Tag Archives: blue water cruising

Course Adjustment

Kandu" floating" on the hard.
Kandu in Ventura, all ready to go . . . so I would have wished

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.

BajaMap
Baja Ha-ha Cruiser’s Rally route

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.

Cutting diesel impervious nitrile into inspection plate gaskets for Kandu's fuel tanks at the Silver Gate Yacht Club guest dock.
Cutting gaskets for Kandu’s fuel tanks in San Diego.
Controller: the brains between wind generation and batteries. This one will be replaced.
Controller: the brains between wind generation and batteries. This one was replaced in San Diego.

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.

 

Costly autopilot actuator failure due to my ignorance in its installation parameters.
Costly autopilot actuator failure due to my ignorance in its installation parameters.
Time consuming VHF antenna connection repair. Learned more than I wanted.
Time consuming VHF antenna connection repair. Learned more than I wanted.

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.

Squalls on route to Galapagos
Squalls on route to Galapagos

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).

Rounding the southeast corner of Nuku Hiva
Rounding the southeast corner of Nuku Hiva

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.

Kandu in Anaho Bay, Nuku Hiva, Marquesas
Kandu in Anaho Bay, Nuku Hiva, Marquesas

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.

Marquesas Taiohae from Heloise
View of Taiohae Bay from our friends’ home.

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.

Dawn at Eaio, before the hunt.
Dawn at Eaio, on the plateau, before the hunt.
Eaio, after the hunt.
Eaio, on the beach, after the hunt.

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.

Trent starts French public secondary school in Taiohae, Marquesas
Trent starts French public secondary school in Taiohae, Marquesas

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.

Bryce climbing coconut tree to bring down "drinking" nuts.
Bryce climbing coconut tree to bring down “drinking” nuts.

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.

Rustic Marquesan beehives produce exceptional honey, a metaphor for life.
Rustic Marquesan beehives produce exceptional honey, a metaphor for life.

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 . . .

by Eric Rigney

Cool Friends in La Cruz, Mexico

April 15, 2015

Merle
Magnificent Merle

Saturday April 11th we met Merle McAssey, a friendly yachtie accomplished in many individual sports: sailing, surfing, wind surfing, kite boarding, kayaking, and his favorite, mountain biking. He performs most any sport well.

Merle kite-boarding in La Cruz, Mexico
Merle kite-boarding in La Cruz, Mexico

During his mountain biking experiences as a guide in Canada he suffered many broken bones, mainly his collarbones. Over four years he broke at least one collarbone (once both at the same time) every 6 months. His most intense injury was breaking his back while hiking to get help during a kayaking expedition. Over several careful months of healing treatments, his back miraculously healed without medical intervention. To say the least, Merle is a very daring and active person!

The following Tuesday, Merle offered to take us surfing if he could get his car working. He explained that his car had been in a crash and his required Mexican insurance wouldn’t pay to fix the damage, so he didn’t repair it. He called it his Afghanistan car because it was so messed up, like a war zone.

Afganistan Car
Afganistan Car

La Cruz, Afganistan Car 2

Merle got it working so Trent, Dad and I tied our surfboards to the top of his beat-up car and jumped in. This was the first time going surfing without wetsuits. I was very excited to surf in warm water. As we were driving along, Merle told us his surf plans. He explained that he was going to drive us all the way to a surf spot at the very end of the road called Punta Mita, but if the waves weren’t good, we would go to Burro’s instead. When we arrived at Punta Mita and checked out the waves, Merle decided it was okay, so we paddled out to the wave break and waited for a set; it took almost 20 minutes before a set eventually arrived. Everyone including my dad (who doesn’t even surf) caught waves, but they were pretty small for Trent and me.

Surfing Punta Mita
Surfing Punta Mita

After a bit, we got out of the water and walked over to an outside restaurant and ordered lunch. Merle ordered only guacamole and chips with fresh coconut water to drink. Everything tasted mighty fine. When we were done, we packed up our stuff and headed back to the car so we could hit up the other surf spot, Burro’s.

Hiking through the jungle to get to Burros surf spot
Hiking through the jungle to get to Burros surf spot

This surf spot was excellent. We all had a great time. It was very fun to have my dad out with us catching waves. We planned to go back to this spot again.

