Tag Archives: sv Kandu

Laundry in Agadir, Morocco: Saving is a Joke!

October 29, 2018 admin 12 Comments

At home in California, I constantly tried to be frugal. I was taught to save money. I didn’t go out to buy coffee and treats at Starbucks. If there were leftovers from the previous night’s dinner, I would eat that for lunch the next day. I packed the boys’ lunch. I bought the grocery store brand that was $0.10 cheaper. And I used coupons.

Then I would get a parking or a speeding ticket.

In my mind, I would think all that saving was for nil. Privately, by myself, I would rant and rave, throw an adult “tantrum” – absolutely pissed off at myself for being so stupid to get the ticket or to have wasted so frivolously, wondering what was the point of saving if the universe or fate was going to take away my penny here penny there savings anyway. After a while, I would calm down and follow my mother’s advice. Immediately, I would pay the ticket and put it in the mail – try to forget about it.

At a certain point early on, I learned that maintenance of ‘possessions’ was much more expensive than the original purchase price. I tried not to buy unnecessary or repeat items.

Once I became a homeowner, the motto “Less is More” rang true in my head…small house, small cars…. Instead of getting pulled into a ‘sale’ item just because it’s ‘on sale,’ I would talk myself out of the purchase nurturing the concept, “if I don’t buy the ‘sale’ item, then I saved even more!”

Like refurbishing a house where we were warned to budget 30% above and beyond the original foreseen/planned budget, traveling on a ‘houseboat’ is similar. However, I’ve come to figure that expenditures on maintaining Kandu account for 3/5 of our annual budget. So, Eric and I and the boys continue to save and make decisions accordingly. Perhaps we eat out too often. Living on the boat, I’ve never cooked so much in my life. But in other aspects, we work to save. In fact, we planned extensive stays in countries where the dollar is strong and prices are cheaper for us: Marquesas, Samoa, Fiji, Indonesia, Malaysia, India, Egypt, Morocco.

Having learned that in non-Western, generally Islamic countries, bargaining from vendors is expected and among locals it’s a skill. We Western tourists are prime targets for milking and paying double or even triple the ‘local’ price which often ends up making the items as expensive as what would be paid in a technologically advanced country.

Yesterday, I wanted to have our laundry done because washing 3-weeks’ worth of clothes and linens by hand is an all-day painstaking job. I had previously researched the Internet to find there were no coin operated laundromats in Agadir. I asked the marina manager for a recommendation. She highlighted an area on the map indicating there was an establishment across from ‘a restaurant’ that some other yachties have used and the prices were reasonable.

Having been heavily ripped off and burned in Egypt over laundry, I was equipped with courage and determination to barter for the price. I was not going to pay US$100 dollars for two bags of un-ironed laundry. In Egypt, with use of a derelict washing machine (2.5 hours per load), I spent 2 days washing, hanging, and folding 5 loads of laundry. Port Suez Yacht Club then unexpectedly charged me US$10 a load. I had spent hours doing all of my own laundry and they charged me $50 in a country where things are supposed to be cheaper? I was beside myself frustrated.

Now in Agadir, armed with a map, Eric and I took off with two bags (3 loads) of laundry filled with 4 sheets, pillow cases, worn but decent boat clothes and underclothes that can all be washed together – no separating necessary. After a bit of searching we found the recommended laundry place (pressing or blanchisserie): Pressing Alwafa located across from ‘SouIaymane Restaurant’ on Rue d’Essaouira just north of the taxi cab hangout.

Pressing Alwafa, Agadir, Rue d’Essaouira opposite Soulaymane Restaurant

I approached a middle-aged man at the counter and started bargaining in my imperfect French right away. My mistake may have been that I should not have been as assertive. Many Muslim men don’t appreciate strong women, especially those not wearing long non-descript smocks, gloves, and head coverings. He wanted to charge for each item, so I took out all the large pieces and said: “I will hand wash the small pieces myself.” Then he counted the large items as I watched, dropping them in a basket behind the counter, announced it was 35 items and it would be 350 dirhams which amounted to US$38…already expensive! I then asked if I could double count the items – he was annoyed and turns out he was off by five…there were only 30. At that point, he said fine, for another 10 dirhams, he would do all the laundry – a total of 400 dirhams or US$45. I agreed. Then we negotiated when I would pick-up the laundry. The next day was Sunday, so he wanted to give it to me on Monday, but I needed it back the same day since we would be leaving on Monday – we agreed the pick-up would be at 7:00 pm. I mentioned that he didn’t need to wrap the clothes in plastic. Instead, to simply refill my laundry bags directly to on save plastic. He was put-out. Then I asked for a receipt which must have completely tipped him over.

At 7:15 pm Bryce and I returned to pick-up the laundry. Everything was cordial enough. Back at the boat, I started to sort through the laundry and discovered one of my good and hard to find ‘no underwire’ bras was melted/destroyed. Continuing to sort, half the laundry smelled burnt or dirty and felt hard, as if it hadn’t been washed and then I found 4 more pieces melted, burned and/or ruined and three others scorched. Now it was my turn to be pissed. The badly ruined and scorched items with the exception of one of Bryce’s old shirts and a hole in his best Hurley shorts, were mine. Was the damage orchestrated intentionally to punish me specifically because I had ‘aggressively’ tried to bargain? Or since I mentioned I was leaving the country Monday, maybe he didn’t care? On passing us the bags of laundry, the man certainly knew that several items had been ruined and/or damaged and didn’t mention it because half of the clothes were folded and some even ironed! He accepted the full amount of money with a smile. Also, the clothes in one bag were extremely hard wrinkled having been left sitting in a hot dryer – and then not folded. The wrinkles won’t come out even after hand washing unless I iron the items. It was the worst paid laundry job I have ever experienced. I guess I’ll be hand-washing my clothes in the future if I cannot find a coin operated laundromat where I can wash the items myself.

Expensive ExOfficio Specialty capris for sun protection

Recently gifted sweatshirt from Aunt Meg

My immediate reaction to the destroyed laundry was to retaliate. I know it’s sounds foolish and well I felt foolish, but I couldn’t sleep that night for all the possible methods of malice I kept devising in my head. Of course, much of this anger in me is pent up frustration in response to the overall Islamic culture’s treatment of women. It feels like to me that within conservative Islam, women are good only for breeding, cooking, and cleaning. Women should say little and have no opinions. Oddly, only mothers are revered. Not other people’s mothers, just yours. Certainly, a man cannot be friends with a woman…friendliness is interpreted as the woman being open to have sex with the man.

Typically dressed Muslim women in Agadir, Morocco

Eric tells a story about a male public restroom attendant working in the Middle East, filling pitchers of water for patrons to use (they clean themselves with their left hand using the water, no toilet paper). As a business man descends into the attendant’s domain, he grabs the pitcher at the end. The attendant orders the man to set it back down and take the third pitcher from the end. “Why? They’re all the same,” the patron declares. To which the attendant replies, “When I’m up there, I have to do what you say. But when you’re down here, you have to do what I say,” exercising what little power he can. Was this that case? Was the laundry man just exercising his power, because he thought he could? Because I was leaving and had no recourse?

So, my experiment with saving in Morocco was a joke. I tried to save on laundry or to at least get a fair price and I was kicked in the butt. The universe is laughing at me. However, what is the best thing to do? It is to WALK AWAY and let him think he defeated me – that he stole from me, beat me down, won. To me, he’s a middle-aged man surrounded by ugliness and dirty buildings, usurping his little bit of power over a foreign, modern woman.

What do we truly own in life but our attitude? Everything else can be taken away. I want my attitude to be positive, so I work to reject that man’s actions. Happiness is my preference. I want to be happy, and I will keep trying to save because it’s what I do, but maybe a little less vigilantly. Still, hard as I might, I remain a bit hurt, feeling attacked. I guess he won today since I chose to stay inside the boat, hide away and write this article instead. I also didn’t want to spread any residual bad mojo to those around me. Eric and Bryce went to visit the Moroccan souk without me, which I really wanted to experience, . . . but, well, I didn’t buy anything, so I guess I saved.

