortable sailing, that we arrived in the Marquesas (cue revelation music cue, the kind you hear with sun rays bursting around a cloud).
Sailing around the rugged castle-like southeastern corner of Nuku Hiva, the island was greener than I’d ever seen it. I’ve been to the Marquesas twice before, in 1976-77 and in 1990, both times aboard a sailboat.
As a result, the Marquesas were a familiar and welcoming place. We have Marquesan friends on the main administrative island of Nuku Hiva. The Marquesas consist of six inhabited islands with a population of 9000. Nuku Hiva is the most northerly. Most sailboats, taking advantage of the southerly winds and seas, clear into the southern Marquesas and work their way north. But considering our Marquesan friends are part of our extended family and were eagerly awaiting our arrival, we headed directly to Nuku Hiva. Via satellite text, they knew exactly when we were to arrive. What a grand and warm welcome they provided. Sebastien and a French friend of his, Guy, came to help us drop anchor. At the wharf, Denis and Chantale waited the 90 minutes it took for us to pull out the inflatable dingy that was packed below deck for the long crossing. Once we motored up to the wharf, scaled ourselves up the stainless steel ladder and tied off the dinghy, we were greeted with kisses and fragrant flower leis. There were boxes and bags of fresh fruit and a grand stalk of bananas offered to take back to Kandu. At the table of an open air “snack” restaurant situated on the wharf waited a plate of poisson cru, a favorite French Polynesian dish of lime marinated raw fish served in coconut milk over rice, and glasses of fresh squeezed pamplemousse juice made from a large thick-skinned, yellow-green citrus fruit similar to grapefruit, but sweeter with a hint of lime. That night, we were driven (automobile travel is a luxury for us these days) to a lovely villa high above the beach, overlooking the bay.
We feasted with two-dozen family members over a potluck of various Marquesan, French, and Chinese dishes, lovingly prepared. We were told that we had arrived in time to enjoy the month long period of “festival,” and that we were invited to participate in a rare visit to the uninhabited island of Eaio in a way most Marquesans only dream, let alone a non-Marquesan family.
Over the next couple weeks, we learned that Bryce and Trent could be admitted into their public “college” (6th-11th grade), where they could learn French, a dream of Leslie’s and mine. We could become “Certified Residents” of Taiohae, Nuku Hiva with benefits coming to the residents of the town.
There would be beautiful hikes, hunting of boar and wild sheep, horseback riding on secluded beaches, dance and song soirees, and more local food. In short, we would be immersed in the Marquesan culture in a way rare for most sailing families. And it would all be at little expense. Our friends are farmers and fishermen, so they told us to not buy these fruits and fish, that they would provide them to us. Anchoring in the bay is free. We made arrangements to purchase diesel duty-free. One of our “family members” offered the use of their house, with our own room and access to laundry machines. With much buzz about the likelihood of an El Nino weather year, I asked Guy, Sebastien’s French friend who has lived throughout much of French Polynesia over 8 years aboard his sailboat, where he would stay if he had only one year to live in French Polynesia. Without missing a beat, he said, right here in Taiohae, Nuku Hiva. As the next few weeks passed, and through the generosity of our Marquesan family members we experienced many wonderful things it became apparent that my desire to see as much of the world in five years as possible needed revision. Rather than touch down in as many countries as possible, more appealing had become the pace and benefits of staying in a wonderful place for months at a time. Rather than spend my days repairing Kandu, I would be able to take frequent breaks and enjoy the places, the people, and their cultures. After so many years of having been taxed physically, mentally, emotionally, and financially, the Marquesas is serving as a turning point, an opportunity to experience a fascinating lifestyle in a way few get a chance, especially for our sons. Bryce, seeing first-hand the strength and versatility of our Marquesan friends, expressed disappointment in that his friends would not know all that a “real man” can do.
This change in focus is probably an obvious adjustment for most to expect. “Of course, it’s about having cultural immersion and great experiences with your family and not about sailing around the world,” you think. But for forty years I’ve wanted to sail around the world. It is not easy to have to re-evaluate my reasons for wanting it so. Ultimately, the main emphasis came down to wanting to recreate the revelatory experiences of my adolescence, of having the world opened up within my kids’ minds, to alternative ways of seeing the world and our place in it. In my pre-departure calculation I figured the more cultures, the more mind openings, right? It’s like the captain’s oath from Star Trek: to seek out new places and cultures, to boldly go where few have gone before. That notion greatly attracts. What was not attracting was getting the boat ready for the next long passage while not visiting the current location. Are you kidding me??? Yet, that was where I was headed. With finances dwindling, it looked like I had to make a choice, sail around the world within three years, or maybe take three years to get to Australia before selling the boat, or something in-between. But, if I could live cheaply for two years, we could still travel for 5 years, just not around the world. I had to get creative with having experiences without spending money.