A few days later, Merle’s sons, Shandro and Matero, and wife, Allison, returned from vacation in Canada. Since we liked Merle so much, we were excited to meet his family, who we suspected were also cool. We were not disappointed.

Trent, Matero, Shandro, and me at Mexican fair.
Trent, Matero, Shandro, and me at Mexican fair.

We had a lot of fun hanging out with their entire family, getting the inside track of things to do in La Cruz, including aerial tissue workouts.

Working on skateboard after recovering from sea floor
Working on skateboard after recovering from sea floor

They showed us the best tacos and how to order the best combo of aqua frescas, homemade Mexican fruit drinks.

Home-made Mexican ice cream after a day of surfing
Home-made Mexican ice cream after a day of surfing
Open-air taco restaurant overlooking La Cruz's central square.
Open-air taco restaurant overlooking La Cruz’s central square.

Shandro, Matero, Trent, and I slept overnight together: once on the dock behind their boat, another time on the beach in front of the marina’s club house (we had a bonfire and danced like crazy wild guys), and again on our boat at Paradise Village where we slid all day down the resort’s huge water slides.

Dock camp out sunrise
Dock camp out sunrise
P Nuevo P Village Pool Slide
Paradise Village Resort’s pool in the morning before we can play.

We hope to see them soon in the Marquesas. They said they would be following us in a year. I looking forward to showing them around this time!

Bryce Rigney and Leslie Rigney

Fun in the Galapagos, Part 1

6/5/2015, 8:00 am

Puerto Villamil on the south-eastern "heel" of Isabela. The island is said to resemble a seahorse.
Puerto Villamil on the south-eastern “heel” of Isabela. The island is said to resemble a seahorse.

Traveling to the Galapagos has for as long as I can remember been on my bucket list of places to visit before I died, along with the Egyptian pyramids, the Great Wall of China, the Coliseum in Rome, the Amazon river in Brazil or Ecuador and Machu Picchu in Peru. Well, just a few days have passed since we departed the Galapagos and I have a moment to reflect and determine whether my expectations were met.

While we were getting ready to leave, so many asked: “Are you excited?” as if the journey we were embarking on was to be full of fun. ‘Fun’ was not a big player in my immediate expectations. Surely I anticipated great moments, but the word ‘fun’ is loaded. The dictionary definition of fun is, “something that is amusing or enjoyable, an enjoyable experience or person, an amusing time, the feeling of being amused or entertained.” When I think of ‘fun,’ I think of roller coasters, Disneyland, going to see an anticipated movie accompanied with popcorn, birthday parties, singing onstage at the Dorothy Chandler opening night…and well, you get the idea. From where I stood, I saw a lot of work and discomfort ahead, and thus I was not particularly excited. I did not perceive having a lot of immediate ‘fun.’

Bryce and Mickey @D'land in 2005
Bryce and Mickey @D’land in 2005

Surely there have been great moments since we left February 10th as we sailed south down California and into Mexico. And there are many moments spent in the Galapagos that I consider fun, like when the four of us were snorkeling at Los Túneles (The Tunnels) and I witnessed Trent cozying up to two enormous sea turtles eating algae for lunch (the very turtles Trent had studied in his Galapagos report!). The turtles were bigger than any one of us! The joy and feeling of awe were inspiring.

Lunching Sea Turtle with Trent
Lunching Sea Turtle with Trent

Almost equal to the sea turtles was the adventure in getting to their feeding ground: the exhilarating boat ride to the snorkeling area, jumping over swells at high speed, saltwater spray everywhere, the captain not seeming to care if his craft were in harm’s way. Thankfully all passengers were wearing life jackets, hanging on for their lives. LOL!! Once we arrived near Los Túneles’s shoreline, the traverse became especially technical. We got to experience how the captain surfed our small vessel on enormous swells, navigating at the last second through openings of snarly lava reefs that we couldn’t see before he turned. His skill at maneuvering around the innumerable hazards lurking just under the water convinced me of the necessity to hire expensive yet experienced guides. I can appreciate all the accidents that have been avoided by requiring visitors to the Galapagos to hire professionals. Interestingly, the Galapagos islands are zoned for specific uses.  Los Túneles’s falls within the “Fishing” jurisdiction.  All boats that arrive filled with tourists are officially fishing boats with some fishing equipment and manned by fishermen.