Epilogue – Eric and I returned to the pressing/laundry with the worst damaged 4 pieces that I was unable to fix and a pillowcase that was unmistakably browned – the other items I rewashed, pressed and/or mended myself. The shop owner seemed dismayed at the news, as his worker, the man I dealt with, looked on. The owner asked us to leave the items with him to see if he could have them repaired, and for us to return in a couple days. Without me, Eric returned and spoke with the jerk clerk. He said, “We were unable to repair the clothes, but we did clean the pillowcase. We are sorry.” The man didn’t make any special offers until Eric pressed him. Compelled, the man offered to do another load of laundry on the house. Burned twice having laundry done in Muslim countries, I couldn’t bare the possibility of getting burned thrice. I have since washed the laundry two times myself with a plunger, buckets, cold water and elbow grease. It all turned out perfectly clean, sun-wind ironed and smelling like fresh air. Not only did I save myself cab money and consternation, I got some exercise too!

Educational, Eric's Posts, Experiential, Leslie's Posts, Morocco

Mohammedia Docking, Clearance & Casablanca Sights Sept 2018

October 5, 2018 admin 3 Comments

An extended versions of this report for cruisers is available on www.noonsite.com. Follow this link: Morocco-mohammedia-report of visit in october-november 2018

September 17, 2018

Unable to reach the Yacht Club du Maroc, a private enterprise, prior to departure, we set sail from Gibraltar in hopes a space would be available. A forecasted large NW swell had us forego the shallow entrance of Rabat, and Casablanca has no facilities for receiving yachts. Upon our morning approach, Port Control Mohammedia responded to our VHF call on 16. We were instructed to enter the port and head directly to the marina where someone would point us to a berth. Warned in reports of underwater obstructions near the marina, we arrived at high tide. The private marina resides tucked away in the corner of the commercial and fishing port. Seeing no one of authority, we stayed just off the marina’s two large pontoons, toward the commercial portion of the port rather than the likely shallower small fishing port.

Kandu waiting to be welcomed to Yacht Club du Maroc in Mohammedia

Within 10 minutes, an official looking person with collared shirt and long pants, holding a handheld VHF guided us to raft up alongside one of two possible boats, the choice was ours. They have limited space for visiting yachts. Looking at our depth sounder during our maneuvering into place, the depths were more than adequate, never below 18 feet. The official, who we never saw again, asked us to drop an anchor which I said I would do later, but intending only to stay for 2 nights, with no bad weather forecast, we did not.

All officials came to us within an hour or so, boarded our boat, and processed us politely and professionally in English and French, . . . no “gifts” asked, none given. Leslie offered coffee, which they gratefully received. No charge for clearance. They took our passports for an hour to process, stamp, and return them to us with shore passes (as we were in a commercial port with high security), and held on to the ship’s original documentation to insure we checked out properly. Check out was as simple and painless after 9 a.m., presenting our passports. Taking only 15 minutes, we had our exit stamped passports and original ship’s document. Agadir officials said we should have received a blue paper from Customs, but did not belabor the point with us.

The YC charges two fees, theirs and the port’s. Warned of the high price and that they charge per day, not per night, I was mentally prepared to see a high bill. Accepting only cash, up front, the YC manager was pleased I had made the effort to have Moroccan dirham on hand, having exchanged in Gibraltar before our arrival. He charged us for two nights, not three days. Perhaps because we planned to leave at the same time that we’d had arrived. The two-night YC charge was slightly higher than the port charge, but for a 12.7m monohull, the charges were about 500 dirham each, 1000 total, or $55/night. Price includes 220 power and potable (we don’t trust) water, separate men and women’s toilets and hot showers (clean and adequate), excellent security, trash, access to their restaurant across the port, and weak to non-existing WiFi. Our pontoon was for larger boats and was shared by mostly sports-fishing boats. While there are smaller local cafés nearby, to get to the center of town, a 10-dirham taxi ride makes it easy. ATM’s are common. We used the ATAM at the train station and purchased via cash our tickets through the ticketing vending machine. We hopped aboard the frequent (±every 30-minutes) half-hour train to Casablanca (showing up at least 15 minutes late), costing 32-dirham R/T, and walked 20-minutes to the Hassan II mosque, taking the 100 dirham English-speaking tour, by far the best and most worthy experience we had in our short stay in Casablanca.

Hassan II Mosque, Casablanca, Morocco with Bryce Rigney

Mosque Hassan II Casablanca Morocco

Mosque Hassan II Minaret

One of many entrances

Titanium doors

Mosque Hassan II Interior, Bryce Rigney silhouette

Italian Murano glass chandelier

Magnificent Interior Hassan II Mosque

Intricate plaster carving

Mosque Hassan II Ablutions Chamber

Local Moroccan marble

Exit corridor

Moroccan art at it’s very best: Hassan II Mosque of Casablanca with Eric Rigney

Rick’s Café Americain was charming and elegant, although more expensive than we’re use to paying (4x the cost of the normal hole-in-the-wall places we frequent), very delicious, and the portions are large enough to share between two (wished we had known earlier). As with most all less technologically developed cultures, non-written prices must be negotiated before you engage in buying open market food items, but especially with taxis, where you might pay as much as 3 times the going rate. In perspective, sometimes that means paying $3 instead of $1, but it can also mean paying $50 instead of $20.

SIM cards are an excellent deal in Morocco, 20 dirham ($2.25) for the Maroc Telecom SIM which allows you some limited calling then you add separately a top-up at a tobacco/convenience store to acquire data or more phone. 10 dirham per 1 GB data. Valid for 30 days. We bought 50 dirham worth (about $5.50). SIMs are purchased at a Maroc Telecom or other brand store.

In summary, Mohammedia is a friendly, efficient, and secure place to berth if Casablanca is on your must-see list. Reportedly, the most populous Moroccan city, except for the Hassan II Mosque and the train station, we found this historic city to be unattractive. The old colonial architecture described in tour guides is not maintained and disappointing to behold. To be fair, we did not pay for a guided tour, nor did we have a local showing us the charm of what may otherwise be a very lovely place. Bryce did get to surf at Florida Beach, but even that experience was just okay. Eric Rigney

Dar Bouazza / Florida Beach, Morocco, Sept 2018

Arrive Dar Bouazza, Morocco

Bryce Rigney at Dar Bouazza / Florida Beach Sept 2018

Bryce Rigney waxing his board at Dar Bouazza

Bryce Rigney heading to surf Dar Bouazza, Morocco

Dar Bouazza, Morocco

Leslie Rigney at Dar Bouazza Beach, Morocco

Bryce Rigney, Dar Bouazza, Morocco

Leslie’s brief Facebook excerpt:

Casa Blanca on the ocean claims to be the largest city in Morocco. But not having a yacht marina directly in Casa Blanca, we headed instead to port Mohammedia 10 kilometers north from the city. From Gibraltar we left with perfect wind and tide circumstances hopping the Gibraltar straights shipping lanes to the south like a rabbit to avoid the big tanker traffic. With Kandu docked in Mohammedia, we took advantage of the inexpensive train and taxis to see the sights in Casa Blanca. We visited Dar Bouazza Beach for some long overdue surf and the renowned Rick’s Cafe for excellent 1920’s art deco ambience and delicious Moroccan couscous.

Bryce & Leslie Rigney at Rick’s Cafe, Casablanca Morocco

Rick’s Cafe Interior, Casablanca, Morocco

We were spellbound by the most impressive architecture found in the large and beautiful Hassan II Mosque (inside and out as they allow non-muslim visitors to tour the interior for US$11/person). We also walked the city to visit the acclaimed business city center, local souk and the famous Rialto Cinema…all of which were underwhelming. Not a beautiful or romantic resort town, two days was plenty. Sadly, most of the city was run-down and dirty…with hopeful construction everywhere especially on the beachfront which was completely torn up and off-limits except on the outskirts like Dar Bouazza / Florida Beach.

