The Marquesas Islands
We arrived, we made landfall. After 39 days, 2 hours at sea
travelling a total of 4400 nautical miles we have anchored in Baie Tahauka,
Hiva Oa, Iles Marquises. What an incredible voyage.
It was all what we expected it to be but there were moments,
hours even, when it wasn’t. We left Victoria on April 30, 2013, paused in Sooke
for a last shot of fuel and headed out the Straits of Juan de Fuca. Do you have
any idea for how long you can see Mt. Baker? Jesus, that’s a big mountain. Our
goal was to get 200 miles offshore so as to avoid any nasty gales, or other sea
states that might frighten Tra. From there, our true sailing journey began.
God the Pacific is a big ocean. The swells are big, the sky
is big and the horizon goes on forever. A big surprise about the Pacific Ocean?
Calm waters. Seriously calm. No wind, none. Well, maybe just enough to slap the
sails around creating the most heart cringing noise. But it is the ocean and soon the winds will
begin to blow again. We had one gale, which was enough for Tra. For the most
part, the winds blew in the right direction and we could comfortably sail
south. We watched the numbers of our position count down and the thermometer
count up.
As we climbed out of layers of wool and thermal underwear,
we saw the sea change colour. Out, 200 miles from shore, the ocean is the most
incredible colour blue. A juicy gem colour blue. The sky is much like it is
anywhere, sometimes cloudy and sometimes blue. And yes, there are the most
infinite numbers of stars in the sky and the moon is beyond-belief-bright out
there.
Birds were our constant companions. Our first meaningful
interaction with a bird was one week in. He landed on deck looking a little
flustered. The most interesting thing about Ted? Ted was not a seabird. He had
a long beak for digging things out of the sand and spindly legs and not a
webbed foot to speak of. We had a shore bird aboard. He stayed for almost for 2
days. He spent his time next to the chimney keeping warm and pooping all over the
cabin top. What Ted was doing out so far, we’ll never know.
Tra was on watch one night when a screeching-trilling noise
sent her scrambling down the companionway. She didn’t hear it again but told
Brad. They both heard it the next night. The third night, the noise kept Brad
wondering. The fourth night it was ridiculous. With flashlights blazing, we
could see that we were being surrounded by birds. They would circle the boat
screaming at us and only at night. These “sea-bats” finally stopped coming at about
10°N.
We also enjoyed the company of a tiny little bird we called
Fuzzy Pearl. We were graced by a huge handsome white blue-beaked bird we called
Corbert (all French like) but then we were duped by his younger cousin, Chucky.
Chucky landed on the solar panel above the cockpit and was good company for a
while; until he began to shit all over. Not only were his manners a mess, he
would not leave when politely prompted. Brad spent a night battling Chucky. At
one point, Tra found them facing off in the cockpit. Brad was on the side of
the deck, brandishing the boat hook while Chucky stood his ground in the centre
of the cockpit. After crapping all night all over the boat, we finally got him
to understand we meant business and he left the following morning. Chucky was a
bastard.
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| Chucky |
We did spend time with a very large group of humpback whales
as well being escorted many times by dolphins and once we “bumped” into a
turtle. He was ok we think. Flying fish were everywhere. They come flying out
of the water and zoom through the air, about 3 feet above the surface, and fly
for at least 50 feet, skipping over waves. They look like dragonflys.
We caught delicious fish. First came the tuna, fresh sashimi
anyone? Brad hooked the very first one and scurried down the ladder to wake Tra
by shoving it a foot in front of her face. This is true, there’s a photo. As
the water temperature climbed, the tuna became dorado and we caught more of the
these than we could eat so a few went back. One showed Brad who’s boss and
after 3 minutes of slapping him around the ankles, making him dance while Tra
laughed, the dorado gave a mighty heave and threw himself back into the ocean.
That was the 6th one that day. They are big strong fish and
sometimes it was a blood-splattering mess getting them carved up. But so worth
the fantastic fish tacos we ate a number of times.
Cooking was challenge to the degree Tra never expected. On
one tack, when the boat is heeled over, raw eggs slide out of bowls, slide -
intact- across and off the counter and over the floor into another cabin
completely. Just when you think you are sailing along smoothly, a wave punches
the side of the boat and it’s all you can do to not put your face into the fry
pan with the fish. And then there are the “break-down seas.” Oh god, the
break-down seas. Swells come from one direction, the waves from another and the
wind from a third. There is no way to accomplish anything in the galley and
perish the First Mate who tries. She inevitably ends up in tears. Three times
to be exact. Three times she was tossed like a salad and with only two hands
and arms, food went flying, things burned and trying to keep the food that made
it to the plate, on the plate while you tried to eat it without getting thrown from
your seat, well, you get the picture. To Captain Brad’s credit, if the break-down
seas carried on for more than a day, he took over many of the first mate duties
to prevent the interior of the cabin from becoming as salty as the exterior.
Break-down seas aside, we had favorable winds and manageable
seas. We entered the doldrums (where the winds typically disappear) in a rain
storm. Holy cow, when it rains on the ocean, it rains. That was the first
shower we had; balancing in the cockpit, one hand holding on, the other holding
the bar of soap. We were so clean. We were lucky to spend only one day truly
becalmed in the doldrums. With no wind and little shade, we found our courage,
stripped down and jumped. Jumped into the big beautiful Pacific Ocean. Though
we couldn’t see the bottom, the chart told us it was 2,400 fathoms (which, if
you do the math, is insanely deep!). Suuhaa bobbed gently, never going too far
as we floated and tried not to think of all the other things moving about in
the waters around us. We went in twice. It felt delicious. We left the doldrums
the same way we entered them, in a rain storm. This one unleashed on us and it
took us no time to fill our water tank. We rinsed ourselves clean and watched
the salt wash away from all parts of the boat. The salt build-up was insane.
Crystal upon crystal, it was incredibly thick.
The equator was a milestone but it was sighting the island
of Hiva Oa that was the most exciting. Mountainous and green, it is so
beautiful. We skirted the eastern side and followed the island to Baie Tahuku
near the small town of Atuona, a port of entry. We slid in in the afternoon,
dropped our anchors and opened a special bottle of wine. We sat wide eyed, in
complete disbelief that we were here. Finally here.
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| Baie Tahuku |
