The upside of not shouting Monday 30 Mar 20

Have you ever noticed how the mainstream news services spend a lot of time shouting at each other? It’s not like they can’t hear one another, they’re all sitting in the same bloody studio. The purpose is to raise the stress the level and hopefully keep the attention of the viewer or listener. That props up ratings, sells more advertisements, and if they’re lucky and can out shout the competition they get a bigger share of the available ad revenue. My last trip through Phoenix Sky Harbor International Airport it didn’t matter which TV news was playing on the monitor, CNN or Fox. Everybody shouting. Same with much of talk radio, whether of conservative or liberal bent.

 

Shouting contributes to a stressful environment.

 

Cockpit crews wear headsets to talk on the radio or to each other. Well, maybe Neil doesn’t in the Airbus 350, and maybe Mike doesn’t in the “Queen of the Skies”. Both are British Airways captains and two of the best pilots I’ve ever had the opportunity to fly with. They both flew our little RV-6 back in our dirt dwelling days, leaving me more time to push buttons and take airspeed calibration data. Everybody won!  The RV-6 is a noisy little bugger and headsets are mandatory. I used an earplug style and offered them a Bose noise cancelling one and we enjoyed a reasonably quiet ambient noise background and excellent speech intelligibility. Same deal when I was flying around in helicopters with test pilots. Cockpit communications is crucial to efficient and safe operation of an aircraft.

 

It's no less so on a boat except things tend to happen a lot slower. We’re not closing on anything at 160 knots or more, but when one of the crew spots a bommie before the helmsman, you can bet we need to react fast because that means we’ve got just a few seconds to change course. Or perhaps sink. Take your pick.

 

We’ve found anchoring to be particularly stressful, partly because each of us has different ideas about what’s the best spot or adequate separation from other vessels, but the bigger reason is that with one of us at the helm and one on the foredeck looking down to find a decent patch of sand we have difficult communicating clearly. We’ve generally got one or both motors running when in close proximity to things that could smite us, and both engines mean more electrical power and greatly enhanced maneuverability. When we’re having to motor as within a bommie-riden atoll, we might as well make water with all that extra electricity, so we’ve got every noise maker going. It can be quite difficult for the helmsman to hear the bowman.  In these situations when communication begins to break down, frustration builds, stress levels go up, tempers may flare, and things might remain uncomfortable for a while after finally getting on the hook.

 

Hand signals are good, but I’ve finally concluded there’s a better way, especially after observing a couple of our Australian pals on SV Taipan who’ve been on a 20+ year circumnavigation and seem to really get on well. The secret seems to be Bluetooth enabled headsets which form a private intercom system, voice activated, allowing the bowman and helmsman to communicate in normal tone of voice or even almost a whisper. Excellent speech intelligibility.  Clear communications. No having to wave arms wildly, repeat oneself, get all worked up and angry. The frustration that morphs into anger isn’t at the other individual, it’s at the situation, but the other individual may take it personally.

 

After living aboard and cruising together since 2014, I finally decided enough was enough, and threw down for a set of private intercom Bluetooth headsets. Lots of cruising couples refer to them as “marriage savers”. Considering what a divorce would cost each of us in terms of emotional, financial and other turmoil, the headsets were a steal. Naturally they’re at Mike’s place in Albuquerque.  He was going to visit soon. Mike, can you check they work before the warranty expires?

As they say about haircuts Saturday 28 Mar 20




The only difference between a bad haircut and a good one is about 2 weeks.  Covid-19 has prompted a 3-meter separation rule here in French Polynesia, when one is allowed out in public at all.  There’s an upside to that.  I’m a young 61 now, and from a distance the haircut that Isabel recently gave me looks even better.  My once blond hair doesn’t look quite as gray.

 

There used to be an automobile painting chain in the US called Earl Scheib.  Their tag line was something like “we’ll fix and paint any door for $99.95 or some such.  They would paint an entire car for some ridiculously low price, but as we used to say, an Earl Scheib paint job looks a lot better from at least 50 feet away.