Casablanca city center

Casablanca souk

Casablanca street market

Casablanca skate park

Casablanca Superior Court

Casablanca Rialto Cinema

Eric's Posts, Europe

Across the Tale…poem by Eric Rigney

August 2, 2018 admin 8 Comments

Across the sea, I chose to sail. No life of ease . . .

a soulful tale.

Plans were laid, efforts then spent. Pathways will fade,

without relent.

Waves of resistance, waves of assistance, same wave . . .

different approach.

Comfort is gone, lessons are learned. Brain’s turned on,

much feels earned.

Faults are found, strengths are too. Change profound . . .

when both collude.

Faced with choices, purpose defined. Soul rejoices . . .

when goals refine.

Risk is a mirror, few wish to see. Confront the fear,

or live it eternally.

Joy uncovered, doubts aside. Love discovered,

when love’s inside.

Choose to stay, choose to go. Which is best,

I cannot know.

Across the sea, I thus have sailed. My mind at ease . . .

I’ve lived my tale.

Experiential, India, Leslie's Posts

Sightseeing INDIA from the Bolgatty Palace Marina, Cochin

June 11, 2018 admin 6 Comments

Feb 10, 2018

We had an exceptional time in India due to the delicious & inexpensive food (that even our 14 year old son Trent loved), the vividly colored clothing, the profoundly different culture, the prolific vegetable and fruit markets, our fabulous tours to the Taj Mahal and Kerala’s backwaters, and the general hustle and bustle.

Still getting our bearings, the second night we got a chance to see the renowned Kerala Kathakali facial dance and costume show along with the pre-show application of the make-up and fitting the costume was amazingly interesting and colorful. The spectacle is offered every evening right at the Bolgatty Palace Resort Hotel for a modest price. The Kathakali entertainment was just the beginning of our great adventures in India.

Instead of flying both ways, we purposefully took a 48-hour sleeper train ride north to New Delhi to observe more closely the countryside, its peoples and to have a true local Indian experience. The Taj Mahal mausoleum, the most important site of our India travels, was as impressive and beautiful as anticipated – all white marble with specially carved and intricately cut and inlaid floral designs. (Definitely one of today’s ‘Wonders of the World.’) The photos say it all!!

We absolutely loved spending Happy Holi day in New Delhi on March 2^nd, where people hit the streets with fluorescent colored chalk plastering it on each other while getting lampooned by water balloons and/or water hoses. We enjoyed the wonderfully generous people we met full of smiles and hellos. The four of us are BIG fans of Masala tea (Chai tea) and samosas: potato & veggie filled deep fried savory.

Before….Happy Holi

Fluorescent Happy Holi Chalk

After….

The boys and I especially appreciated witnessing the ‘holy cows’ walking in amongst the Agra car and auto tucktuck traffic. Sometimes huge cows were laying down right in the middle of traffic – vehicles simply drove around them. Bryce spanked the hindquarters of one behemoth that was walking VERY close. Holy Cow!

Driving on the streets in India is all that it is reported to be…hectic, crazy with just a few rules…mostly ‘anything goes.’ The four of us frequently squeezed into auto tucktucks, which are two or three-seater three wheeled motor cabs that can be hailed everywhere. In the city, it is far more exciting to travel around in that cheap and convenient mode as opposed to cars.

Renting a car wasn’t really an option nor was it expensive to hire ‘tour guide’ drivers with nice cars to drive further than in-town distances like traveling south to the backwaters of Kerala or the two hours between the Taj Mahal in Agra province to New Delhi.

One such driver was so friendly, that he suggested we come visit his home in the older section of New Delhi. A driver/musician, he sang Indian songs in the car for us, and when we arrived at his home, he played all the Indian sounding licks on his keyboard while singing along. In exchange, I sang “O Mio Babbino Caro” to his family’s delight. We would never have gone into that section of New Delhi without a guide – too local and impossible to navigate!

These particular residential New Delhi streets are narrow like in medieval European towns – no cars, just scooters, bicycles and pedestrians. Built on a hill, the small streets are packed and slippery due to running water leaks. Houses are constructed side by side and scale upwards – one floor per family. Our driver is one of three grown sons with their own families all sharing the same parents’ house: the parents’ room is on the ground floor, the 2^nd son, wife and 2 kids in the only room on the 1^st floor shared by all as a dining room with the kitchen down the hall, our friend and his wife and son live on the 3^rd floor with the only house bathroom across the hall, the 4^th floor houses the 1^st son, his wife and 2 children plus the laundry room down the hall. Then there is the rooftop for drying clothes and seeing the city sights below. Each room is about 600 square feet and much of the square footage of the house is made up of stairways. The ground floor, supporting five stories is only about 1000 square feet. It is tight living – but not quite as tight as living on a 13-meter sailboat!

We had read that one of the biggest tourist attractions of the Kerala state where Cochin city is located (and the region where our boat was docked), is a houseboat ride on the Backwaters. Our 24-hour trip south to hire one did not disappoint. Relaxing on a luxurious riverboat, we floated through the rice paddy levees enjoying the green scenery and fresh air. Occasionally, we witnessed women wading in the water slapping clothes against the rocks and others bathing fully clothed in the brackish waters. Many homes line the levees and many of those are actually large and brand new looking. Maybe the area supports city families’ second homes? Happily, I didn’t have to cook or clean during that relaxing trip.

Bryce Rigney at Kerala’s Backwaters

Kerala Backwaters houseboats

Clothing – 1/3 of the women dress in the most beautiful saris and men either wear plain sarong bottoms or long pants and plain button down short or long sleeved collared shirts. It’s a little like fancy birds bedecked in colorful feathers except the opposite – the males are plain and the females draw the attention. More modern female Indian style is the ankle length legging and knee length cotton tops with slits up the sides and long sleeves. No shorts anywhere, even in the tropical heat! Fashions are cut conservatively to maintain modesty.

Buying sim cards for phones is like in the United States – you need a permanent address within the country. Thus, it was impossible to purchase our own. Our handy dandy Cochin marina go-to man, Nazar P.M., provided us two of his own for a modest fee (US$15 each) including phone and data. We returned the sims upon departure. He also drove us around in his tucktuck to shop, sightsee, to get to a local restaurant, to go to the post office (which I would never have found on my own), to find ATMs (almost everything is handled in cash), etc. One day he even loaned me local money when I couldn’t pull out enough from the ATMs to purchase my local market groceries. He helped us obtain diesel and drinking water at great prices always showing up with a huge smile. Plus, he invited us to come and dine at his home and to meet his lovely family. He truly made India GREAT for us.

Although more are spoken, there are 23 languages officially declared in India, each protecting special long-standing cultural traditions. But if an Indian wants to communicate widely, English is their go-to language along with Hindi. Ashamedly, I thought most East Indians spoke English, but only the higher educated actually speak some English.

We had a true Indian experience riding 48 hours by sleeper train from Cochin to Agra. Part of the ride was to see the countryside up close, hang with the local Indians and inexpensively make our way to Agra where the Taj Mahal is located, then to make the two-hour drive to New Delhi to tour the environs including a visit to the Parliament House, the Baha’i Prayer Center, a Kashmir rug store, the place where Gandhi was assassinated and so much more.

New Delhi Parliament

Baha’i House

Baha’i

Indian Kashmire rug

On the train, each sleeper section housed 6 beds. The four of us slept on the top bunks to insure no fowl play, but that meant Eric was separated from Bryce, Trent and me in a different section on the same train car during the night. Of course, he did sit with us during the daytime. Along with us traveled a lovely older Indian couple, retired dentist and wife. He spoke some English. They were very sweet. During the trip, we got off when the train stopped and walked around the quay for exercise and people watching.

One time, Bryce actually climbed off the train, over a fence onto and over an adjacent quay and into the train tracks to take movies and pictures with his ‘expensive’ GoPro and iPhone flashing in his hand. From the train, I was watching him and within 5 minutes, a local man stood up from his perch and started to nonchalantly walk in his direction. I hollered to Bryce to come back quickly. Bryce turned to me and began making his way to our train quay, jumping up and then over the fence down to our train and inside. I watched as that local fellow followed faster and faster all the way up onto the quay – but stopped at the fence grimacing at me. We glared at each other…’Mama Bear protecting her cub!’ Later I discussed the situation with Bryce and explained to him that his actions opened him up to be a target. It was a lesson fortunately he didn’t have to learn the hard way. Hopefully he learned that he mustn’t flaunt his foreignness and prosperity, especially when alone.