Turtles swimming at Los Tuneles
Turtles swimming in the clear waters of Los Tuneles

The moment we turned into the tropical lagoon, the energy of the pounding waves diminished and we were left to putt along a near placid wonderland of tunnels and magical bridges, winding through Disneyesque dreamscapes.

One of many natural lava bridges over an aquarium of clear water
The family standing on one of Los Tuneles’s many natural lava bridges over an aquarium of clear water

We first walked along the crags and bridges enjoying the sights of clear waters and turtles swimming below and hoping to catch up close a blue-footed boobie. As fate would allow, we approached within a foot a nesting blue-footed boobie who gawked at us as we gawked at him.

Blue-footed Boobie watches us watch him.
Blue-footed Boobie watches us watch him.

Quoting Bryce who studied them: “This is Cool!” Later, while snorkeling Los Túneles, along with the many large turtles, we got up close to 8-inch sea horses attached to sea grass, and approached penguins sunning themselves within hands reach.

Galapagos penguin stands unfettered by our gawking at his extreme "cuteness."
Galapagos penguin stands unfettered by our gawking at his extreme “cuteness.”

We were guided into underwater caves where sharks were sleeping. We swam with large stingrays and innumerable tropical fish only inches away. It was spectacular!

Fun? Yes, that was fun, a natural Disneyland but with real hazards, which made it more exciting. For example, the current was sometimes strong and it was easy to get separated from the group. Knowing sharks slept nearby was incentive to stay close. Sometimes the water was cloudy and dark; you couldn’t always see what was ahead, sharp-edged lava rock encircled us. Yet we all made it back to the boat, happy, unscathed, and energized, our heads full of unforgettable images.

Sierra Negra & family
Rigney Family excited to experience the awesome expanse of Sierra Negro’s Caldera, the second largest active caldera in the world (Yellow Stone is #1).
sierra negra trent
Trent watches the impending rain storm approaching our position on the caldera ridge.

Another memorable day, we hired a guide to take us hiking up to the top of Sierra Negra Volcano and into the black lava fields of three separate events starting in the sixties and the latest one being in 2005, to meander safely around the powerful remnants of explosive yet presently dormant cones and craters of Volcan Chico. It was fascinating, learning from our guide the various dates of activity and how long it takes for plant life to take hold. It was also noteworthy learning how the oxidation of the iron-rich lava turns the black stone reddish brown over time.

Older reddish-Brown lava below our feet, newer black lava in front.
Older reddish-brown lava below our feet, newer black lava in front.

We got up close to the heated sulfur cones magnificently colored in yellows, fluorescent reds and pinks like fancy tropical fish.

Multi-colors of sulfur vent
Multi-colors of sulfur vent

We saw lava tubes, cinder cones, vents, got to see and handle Pele’s tears, and we took pictures surfing a lava-wave and advancing down a lava-fall. Neat!

Lava tube "slide"
Lava tube “slide”
Surfing the tube of a "frozen" lava wave
Surfing the tube of a “frozen” lava wave
Pele's tears
Pele’s tears
Leslie holds examples of Pele's tears.
Leslie holds examples of Pele’s tears.

On a side note, all the guides were covered head-to-foot with protective clothing, hats, long sleeves and pants, including scarves over their necks and faces presumably due to the reflective radiation rising from the black lava. It was scorching when the sun peaked through the clouds. Since the four of us weren’t dressed properly, we were fortunate that most of the day was overcast, except the hour we overlooked the Sierra Negra crater. The momentarily clear sky allowed us to gaze down at the second largest active caldera in the world: 10 kilometers wide. The last eruption there was in 2005. Due to that eruption, half the green vegetation in the interior of the caldera was engulfed by barren black rock. We almost didn’t go on this excursion, time and money considering, but we were so glad we did.

