On our second day hanging around the island of Efaté, Vanuatu anchored off Port Vila, I called a local surf instructor, John, to see if he could show my brother and I around the local breaks. At the end of the call, he asked if I could come skate around to the café to meet us. Eventually, I wandered upon the shop and found the instructor. He was a small 27-year-old man with dark skin and short dread locks. He looked very friendly. Trent and I introduced ourselves hoping to makes plans for the morrow. It was concluded that we would meet up around 9:30 am at the wharf to skate around with some other kids while waiting for the high tide to crawl in. And then once the tide was close to its peak, my brother and I would fetch our boards on the boat to then catch a mini bus ride to Pongo Village, where John (the instructor) lived. Once all was said and concluded, John and I skated over to ask permission from my parents. Thankfully they said yes, and with that the plan was settled.
Efate Island, Vanuatu
Anxious to go surfing, I had trouble sleeping through the night. Finally, the morning light rose and the timer on the clock began to ring. Before we were allowed to leave my dad gave us some chores. The first on the list was to take out and clean the spark plug on our little 3.3 horse engine, once that was finished we needed to start our reports, comparing the archipelago of Fiji and Samoa. We finished both chores by eight o’clock then commenced the days packing of extra clothes, water bottles and snacks. With our surfboards, board shorts, skateboards, and the bus money all ready to go, we lowered the dingy in the water and putted off with our skateboards. Trent and I waited around the wharf skating for an hour and a half, and right before heading back to the boat disappointed, John and his 8-year old student (Charlie- a girl) showed up. Together we skated around looking for a place to eat lunch. We came upon a place called Nambawun café and ordered protein with a chocolate brownie. An hour later we snatched our boards from the boat, mom motored us back to the wharf and we caught a bus to take us surfing. The four of us arrived to see 1ft waves and hardly anybody out. The tide was not quite high tide yet, so we weren’t completely depressed.
We stashed our things at John’s house and changed into our surf wear. A few minutes later we left towards the beach with hope of high tide to bring bigger waves. As we got closer we saw more and more surfers crowding what was now 2ft waves. So we hopped in the water and all paddled out together to the break. John and Charlie complained from the start that the water temperature of 80° was too cold, but us bros didn’t mind. We surfed around the beginner’s spot for a good half hour trying to figure out the waves’ weird way of breaking. Eventually the group separated and paddled to their preferred breaks, being as their were four different reef breaks all just ten minutes paddle away from each other. I scooted over to a super shallow left reef break where the waves were more my size, and my style. There I could get sets of 4ft waves to shoot down the line and give a big carve at the end of the wave before it got too shallow. The name of this particular spot was called Breakas, and it was my preferred break. The four of us stayed out until the tide once again dropped too far to be able to surf.
Breakas, Pongo, Efate, Vanuatu
Those three hours of surf made us really hungry. We dropped our stuff of at John’s house to grab some money and to head out for fries. Hanging out while waiting for the fries, we talked about the past few hours and enjoyed access to the internet. After gobbling down the French fries we paid at the register and hopped back in the car for a return ride to John’s house. Once arrived at the house we quickly gathered all our things and placed them in a pile near the door. Charlie packed to leave as well since her ride home was coming. Since her mom would be picking her up to take her back to town we asked if it would be possible to give us a lift. As the mom arrived we grabbed our things and asked if she could drop us off at the wharf. She agreed, so we placed our things in her 4×4 and hopped in the back. During the car ride, John, Charlie, Trent, and I all talked and bragged about our day’s best waves. As the car came to a stop we ended the great day thanking the mom for the ride and saying good bye to our new friends John and Charlie.
Once on the shoreline, we laid our things aside down and looked for someone to borrow a phone so I could call my dad for a dingy ride back to the boat. We waited impatiently as my dad motored across to reach the dock. The first thing I said was, “Hey dad, do you think it would be possible to do this again tomorrow morning?” but he denied my request. I already knew it wasn’t going to be possible, knowing that tomorrow morning Kandu (Our boat) was scheduled to leave Port Vila in the morning to head to Pentecost. We got back home and over dinner gave our parents a run down on what happened during our great surf day in Vanuatu.
Bryce Rigney lookin’ at you!
Here are photos and videos of some of the other cool things we did during our tour of the Vanuatu Islands.
Tanna Volcano Mount Yasur upclose!Bryce and Trent Rigney with the Rom Dancers of Ambrym Island, VanuatuLand Diving on Pentecost Island, Vanuatu
After the Land Diving, I helped pound the Kava roots for the adults to drink and celebrate the last diving of the season.
Diving the SS President Coolidge wreck, Espiritu Santo, VanuatuRiri Blue Hol rope swinging and swimming, Espiritu Santo, Vanuatu
This is a posting that Eric sent to the world cruiser’s fabulous resource: www.noonsite.com back in 2016. It was never posted to our site and he thought with the upcoming 2019 Pacific crossing season approaching, our past knowledge might come in handy to the newbie Pacific Puddle jumpers. Some of the details may be a little dated, but things are slow to change in the Marquesas.
Taiohae Bay, Nuku Hiva. We anchored in the little inlet for almost a year: June 2015-May 2016.
June 2015, Leslie, Bryce (13), Trent (11), and I arrived from the Galapagos Islands in the Marquesas aboard Kandu, our 42-foot Tayana sailboat. Intending to stay only a few weeks, we remained nearly a year, becoming certified residence in the administrative capital of Taiohae, Nuku Hiva. Our sons would be the first Americans to attend Taiohae’s middle-school. Having been in Nuku Hiva as long, we thought it helpful to share some recommendations as to what to see and do were one to have 1-5 days to spend and cooperative weather. A detailed guide written by Rose Corsair points out the nearby historical sites and is available at her shop on the west side of the bay. So, here’s a short-list, in order of priority. Of course, spending more time at any one or more of these locations is preferable. Note: Although many services are described, this is meant mostly to serve as a sailing cruiser’s touring guide, getting the most out of Nuku Hiva in the shortest time, and does not provide a comprehensive list of available services.
Kandu in Taiohae, Nuku HivaTaiohae Bay seen from opposite side of the quai.
Standard Polynesian traveling preparations: water, bug spray, sun protection, a good pair of hiking sandals suitable for mud, seawater, and streams, and a roll of toilet paper in a Ziplock.
1st Day, Taiohae, from east to west
Petit Quai dinghy dock (pronounced “per-TEET KAY”), services listed in order of appearance starting from this popular sailors meeting place:
Snack Vaekai aka Chez Henri (among other languages, Henry speaks English and can help solve most any boat problem the Marquesan way) (meals $8-$10): Internet WiFi with food purchase, mostly Marquesan menu, including the classic Marquesan poisson cru(lime-marinated fresh fish in fresh squeezed coconut milk), fresh squeezed fruit juices or citronade (lime-ade), and individual bananas that you pull from any one of the many stalks hanging along the tent’s edge to accompany your meal. Bananas are consumed here like bread or tortilla chips are in US restaurant. For dessert: gateau beurre(butter cake), ice cream, or firi-firi(French Polynesian donut). No alcohol served (BYOB from Kamake, see below).
Welcoming Quai businesses of Taiohae Bay, Nuku Hiva
Next stores to Henri’s, a boutique selling nice shirts, skirts, caps, and Hinano stickers, and a dive excursion shop, filling tanks and taking you out, but no classes.
Henri, like a brother to me, shows off a plate of his poisson cru, lime-marinated raw yellow fin tuna.
Then it’s Yacht Services Nuku Hiva (YSNH), Kevin can help you check in and/or with the authorities and help solve boat problems (the American way). He sells Marquesan courtesy flags, souvenirs, and houses one of the island’s premiere tattoo artists: Moana. YSNH can also set you up with one of their many island tours. Laundry and WiFi are just some of the services he offers.
Trash and oil dump location.
Open Market: Fresh fruits and vegetable stand, daily 6am-3pm except Sundays. (4 a.m. Saturday if you want tomatoes!!!)
Chez Celina, in the market place at the end of the quay, serves local dishes, ($6-$10), cold beer, and offers Wi-Fi with a purchase. Serves standard Marquesan fare as well as Marquesan dishes with international spiced variations
Quay restrooms are now payable ($1, or free when you eat at Celina’s), but not yet well maintained. We “lobbied” to improve this circumstance, asking that they have toilet seats, doors, toilet paper, soap and drying towels. Would also like to see the showers working too. There’s a place to hand wash clothes behind the building near the toilets. During rains, the water which is non-potable becomes brown with sediment and can stain clothes. Currently no potable tap water in Taiohae, except one of the three free filtered water stations, none of which are close to the quai.