Side food markets

It’s definitely true that there are many poor people in India – those we saw while on the train, begging in New Delhi, and working in the Backwater rice fields. However, the upper lower classes are solid workers and eat well…we didn’t see people starving. Even beggars in New Delhi looked good. Their housing conditions aren’t perfect or large, but they aren’t miserable either. Most people have access to water and sanitation, modern transportation: auto tucktucks, cars, buses, ferries, trains, etc. There is a prominent middle class that spends money in modern malls, on cars, on phones and computers, and on nice clothes. The clothes people wear are clean and ironed, unlike mine – which often smell of boat and are never pressed! We found that the people are happy and free to work as hard as they want or not and to move around freely, with freedom of speech!

The biggest bummer was the amount of trash piled up in the waters, along the rivers, in and around the train tracks, and aside the roads. We constantly witnessed all kinds of people tossing trash on the ground anywhere and everywhere – plastic wrappers/bags, paper cups, full trash bags, cigarette butts, boxes, bottles, etc. When asked why they toss trash on the ground instead of holding it or finding a trash bin, they shrug their shoulders and say, “Everyone does it.” Over and over, we explain that everyone makes a difference and the only way to enact change is in their own individual actions and teaching their children not to toss trash indiscriminately.

The only marina in India that can handle cruiser yachting boats is in Kochi or Cochin on Bolgatty Palace Island. It is located within the confines of the Bolgatty Island Resort Hotel that had a fine restaurant, bar and pool. The reception area was so nice and air-conditioned, that it became our office when we wanted to escape the hot humidity of early afternoon. The boys loved the workout room and ping-pong table. We were able to have our laundry washed, charged by the item not by kilos…so I hand-washed the smaller items using the inexpensive but non-potable marina water on the dock. The showers and toilets were clean and in okay condition, the docks were repaired and in working order, not perfect but fine, and the marina manager was effective.

The customs process was straightforward since we hired Nazar to act as our agent, however, it still took all day – everything is done on paper – and at least five people are involved, when only one is necessary – very few computers and modern equipment are used. Our one hiccup was declaring that we have a satellite texting device. The police and customs required that we dismantle it and have it officially sealed by an officer on our boat inside a cabinet. We were not allowed to use it while in India. India has a problem with Pakistani terrorism. Terrorists once used a satellite phone to activate a bomb housed on a catamaran that killed many people. Unfortunately, customs did not communicate with the police that our device had been sealed and so we were hassled a bit by the marine police who didn’t understand English. Eventually, it all worked out, but at the time it was challenging.

Our departure was easy. The morning before we intended to leave, Nazar tucktucked the four of us back to the customs offices and we were relatively quickly checked out. It took only about two hours. All paid up and accounted for, the next morning we departed the marina early without even making a radio call. It was a wonderfully educational and colorful visit. We thoroughly enjoyed our too short but very sweet two weeks in India.

BTW – We hired a tour agent to help us get to the Kerala Backwaters and onto a boat at short notice: Basil Mathew of Tour Green India recommended by one of Eric’s LA colleagues whose wife hails from Cochin. Basil was so great, that we asked him to help us make our way by train to the Taj Mahal in Agra, then to New Delhi where we spent 2 nights in a hotel frequented by Indian tourists, including tour guides/drivers, and then a plane ride home. All our expectations were addressed and handled extremely well. The only frustration was that we couldn’t use our credit card. Everything needed to be handled in cash or bank transfer. Frustratingly, the ATMs at the banks want to earn fees so they force you to take small amounts of money requiring many withdrawls. Fees then accumulate quickly.

Basil Mathew, Tour Green Co, India, tel: +91 90612 58758, email: info@keralatourgreen.com, www.keralatourgreen.com

Nazar P.M. tel: +91 98951 64090 or +91 97464 62686, Facebook: Nisams, www.yachtsincochin.com, www.noonsite.com/countries/india/cochin

Bob Bechler was an enormous help encouraging us and several other yachts to make their way to Bolgatty Island through the Facebook private group: Red Sea Passage.

Nighil, Bolgatty Palace Marina Manager, tel: +91 97470 57015. He is available at the marina every day except Sunday between 10h00 – 18h00. His English is pretty good.

Immigration Entry Visas: Before visiting India – each person on board must obtain a tourist visitor’s visa. The easiest way to get a visa is online: http://indianvisaonline.gov.in. Each visa cost us US$75. Make sure to provide the right size photos and passport pdfs – don’t make any mistakes – check your work twice before submitting. When done, print out the final versions for immigration to present when you arrive.

Here are some more photos taken the last free tour day in Cochin including the celebrated old-fashioned fishing nets off the entrance of the natural Kochi bay, the incredibly huge monkey shrine, clothes hand-washing, spice galore, Indian children, our tour guide Nasam, and more.

Leslie, Nasam & Bryce pulling up the old-fashioned fish nets

Bryce Rigney on the fishnet apparatus

Indian fabrics

Indian pressing laundry

Indian handwashing laundry

Indian spices for sale

Indian spices

Processing spices

India’s children

Nasam

Cochin produce

Cochin traffic

Cochin Fisherman Boats

Women’s India High Fashion

RigneysKandu East Indian style on Happy Holi Day!

Bryce's Posts, Educational, Experiential, Gulf of Aden & Red Sea

Eritrean Coins by Bryce Rigney

May 17, 2018 admin 5 Comments

1991 was the end of Eritrea’s 30-year civil war with Ethiopia but it seems that 1997 marked the beginning of Eritrea’s printing and/or coinage of their own money. Over time, the government began to discourage private enterprise and travel, resulting in depreciation of their money, and the extinction of Eritrean coins. Today, 26 years later, the most commonly exchanged denomination are the 5 and 10 Nakfa bills. Sadly, the streets of Eritrea house large amounts of beggars. One of which was a skinny old man with a kind face, distinct jaw line, and a gruff white beard. He hobbled down the pedestrian sidewalk of Liberation Avenue in downtown Asmara, past a line of homeless, grasping tight his well-used yet sturdy cane and then he stopped. He had spotted a young Caucasian teenager and his mother, us, sitting in front of the towering Ave Maria Cathedral.

Bryce Rigney in front of Ave Maria Cathedral of Asmara, Eritrea.

Suddenly the man came alive, he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a handful of coins, Eritrean and those from other countries in North Africa. “Hello, hello,” he said with his aged voice, trying to catch my attention. Interested and frankly board of sitting down in front of the cathedral waiting for Dad, I moved over to see what he had placed out for display. Unmasked from his chapped palms were a 1 and 5 Eritrean coins from 1997.

On one side, they displayed images of native animals that had once thrived amongst the lands. The other side depicted soldiers raising up the new national flag to mark their independence in 1991. I asked to borrow his treasures for a minute so I could interest my mom sitting a few steps above with what I had discovered. At the time I hadn’t a clue that they were of no value. In exchange for a couple of 1’s and 5’s I gave him a 10 Nakfa bill, which would most certainly be spent on his dinner that night. It was obvious from his big smile that he was delighted. Before continuing his walk, in broken English he informed me that the dates of the coins were manufactured in 1991 and tried to explain their original values. Then he proceeded down the sidewalk and blended in amongst the busy paths of other pedestrians.

For more information, I found a great short website about the printing of Eritrean money: http://africa.worldofcoins.eu/af-eri.htm

Educational, Eric's Posts, Gulf of Aden & Red Sea

Suakin, Sudan in April 2018 by Eric

May 1, 2018 admin 8 Comments

This article is also posted on the World Cruiser’s Noonsite website under Soaking in Sudan.