The Marquesas was showing me how. If you like fresh fruit and fish more than French fries and beef, and juice more than alcohol, you can live quite modestly in this remote island group. So what if we stayed one year in the Marquesas and a second year in Raiatea (Guy’s next best place to stay in French Polynesia), or which ever Societal Island opportunity grabs our imagination. Then maybe the third year we go through the South Pacific to Fiji before cutting down to New Zealand for 5 months during the hurricane season. NZ is expensive, but maybe something will work out to offset costs. It’s only 5 months. From there, pushing into the fourth year, we could pick up from which ever South Pacific islands we left off, but this time for hurricane season we could head north to the more rustic locations like Solomon and Marshal Islands, going really native, before dropping down to Australia just before the beginning of the fifth year. If we have to sell the boat, then so be it. We could then drive a camping car around Australia, and/or rent a house in Indonesia or Thailand, a base from which to travel to other parts of SE Asia and beyond. Who knows?
Our Marquesan friends offer wonderful examples of what men can really do if they push themselves. Perhaps in exercising flexibility, I teach my sons strength of reformation, doing my best to sail the wind I have . . .
The 18-day crossing from Paradise Village, Nuevo Vallarta (near Puerto Vallarta) Mexico to Puerto Villamil, Isla Isabela in the Galapagos was difficult. The weak and variable winds, thunderstorms/squalls, and mixed seas wore us down and consumed nearly all our diesel. Mid-May marked the beginning of the northern hemisphere hurricane season. For us, that translated into high sea temperatures that saturated the humid horizon with afternoon and evening thunderheads. At one latitude, sea and ocean shared the same temperature: 89oF, making refrigeration a full time job. Rain forced us to close nearly all Kandu’s hatches and portlights. Under such aquatic lockdown, internal cabin humidity became oppressive.
The RADAR scanned for squalls and showers, which formed mostly at night in the beginning, but then bled into the day, such that every hour felt like we were dodging something. Rain appears in red on our chart-plotter, giving squalls a vampiresque appearance. Near the end, we gave up running away and took our wet licks hoping we’d avoid lightening. Southern depressions and east-southeast winds made mixed seas the whole way. We later learned the unusually heavy swell from these southern depressions caused much damage in the Galapagos and in parts of southern Mexico after we left. For us, that southern swell made for an uncomfortable ride. It was difficult to get anything done. Even sleeping was difficult.
Satellite texting was our greatest entertainment, reaching out and communicating with family and friends (and manufacturers). Every time the device chirped, each of us wondered for who the message would be. My long time friend, Deren, did a lot of legwork for me from his Puget Sound home, as we tried to resolve problems while underway. I’d give him the background, he’d do the research and reach out to the manufacturer for support. Our system worked well.
As the winds switched back and forth in velocity and direction, we made such little progress. Normally, over a long distance, Kandu seemed to average about 5.25 knots/hour, or 125 nautical miles a day: our performance when we sailed down the Baja coast from San Diego, and so that’s the basis I used to calculate how long it would take us to arrive in the Galapagos. With little wind and higher than normal seas, we motor-sailed so we could average closer to 90 nautical miles (1 nm=1.167 miles) a day under the keel. As we got closer to our targeted port, the wind and swell shifted toward our nose causing us to have to tack back and forth, so while we passed 90 nm of water across our water line, our distance over land shrunk to 40 nm/day.
As we got closer, we also developed a charging problem: the engine’s alternator was no longer charging the batteries. We were using the ship’s batteries to power our autopilot, chart-plotter, RADAR, and refrigeration. When wind conditions allowed, we’d use our windvane to steer the boat, but that was not as often as we would have liked. The 2kw gas-powered Honda generator didn’t charge the batteries very quickly, so at times we had both Kandu’s diesel engine running while we ran the generator: a veritable cacophony of combustibles.
The slow performance, rough motion, high humidity, and power issues brought me to a point of significant doubt, questioning the whole plan to sail around the world. Having spent more than three years of great effort and financial commitment to get to this point, with no end of effort and expense in sight, with great discomfort to all on board, it wasn’t making sense to continue. My goal was to bring us closer as a family as we explored together the wonders of the world, working as a crew aboard our proud vessel. Why not sell the boat, take the money and rent places in beautiful, remote places around the world instead. At the rate we were going, we could only support ourselves two, maybe three years. And so far, I was having very little fun, and the boys and Leslie were upset that my attention remained focused on the needs of the boat, no time for play and exploration. In Mexico, we missed all the good stuff. We missed seeing and petting the grey whales in Baja by four days. We missed an exceptional festival in Banderas Bay by a couple weeks. We were late in the season to leave Mexico for Galapagos. We were always just shy of experiencing some wonderful event or ideal weather circumstance. I was exhausted and feeling deflated and defeated. How could I have so misjudged what the experience would entail? With my previous experience and years of research, how could I be so off the mark? I don’t recall ever being so wrong. My normal optimistic demeanor seemed more a sophomorically naive character flaw. As the rising sun struggled to light the morning sky, standing at the mast, still days away from a Galapagos arrival with fuel running out, batteries not charging, thunderheads still pouring rain on us, I wondered who I was and if I could do this . . . if I should do this.