 

I cut Isabel’s hair a few days ago.  I like to think of it as the Earl Scheib of haircuts.  The difference is that unlike Earl Scheib paint jobs which went from mediocre to worse pretty quickly, Isabel’s haircut is continuing to improve.

 

Isabel got coerced into cutting a couple of Polish guys hair a few days ago.  They found out she cut mine and pretty much begged her to shear their noggins.  Now they’re happy campers, and even if they look in a mirror they’ll still be pretty darn pleased.  Might be good not to look at the back of their heads, but hey, they got what they paid for!

 

Our pals Pat and Celine were on board for 5 weeks recently.  Celine cut Pat’s hair with scissors!  She did a great job.  Pat couldn’t stop talking about what a great deal Medicare is.  He’s already had a hip replaced, and as a former athlete and extreme sport kinda guy, I’m betting he’ll have to get a few more body parts fixed in the next few years.  Good for him – the hip didn’t cost him a nickle.  Just had to turn 65 and qualify for socialized medicine.  I’m still trying to figure out why so many Americans hate the idea of a single payer medical system.  Take the worry and stress out of being able to go to the doc or get a part fixed, and perhaps we’d have a happier, more productive, less disfunctional workforce.  A level playing field that forces those knotheads in Washington to enjoy the same care as the rest of the population might prompt some improvement, but just like folks who can vote for their own pay raises, there’s no way they’ll want to share the same healthcare system as everyone else.

 

I’ll be puchasing health insurance a few more years – no rush to be 65.  That said, buying the international health insurance policy I just paid for means a $10,000 deductible, and no coverage for anything they can point to that involves a pre-existing condition.  I crashed an aircraft when I was 35, and the policy specifically states that anything relating to that is not covered.  Hopefully if I get cancer or some other dreadful ailment they won’t be able to claim it’s because I busted myself up into tiny pieces 26 years ago, but wonders never cease.  If you’re fixin’ to go cruising, you better be thinking real hard about how you’re going to handle health insurance.  It’s not about paying for a doctor visit or even a minor surgery – it’s about protecting your life’s savings from sudden depletion if something life threatening happens.

 

Being 61 doesn’t suck at all, except some of Isabel’s college friends think of me as that old man cradle robber.  Well, to heck with their age-discrimination attitude and good for me, I say!  At least I don’t have to get up and go to work Monday through Friday.

 

Pat and Celine departed French Polynesia for the US earlier than planned.  I had urged them to just hang out a few months and enjoy being here.  About time to check in and find out just how weird folks are acting around Bend, Oregon.  Hope they’ve got toilet paper.

I tot I taw a coconut? I did, I did! Saturday 28 Mar 20

With apologies to the creators of the Tweety Bird cartoon character. . .

 

Back when we were hanging out with SV Halcyon – John and Becca, co-captains, they had this young Danish guy on board.  Simon!  They rescued him from a Kon Tiki recreation exercise last year.  Anyway, we were fooling around on a remote motu on the South end of Toau having crab races and such, and we got an urge to enjoy some green coconuts.  Simon convinced himself (or perhaps we convinced Simon) that he could climb a nearby palm tree and bring some down.  My recollection isn’t terribly clear regarding how successful he was.

 

Where we’ve been anchored there are lots of coconut trees on the motus.  Doesn’t look like they’re being farmed for copra.  Most of them produce some pretty scrawny coconuts, but a few drop some big ones.  The ones that are kind of a brownie – gray and still have some water inside (yes, you can hear it when you shake them) are perfect for harvesting coconut flesh.  Isabel magically turns that into coconut milk for curries and coffee and tea and oatmeal and such – even gave a coconut milk rendering lesson recently.  That sure made some campers happy.