Communal artisan center, more active when a cruise ship passes through. If you see something you like, buy it. It might not be there tomorrow. When larger cruise ships pull into port, Ua Pou arrives to sell inexpensive black pearls.
Tourist office, with maps and information about the Marquesas. Speak English. Can set you up with Nuku Hiva tours: Richard Dean and Jocylene speak English. Average tour cost $65 pp plus lunch. Tourist office has the best public restrooms on Nuku Hiva!!!!
Saturday morning flea market (marche de puce), 5-6:30am, fresh seafood and prepared foods. Tuna, wahoo, etc. $5/kilo. Live lobster, $15/kilo (out of season Feb-April).
General Stores: Taiohae has 5 general stores and 2 hardware stores. Larssons, next to Kamake sells higher-end items like curries, coconut oil, etc. The store furthest away, past the pharmacy, is open 7 days a week. The one behind Socredo, the only bank, across from the stadium field, is open during lunch, Monday-Sat. Cold anything, including soft drinks, beer ($2.50-$3/can), wine, chocolate, meats, cheese, and ice cream. Fresh baked baguette bread ($0.70) and pastries daily except Sundays and holidays. Kamake open 5:30-11:30am Mon-Sat, 2-6:30pm Mon-Fri, Larsson’s opens later. Fresh vegetables and inexpensive casse-croute(sandwiches) sold in front of Kamake until 11:30am. These general stores offer free truck rides to the Petit Quai if you have a heavy or large purchase, but you have to ask.
Kou’eva Ceremonial Grounds, Taiohae, Nuku Hiva
Kou’eva – Inland ceremonial grounds, restored for traditional cultural festivals. To find it, turn right up the town’s center street, main intersection, between Magasin Kamake and Magasin Larsson. Walk about a mile up, not far from the school bus stop, a super small sign on the right side of street marks right turn toward Taiohae’s reconstructed ceremonial grounds. The walk from the paved street inland along the dirt road is further than you think and which road to take at each informal intersection is not obvious . . . so, ask any passersby, or worst case, walk back and take the other path if you guess wrong.
Magasin Kamake, Taiohae, Nuku Hiva
Chez Bigo Hardware: Walking from Kou-eva back to the seafront, as you descend, you may notice Chez Bigo, the island’s most comprehensive hardware store to your right, just before the bus stop, across the small bridge. They serve cold drinks and packaged snacks like candy bars if the Kou’eva walk zapped your energy.
Moana Nui Restaurant, Pension, and Car Rental – on the main drag, further west after the main intersection. More European than Marquesan menu ($12-$30). Great steak. Serves French-style pizza (no mozzarella cheese for pizza in French Polynesia), beer and wine and mixed drinks. More expensive than the two Petit Quai “Snacks” (cafes), less expensive than Pearl Lodge.
Cathedral Taiohae – Ask permission to enter building. Strict protocols. Rose Corsair, on the westside of the bay, sells a guidebook for Nuku Hiva that includes descriptions of elements within the cathedral. Beautiful woodcarvings inside and out. Sunday mass begins with meditative chants at 7am, regular mass at 8am, ends 9-9:30am. Look for the Marquesan version of the Christian cross (previously Marquesan symbol for southern cross, I think). Butted together, the Marquesan cross figures look like a pattern of men.
Cathedral Taiohae with Leslie Rigney
Tohua Temehea – Seaside ceremonial grounds, built for traditional cultural festivals since 1989. Read the informational sign on-site (in French and English) for details
Melville Monument – Tucked in on the shore side, neighbouring the western cemetery.
A wonderfully carved large tree stump with weathered roof top and missing elements, shows the path he hiked out of Taiohae and over to Taipi Vai. The monument is reported placed at the beach location where Melville reportedly jumped ship and headed for the hills.
Joel’s Bella Pizza: Great pizza, ($12.50-$18; $3 delivery to Petit Quai), a less expensive alternative to Moana Nui Restaurant’s pizza. The “Indian” and “Petit Quai” versions are our favorites. Better than the pizza are the decadent desserts, tiramisu and cheesecake ($4, large slices)
Restaurant and Marquesas Museum at Chez Rose’s. Rose was an American sailing cruiser who arrived in Taiohae in 1972 with her husband Frank and later returned to stay since 1977. Far west side of bay. Never know when it’s open. Knock. Great exhibit. Sells a great Nuku Hiva guidebook in multiple languages. Restaurant serves an excellent hamburger. Free WiFi, password-free (some anchor their boats at this side of the bay to get closer to her wifi). A more casual Friday night happy hour than Pearl Lodge, Kevin sometimes arranges a complimentary communal taxi for sailors from his YSNH shop on the Petit Quay.
Pearl Lodge – Nuku Hiva’s gorgeous (expensive) bar, restaurant ($18-$40), hotel ($225/night). Very nice! Beautiful view of Taiohae Bay. Friday evening Happy Hour, half off beautiful $14 frou-frou cocktails (or as I see it, two for the price of one!)
Swimming
Remember in the Marquesas, beach equals no-no’s. They breed in the sand between fresh and seawater. Usually, it seems, the whiter the sand, the greater the no-no’s.
Beaches: Kouvea beach on the eastern side of the bay, in front of the French Administrator’s residence. To the west, in front of Rose’s place, there’s a beach but more no-no’s than Kouvea. And over the western hill, there’s Colette’s Bay, see “Hikes” below.
Sharks?
Cleaning boat bottoms and swimming in the bay have not been a problem for us or anyone else. Locals say sharks are a problem, but Kevin from Nuku Hiva Yacht Services and the Fire Dept. haven’t heard of an actual incident. Kevin says he is never concerned about jumping in to the bay to fix a boat.
That said, I would not advise swimming near the Petit Quai as sharks feed on fishermen’s scraps. Still, many cruisers have dived here, jumping in after fallen items, without incident.
Hikes (Randonee, in French)
Sentinal/East bay mouth
Moderate, but sometimes steep. Bring water. No facilities.
Between 1.5 and 2 hours R/T at steady pace.
Leave early in the morning, before it gets hot, before 7 am is best. Take upper road above fuel station to maintained dirt path. Ask any locals how to get to the start.
Taiohae overview vista, walk up the center road, as done for Kou’eva, until you get to the top for a stunning view (hitch hike if you don’t want to walk).
Colette’s Bay, over the ridge on the other side of the bay’s west side, . . . path starts above Rose’s motel. Turn right above the motel, then another immediate right, walking down and curving left. Stay on main dirt road until your reach top of saddle/ridge. Turn left, opening and closing the barbed-wire gate. (If you turn right, you’re on your way to Hakaui Bay, a much further hike, so ask in advance where the paths turn). Colette’s Bay is where Survivor Marquesas filmed their challenges. Great swimming beach. Remember, beach equals no-no’s.
2nd Day, Car Tour
Pre-arrange a guide in Taiohae for a driving tour ($50-$120pp). Richard, Jocylene, and Kevin speak English. Ask Tourism Office, Henri, Rose, or Kevin to help you find a guide. Or go solo, diesel 4×4 rental is about $120/day plus fuel.
Self-guided?
Taipi Vai, Tohua ceremonial grounds (toilets often available) w/modern stone tiki.
Hoomi, see church and visit with Pena, a sculptor (toilets available in Hoomi).
Hatiheu Ceremonial Grounds
Ron Dennis indicating the ancient petroglyphs depicting a mahimahi, Hatiheu
Hatiheu
Road from Taipi Vai to Hatiheu and beyond becomes rough dirt and washed out rock, requiring 4×4.
Once arrived, visit the archeological ceremonial grounds, see petroglyphs
Check out the Marquesan history exposition. Great history of Anaho too.
Virgin Mary statue atop pinnacle southwest side of bay.
Chez Yvonne’s for lunch (toilets available). Feed a piece of baguetteto the fresh water eels adjacent her restaurant.
Aakapa vista point, beautiful Attitoka mountain ridge.
Aakapa Bay and Attitoka Mountain Range
From Hatiheu to Aakapa and especially beyond, requires 4×4 driving skill. If it were raining, I’d pass on going to Aakapa and/or beyond.
Some drive from there (Aakapa) directly to the airport, but told the brush surrounding this un-maintained dirt road can scratch cars.