Just getting in and out of town from the boat was an adventure. Riding our folding bikes through a frontier town, exploring the unknown, was fun. Puerto Villamel’s streets are black lava gravel covered in a foot of white sand. When it rained, as it did the first five days of our arrival, the streets became completely flooded in about 8” of murky water. Yet because the sidewalks were constructed tall, about 18”-24” above street level, pedestrians and cyclists could still make their way through town. Learning when and where to shop for food proved to be great exercise as the markets were mostly located across town and open early mornings and evenings. If we didn’t make it off the boat early enough, we had to return to town later to shop between 3:30-6:30. My Spanish was meager at best, so finding everything we needed, including dish soap, tested my communication and shopping skills. Transporting the heavy bags home required endurance. At least two times, we rode from one side of town to the other, in the dark, on sand with large grocery bags hanging off our arms because we didn’t have our bike cart. The challenge of shopping was actually rather ‘fun.’

Leslie uses bike cart to do late night provisioning. (photo by Bill Kohut)
Leslie uses bike cart to do late night provisioning. (photo by Bill Kohut)

‘Fun’ is relative. Eric and I like to promote the idea to Bryce and Trent: “Do as I do!” Get out into the world, live actively, learn deeply, explore widely. While journeying, exciting things can happen. Yet much of the time, in the moment, my excitement is more often than not subdued because exploring from Kandu requires great thoughtfulness, unlike at Disneyland where everything is safe, safety nets abound, and I know much of what to expect. Out on the great blue and/or reaching new land sites, things are always unfamiliar, different, and potentially dangerous. Existing safety nets, if there are any nets to be found, generally have holes, large ones.

I have more stories to relate about our time in the Galapagos (look for future posts). Suffice it to say; aside from the concerns about our safety, my bucket list expectations of the Galapagos were surpassed. Just as we were becoming accustomed to our Galapagos lifestyle, friends and associations, knowing how to get things done, it was time leave . . .

by Leslie Dennis Rigney

 

 

Tough Lesson

Mex-Gal 10
Early evening squall

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.

Sleeping takes us away...
Sleeping takes us away…

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.

Avoiding the storm . . .
Avoiding the storm . . .
. . . and giving in.
. . . and giving in.

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.

Repairing a propane issue.
Repairing a propane issue.

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.

Another thunder cloud . . .
Another thunder cloud . . .

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.

And another . . .
And another . . .
And again . . .
And again . . .

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.

God cloud?
The “God” cloud?

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.

In the rain with a new attitude
In the rain with a new attitude
Crossing the equator
Crossing the equator

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.

Land Ho! Hoisting the courtesy and Q flags.
Land Ho! Hoisting the courtesy and Q flags.
Arriving in the Galapagos on Uncle Bill's birthday, a lot to celebrate!
Arriving in the Galapagos on Uncle Bill’s birthday, a lot to celebrate!

by Eric Rigney

So Much To Share, How to Start?

Ua Pou Hakahau
Kandu moored off picturesque Hakahau Bay at Ua Pou in the Marquesas Islands

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.

by Eric Rigney

Mexican Edge: Structures

La Cruz's Colorful Central Square
La Cruz’s Colorful Central Square

Towns are planned and maintained differently in Mexico than from those of our native California. When it comes to zoning, which type of establishment should stand adjacent another, such seems freely decided by a property’s owners, not city planning. If a residence is found standing adjacent to a butcher, metal working place, or restaurant—so be it. And unlike the U.S.’s Protestant edict of “Cleanliness is next to Godliness,” theirs is a Catholic culture—“If it works, performing its needed function, then consider it maintained. Life is short. Spend your time with family, not fixing property.”

So, as with many Latin American towns, earthly dust covers all and everything within the town of La Cruz, except the most modern of establishments and vehicles, which are typically owned by the wealthier few. The sediment-coated buildings are often incomplete, in disrepair, and/or thickly painted with bright colors, bringing creativity and/or masking imperfections, or both. Stains, cracks, and exposed construction are the norm. The more dusty and disheveled a place, the more authentic it feels. If a property owner strives to manicure too perfectly his or her structure, he or she somehow foregoes Mexican culture, seeking instead to serve those outside the native community. Polished floors behind air-conditioned glass doors seem the domain of visitors and other, more seasonal inhabitants.

Corner approaching La Cruz's Central Square
Corner approaching La Cruz’s Central Square

As an example, take some of the establishments surrounding the town’s plaza. La Cruz’s central square is relatively new, perhaps less than 15 years old. It is joyfully designed and proudly multi-colorful, well used by the community. There is no celebration this week so it is not swept. On its quietist corner resides the town’s church. Bells in Mexico are not decoration. In California, bells hang in the bell tower, but the bells one hears are that of a recording through a speaker. In Mexico they actually ring their church bells, with gusto, long ropes are pulled from in front of the church, on Sundays and for religious celebrations.