April 8, 2018

Before leaving Massawa, Eritrea, I emailed Mohammed Abubaker, Port Suakin’s wonderful yacht service agent, via inReach SE satellite text of our pending arrival. He had arranged a tourist visa, hotel, and transportation for my brother Nick Rigney who flew into Port Sudan from U.S. to join us. No commercial carrier offered flights to Khartoum, where visas are more expensive/complicated and U.S. State Dept considers the city a Level 3 security risk.

Kandu motoring into Port Suakin, Sudan. The ruins of Suakin Island as a backdrop.

Mohammed Abubaker awaiting Kandu’s arrival.

Hailed Suakin Port Control on VHF Ch16 and 14 an hour before arrival. Not until 06h30 when we were almost at the entrance did we get a response, which after answering the standard questions (port of registry, size of yacht, number of crew and nationality, etc.), came immediate port entry permission and a kind welcome. Once well within the channel, we hugged the ruined city of Suakin Island to avoid the shoals of the channel’s opposite (western) side. Nearing the end of the season, we were the only sailing yacht except for an unmanned yacht anchored and covered in Red Sea dust. We anchored just south of the island, before the fishing skiffs, in about 20’: good holding on mud bottom. We were so guarded from swell that below deck, I thought we were in a well-protected marina.

Mohammed Abubakar and Eric Rigney clearing customs and immigration in Kandu’s cockpit.

Per my most recent email arrival estimate, the friendly Mr. Mohammed Abubaker (

mo****************@gm***.com

) was there to greet us, fresh local bread in hand. His English is excellent. He’s tall, handsome, cheerful, and has a deep bass voice, features worthy of a character-actor movie career. His white fiberglass panga/skiff served as our dinghy dock, from which he boarded our dinghy to our yacht, and efficiently collected our documents:

1 passport picture per person for the shore pass
1 passport photocopy per person
1 crew list

Charge for clearing the four of us in, including his commission, $220 USD.

He returned with our shore passes within a couple hours. Additionally we requested 600 liters of diesel (US$0.70 per liter delivered to shore in our gerry jugs), 2 10GB data SIM cards (US$15 ea), and to exchange US$140 (25 Sudanese pounds to the USD, an excellent exchange rate with the understanding that he’d buy back what we didn’t use). Our diesel jugs returned full within 3-4 hrs. Mohammad lent us his portable WiFi hotspot device gratis, so we could spread decent Internet joy among the crew installing one of the 2 SIM cards into the hotspot. (We hadn’t had Internet since leaving India, as Eritrea doesn’t really have anything useable).

Suakin Island ruins. After 100 years of no maintenance, the coral block buildings fell apart.

Visiting the Ruins of Suakin costs 10 Sudanese pounds per person (US$0.40) for an all day pass. Each time we walked around, we bumped into a friendly local authority ready to describe the ruins in his best English; very kind. After visiting the local museum a few days later, a short taxi or motorized rickshaw drive away, we had greater appreciation for what we were seeing, how old the site was and how quickly it fell apart.

That evening, Mohammed drove us in his worn four-door Mercedes to an excellent local herb-grilled chicken restaurant. Reading how traditional Muslim Sudan is, whenever ashore, Leslie opted to wear her full body Muslim dress and head scarf so as not to draw too much added glares against herself and the family in general. We saw many more men than women out at night (women made up only about 5% of those out after dark). Our tab for the delicious dinner of 4 chicken halves, 3 bean plates, fresh bread, 5 small water bottles and 2 Cokes was $14 total. No flatware or napkins, yet all food establishments have set up a water can with working spiget and a bar of soap to wash before and after. Air dry always.

Eric Rigney, Mohammed Abubakar, Nick Rigney at Port Suakin in front of Mohammed’s car.

BBQ Chicken Restaurant in the adjacent village.

Mr. Mohammed answered all our questions and solved all our visiting requests. He was our dream official and guide. He drove us to the open market for fruits and vegetable provisioning, as well as shops that sold UHT boxed milk, pasta, and canned goods. He then drove our provisions and us back to the “dinghy dock.”

Leslie wheeling and dealing the local Sudanese merchants for quality produce.

He found a replacement 30l gerry jug for one of ours which its lid no longer held tight. And he arranged a taxi fellow in Port Sudan to act as a city tour guide (Mr. Gafar’s English not so good, so he called Mohammed to clarify whenever necessary. It worked fine). We took a 1hr public bus from Suakin to Port Sudan (US$1/pp). Mr Gafar met up with us and drove us around the port, took us to a fish market, to a wonderfully rustic restaurant for grilled lamb, and an open market for more fruits and vegetables, (we didn’t know how to ask to see the handicrafts bazaar), and drove us back to Suakin Island. There, he took us to the museum and to an awesome local bazaar to buy smaller aluminum jebbanas for serving Sudanese coffee. Total cost for driving us all around: $20.

Leslie and the boys decided to relax on the boat, while my brother, Nick and I went ashore to find some local dinner adventure. We stumbled across a small popular shack serving among other items a traditional bean dish, sprinkled with cheese, topped with fresh chopped tomatoes, onions, and greens, as well as a medium spicy oil sauce. They called it the “special.” Served with the local leavened pita-like bread, we dug into it with relish tearing pieces of bread to dip like tortilla chips at home and drinking small glasses of hot, sweet mint tea. Total cost for two, including 2 teas each: US$2. Note: I’ve been traveling awhile in ancient-culture nations, so I’m perfectly ok to eat with my hands, no flatware, communal plates, bread tossed on a rickety table, flies everywhere, goats, donkeys, etc. Tourists love it, tolerate it, or hate it. I happen to love it . . . a lot. The locals watch us with curiosity and esteem when we partake in their ways.

Early the next morning, Nick and I went to a flimsy blue coffee shack Mohammed recommended, and enjoyed strong ginger-flavored Turkish-style coffee served from a small aluminum jebbana, complete with a filter of dried grass stuffed in the jebbana’s spout. The ceramic shot glasses were half filled with granulated sugar. We spoke in informal international hand language. Flies, goats, donkeys, cats, hawks, local stares, dirt floors, rickety old timber construction, table about to fall down? . . . Loved it!!!

Clearing out with Mohammed was equally as simple. The cost was low, don’t remember because the 30l jug filled with diesel was included in the over all price. Another boat arrived, a French charter captain who’s sailed this part of the world for 14 years. Mohammed highly recommended we speak with Captain Jack. Jack gave us advice that we are exercising:

On the way to Egypt, stop at Sanganeb Reef & lighthouse to snorkel, buy a T-Shirt (US$15 ea. supports the workers), and tour the lighthouse. Per the Red Sea Pilot Guide, we just tied up to the lighthouse pier’s bollard for a couple hours as the current and wind gently kept the boat off the pier. We did all that Captain Jack suggested, enjoyed the pristine beauty and then easily untied and took off. Wonderful experience, super friendly people.
Check into Port Ghalib, cheaper, faster, and friendlier. Make arrangements with one of the two Egyptian Suez Canal agents before proceeding. Visit Luxor.
Skip Hurghada where a new bureaucrat charges boats a lot to check in again and all other costs are high.
Check/clear out of Port Suez after visiting the pyramids.
Stop in Ismailia, required anyway, and visit the wonderful yacht club but don’t leave it to go further ashore as we would have already cleared out of Egypt from Port Suez. Stay until the weather is good, but hopefully spend a couple days at the club: laundry, showers, etc. Hire a pilot.
Drop the pilot off in Port Said, but for the sake of your boat, sanity, and wallet (damage due to ship’s wake, clearing out is harder, more expensive, etc.), keep on going, preferably to Cyprus. From there, cheap flights can take you to the rest of the eastern Med for a lot less money and hassle than arriving by boat.

Suakin, Sudan ruins

Well that’s our experience and learning. We were one of 28 boats this season to stop in Suakin. We heard only 18 stopped in Eritrea. With Mohammed’s help, nothing could be simpler, easier, and more enjoyable than stopping in Suakin, Sudan. He really made it a great experience. If you have more time, I hear you might wish to see Sudan’s pyramids, precursor to the larger, newer Egyptian “copies.” If you want to scuba dive, you need to make arrangements ahead of time through the dive companies in Port Sudan. Most scuba operating boats are liveaboards and in high season, depart for a week at a time. We didn’t dive because all the boats were booked and there were no day trips available. We don’t carry our own dive equipment on Kandu. Just no space.