Drive across central plateau toward airport (or from airport, depending on how you drove there). This area is called ‘Too Vii’ or as some call it, mini-New Zealand, with its fresh air and pines. Stop at vista points at the top of the mountain ridge, including Nuku Hiva’s Grand Canyon.
3rd Day, Hakatea Bay and Hakaui Valley
Before sailing over, quickly stop off at one of the nearby stores and buy fresh baguettes in Taiohae to give to Hakaui locals that same day. Nice gift.
Leave Taiohae, sail west to Hakatea, 1-1.5 hr motorsail, and anchor on the eastern bay aka “Daniel’s” Bay, where Survivor was shot. Daniel passed away a few years ago. This is also the bay where not so long ago a German sailor was murdered by an emotionally troubled man, currently serving time in Papeete. Careful, lots of no-no’s (noseums), some even fly to the anchored boat.
Walk west along bay’s north shore to Hakaui Bay.
Wade through river to other side (good place to run your dinghy to give it a fresh water internal rinse). Along the start of your way up the path to the waterfall, make lunch reservations for your return trip (4 hrs R/T) with one of the valley families. Teiki and Kua, as you enter the village, are favorites, but all meals from any family here are great. $10pp. Warning: Don’t take Teiki’s picture without permission! Easier if you dine at his place.
Friends Kua and Teiki showed Rosie Dennis Marquesan amity when we visited the Hakaui waterfall.Hakaui Canyon, Nuku Hiva
Continue walking deeper inland toward one of the world’s most breathtaking waterfalls, following a not so carefully marked path. Walking through the stream is sometimes safer than negotiating slippery rocks and tree trunks over the stream. After three trips prior, we went with a guide, Thierry, and saw three times as much, and more safely.
WARNING:Rocks can fall from atop, esp. the open field closest to the falls. Move quickly and quietly when adjacent cliffs. Don’t attempt this hike if raining, or rain predicted as flash floods are likely. Swimming to the very base of the falls places you in danger of falling rocks. Fresh water eels live in the ponds and stream. Not harmful, but they often nip at your legs.
Wear bug repellent and re-apply after swimming in waterfall pond.
4th Day, Anaho Bay
Sail to Anaho, on the northeast corner of Nuku Hiva. About a 6-hour motor-sail. Careful of the rock on the SE corner of the island, off Controller Bay and Tikapo pt.
One of the most scenic and protected bays in the Marquesas, Anaho is where Marquesans go to vacation. Can’t help but sing Rogers and Hammerstein’s Bali Hai when I turn the corner to enter the bay.
To protect the coral, anchor south of the coral-carved dinghy path, cut to the shore.
Kandu in Anaho Bay, Nuku Hiva, Marquesas
Good snorkeling, safe (no sharks, sometimes jellyfish), clear, often times manta rays. Don’t eat any fish caught there. (Ciguatera).
Fresh spring water available from a free-running hose on the beach for drinking and bathing.
Anaho Bay
Careful, no-no’s on the beach and even more so to the east. Good surfing and a plantation on the beach over the small hill to the east. Be warned—mega no-no’s on the beach, so run to the surf. Moana Sr., owns the fruit and vegetable farm and has re-opened a small pension in Anaho that serves meals. This makes two pensions that sometimeserve meals, but difficult to count on. Usually about $10 a large plate of local fare.
Many artisans live in Anaho Bay, including a well-known Marquesan tattoo artist, Moana (Jr.), when he’s not in Taiohae at Kevin’s YSNH.
Lastly, a nice hike up and over western ridge of Anaho to Hatiheu. There and back (2.5 hr R/T), start early as it gets hot. Easier coming back than going. Some brag they walk it in half the time. Again, Chez Yvonne’s, a restaurant popular with cruise ship tourists, is in Hatiheu.
5th Day, Controller’s Bay a.k.a. Taipi Vai (South) or Hanapani (North), let the swell decide:
If the swell is coming from the north, then better to go south. Taipi Vai is where Herman Melville lived for a couple weeks and about which he later wrote his first novel, Typee. From Anaho, sail east then a sharp turn south along the east coast toward the SE corner of Nuku Hiva (careful, there’s still that killer rock off the point to watch out for).
Taipi Vai Controller’s Bay, Nuku Hiva
Once in Controller Bay, there are three smaller bays from which to choose: Hoomi to the east, Hakapuvai/Hakapaa to the west (only good if no swell), and Taipi Vai in between. Coral surrounds these bays, so anchor in the middle of them.
Hakapuvai & Hakapaa, are private properties, owned by local families. Together these two beaches comprise the other Survivor beach.
Hakapuvai waterfall
We anchor in Hakapaa, the bay to starboard, more easterly, where you may spot pigs roaming the beach and might fumble your way to the pretty waterfall and pool (easy, short hike) in the back, to the west (left when facing inland from your cockpit).
Hakapuvai, to the west, has a beach of shells, excellent for combing.
Snorkeling over coral is possible in both bays.
Occasionally no-no’s can reach the boat.
If the swell is coming from the south, may be better to go north to Hanapani Bay, northwest Nuku Hiva.
Haven’t visited this bay yet, but have been told by those who have that when the swell allows, for those who prefer remote white-sand beaches and clear water without other boats nearby, this is the place to be. It’s just west of Aakapa. Aakapa is not good for anchoring. Pua, further west than Hanapani, is quiet as well, but its landscape is a tad less “magnifique.”
If you’re planning to visit Nuku Hiva, I hope this little outline helps you get the most from your visit. If you’re in the Marquesas and not planning to visit Nuku Hiva, I hope this outline entices you to reconsider. See hello to Henri for me. I love that guy!
All the best! Eric Rigney – SY Kandu
While we were in the Marquesas, we sailed over to Hiva Oa to witness the Marquesan Festival that occurs every two years. It was worth planning around!!
Matava’a Hiva Oa Opening Ceremony: December 16th 2015
Modern day Morocco maintains many traits from the beginning of its 3000 year-old history. Street vendors, bargaining rituals, thieves, food stands, and tourists all have roles in the large cities. Morocco’s traditions have been through it all: the Phoenician arrival in 1100BCE, era of Roman rule in 146BCE, the Arab invasion (including Spain) in 711CE, and finally, the 21stcentury.
Phoenicians, Morocco’s first “tourists,” came by sea from Lebanon in 1100BCE. They invaded the lands of the indigenous Berber tribes and began colonization of Morocco. With the frazzled Berbers who escaped to the mountains, the coast was an easy seizure. Through prosperous coastline trading, Phoenicians jealously guarded Morocco for an additional millennial. By 700BCE, present day Tangier, Rabat, Essaouira, (in Morocco) and Carthage (another North African Phoenician major trade colony in Tunisia) had been developed. Fiercely they proclaimed the epicenter of North African trade. Glory was theirs, until 146BCE.
Marrakesh Koutoubia Minaret considered the most perfect in N. Africa. Almohad architecture.
Following the trend of Mediterranean coastlines, Morocco and most of North Africa fell under Roman rule. In 146BC Roman forces crossed the Mediterranean and sacked Carthage for her valuable trade. During this time the Berber Kingdom (an accumulation of local tribes and refugees) began to grow. By 44CE Emperor Claudius imposed direct Roman rule. First course of action was a separation of North African territory into two groups: “Mauritania Cesarensis,” (Old Numidia) and “Mauritania Tingitana,” (essentially Morocco). Oddly this was the only discernable action pursued by the Romans over their reign from 146BC-429AD. The multiple attacks and rebellions from Berber and Germanic tribes probably prevented further changes to Morocco.
Bryce Rigney, Bahia Palace, Marrakesh, Morocco
As degeneration of Roman North African provinces became more apparent, Berber and Germanic tribes grew in power. Eventually in 429CE, a Germanic tribe marauded the Moroccan region and seized power until in 533CE when powerful Byzantines claimed the coastlines for their use as wealthy trading outposts. Less than 150 years later came the introduction of Islam, led by the Arab Governor “Oqba Idn Nafi,” though it was a questionable reign after their 5000-kilometer pilgrimage from Arabia to the Atlantic Ocean, Morocco’s Islamic future set anchor. Then came “Tariq Ibn Ziad,” an Arab Governor from western Morocco who took Islam further. During his reign in 711AD, he rallied the people to conquer Europe. Across the Mediterranean, the new Governor led his fleet to Spain, conquering Spain with the exception of the Spanish Mountains. The Islamic Arab conquest peaked in Spain, though due to lack of accountability, things became uncontrollable. Thus began the dispersion of the Muslim world.