Let the church bells ring!
Let the church bells ring!

Two blocks up, a 7-11 type convenience store, with its glass doors and neatly stacked beverage trays, “Sale” sign adhered, has a beverage-truck driver unloading its U.S. made product.

Back at the plaza, diagonal to the church, on the corner lot, across the main square, a half painted two-story building misses its second-story roof. Only dilapidated brick columns stand above its first floor “roof.” The downstairs is treated like an open-air storage unit of plastic lawn chairs and wooden tables, with what appears to be a misplaced but active cooler. An LED reading indicates its cold Celsius temperature. Its brilliantly lighted door advertises a beverage that’s not contained within its chilled chamber. Is that a kitchen in the corner?

Two doors down, a one-story establishment is painted freshly white. The quiet, likely pane-less windows are closed shut with white wooden planked panels. It looks new. No telltale brown dirt creeps up the base of its wall where it meets the public walkway. What is this place?

La Cruz, like much of Mexico, has much magic about her. Your eyes ignore what is not active, what is not attractive. During the day, corners, small cafes, and shops come to life. But it is at night, when the humid tropical air cools, lifting the weight of its daytime burden, that the town transforms into an enchanted village, her people coming out into the streets, populating the square. What was a motorway intersection is now a communal volleyball court for all to join, rotating in and out, laughing and cajoling under a solitary amber streetlight.

Under the cloak of the evening sky, dust, rust, exposed rebar, and peeling paint are invisible. The tables and chairs stored below the derelict looking storage unit are pulled out into the street and neatly arranged. Downstairs, opposite the simple kitchen, in the corner to the left . . . behind the mop, buckets and brooms . . . spies a hideaway circular cement stairway that brings you to the rooftop, offering a ‘skybox’ view of the volleyball action directly below. The bare columns hold up strings of small circular light bulbs. The overall transformation reveals a romantic rooftop street café. Music fills the square from the now opened windows of the newer, whitewashed establishment, unveiling a restaurant-bar. Live Latin and popular American music emanates from its small lit stage, a bold seascape mural painted on the white wall behind its bar. Gone are thoughts of construction deficiencies—the structures are perfect, their simplicity, enviable. We love this place.

Eric Rigney

Is Change a Constant?

May 14th, 2015, Thursday 2:00 p.m.

DSC03595Change. It is often argued that change in life is a good thing: painful but good. When companies merge, the change brings lay-offs, but ultimately, the merged company has streamlined, gained assets and productivity, hopefully. The crazy thing about living on a boat is that everything is subject to change daily/hourly. Docked in a port or anchored, work is typically being accomplished somewhere on the boat, beds are torn up, tools are pulled out, and the 240 square feet of living space inside is made ever tighter. On a regular day, when someone pulls out a tool, computer or item, even if it’s put away into it’s assigned place, it could be relocated the next time you go to look for it.DSC03617

When sailing on the open ocean, the weather dictates the changes. The norm might last 2 hours or 25 days depending on the wind, the current, and the direction of the swell. During our sail from Puerta Vallarta to the Galapagos, change was the norm…probably due to the time of year we embarked and/or possibly due to the changes in weather dictated by El Nino. The longest norm we enjoyed lasted about 24 hours. We tacked often from starboard to port where everything balancing well on one tack then balances differently on the other tack. Port light windows are open and closed along with the hatches to ensure the ocean doesn’t come splashing in. Inside it’s sweltering, so sometimes we risk opening up the hatches or port lights, only to close them shortly thereafter because now rain is threatening.

DSC03621The sea colors are enormously changeable too. On a cloudy day, the sea looks steely grey with flecks of silver with large rippling swells. It looks impenetrable, holding tightly to its secrets. On a sunny day, the sea looks blue: not a light blue, but a deep blue. If the seas are doldrum calm, it is clear, almost like a mirror, and you can see deeply into the water, the rays of light penetrating the leagues. It feels like the mysteries below are close, attainable.