Eric's Posts, Experiential, Indonesia, Log Notes

Delorme LogNotes by Eric, Tanjung Puting, Kalimantan Sept 2017

February 9, 2018 admin

Sept 30 2017 7:12 am – Fab 3d trip up jungle river, close up viewing of wild endemic apes, macaque monkeys, Proboscis monkeys, birds of all sorts especially hornbills, reptiles, insects, & plants. Inland excursions day & night to witness scheduled and much anticipated Orangutans feasting on bananas and milk at the feeding stations. We traveled, ate, & slept aboard 3-decker Borneo river boat w/ Captain, guide, cook, & 2 deck hands which meant we did little but enjoy the experience. Went with 2 couples from 2 boats, so 8 of us. No cooking – food and drinks provided. Another 2 yachtie couples rented a smaller river boat for their 5. We buddy boated up & down the river. Smaller boats maneuver better. Saw many boats with just a couple on board. Recommend the experience highly. The key is a good guide w/strong English, or you miss half of the education and things you can/might see.

We went w/Mr. Bain. His guide, Usup (like YOU-soup) is great. Cost 2M rupiah ($180) pp all expenses included. We booked only 2 days in advance. Celebrated Trent’s 14th on board, rafted to other boat, tied off Eco Lodge dock. 1 sailor had toured western Amazon during rainy season said Amazon had much more life. We’re in the dry season, & the park is smaller. But he thought the Tanjung Puting National Park was fantastic & thoroughly enjoyed the different and truly extraordinary wildlife. Took lots and lots of pics.

Bryce anticipating our movement into Sekonyer River.

Entrance statude to Tanjung Puting Nat’l Park

SV Ocelot and Grand Cru stopped to gawk at male orangutan. We joined in too!

Orangutan male isolated in the jungle

Rare sight to see proboscus monkeys swimming in fright.

Two male proboscis monkeys

Young female proboscis monkey

Leslie Rigney catching a glimpse of a female proboscis monkey and baby.

Dominant male proboscis monkey.

Upclose view of female proboscis monkey and baby.

Male Proboscis Leader watching over his group

Guide made Leslie a fern hat .

Playing Uchre

DCIM105GOPRO

We plan to sail tomorrow if we can repair mainsail furler. If not, will limp along with trysail instead until we can get to a place where we can repair it. Not the end of the world. Just means we travel a touch slower.

BTW: Nick Rigney is scheduled to join us on the 8th. Woohoo!

Sept 30 2017 13:48 – Repaired the furler. Transferred fuel from port to stbd tank. All is well. Decided to leave earlier for Belitung. Must go slowly. Less than 4.5 kts over 300 nm to arrive at daylight 10/3, 3 days Anchored. Squalls, lightning, countercurrent, & headwind suggested to me that we anchor the night & start first light, WITH the elements. So happy with our decision to wait out the storm!

Wild male orangutan in Tanjung Puting National Park, Kalimantan, Indonesia.

For more Indonesia Orangutan photos, visit our photo gallery!

Bryce's Posts, Experiential, Marquesas

My Va’a Experience, Marquesas, Part III

September 20, 2016 admin 6 Comments

Day before race day . . .

I had a great sleep that night and woke up with excitement. I packed light bringing swim trunks, tank top, glasses, hat, one pair of shorts, and my pillow. Hopping in the bus, I remembered that I had forgot to pack my toiletries, but I was too excited to go on the ferry than whine about missing shampoo. Inside the ferry was nice and cool. Our group chose to make camp upstairs even though the food court was downstairs. I was hungry and the boat ride would be an hour, so I bought myself two small egg rolls. Coming into the bay was amazing the water was so clear and the color was super light baby blue. We left the ferry and took a bus over to the spot where all the pirogues were so we could set them up and try them out before the race. The group attached alma and carried the boat into the water. My group (Team A) hopped in the pirogue and gave it a test ride. In my opinion even though the pirogue weighed 155 kg, it went faster than the ones in Taiohae because it just glided.

The helmsman said it had a small turn to the left but no big deal so we left it as it was and brought it back to the pirogue holder. Then we were escorted over to the classroom where we would be sleeping since we were staying in a school. Each Team had their own classroom with 16 mattresses inside. Getting settled in was a little hard having to move all the desks and chairs over to the side so we could put the mattresses down and pull out our bedding. Some like me went to the market to buy things for the race or for pleasure. Dinner we were told was going to start in one hour. The kids bought snacks and watched volleyball until it was time for tomato sauce on rice and fish. It wasn’t the best meal but they had fresh apples and oranges to chose from. I was so happy when I bit into that apple, I almost screamed; good apples are hard to come by in Taiohae. After dinner we settled down on our matts and had a long conversation about technique that lasted till late at night. But I fell asleep at 10:00 p.m. I had 5 hours of sleep till our wake time at 3:00 in the morning.

Race day . . .

As we woke up early in the morning, we were told to pack everything up and head out with the paddles and water tubes. The teams all walked in the P.E. building so that the refs could give everyone a pep talk before we headed out to the course. The helmsmen had their own group meeting, and once both meetings were over, everyone got together to give a moment of silence to a couple of kids that were shot and murdered two weeks prior. The five minutes passed and each team walked over to their pirogues and placed them in the water. The entire group A hopped into the pirogues and paddled off to the starting line. I was in Team A. Sitting in the pirogue next to the starting line I started to get nervous. My whole body was electrically excited. It took a long time to get all 42 boats in line. Vanene Hoe!! Each and every pirogue was paddling trying to get in front. Then BOOM – our pirogue hit another and another pirogue hit ours. Everything was crazy. On the left of us, one pirogue tried to capsize us by flipping our alma, when one of our motors yelled at him in Marquesan freaking the paddler out making him drop our alma back into the water. Finally, we got out of that mess and continued paddling at a moderate speed. Then at the final bit of that leg, our captain gave the three hip call telling us to go faster. We finished in 5^th for our 14-17 year cadet category (The categories are by age: 10-12, 12-14, 14-17), the highest category. Each leg of the race was 5 km; there would be 9 legs. Up next was Group B on the second leg. Since each middle school had one boat and two teams, we need to swap out paddlers. Firstly, the pirogue that just raced would try and find the motorboat that had the other group of paddlers. Secondly, the previous group would hop out of the pirogue for the next group to get in. There was one super strict rule, if anyone hopped into the water without a life jacket on, that team would be disqualified. So finally once the next team was settled in the pirogue, the previous team would board the motorboat that would follow the team that was paddling. Group B finished in 7^th then we hopped back in and paddled over to the starting line. The 3^rd leg was against the clock. That meant we would have to go faster than normal speed to get a good place. Each pirogue had 30 seconds before the next one would take off. Our group beat the guys in front, giving a lot of effort to do so. For that leg we finished in 6^th. Then Group B came in and finished the fourth leg in 7^th place. At this point, I was getting tired, but I told myself I was going to pull this off. So I swam over to the pirogue, jumped up in and we paddled over to the starting line for the 5^th leg. In a few minutes we were off and all the paddlers lifted their pirogues to plane. At halfway mark, I started to get tired, but we kept going. In the end, I was really tired but we placed 10^th. Being really tired, I got out of the pirogue and sat down in the motorboat and munched on a granola bar. For the 6^th leg, the boy replacement came in and swapped out for the one that was too tired. For that leg, Group B was looking at a 6.1 km. I was too tired to cheer them off. For 45 minutes to 1 hour I slept on the motorboat trying to recover my strength till our team said “Bryce, time to go.” Group B had finished in 12^th place.

Note the ferry motorboat on the right. That was the kind of boat I napped on.