Essaouira ramparts at the top of the Skala de la Ville, the great sea bastion
Morocco became a mother for many revolution refugees throughout the Middle East. Moulay Idriss was among these refugees. Morocco’s growing population soon yearned for a government. Adopted by the people as their leader, Moulay Idriss established the first sound Government and Arab court in Fez creating Morocco’s first capital city. After his assassination in 828CEthe Idriss dynasty remained firm for another century. Morocco soon began an interchanging supervision between powerful family tribes up through the mid-1800.
Saadian Tombs dating from 1554-1669, Marrakesh.
In 1492 drastic changes were made, Arabs were completely chased out of Europe by the Spanish inquisition. Forced to reconstruct their own lives in lands like Morocco, and after a bit of French & English colonialism in the 19th-20thcenturies, the people of Morocco make up a nation of two prominent peoples led by a king: Berbers in the mountains and southern regions, Arabs living on the coastlines and in the cities.
Laazama Synagogue, first Jewish Synagogue in Marrakesh, Morocco. It is still in use.Bryce Rigney at the city walls built around Marrakesh Medina
During my two months spent in Morocco, I could sense its history. Street vendors, bargaining rituals, thieves, and food stands hoard ancient sand dunes and cobblestone roads. Sadly through the glass, corrupt oligarchies still administer the land. Through all their changes and attempts at modernization through the support from Europe and America, Morocco remains cloaked 100 years behind a long sleeved smock.
Sailing in from Lanzarote late November 2018, prior e-mail contact with Marina Mindelo indicated no berths would be available during this, their high rally season. Three rallies, 2 ARC and 1 French, meant 95 extra boats would fill their pontoons to capacity during the same week our unintended circumstances had us arriving. Rounding the northern point between Sao Vicente and the large rock northwest of the Grand Port, the marina informed us over VHF ch72 that they were able to make space for us and to look out for their red dinghy, manned to assist us. With a forecast of high winds the coming weekend and Noonsite reports of several thefts aboard anchored boats in this popular bay, we tied up bow-in to the leeward side of Pontoon A, grabbing the mooring line from the dock hands and tying it off to our stern.
The one-hour time difference between Canary and Cape Verde Islands meant that after checking into the marina, we had 30 minutes left before the state offices closed. Using the map the marina office provided, I quickly walked solo the short distance to both Immigration and Border Police, offices adjacent each other just beyond the ferry terminal. Border Police had a simple form to fill out and would hold our ship’s original documentation paper, to be returned on check out. Contrary to another Mindelo cruiser’s Noonsite report, no paper relinquishing them of any responsibility of theft was offered or required. Immigration took a copy of our crew list and stamped our 3 passports, requiring €5 total for the service. Both offices gave notice that if we wished to depart on a weekend, we’d have to clear out through their offices the Friday before. The whole process, both offices together, took 15-20 minutes.
Marina Mindelo, Sao Vicente, Cape Verde, Nov 2018
Checking into the marina was simple. Proof of Insurance, the captain’s passport to scan, and a standard form describing the vessel, crew, and prior/next ports were all that were required before taking my Visa credit card. They charge by the square meter. Our boat, 12.7m x 3.8m cost just about $30 day, which includes security, power, toilets, and access to WiFi through their Floating Bar restaurant. Water is a premium here, so the marina access card doubles as the water card. One pre-pays for water, $5 buys 250 liters for both their showers (hot) and dockside water. Although potable, it was highly recommended it be filtered. Their fuel dock offers VAT-free diesel, costing about $1/liter, 15% less than at the street-side service pump. The high volume of cruisers arriving for the rallies motivated the marina to set up a telecommunication SIM provider on premises. One euro bought the SIM, €10 bought 8 GB of data, valid for 30 days. The marina is well run, clean, and convenient to all services.
Marina Mindelo Office
Marina Mindelo view from the office
Marina Mindelo Floating Bistro
Marina Mindelo Floating Bistro
Marina Mindelo Pier View
Marina Mindelo view from street
Marina Mindelo Mascot
BoatCV operates a smart yacht services shop on premises and can connect boats with other service providers. There seems to be some bad blood between the marina and BoatCV owners, but we had no issues. The facilities, marina staff, the restaurant staff, security, and the chandlery are attentive and professional, operating at the highest standards relative to most locations we visited across our circumnavigation. A swell surge can push boats around and strong gusts can jet through the bay’s valley, so many fenders, chafing gear, and attention to dock lines is required. When it comes to an overall wet-berth marina experience, this place is hard to beat.
The location is convenient as well, central to Mindelo. Many cultural opportunities are within walking distance of the marina and inexpensive land tours can be had. Open markets and small supermarkets have most anything one may wish to provision. The local butane gas company seems capable of filling most any gas bottle fitting, including Amerian/Australian. Cooking gas filling service itself is straight forward and nearly immediate. Laundry from an outside vendor is collected and returned at 09h and 17h daily. They charged $12 for 7kg of laundry, washed, dried, and folded. From the USA, we had two items mailed to us at the marina Priority International USPS, a box of parts and an envelope of documents. The parts took a week and no customs charges were applied; the documents, 2 weeks. As for security, the marina feels safe and guarded from theft. I can’t speak to boats anchored. The ever-present young men and boy beggars and the proximity of the beach to the anchored boats might prove problematic.
Rue de Lisboa View from the Old Capital building
Rue de Lisboa buildings viewed from Mercado Municpal
Mercado Municipal
Mindelo is mellow, quaint, clean, and convenient. The views of the surrounding mountains and nearby island are stunning. Yes, industry surrounds the port, but feels much less imposing than at other countries we’ve visited. Portuguese and Creole are the common languages spoken here. Service providers offer varying degrees of English, French, Spanish, German, etc. We enjoyed the local dishes and drinks. Cachupa is never the same dish from restaurant to restaurant, so once is not enough. Grogue is a local spirit as strong as vodka and “punch” is a syrup, low in alcohol. Both are inexpensive, less than the cost of a soft drink. Together, they make a tasty cocktail. I think they should give my new cocktail creation the French name for a mooring buoy, “corps mort,” which, when translated directly means, “dead body.” (Turns out I didn’t invent anything. The drink’s actual name sounds like: “Strompf-Parot.”)
Through the marina office, we arranged a standard island tour, covering three coasts. It was well worth the €60 for the three of us (the car accepts up to 4 at no extra cost), which included driving to the windy summit of Mt Verde, the tallest mountain on the island. The driver didn’t speak English and very little French, so we didn’t learn much about the history, but he took us to great photo spots, walking paths, and Restaurant Hamburg for an inexpensive local lunch.
Fluorescent waters of Sao Pedro Beach, Sao Vicente, Cape Verde
RigneysKandu at Pria do Norte, Sao Vicente, Cape Verde
Bryce Rigney and tour guide at Pria do Norte sand dunes, Sao Vicente
Baia das Gatas, Sao Vicente, Cape Verde
View of Baia das Gatas from Monte Verde, Sao Vicente
View atop Monte Verde, Sao Vicente, Cape Verde
Bryce Rigney wind blown atop Monte Verde, Sao Vicente
Mindelo view from Monte Verde, Sao Vicente
Sailing to Cape Verde took us 8 days and will cut about 3-4 days from our upcoming Atlantic crossing to French Guiana. I feel the extra time spent to experience this African island was well worth the diversion. It also proved to be enjoyable and pleasant way to shake down the boat before our third and last ocean crossing. I wouldn’t insist that a cruiser come this way, but were they to make the effort, they would likely be pleased that they did, especially if they could dock at the marina.
From here, we leave for French Guiana, Suriname, and possibly Guyana, in route toward the Panama Canal. Cheers from sv Kandu!
After college, age 22, while traveling on svGetel across the Pacific with Eric in 1989, I had time to pause from the ‘busy’ness of life laiden full of skills learned across multiple disciplines in order to earn a living, and reflect on how incredibly blessed my path had been up to that point. During that crossing from Hawaii to San Francisco, there was a difficult and rather scary 24-hour period when I pushed myself into a tight corner crevice, crossed myself (unusual for a Lutheran), and prayed. At that moment during the raging sea storm, in the most uncomfortable and frightening circumstance of my life, I thanked God for all the extraordinary experiences that my parents had provided me and the incredible opportunities to learn and to grow unhindered by war, by pestilence, tragedy, sickness, hunger, disability, poverty and even unattractiveness. I acknowledged that I had already lived a terrific life. Overwhelmingly thankful, I was prepared to die. Fortunately, the storm passed and we lived to sail under the San Francisco Golden Gate Bridge.