DSC03531
Trent observes close passing cruise ship off Mexican coast. (photo by Eric)

These changes are indicative of life aboard, inside and out. Sometimes hot inside, the crew sits outside to enjoy the breeze. When it rains, the cockpit becomes very wet and inhospitable. Most stay below. If things are not stowed properly in their place, they fall down, whether its books, cups, food, sail wrenches, water bottles or computers.

Leslie observes changes in sea and sky. (photo by Eric)
Leslie observes changes in sea and sky. (photo by Eric)

Mostly, the constant change in sea motion is what confounds and exhausts the mind. Serious studying is very difficult because much of the mind is dedicated to concentrating on staying upright, especially when over 10° healed over. The crew moves side to side, forward and back, constantly. Nothing is still. I find reading and some thought possible, but serious contemplation and learning new concepts, nearly impossible. The ability to accomplish much beyond the most mundane or most necessary (cooking, changing sails, washing dishes, taking showers) is dramatically minimized.

Steel grey sea, close to the equator (photo by Leslie)
Steel grey sea, close to the equator (photo by Leslie)

Change is the constant in life. Everyday we spend at sea reminds me of this. Headed to the Galapagos, which exhibits this idea to the utmost, the birthplace of the idea of evolution, change from one species into another distinct species, makes for an incredible learning opportunity. To quote writer Jeff Greenwald from his article “A Natural Selection” in AAA’s Jan/Feb 2015 Westways magazine issue: “Nearly 2 centuries after the 24 year old Charles Darwin stepped onto the Galapagos Islands, they’re still a global laboratory for the study of adaptation. In fact, everything about our planet, even its position in space is in constant flux, moving toward an unknown destiny.” We humans are the same. We change, evolve, grow and learn new ideas and ways to live, make a living, survive.

Clear blue waters expose playful dolphin pod. (photo by Bryce)
Clear blue waters expose playful dolphin pod. (photo by Bryce)

I don’t know what all of this change around me is teaching exactly: to be open to new possibilities, patience, resilience, to be adaptive to my environment, ‘to be prepared’ like a Girl Scout. I chose this new lifestyle knowing the changes in my life would be great. Now I simply have to adapt to the vastness of change and accept the inconstant as my constant without being disgruntled. Richard Henry Dana wrote in his book Two Years Before the Mast that you can’t get mad at the sea when it causes you to spill your lunch. You have to laugh at what the ocean throws at you, otherwise you’d maintain an angry state of mind. If you laugh, the uncomfortable makes for a much better story in the end.

Watery mid-eastern Pacific sunset (photo by Eric)
Watery mid-eastern Pacific sunset (photo by Eric)

Leslie Dennis Rigney

Galapagos Islands by Bryce

Galapagos Map (drawn by Bryce)
Galapagos Map (drawn by Bryce)

The Galapagos are a very secluded group of islands. There are numerous rare inhabitants that live and prosper on the islands; they are the home of new animal species, never seen or heard of before (until 1535). These islands are what gave birth to the discussion of evolution. The coordinates on the Pacific Ocean are Latitude 0° and Longitude 91°; they are located 600 miles away from the closest mainland (Ecuador) and have been part of Ecuador since the 1870’s. There are fifteen islands in the group, and nineteen volcanoes, which created the islands, the first one over 4 million years ago. These islands play a big part in human history and the study of life.

The man who discovered these islands was Fray Tomas De Berlanga. Sent on a mission from King Charles V to report on the anarchic Peru situation. It was March 10, 1535 that his ship officially discovered the Galapagos Islands. It was an accident, he was drifting with the current since there was no wind and soon enough he happened upon the fifteen islands. Which over time developed the name enchanted islands. At the time, the Latitude and Longitude of the islands were not easy to determine, so the islands were really hard to find. Even though Fray Tomas discovered them, Charles Darwin founder of the Theory of Evolution made them famous. In 1832 the islands were officially claimed part of Ecuador, which now supplies them with resources. In the beginning the islands had no indigenous people; no one had lived there except for the animals. Since then, the population of the Galapagos has tripled in the last 20 years, now there are over 35,000 people spread throughout the four main islands, (one of the excursion guides said that 220,000 tourists visited the islands in 2014). The Galapagos are not a largely populated group of islands compared to Venice Beach in California where on a beautiful Sunday, one million people flood the beaches from outlying areas of Los Angeles.