Captaining a small sailboat across a couple thousand miles of eastern Pacific ocean with your wife, two young sons, and octogenarian uncle with a few more hundred miles to go before you reach the nearest point of land, . . . one has few options. There is no quitting. There is no room for self-pity. So, I ask, what then is the lesson? What is the reason for all this misery? Why am I at this low point? With such self-inflicted stress and burden, what can be learned? What can I take from this that will make all this loathing worthy? I’m not getting it, the lesson that must be slapping me in the face, the one that shouts at my soul. What is it? What am I supposed to learn from this??? Standing at the mast, I quiet my soul, my brain, my heart, and listen. I just wait and listen for the answer. It doesn’t take long, less than a minute, before it comes. Eric, you must sail the wind you have, not the wind you want, and you must sail it to the best of your ability with what you have, without burden, sans self-pity: realize the terms and adjust accordingly, with resolve and without angst–sail the wind you have, not the wind you want. It became my motto. If I have to tack back and forth for the next week, so be it. If I can do better, I will. If I can’t, I’ll accept that I’m doing my best and receive the outcome without judgment. It is what it is, and I’m doing the best with what I’ve got. What comes of it is good enough, and I will seek to be satisfied with what comes.
About four days later, we reached the Galapagos with less than 15 gal of diesel remaining from our tanks’ original 115. The benign weather normally associated with the bay we entered vanished on our approach, roughing up the bay and flooding the streets. It took two days to get cleared in and approved for landing, a story in itself, and another 6 days before our charging problem was resolved. After that, I enjoyed several days of Galapagos exploration together with the family. For the first time in three years, I was working on being a dad again. I recognize I have a lot of catching up to do, and that I’ll only get there by . . . sailing the wind I have.
Since entering Mexico, sailing down the Baja coast to the Puerto Vallarta region, then to the Galapagos, and now at the Marquesas, so much has happened. We want to share all of it, but how? Do we apply our posts in chronological order of our travels, or do we skip around to what’s of interest at the time, present and past?
Yesterday, Trent started college here in Taiohae, Nuku Hiva, the first American to do so. Bryce started today. Their fellow students are nearly all Polynesian, with the occasional French child here and there. Other foreigners, a New Zealander and a Russian, have attended previously, but as Americans, they make Nuku Hiva history. The college follows the French educational system for its outer territories. The class level numbers lessen as the child advances, thus the college takes kids from the 6th level to the 2nd. The more advanced 1st level and higher academics are provided in Tahiti. Trent entered the 6th and Bryce, the 5th. As they learn French, and if room is available, Bryce and Trent well be allowed to advance to higher grade levels (lower number). Course work includes Math, Science (Biology and Earth), Technology, French, English, Marquesan, History and Geography, Art, Physical Education, and Music. The student body is gentle and kind, everybody knows everybody and are typically related by some familial association. What occurs at school is immediately reported to the family. The teachers seem patient as French is also the Marquesan’s second language. Trent’s principal teacher is the 6th level’s English teacher, so this circumstance falls well in his favor as he begins his transformation into the French language.
With the boys in school, we plan to give them time to learn French and thus stay in Taiohae, giving Leslie and I time to write and post our previous and current experiences. We have plenty to write about, so stay tuned.
Since entering Mexico, sailing down the Baja coast to the Puerto Vallarta region, then to the Galapagos, and now at the Marquesas, so much has happened. We want to share all of it, but how? Do we apply our posts in chronological order of our travels, or do we skip around to what’s of interest at the time, present and past?
Yesterday, Trent started college here in Taiohae, Nuku Hiva, the first American to do so. Bryce started today. Their fellow students are nearly all Polynesian, with the occasional French child here and there. Other foreigners, a New Zealander and a Russian, have attended previously, but as Americans, they make Nuku Hiva history. The college follows the French educational system for its outer territories. The class level numbers lessen as the child advances, thus the college takes kids from the 6th level to the 2nd. The more advanced 1st level and higher academics are provided in Tahiti. Trent entered the 6th and Bryce, the 5th. As they learn French, and if room is available, Bryce and Trent well be allowed to advance to higher grade levels (lower number). Course work includes Math, Science (Biology and Earth), Technology, French, English, Marquesan, History and Geography, Art, Physical Education, and Music. The student body is gentle and kind, everybody knows everybody and are typically related by some familial association. What occurs at school is immediately reported to the family. The teachers seem patient as French is also the Marquesan’s second language. Trent’s principal teacher is the 6th level’s English teacher, so this circumstance falls well in his favor as he begins his transformation into the French language.
With the boys in school, we plan to give them time to learn French and thus stay in Taiohae, giving Leslie and time to write and post our previous and current experiences. We have plenty to write about. Stay tuned.
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