Pondering Blessings
Today, thinking back at that moment and my life up until then, my life had been truly blessed: born in California in the late 1960’s, healthy, strong of body with a decent brain, and an only child of devoted upper-middle class parents. Truly, I was the princess that most of my high school friends perceived me to be, living atop the hill in a big modern house that my father built. Although I never thought, nor think of myself as a princess. I rarely got new clothes; mine were mostly hand-me-downs. My parents owned a record player with basic speakers, a simple medium-sized television and VHS machine to record shows – purchasing movies was out of the question expensive, and renting movies wasn’t a possibility back in the late 1970’s. Spending time on the telephone long distance was forbidden. My parents didn’t often take me out to eat. We drank milk or water with dinner and ate simply. I learned a great distaste for shopping because while my mother loved to go ‘shopping,’ we rarely bought anything. Our big spending was food on special. Before I was ten, I collected aluminum cans, sorting through trash bins to recycle. When I was 10, I sold mistletoe wrapped and tied with a bow to neighbors for a $0.50. Later in high school, I babysat the neighbors’ children. I never received an allowance.
However, what my parents did offer me, above and beyond any material prizes, were experiences. With my mother, we joined a roller-skating club. I was four. Until I was twelve, I spent most of my after-school hours and weekends at the roller-skating rink, taking lessons and practicing. At age six, I started taking piano lessons. A little later I took-up violin in the elementary school orchestra…I was now taking piano and violin lessons.
My mother was a snow ski addict. During the winter months, we would drive up to the Tahoe mountains on Friday afternoons having packed all our food and sandwich materials for a weekend of skiing. At that time, Squaw Valley attracted families to their ski resort by offering children to ski free until age 14. I skied so much as a youth, that by the time I was 16, I was skiing the most difficult runs on the mountain. My mother’s brilliant idea, I attached a horn to my ski pole. While on the chairlift looking down, I would honk the horn to congratulate fellow skiers on their great form skiing and/or crashing. Haha. I used to ski so hard, that my own crashes were enviable…but fortune would have it that I never experienced a debilitating accident. At that time, we skied without helmets.
Then one day, my father showed up with a modest water ski boat. From then on out during the summer months, we would pack-up the El Camino with a camper top (my cousin and I lounged in the back on a cushion reading books – I became an avid reader – no DVD movie players back then) and headed out on late Friday afternoons to the bay area delta for the weekend.
Around age 12, my mother’s interest in roller-skating dwindled. She asked me if I wanted to continue. I was good enough that if I continued, I would have started skating freestyle pairs – a dangerous sport for girls as they are twirled, lifted, and thrown in the air at their peril. At the same time, my interest and skill at playing the violin had markedly grown. We decided that our roller-skating days were over. Instead, we water and snow skied many weekends, I poured myself into local after school sports (softball and soccer), practiced and played the violin, sang in choirs, and improved my mind through academics and reading. Junior high was marked for me by singing in the choir, the purchase of a good violin and playing in the orchestra at the junior college, but most significantly, having to wear headgear to school; before I smiled I was considered a small, cute girl. Haha.
My mouth was such a tangled mess, that the orthodontist required I wear braces and the worst possible: headgear 24 hours a day – even to school. He was going to wire the apparatus in so that I couldn’t remove it. Fortunately, my mother and number one advocate, protested the wiring and assured the doctor I would wear it. In the bathroom, my mother discovered me in tears trying to hide the headgear under my hair. She held me in her arms and said: “You won’t be able to hide it, instead, flaunt it!” From her crafts, she pulled out ribbons and dried flowers and together we decorated it in style wrapping it with bright colors and festooning it with “charm.” Interestingly, I was rarely pointed out or ridiculed. During those months, we arranged at school for me to eat lunch privately in a classroom away from prying eyes. The orthodontist predicted I would need to wear the headgear full time for five months. I determined that would not do. The moment my teeth stopped aching, I would tighten the gear myself. Three months later, my teeth had reached their new permanent place and the headgear was no longer required. I wore braces for just a year and retainers every night thereafter.
While I was in junior high, my mother went back to school to San Jose State University. My grandmother would pick me up from school to take me to violin lessons. Other days, I would attend soccer practice and/or walk home, practice my violin and piano, do my homework. A couple nights a week, I was expected to cook simple dinners – rice and vegetable stir fry and/or spaghetti with salad. In eighth grade, I auditioned for Oakland Youth Symphony Orchestra and was accepted into the second violins. For three consecutive summers, I earned music scholarships to attend La Honda Music Camp in the Santa Cruz mountains to improve my skills and make contacts.
La Honda music Camp
Moving forward in time, as a freshman at San Leandro High School, I auditioned and was accepted to sing in the Notables Choir, and continued to study piano and violin privately.
The day I turned 16, I passed my driver’s license test. My parents were so relieved from having to taxi me around to rehearsals, they allowed me to drive their robust El Camino truck to school and to my numerous music commitments. By that time, I was playing string bass in Young People’s Symphony Orchestra, I was 6th chair of the first violins in Oakland Youth Symphony (OYSO), taking lessons in San Francisco, and heading to school for 7:00 am rehearsals for Pirates of Pizazz, our high school “glee” club of singing and dancing. School mornings, I would pick-up two friends who also sang in the group. As might be expected, with all that driving, before I turned 18, I caused two smallish car accidents where fortunately nothing but the cars were damaged. There is a reason why drivers under 25 pay more for insurance. My parents were kind to me about those accidents as I was driving myself from orchestra rehearsals both times. They had the cars repaired, paid the higher insurance fees, and I continued to drive. Through OYSO I got a chance to travel to Europe…travel without my parents. It was my 16th summer. The travel bug hit me hard.
Kent Nagano conducted OYSO at that time.
Time passed musically. I had started taking French as a Sophomore in high school, and became so advanced that in my Senior year, I finished my high school classes at noon and continued French courses at Hayward Junior College. Between my orchestra classes as a junior high student and the French classes, before I graduated high school, I had already accumulated 58 college credits. I then graduated HS with good grades, but earned unimpressive SAT scores. After appealing my application, University of California, Los Angeles (UCLA) accepted me as a Freshman.
I could go on about the blessings of my life through University and beyond. I continued to have and to create opportunities. And then I met Eric. Through him, I found the courage to pursue a career in opera which led to more wonderful teachers and eventually to a Master’s and Ph’d in Music supported by teaching voice and a ‘priceless’ 12-year career singing in the chorus of Los Angeles Opera. These incredible opportunities were afforded to me by hard work and great people who helped and nurtured me along the way. I have never been exceptional at anything…even opera singing…but through much perseverance, I have become very good at a lot of things, even typing.
Eric also did well in his chosen career and we experienced an extraordinary boon; Eric and I were blessed with two very sturdy, healthy, and intelligent sons with whom to share our lives.
RigneysKandu floating in Dead Sea of Israel
And you wonder why I wrote this account that sounds a bit like boasting, why I recorded it ‘out loud?’ I wrote all this as an edification for a thought that has been mulling around in my brain for some time, since I was 22 and sailing aboard sv Getel. Now at almost 52 having traveled the world for 4 years, I have seen so many extraordinary sights, experienced incredible cultural events and have witnessed in person war torn countries, very poor people, and interacted with all types from different regions of the world. I ask myself and God why have I been so blessed? Surely, I have had to struggle in my life, but my struggles, in general, have been self-inflicted as I have toiled to grow, improve my understanding in music, language, writing, math, spirituality, singing, sailing, etc. Was it the environment in which I grew-up and the choices that I made along the way that protected me from horrible hardships? Was it luck to have good health and simply good fortune, and that I have not had to battle against oppression of all kinds?
This morning aboard our sturdy sv Kandu, before writing all this, a song was wafting around in my mind from Rogers and Hammerstein’s “Sound of Music: Something Good.” The lyrics repeated over and over: ‘Somewhere in my youth or childhood, I must have done something good.’ I’m not sure if a good life or having many blessings is a reward for good works in this life or another. It’s entirely possible that because of my “good life” or ‘Princess on the hill’ benefits, I still have much to accomplish of good in the future – to ‘pay it forward’ so to speak. I don’t know what that payment is or may be, or even if it’s necessary in the scheme of things. However, it doesn’t stop me from wondering deeply. I guess I’ll just have to wait and see. Nevertheless, I feel the utmost gratitude for all that has made this outstanding life possible and to those that have been instrumental in this life I have been living.