Sea Lions at Puerto Villamil dinghy dock. (photo by Bryce)
Sea Lions at Puerto Villamil dinghy dock. (photo by Bryce)

There are numerous amounts of animals spread throughout all the islands. The most famous animals that live there are the Marine Iguanas, Tortoises, Galapagos Penguins, Flightless Cormorants, Blue Footed Boobies and Darwin’s thirteen finches. The only way these creatures could have found their way to the Galapagos would have been by bird, in a bird, on a bird, by the current on a flotation device, by swimming or by adapting/evolving. Even after finding the Galapagos the various species had to find a source of food not already being consumed, then find a mate to keep the species going. It is very challenging to survive in a new environment!

Blue-footed Boobie (drawn by Bryce)
Blue-footed Boobie (drawn by Bryce)

Although there are lots of animals on the island, I want to talk about a certain three: Blue-footed Boobies, Darwin’s Finches, and Marine Iguanas. The reason the Blue-Footed Boobie is called boobie is due to the Spanish name for stupid = bobo. These birds like most birds love to eat fish and will dive meters out of the sky to catch one…too bad they do the same for fishing lures as we snagged a brown boobie which sadly drowned on our lure about 1,000 miles away from the islands. They also like to live in colonies among the shore next to the ocean, and they only live to the age of about 20. Despite the birds’ stupidity, it is still one of my favorite animals living on the islands. On the island you might be able to find the blue -footed boobie waddle like penguins trying to impress the females in their mating dance trying to show off their blue feet. If the female is fond of the male’s dance she will follow along behind him imitating his little dance. The dance itself is rather silly.

large billed ground finch
Large billed ground finch

The Galapagos Islands are home to Darwin’s famous 13 finches, which he discovered in 1835. According to Darwin, the first island that the Mother of all Galapagos finches arrived on was San Cristobal, and over time the finches migrated to the other islands. As the population of the finches grew on the islands and resources became scarce, adaptations started to occur. To the untrained eye, the finches look very similar. They all mostly have the same color, brown green or black, and pretty much have the regular sizes: small, medium and large, but if you take a closer look, you might be able to tell that the beaks on each variety of bird have slight differences.large billed ground finchThe reason for this is different varieties of food require different bills. So over time, Darwin speculated that the first finches that colonized on San Cristobal, eventually adapted and their bills modified for specific eating functions. Darwin felt the species evolved over time due to natural selection in newborns. Newborns that had the ability to eat different varieties of food due to slight changes in thickness or length or shape of the beak enabled them to survive and reproduce. That is how the theory of evolution came to be.

Marine Iguana (photo by Leslie)
Marine Iguana (photo by Leslie)

Galapagos Marine Iguanas are the only iguanas known to man that can swim in the ocean; they only live on these islands. Their main diet is algae, which they dive down into the ocean blue to eat. During the day, you can find the iguanas lying everywhere, warming themselves and trying to relieve their lungs of salt water so they can go back into the ocean and get something more to eat. When walking nearby one, it’s important to be aware for the occasional salty snott ball that they blow out of their noses. These reptiles have many interesting features. One very noticeable feature is their spiny-like mohawk that runs all the way from the top of their head to the end of their tail. When you look at them, you might think they are the next step down from a dragon; they have long claws, black skin, spikey mohawks, and they spit water instead of fire from their noses. They are the most interesting animals on the islands!

Bryce at Galapagos Tortoise Breeding Center (photo by Leslie)
Bryce at Galapagos Tortoise Breeding Center (photo by Leslie)

We got a chance to visit Isabela Island, the largest island in the Galapagos. It was really cool to see all the unusual creatures that live there in the water and on the land. I was so excited to see in person the Marine Iguanas and the Blue-Footed Boobies. We also got a chance to explore Sierra Negra Volcan, which has the second largest crater in the world. I thought the sulfer holes were colorful and interesting as everything else on the lava fields was black. Most of all, the snorkeling was extraordinary; I loved seeing a 4.5 foot white tipped shark sleeping in a water cave, and swimming next to humungous green sea turtles. I had a great time on the island of Isabela.