Back in the pirogue, we paddled to the starting line and waited for the referees to say go for the 7^th leg. I said to myself I was going to give it all. READY, SET, GO!! We darted off lifting our boat out of the water and going at a normal medium to fast speed. Halfway, I was completely wiped out but I kept paddling. I couldn’t move my arms any faster, but I just kept paddling. Then the other pirogues started to pass us. We were coming close to last when, “Hip Hip Hip,” we paddled harder passing one boat. When we crossed the finish line, I almost fainted. I had nothing left, no more inside. We found the motorboat and I crawled aboard. I sat myself down and fell asleep. I had given everything, and we finished in 13^th as well. At the 9^th leg, our 14 member team took anyone that wasn’t tired to fill a pirogue. They finished hard and placed another 13^th. The race was over. The paddlers all took apart their pirogues and placed them on the holders. Before the announcements, we ate some snacks, fruit, bread, and a few cookies.

The dance . . .

During the announcements of what places everyone got, our group practiced our Marquesan Haka dance that we would shortly perform. When the judges called us up everything went quiet then our dance leader started it: “Hoe vaka kae kae kae ha!” Our guys all walked out with necklaces on and got in formation. The chief dance leader started ‘Smack’ talking in Marquesan. He was looking at us trying to get a glimpse to see if we were ready. Then the chief gave us the cue and we all started dancing and chanting. It was fantastic! I was in the back since I didn’t know all the words. Then we stopped, the second chief walked up and started talking ‘Smack’ in Marquesan. No one else in the audience knew what he was saying. He put on a great show. All were afraid of him. The chief stopped and all at once the group started dancing and chanting. It was a great experience for me. As we were walking back all the people made way, one of the chiefs jumped at the crowd scaring them all away.

Our team was of course curious what places we scored in the race, so my dad asked around and told us the scores. Combined we placed 13^th in the highest/oldest cadet category and 20^th overall out of 42 pirogue teams. I felt we did way better than expected.

That same day we grabbed our bags and headed back to the ferry where we would return to Tahiti. One hour later and we were settled in on the boat, buying snacks, since most of us were still pretty hungry.

The boat was nice and air-conditioned so I fell asleep. I woke up as the team was getting off the boat. I snatched my stuff and headed off the ferry to where the bus would take us back to the dormitories where we had previously stayed. My dad met us at the rooms and told me he would meet us at the airport the next morning. I undressed, took a shower and went to bed. It had been a really long day.

The return home . . .

“Aaaaaaaaahhhh we’re gunna do Paranoid!” I turned off my ipod alarm and woke everyone else up. Prof Cathy Brunel gathered everyone and we waited with our luggage for the bus. In 30 minutes, the bus came and our team loaded in. The bus ride felt sad. The kids were feeling low. They didn’t want to leave as they all had a great experience. At the airport my dad showed up with his camera and shot videos of us waiting, checking in, and boarding the plane. My dad and I both sat together and recounted stories of our time in Tahiti. For the flight back each paddler went to sleep. Looking at Nuku Hiva from above, I felt a comfort, for I knew I had come back home with yet another unforgettable experience. For me it was very challenging, but I had a great time with my Va’a piers and I enjoyed getting to know them better. In sum, I loved it!

Vanena hoe!!!

Bryce's Posts, Experiential, Marquesas

My Va’a Experience, Marquesas, Part II

September 18, 2016 admin

Bryce Rigney and V-1 — Bryce Rigney with V-1 getting ready to train.

Tahiti bound . . .

At 6:30 a.m. my mom, Trent and I left Kandu and motored the dinghy to shore so that Trent and I could catch the bus to school. We entered the school gates at 7:00 a.m. I was ready and on time. The team paddlers showed up one by one until it was time to load into the airport bus and head to the airport, an hour and a half away. The team coaches rounded up all the paddles and life jackets and loaded them into the bus separately as the paddlers seated themselves. On the way to the airport lumberjacks, cutting down trees, stopped the bus. The roadway was cleared in ten minutes and we moved on. After almost two hours of being in the bus we arrived; I was ready.
All the kids checked in, got their tickets, and bought food for the plane ride. We would fly from Nuku-Hiva to lay over in Hiva-Oa before setting off to Tahiti. An hour passed before we were allowed into the plane to pick our seats. I hadn’t been on a plane for a long time. I was so excited and overjoyed. During take off, it was super cool looking out the window seeing the ocean and Nuku-Hiva from above.

Nuku Hiva looking down from the airplane.

Not long after, we deplaned in Hiva-Oa and waited to re-board. All the kids sat down at the airport snack lounge and talked until an announcement said that the plane was ready and we would re-board soon. The passengers again seated themselves and as soon as everyone was settled in the plane, it took off. I sat next to a very nice French lady and practiced my French with her. Eventually I tired, put on my headset and took a nice long nap. I woke up for the landing; flying over the coral reef lagoon was spectacular. I was super pumped to visit a ‘big’ city like Papeete.

Papeete airport here we come. — Papeete airport – the Marquesans have landed…and an American!

When the plane came to a stop, everyone grabbed their carry-on belongings and walked to the airport baggage claim. As the luggage came down the conveyor, we each grabbed our bags and walked outside to the lobby. My dad greeted us and showed us the way to the bus that would drive us to our dorm for the next four nights.

Our team was separated into two rooms of boys and girls. Coach Cathy gave the assistant coach the key to the boys’ room so we could unpack and get ready for dinner. We left on foot at 6:00 p.m. to the high school where we would eat dinner. My Marquesan teammates were a bit intimidated by the local Tahitian students. To make it easier for the Marquesan kids, the school provided a private dinning room that first night. Coach Cathy told everyone we would be waking up at 5:30 in the morning to eat breakfast. We walked the 30 minutes back to the shared dorm rooms, traded off taking showers in the single shower, and went to bed. It was a great first day!

Visiting Tahiti . . .

Wednesday morning we got dressed and headed for breakfast at the same school where we had had dinner the night before. Once finished we boarded a waiting school bus that drove us to a high school for a planned tour. It was a cooking school, so lunch was fantastic. The whole tour took about four hours, and I hardly understood any of it. After the tour we took another bus over to the commercial center of the city where we were given a 1-1/2 hour chance to shop. We were split into groups of girls and guys. My dad soon met up with us and took my group to several different stores. That day, I bought a blue leather Quiksilver wallet and an ice cream. The others bought expensive carbon fiber paddles ($240USD), T-shirts, and shorts. Our time was up and the bus drove us back to the dormitory. Everyone unloaded and we soon took off to eat dinner.

The next morning was much the same. We woke up at 5:30 a.m., headed for breakfast, and waited for the bus that would take us to another school. Instead of going to the school with the others, I went with my dad shopping. I bought swim trunks, sandals, deodorant, and gum. Then we took off to a Tahitian television station where my dad was going to be interviewed on live TV Premier 1. On the TV show, he talked about our stay in the Marquesas, his old job at Sony Pictures and mom’s old job at LA Opera.

Polynesian Premier TV Station Interview for Fare Mahoe. — Polynesian Premier TV Station Interview for the Fare Ma’ohi Monday thru Friday noon show.

It was darned cool to watch him being interviewed on TV. He did a great job. We left the studio and went shopping again. Before hitting the stores, we grabbed a bite to eat at McDonald’s for the heck of it, and then we went back to shopping. In the city, I bought two tank tops and another for my brother, one pair of pants for me and another for my brother. I also got a fanny pack and my dad bought a dive watch for Trent. We had a great time looking around Papeete’s shops and open market. It felt as if I were back in America (except everything was a lot more expensive and all in French). It was nice to experience the luxury of having a wide selection of things to buy.

Being Thursday meant that tomorrow we would be leaving for Moorea, waking up at 4:00 in the morning to do so. We ate dinner at the high school again, came back to the dormitories, and went to bed.

The downtown Papeete open food marketplace as seen from upstairs.

Bryce's Posts, Educational, Marquesas

My Va’a Experience, Marquesas, Part I

September 16, 2016 admin 4 Comments

Bryce Rigney carrying a borrowed V-1 after racing well. — Bryce Rigney carrying a borrowed V-1 after racing well against his college teammates.