While preparing to leave Agadir Marina, I found our Yanmar freshwater pump leaked beyond repair and needed replacement. With only 7 Schengen days left on our visa and Spain’s Canary Islands at high season with packed marinas, I decided to take my chances with what I read was a difficult Moroccan Customs. First my experience, then how I should have done it.
Morocco does not allow yacht owners to import parts free of duty “yacht in transit” unless the part is coming in as part of an insurance claim and the yacht’s insurance agency works with one of the many pre-approved Moroccan insurance partners. Although the US vendor was cheaper, I privately ordered a pump, bolts, plus a spare and all gaskets from dieselpartseurope.com $825 US. Both DHL and FedEx have offices in Agadir. Dieselpartseurope.com shipped FedEx, 3-4 days, Netherlands to Agadir for $165. Within 48 hrs, the packaged arrived in Casablanca where Customs held it.
Packages above $20 do not transfer within Morocco automatically, and having clients refuse to pay customs fees, FedEx will no longer accept in advance on your behalf and pass on the charges to the recipient at acquisition. Note also that mechanical parts costing more than $1,360 (including freight, insurance, tax), must come with an additional importation permit. Two days after the package arrived in Casablanca, I received a FedEx notification of Customs’ withholding. I called FedEx Casablanca for clarification. I’m glad I speak some French. FedEx offered me three options: come to Casablanca and deal with it by myself, hire a broker to deal with it on my behalf, or pay FedEx $60 to broker it on my behalf. I opted for the latter. They asked for a copy of my passport, a copy of the invoice with my ‘ship to’ name and marina address, a photo image of the parts, and a parts description in French. I lost an additional two days due to some minor inconsistencies with my invoice, but fortunately dieselpartseurope.com and I were in similar time zones and they made the necessary modifications. Then FedEx Casablanca asked for a bank transfer to cover the Customs’ costs (23.5% ++, of total invoice including taxes, freight, packing, and insurance), $275. FedEx Casablanca would not accept a credit card. As an American, not easily able to transfer funds as the rest of Europe does, I discovered I could instead pay the FedEx office in Agadir. I paid in cash but I think the Agadir office might have accepted a Visa credit card. Two days later, Casablanca had the package. The next day they shipped it to Agadir and the next day it arrived, 12 days after it arrived in Casablanca. I then had to pay FedEx a Customs’s storage fee based on weight and duration of $17, not FedEx’s charge.
Water intake pump!
Recommended procedure: contact FedEx or DHL office Agadir in advance for a list of recommended brokers and see how much they charge, or deal directly with Agadir’s FedEx or DHL in advance and pre-arrange payment options, asking them to alert you ASAP of customs duties, taxes, and fees owed. Exchange with a representative’s contact information, phone and email. Provide them with the tracking number, a copy of your passport, the invoice, photos of the parts, description of the part in French and why you need them. Make certain the “Ship to” invoice is to your name, with the marina as an address, not the recipient. My hope would be that by doing this in advance, you’ll save 5-7 days.
One more option: go through the commercial Yanmar dealer in Agadir. They’re located in the commercial port where foreigners don’t have access, but Youssef Ajewher, a kind local yacht service person, a former merchant ship engineer, working privately at Agadir marina would be glad to assist you. The Yanmar dealer is said to provide you with a quote including freight, time frames, and customs’ costs estimates within 2-3 days. I didn’t go this way only because on day 1, I had a quote in hand from dieselpartseurope.com, with FedEx 3-4 day. I don’t know what the cost or experience would have been had I waited for the quote from the Agadir Yanmar dealer. I may have jumped too soon. I do not know.
My wife, teenage son, and I are circumnavigating aboard our 42-foot Tayana sailboat Kandu, currently waiting for a replacement freshwater pump for our Yanmar engine in Agadir, Morocco, in preparation for our trip to the Canary Islands. I have some time to pass on some how-to’s we’ve learned over the past 4 years of cruising. Diesel fueling is a frequent chore on our boat.
DIESEL STORAGE: In order to motor distances greater than Kandu’s 500-liter tanks would allow, like when we motored thousands of miles through the pirate zone north of Somalia, and up the Red Sea, to minimize how often we have to go to fuel docks, we’ve loaded Kandu up with 320-liters of cannisters or Gerry jugs. In a Belgian museum, we learned that the term “Gerry jug” comes from WWII US G.I. slang for fuel cannisters modeled after those used by the German military. “Gerry” was slang for a German, thus Gerry jugs.
RECYCLED or REPURPOSED JUGS: In the US, sailors buy their Gerry jugs complete with nozzles, whereas the rest of the world uses alternatives which are free and readily available sans nozzle, converting 20-25 liter heavy duty plastic motor oil, coolant, and/or vegetable oil containers into diesel jugs. In Gibraltar, smugglers loaded with jugs of fuel throw overboard their empty and sometimes full jugs. Each morning, fishermen collect the discarded jugs. That’s how we got our last five 25-liter jugs, from Pepe, a helpful man you got them from a fisherman. The jugs interiors are cleaned with soap and water and then rinsed out with diesel that is discarded to provide a container ready to top up.
Recycled or repurposed gerry jugs
GASKETS: Not designed for re-use, these types of recycled jugs often leak fuel from their caps. The standard third-world solution is to cut squares from recycled plastic bags and screw them on between the cap and the jug, a poor man’s gasket. These gaskets are good for one or two uses before they fall apart and need replacing.
Recycled jugs need plastic bag gaskets
FILTERING: Diesel engines require clean fuel to run properly, free of debris and water. We rarely take fuel directly into our tanks without filtering it through our specifically engineered water fuel filter funnel; diesel is able to pass through the filter’s fine screen but amazingly, water does not. Water molecules are too large and don’t pass through the fine mesh.
Water separator fuel filter
SYPHONING: To migrate the fuel from a Gerry jug into one of our three tanks, we set the jug such that its bottom is above the level of the deck fitting and then use a syphon hose with a chambered glass ball that when shaken gets the syphoning action going without having to suck fuel in with our mouths and risk swallowing and/or breathing it in. An alternative way to get the syphoning action to start is to place a short second hose alongside the syphoning hose with a firmly held (air tight) rag, and blow through it to cause the air pressure to initiate the syphoning action.
Bryce Rigney syphoning and filling diesel tanks from gerry jugs
And lastly, old-school, just dip the hose as far you can into the jug without losing it. Place your thumb firmly over the hose’s opening, and quickly pull the hose out, drawing with it the fuel that filled the hose, releasing your thumb.
So that’s it. That’s how we store and fill our boat’s tanks with diesel. Hope this proves helpful.
One reason I travel is to learn more about us, the people who inhabit this planet. Recently, here in Gibraltar, an understanding hit me . . . epiphany?
Geographically, Gibraltar is a small place with a population of 32,000. An overseas protectorate of the United Kingdom since 1967, the culture is very mixed; Maltese, Moroccan, Spanish, English, Christian, Jewish, Muslim, something like 61 different cultures in total. Additionally, a labor force of 12,000 Spanish cross the border each day to work in Gibraltar and 1,000 to 6,000 cruise ship passengers make their way through the streets and sights of the famous “Rock,” returning to their ship each evening. During our stay, Gibraltar held its week-long annual end-of-summer family fair; Ferris wheel, bumper cars, ice cream, churros, beer garden, loud music; you get the picture. At the fair, our son Bryce was doing his thing, trying to meet pretty girls and cool dudes. Just as with other European countries, Bryce thought he’d have no problem meeting young people, especially with English being their primary language. Much to his disappointment he discovered the youth were socially closed off, disinterested in making new associations. “Why?” we wondered.
Gibraltar City with Spain in the background
Surrounded by, but cut off politically from Spain and Morocco, far from Britain, under such unique circumstances, Gibraltar seems to have cultivated a particular breed of isolationist village-type mentality, manifested and simmered over a thousand years of various occupations and waves of immigration. They’ve their own language, Llanito a type of ‘Spanglish,’ Spanish with sprinkles of English. The unusual circumstance of the community thus makes it hyper-confined. Anything a member of the community says or does travels through the gossip channels as fast or faster than any technical version of social media. What is said among fellow villagers matters. When for instance, a young girl was seen talking with Bryce, her phone rang constantly. “Why are you with that guy?” It’s made clear: “He’s not one of us.” To be seen spending time with Bryce, a visitor, places the young lady’s reputation in possible question. Guys are equally as brief and dismissive of Bryce’s attempts to connect. This is an unusual circumstance for us. Visiting country after country, an average of two countries per month for the past year, we’ve learned that lifetime friendships can sometimes be forged within days. People who don’t travel much may not appreciate just how quickly and frequently this occurs. At the same time, we’ve learned that, when it comes to preferences as to which people most people wish to associate, people are simple: they prefer to engage with people just like themselves.