Bryce Rigney

Sweating At Sea

Wednesday, May 6, 2015, 2:42 p.m. Universal Time Central UTC (Greenwich Meantime)

Ocean sunset between thunderheads. (photo by Eric)
Ocean sunset between thunderheads. (photo by Eric)

We switched to Galapagos time yesterday morning to acclimate to the time change while sailing. We want to be ready to jump off the boat and start touring right away. After 17 days at sea, we will be eager to stretch our legs.

Leslie on the foredeck between rain days (photo by Eric)
Leslie on the foredeck between rain days (photo by Eric)

Now five full days at sea, we are all getting into a rhythm of our own. Each one of us has had to come to terms with constant boat movement, tropical humidity and the hot sun beating down with a simple awning over the cockpit to provide shade. The slightest of exertion causes a person to sweat profusely. My face has never sweat so much in my life!

Bryce and Uncle Bill hang in the cockpit.
Bryce and Uncle Bill hang in the cockpit.

Sometimes the ocean is so calm that you can see over 25 feet down. Other times, the wind kicks up the seas and the surface is roiling. The swell seems to come from all directions in a confusing mishmash of waves. There is a small local swell created by the direction of the wind and then there is the large rolling swell that comes from far out to sea and looks like rolling hills approaching the boat. Today, we have both, the smaller ones coming from the Northeast and the large swell from the south.

Trent captures sleep between watches. (photo by Leslie)
Trent captures sleep between watches. (photo by Leslie)

Eric, who has substantially more experience sailing long passages says that after the third full day for most people nausea disappears and an ocean rhythm sets-in. Since I don’t remember much about my daily living experience when sailing from Hawaii to California for 25½ days when I was 23, it feels much like a new experience for me. Most assuredly, my expectations of comfort and cleanliness are different today compared to 25 years ago. When I was 23, I had just graduated with a BA and was ready to travel, to experience some adventure after all the studying and before working full time. The time commitment I faced was about 3 months. I was planning on finding work in my field of study in Los Angeles. Discomfort was not a big deal. A certain amount of boredom was a welcome friend filled by new companionship, early love, great literature, and forced rest. I didn’t even care that much about hygiene. Since the trip was finite, borrowed money would be paid back later once I got a job. In fact, I was responsible for taking care of myself, no one else.

Eric and Trent take advantage of nicer weather. (photo by Leslie)
Eric and Trent take advantage of nicer weather. (photo by Leslie)

Today’s experience is so much different. I am the food provider, responsible for the provisioning, determining the menu, prepping, cooking and generally the clean-up for 5 people three times a day. I am co-owner of the boat, responsible for its liability and the potential of losing it. Neither Eric nor I are earning an income. All expenses including boat repairs are paid out of our savings, so when things go wrong, we have to trouble shoot the problem and fix it or have it repaired or replaced. I take care of the bills/money and tax prep. I am a parent, worried about my sons’ physical and mental health along with being their teacher who moves them forward in their studies. I am also their playmate, playing games, watching movies, and hanging out with them. Being half responsible for their safety, I worry about them on the boat, when they are changing sails, taking watches, helping dad with repairs or when they get sick, their cleanliness. When they get hurt or anyone on the boat gets hurt, I am the nurse. I instigate or take care of laundry, cleaning the inside of the boat and making sure things are put away, picked-up. I also predominantly take care of the trash and waste. Then there is the sailing aspects: changing the sails with Eric when he needs me, which is often; doing my own watch; and taking care of myself. It is all so much more complicated with plans to sail much further than from Hawaii to California as a simple crew member on a boat.

Trent learns mathematics. (photo by Eric)
Trent learns mathematics. (photo by Eric)

Perhaps, my concerns will mollify over time as I completely adopt the rhythm of the cruising lifestyle. These last months since departing Ventura on February 10th, we sailed quickly through California and Mexico. Even in the Galapagos, it will be a short visit of less than 20 days, and then we’ll be off again to the Marquesas for an estimated 25 days at sea. Eric assures me that we will be traveling around much more slowly once we’re in French Polynesia. Both he and I are looking forward to that.

Leslie uses bike cart to do late night provisioning. (photo by Bill Kohut)
Leslie uses bike cart to do late night provisioning in the Galapagos. (photo by Bill Kohut)

 Leslie Dennis Rigney