The most respected sport in all of French Polynesia . . . ? The answer is va’a, Tahitian for outrigger canoeing. This is a sport for real athletes. Va’a involves endurance, strength, killer technique, innate talent, and most importantly, teamwork. It is also one of the few ways to earn Marquesan respect. Other ways include becoming a prolific fisherman, enrolling in their local school, or having your body tattooed from head to toe. My name is BRYCE RIGNEY and I can check two of these off my list. I have been attending a public Marquesan secondary school and I’m a part of the school’s paddling team, seated as my team’s faharo. In two months Marquesas will send 14 of their best college (secondary school) students to represent them in Moorea in the prestigious Eimeo Race where we’ll battle it out against 42 other French Polynesian schools and one team from Hawaii.

Images of what's to come! — Images of what’s to come!

In the beginning . . .

It all started in mid-October 2015 with the beginning of the school’s new paddling program for kids 14 and older. The first after-school paddling sessions were difficult and crazy. Forty kids showed up on the first day, each wanting to learn how to paddle. But there were only 15 paddles. Fortunately, the instructors brought their own paddles to share. For boats, we paddled double-hulled outrigger canoes, one V-12 and a V-6. The word “V-12” is short for “va’a 12,” which is a pirogue (French for outrigger canoe) built for 12 paddlers. FYI – A mix of French, Tahitian, and Marquesan are spoken in the Marquesas. Anyway, so instead of one long canoe for 12 people, with two long wooden arms called aito, they attach two V-6’s together to make one double-hulled canoe. A double-hulled canoe is much more stable than a single-hulled canoe with a small outrigger, an important feature when just starting to learn how to paddle an outrigger canoe. So, a V-3 holds three people, and a V-1 is for a single paddler. To create a double-hulled V6, they tied two V-3’s together. Together, the two double-hulled canoes carried 18 students at a time. It was obvious to the instructors that none of us were in shape for paddling and that va’a was a new sport for all of us. Being it was the first time for most, including me; we tired easily those first weeks.

Bryce Rigney paddling with his college piers as Fahoro in a V-6 pirogue.

After 3 weeks, the number of kids showing up for practice dwindled to 20. That’s when the real training began. We started with 3km tours without rest, which progressed to 4km tours, then doubled to two 4km tours with a stop between tours, and then a 6km tour without a break. After two months of paddling, 18 kids remained. That’s when the college sports instructor, Cathy, informed all paddlers that there would be a 42km, 9-stage race around the island of Moorea, to be held in two months, and that from the 18 remaining kids, only 14 would be chosen to represent the entire Marquesas archipelago. All the kids were shocked when she told us. Training stepped up yet again. No longer just Mondays and Wednesdays, we were told to come on Tuesdays and Saturdays as well. At that time, I started to doubt whether I liked the sport enough to endure the training. Each day was 4km tour day (YAY!! . . . NOT!!) with a 1km “cherry” sprint on top. At the end of each practice we were exhausted, having worked practically every muscle in our bodies. Another month passed and the 4km tours were getting easier. That was when coach Cathy and the trainers said that in a week they would decide who would represent the Marquesas in this year’s Eimeo race.

Being that we were getting close to the day of the race, I decided to buy myself a custom wooden outrigger canoe paddle, made by hand by of one of the other paddler’s dad. There were many reasons why I wanted my own paddle. Everyday at paddle practice, we would get whatever paddle the trainers handed us. I had to get acquainted with each paddle, adapting to a different weight, texture, and length. Second, when my mom wasn’t using her custom paddle, I’d try to borrow it. But sometimes she’d be paddling at the same time, so I couldn’t use it. I no longer wanted the stress of wondering if I could or couldn’t use her paddle. I just wanted my own. Thirdly I thought it would be a great souvenir to take with me from our around the world sailing trip. For just $80 US, I could have my own handmade paddle. After just one week of waiting, the masterpiece was in my hands. I was excited to test it out and show it off. Being a non-practice day, the day I took possession of it, I took out a friend’s V-1 and tested the new instrument. It was incredibly light and the length was perfect. At the end of the 4km paddle test-drive, I was satisfied with my investment: those 80 dollars were definitely worth it. To really make it mine, I decided to add a little something special to set it apart from other paddles; I carefully placed a Hinanao vahine beer sticker on the blade. The first time my teammates saw my new paddle, they admired it.Team selection . . .

Monday, three weeks before the Eimeo Race, training was intense. There were three teams. I was part of team 1 and sat in the first seat (Fahoro). Seated behind me were the two best girl paddlers. In seat four was the paddle shaper’s son, Jordi. Then sat the biggest paddler in our paddle group, Keoni, followed by the school’s best helmsman, Raphael, a French kid. Our pirogue was to verse two other canoes in a 4km practice race around Taiohae Bay. One of the opposing canoes consisted of four of the counselors and two strong teen boys. They would be our greatest threat. Frankly the third boat isn’t worth mentioning. Vanena hoe!!! And with that Tahitian shout, the teams were off and paddling. Each member of the three pirogues were paddling at once, trying with each stroke of their paddles to lift their pirogues out of the water, working ferociously to get their boat to plane or glide in order to take the lead. The counselors’ boat quickly took the lead with us right behind. One and half kilometers into the race, little had changed. When the counselors’ pirogue made the first turn around the anchored sailboats and toward the big wharf/fuel dock, our boat gunned it: everyone pushing, rowing, and breathing in perfect unison. Soon we were side by side, us versus them. After five minutes of intense paddling our pirogue took the lead. Once we were one V6 length ahead, I slowed the pace down, maintaining our glide without tiring us out before the finish line. Over the next 2 km, we maintained our boat-length lead. With only a half kilometer to go, our pirogue decided to step it up and finish hard. The captain ordered a three “hip” tempo. By the end of the 4km race, our boat finished first with the distance of two V6’s between us. I don’t even remember what happened to the third boat.

My team's V-6 is in front! — My team’s V-6 is in front during a sprint!

That finish signaled the end of that day’s practice too. After carrying the pirogues out of the surf and onto the turf for overnight storage, the professor called everyone over. She announced, “These are the students who will race in Moorea. Pirogue team set A – Bryce, Keoni (the girl), Jordi, Keoni (the guy), Esperance, and Raphael.” I was super excited. We would remain the same group as we had just raced. She then announced the members for Pirogue team set B. She explained that these were the two teams that would switch off paddling the one canoe around Moorea over the 9 stages. The only bad thing was that with only three weeks left before the big race, rowing practice would only get harder, and it did.

The next week, practice started as normal, with two 4 km tour, but with an added capsize drill at the end of the second tour. The following week, training ramped up more. It transformed into a single 8 km non-stop tour. At the end of training, we were all beat. I questioned whether I would have the stamina for the Moorea race. On the final week before we were to be air-bound, Cathy told us that in addition to racing around Moorea, the guys had to practice the traditional Marquesan warrior dance called haka putu, to be performed in front of all the other Eimeo racers. The other guys and I took each opportunity that week to practice our dance: before paddling, after paddling, and in-between lunches at school. For all the other male teammates, it was easy to dance and chant since they grew up with the dance and spoke Marquesian. But for me, it was a challenge. Memorizing the chant was the hardest, but I knew I could do it. On Wednesday, Cathy huddled all the kids over to remind us of what to bring for the trip: limited to two bags, lots of protein bars for the intervals between stages when we’d be on the team’s support motorboat, and money for the things we would surely want to buy in Tahiti. Everyone prepared for Tuesday’s departure, the start of our small adventure to Tahiti and Moorea.

For Monday’s practice, the day before we were to fly out, only a handful of the kids came to paddle. The two V6 pirogues were required to paddle 8 km. The first half we paddled at a moderate pace; the second, at a faster pace. Even though it was 8km our teams were ready for more, well worked but not exhausted.

That night I packed six t-shirts, six shorts, seven pairs of underwear, four pairs of socks, sandals, pillow, blanket, rain jacket, sun glasses, hat, iPod (for music), and toiletries. I was so excited to travel by airplane and to explore a completely different island from the one I was use to. In the morning I packed a few more things for the race: my life jacket and my good-luck paddle.

All that rowing — Benefits of all that rowing!!

Bryce's V-1 outrigger drawing — Bryce’s V-1 outrigger drawing

The Rigneys' Great Adventure