Bumper cars at the Gibraltar fairground
Bryce’s Gibraltar experience sparked broader impressions within me. Obviously the more someone is like us, the easier it is for us to receive them. The more unique a group, the more narrowly it is defined, thus allowing for fewer options for developing associations and/or friendships and the possibility of changing their minds, something they don’t really wish to have happen anyway. On the other hand, any possible differentiation that can be discerned naturally gives us pause, a cause to guard and nurture what is ‘us.’ The distinction can be obvious, like skin color, age, sex, sexual orientation, style of dress, weight, the way a person walks, shakes hands, a visible handicap, the vehicle a person drives. It can be less obvious: religion, geographic coordinates, socio-economic class, occupation, food, culture, language, education, etc. Within each of these categories, there are subcategories, for example: education. We differentiate whether one is a high school grad, the school attended, public or private, foreign or domestic? Did they attend college? Which degree? Degree level? Which college? Ivy league? Which one? Fraternity/sorority? Sports? Scholarships? It goes on and on. And to what end do we differentiate others? What greater good is served by cultural confinement? Survival of our offspring? Of our clan? Could it be simply a case of “I want ‘my’ people to thrive, let the others worry about ‘their’ people?” Is this why humans migrated from Africa, into Europe, Asia, South Pacific, and North and South Americas, to get away from the ‘others’ that prevent ‘us’ from thriving? “To heck with you, I’ll find my own hunting grounds!” . . . I wonder.
While I was in college (American, west coast, California, Southern California, San Fernando Valley, public, Cal State University, not UC, no fraternity, graduate degree, mass communication (not law, MBA, medicine, etc.)), a professor described a study that had participants estimating the number of dots flashed from a projector on a wall. The participants were then isolated into two groups, over-estimators and under-estimators. Unbeknownst to the participants, the purpose of the study was to observe how people would compare their group to the other group, solely on the basis of how many dots they thought they saw. Guess what? Each group could be heard extolling the virtues of being like them and the drawbacks of being like the others. Dots . . . something as simple and benign as estimating dots is enough to create an ‘us’ and a ‘them.’
Sailing around the world, except for the occasional trip to McDonalds, we intentionally cast aside our natural tendencies to seek cultural experiences similar to our own and instead actively pursue immersion within other groups. The less something is to what we’re accustomed to, the more excitedly we pursue it. This approach allows us to meet many wonderful people, briefly experience their way of life, their perceptions; thus, opening-up our perception of the world and/or re-enforcing that which we held. More often than not, we find kind, generous, hospitable people. Mutual respect and admiration (love) seem to melt away otherwise persistent barriers. Likely, those individuals with whom we come to form friendships share a similar type of curiosity and willingness to stretch beyond their comfort zones as well. This exchange can sometimes be made easier among the youth who, through music, movies, and attire trends, share a global ‘teenage’ culture. That’s in part why the experience in Gibraltar was unusual. As with most kids across oceans, and especially Europe, the Gibraltarian youth listen to the same music, dress the same way, speak mostly the same language, do the same things, but yet would not readily open themselves to conversing with a foreigner. Not all “Gibs,” as they call themselves, behave in this manner. As disappointing as the youth experience was for Bryce, I met mostly kind, helpful, and generous middle-aged Gibraltarians. So maybe in Gibraltar it’s a generational thing? Difficult to know. Maybe Bryce for the first time stumbled into a group of teenagers representative of the average Western teenager: “yeah,” “maybe,” “sure,” “I don’t know.”
As much as closed-societies are disappointing, more troubling are cultures whose mission, in part or in whole, entail the termination of the “other,” non-identical culture. The multitude and quality of positive cultural interactions personally afforded us these past 4 years make the knowledge – that groups exists to destroy the “other” – more intolerable. Take the category of religion for example: history depicts many examples of one religious group trying to exterminate another. To the extreme, Islam requires Muslim societies to force non-Muslims (kaffirs) to either convert to Islam, be enslaved to serve Islam, or be killed. Furthermore, as with other religions, Islam splits into different versions of the faith. Within the different Islamic versions, the difference leads to death and destruction between them. These are just religious examples. Similar lines can be drawn economically, politically, and obviously between races.
In the USA, as with any nation, we find many opportunities to discriminate against “others.” Skin color is an easy one, pick a color, any color, it’s all the same if they’re not your color, your exact color to be precise. Within color groups there’s discrimination (differentiation). Yellow: Among the different ethnic Chinese groups, they might discriminate based on pale versus darker skin tones, freckles vs. clear complexion, eye shape, nose shape, etc. White: How white, red-headed freckled white, Anglo-white, blond blue-eyed, Mediterranean bronze, brunette brown eyed? What’s white? Black: Within their group, African-Americans distinguish how black or less black an African-American is. Traveling around the world, we’ve had the opportunity to observe that dark colored skin isn’t exclusively African and that not all “Africans” are black-skinned. Arabs and Berbers inhabit nearly all of North Africa. Pacific Islander Melanesians share the same features as peoples from central and south Africa; skin color, wooly black hair, broad noses, etc. Should geographic ancestry play a role in establishing skin color, another layer, another dividing line? Besides, genetically speaking, aren’t we all from Tanzania . . . Adli and Eidi, not Adam and Eve?
Skin color and religion aside, globally today no other groups are belittled or marginalized more than women and homosexuals. By limiting half of one’s population, does society not limit half its potential? While women are typically relegated to a lesser societal position at best, or subjugated and/or murdered at worst, homosexuality is treated as an incurable contagion/psychological or genetic defect. In Sudan as in much of Africa, parts of the Middle East, India and Southeast Asia, we read that many to most young women have been circumcised and some received clitorectomies, a mostly Islamic practice that Judeo-Christian nations deem as reprehensible female genital mutilation. In New Delhi, India, Hindus are known to set brides ablaze for not satisfying the dowry demands of her husband; contrasted by the Baha’i Lotus Temple’s prominently displayed poster of a large man seated at one side of a balancing-scale in perfect alignment with a small woman seated on the opposite side of the scale, indicating that in the Baha’i faith, women are regarded as equal to men, possibly the only international religion to hold such a perspective. Yet, when asked about their view on homosexuality, the young Baha’i volunteer explained that they have much compassion for people afflicted with this “illness” and hope for a cure someday soon, a view shared by many cultures around the world. “Nothing wrong with being a homosexual. It’s only a sin to engage in a homosexual act,” Christian friends explain. In Sumatra, Indonesia, they cane homosexuals, as if to beat it out of them. Learning how women and homosexuals are treated around the world, it makes visible how far Western cultures have come, and are coming, to accept and protect “them.”
The list of us-vs-them categories is extensive. But I find myself in a dilemma. Is it hypocritical to hate haters? To be intolerant of intolerance? Does that make me just like “them,” because I “know” “my” side is right . . . truly right . . . right?
Ok, so what have I learned. People make us a “them” for any and all reasons, large and small. I have learned that if I want to get beyond these natural tendencies, theirs and mine; if I want to navigate more freely within “their” culture, it’s easier if I honestly modify what I can to match their cultural tastes: dress like them, talk like them, love their children, make some of their problems mine, watch their sports, listen to their music, eat their food, visit their places of worship, go to their schools, participate in their charities, hang at their clubs, visit often their neighborhoods, in general, show genuine interest in their culture. I can’t change my age, sex, height or skin color, but I can otherwise respectfully play the role of [insert cultural group here] to the best of my ability, without lying or betraying my core self. It’s not perfect, but it’s the best I can do if I want to move more freely in their village and gain the benefit of their different perspectives, their “spice” on life, thus opening further my horizons. Experience teaches that often the better flavors are generated where cultural fusion occurs. I’m told the most nutritious part of an entire carrot is the small purplish line that borders between the flesh of the orange root and the base of the green stems. Likewise, I think where two cultures honestly and respectfully meet is where the healthiest humanitarian perspectives develop. Or, we can continue to be “us,” unadulterated, full strength, “what you see is what you get, take it or leave it (or die?).” And guess what? “Our” people will love us for it, cheer us on. But before we get too proud, we might wish to ponder one simple question: Are we over-estimators or under-estimators?
Sailing around the world from port to port in our little sailboat Kandu, it’s obvious: one race, one planet, one time.
Eric Rigney on Easter IslandEric Rigney in Bali, IndonesiaEric Rigney in EgyptEric Rigney in Gibraltar
After Sudan, we were on a whirlwind tour of Egypt, Israel, and Europe. Not much has been posted on the blog site since then. The three of us – myself, Eric and Bryce – plan to rectify that, posting articles recounting more detail than revealed in our postings on Facebook about the many extraordinary adventures of the last 5 months. BTW – if you don’t know, Kandu is down to 3 as Trent returned to California to attend high school. He is living with Uncle Nick Rigney in Calabasas.
Trent Rigney in Alsace, France
August 29, 2018
Dear Sara and family,
I have been thinking of you since we were in Spain wishing I had become more fluent in Spanish like you. Unfortunately, we didn’t spend any time in Spain outside Barcelona, darn it! Just had 90 days to visit the Schengen countries (The Schengen agreement among most of the European Union countries grants visitors a 90 day tourist visa…if not European, then you only qualify for a 90 day visitor’s visa out of 180…3 months within a 6-month period. Turkey, Croatia, Cyprus, England, Gibraltar are not part of Schengen.) It’s just as well, because our bank book is quite depleted. It’s been very expensive traveling and docking the boat in Europe west of Greece. We sailed past the lower boot of Italy bee-lining it to Pompeii – one of my bucket list sights.
Cyprus Roman amphitheater dating 100 AD
RigneysKandu floating in Dead Sea of Israel
Santorini, Greece
Acropolis, Athens
Pompeiians asphyxiated
Walking the boardwalk of Ancient Pompeii
Eric and I had never been to Rome or Venice. Having the boys with us, it was a must to make efforts to hit the bigger sites. Maybe another day, we’ll get a chance to explore more of Italy as I really fell in love with that country, full of ancient wealth and history.
Florence’s Duomo: carved marble exterior
Roman Colliseum
Michaelangelo’s David
Gondola ride in Venice
Interior St Peter’s Basilica
Actually Paris this time for us was not as mesmerizing as it has usually been in previous visits and stays. Perhaps it’s because we were generously put up by a friend in the suburbs of Paris and it took almost 90 minutes to get into the city, making early morning and late night strolls a little more challenging. Oh well. Not to mention the hoards and hoards of summer tourists swarming the big sites, and the heat. I don’t remember previously visiting Paris in the summer.
Bryce Rigney at Le Louvre
RigneysKandu Men in Paris
I haven’t had a chance to write on our blog much since making Egypt. Now that we have a bit of time to breath having exited out of the Schengen territories, we can enact repairs on the boat and record more details of our explorations.
In Bruge, Belgium with Ron and Rosie Dennis and Sian, Lara and Elena Demande.Thierry and Clara Robert, Ron and Rosie and RigneysKandu touring around Huy, Belgium.
Most recently, we had a wonderful 6 weeks with my parents. Via extended invitations from our dear Belgium and French friends, we were able to introduce the boys and my folks to European living in many forms and to visit extraordinary sights and places like the picturesque & unforgettably charming wine villages along the Rhine in the Alsatian province. Eric and I had been to Alsace a couple times before, visiting with friends, but we had never explored the region: Colmar, Strasbourg, nor the wine trail villages. It’s no wonder why this region bordering Germany has been under contention for 100’s of years between France and Germany…it’s rich in valuable resources: hard working “Protestant type work-ethic” people and rich land for agriculture. The Strasbourg Cathedral housed the most incredible astronomical working clock we’d ever seen.
Baden Baden, Germany ancient fortress
Alsatian ladies dress in traditional costumes
Strasbourg Cathedral Astrological Clock
Alsatian style building, Strasbourg
Together, we also had time to visit some bordering areas/towns of Alsace including Baden Baden on the frontier of Germany – extremely wealthy boasting a lovely old fort that we hiked during the rain, and Luxembourg – which is clean clean clean, with a picturesque old town, fort, huge city walls and gorgeous Catholic churches. Of course, all through Cyprus, Greece, Italy, Belgium, France, Monaco and Barcelona, we visited churches, Basilicas, and Cathedrals ad nauseum. I loved it all….the boys were definitely done with the typical city offerings except the most spectacular ones such as St Peter’s Basilica in Rome, The Duomo in Florence, Versaille in France, and The Sagrada Familia by Gaudi in Barcelona. In Chartres Cathedral, France, the inside has recently been painted white to enhance the otherwise dire interior, but most specially the organist played for about 20 minutes, which for me, was magical.
Sagrada Familia Exterior, Barcelona
Sagrada Familia Interior, Barcelona
We’ve enjoyed so many other incredible country spectaculars: art museums, Napoleon history, war memorials and museums about WWI and WWII, plus many ancient sites, valuable and palatable history lessons for us all.
Ron n Rosie climbing Waterloo lookout, Belgium
WWII Memorial for US soldiers, Bastogne Belgium
Truly truly spectacular traveling which I hope to write about more fully on our blog now that we are moving at a more leisurely pace.
We and Kandu are now in Gibraltar harbored in Queensway Quay Marina. Trent, our youngest at 14 returned to California from Barcelona to live with Uncle Nick and started school August 23rd in Calabasas. Happily, he made the volleyball team. He is thrilled to be back home and excited to get academically serious. He’s extremely motivated. Bryce (16) flew solo to London last Friday night, visiting a good friend that he met in Athens.
Gibraltar – The ROCK!
Queensway Quai Gibraltar
Queensway Quay Marina, Gibraltar
Eric Rigney walking over Gibraltar Airport landing strip
Bryce is staying the 6 days with a dear friend of ours who is working on the next Spiderman movie currently filming in London. Bryce is exploring the city historical sites, skateboarding along the way.
Gibraltar airstrip in distance
Bryce Rigney off to London by himself
Leslie welcoming B back to Kandu!
Once Bryce returns, we’ll finish the remaining maintenance and repairs and sail off to Morocco, a two day sail, leaving Sept 3 to Mohammedia to visit Casablanca, Morocco. Then we’ll sail further south to Agadir to work on the boat a bit more and hopefully find some good surf for Bryce after almost a year of circumstantial abstinence. We plan to depart Agadir on Oct 1st for a two day sail to the Canary Islands (7-day stop, Columbus’s last before setting off to our New World), the Cape Verde Islands to restock (8-day sail), find a bit more surfing for Bryce – and then when the weather is good sometime around October 31st we plan to take off to sail the 18 days across the Atlantic .
After that – things are still undecided. If all goes well we’ll head straight to French Guiana, then Surinam, Guyana and north to visit a couple of the French Caribbean Islands, then west to the A, B, C’s of Dutch Antilles and Columbia to get ready to transit the Panama Canal around my birthday in February 2019. In the Eastern Pacific, we make our way north through Costa Rica and Mexico, skipping the less secure countries in between. It’s reported that there are pirates along the Central American coastline from Nicaragua through to Guatemala. Our plan is to return to Ventura end of May, early June 2019. Our McCool house has re-rented under a two-year lease. We are not beholden to any specific place to live in Southern California until we both land employment.
We’re getting close to the bottom of our cruising funds. From here on out, we’ve gotta be careful. Hopefully we won’t have big expenditures with the boat. We’ve already replaced so much!!!
Sending you big virtual hugs my dear girlfriend!
Leslie
We stashed our things at John’s house and changed into our surf wear. A few minutes later we left towards the beach with hope of high tide to bring bigger waves. As we got closer we saw more and more surfers crowding what was now 2ft waves. So we hopped in the water and all paddled out together to the break. John and Charlie complained from the start that the water temperature of 80° was too cold, but us bros didn’t mind. We surfed around the beginner’s spot for a good half hour trying to figure out the waves’ weird way of breaking. Eventually the group separated and paddled to their preferred breaks, being as their were four different reef breaks all just ten minutes paddle away from each other. I scooted over to a super shallow left reef break where the waves were more my size, and my style. There I could get sets of 4ft waves to shoot down the line and give a big carve at the end of the wave before it got too shallow. The name of this particular spot was called Breakas, and it was my preferred break. The four of us stayed out until the tide once again dropped too far to be able to surf.
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