 

So the meat coconuts are the ones laying on the ground.  Mostly.  The ones still attached to the trees are still green, mostly.  In any case, it turns out the green ones are great for drinking the water from, and then spooning out the jelly-like flesh which is kind of tasty.  If one removes a bit of coconut water then installs a bit of rum things get even more interesting.  Best to have cold green coconuts, but one of our most awful hardships is not having enough refrigerator space to store green coconuts until they’re chilled, so we just have to make do.  Kind of like drinking cask ale in a British pub.

 

Anyway, the green ones in the trees are a bit of a palaver to get to without Simon around to risk his young neck.  Couple days ago, give or take, we found a rather short coconut tree heavily laden with very large green coconuts.  Well, I’m an engineer.  Used to be described by various coworkers as a bit of a McGiver type, and I got to thinking. . .

 

We’ve got this really multi-purpose telescoping aluminum pole with attachments such as boat hook, scrub brushes and mop head.  The mop head died recently and went in the bin, but I kept the attachment bit.  Turns out with a few hose clamps, a giant bolt that’s handy for moving an engine around, and a brand new Ginsu knife that I hid from Isabel, one can make a handy pruning tool.  I’m a pretty small guy, but with the telescoping pole and pruning attachment, we managed to score all the good lookin’ coconuts on that tree.  We’re in coconut fat city as they might say in New Orleans.

 

Remember Ginsu knives?  Back in the day when we used to visit the Arizona State Fair, the Ginsu knife demonstration and sales booth was a big crowd pleaser.  First the guy would slice a tomato paper thin, then he would saw a chunk out of a hammer, then he would slice another tomato just to prove how badass the blade was.  I always bought one or got suckered into buying a set.  Great blades, cheap crappy looking handles, but doggone handy altogether.

 

Last we heard they aren’t doing road shows anymore, so the last set I purchased for the boat was over the internet.  Amazon or Ebay or some such.  Isabel tried to make me get rid of all the extras, but I hid them instead, as they’re just such handy buggers.

 

Now she’s happy about having extra Ginsu knives, having had the all-round utility demonstrated to her.  Marital bliss ensues. . .

Quarantine extended Saturday 28 Mar 20




Well we were to self-isolate until April 5th, at which time life might begin to return to something a bit less “abnormal”.  That got extended by the government until April 15th, and at this rate it might get extended further.  Likely depends on any newly identified cases of covid-19.  French Polynesia has virtually stopped all inter-island air travel, and only essential personnel are allowed on the inter-island supply ships.  The last international flight, an Air Tahiti Nui Boeing 787, will depart tonight from Tahiti and then the doors will officially slam shut.  Or so we understand. . .

 

The world ARC (Atlantic rally cruisers) has been officially cancelled, however at least some of those that had already arrived in Nuku Hiva elected to secure their vessels at anchor and have a charter flight today from Nuku Hiva to Tahiti where they’ll board the international flight tonight.  Interestingly enough they’re all probably healthy as horses, having been at sea for weeks on end, but tomorrow they’ll arrive in Paris, exhausted after the very long flight and then get in line with zillions of others to clear into Europe.  What a great opportunity to expose themselves to covid-19!  Good thinking guys.

 

Weirder still is the possibility that they’ve just put their boats to bed in very rapid fashion and they’ve no idea when they may be allowed to return to French Polynesia.  The Marquesas are a pretty decent place to store a boat at anchor if it must be done – we did it for 7 weeks – but I’d really struggle with the notion of doing that for an indeterminate amount of time.

 

Of course their only other option was to either store the boat and fly away, or reprovision, make repairs, and sail away.  Only problem with sailing away is “where do you go”?  Sailing West doesn’t offer a bunch of options unless their home country is out there somewhere.  Until recently Fiji was an option if we could prove we either had the measles jab or anti-bodies for measles, but now they’ve slammed their doors too.  Sucks to be them.

 

We’re listening to their morning SSB net where all the boats check in with position, sailing conditions and any medical or other issues.  The World ARC is expensive to participate in, but it does come with benefits.  Perhaps the organization can lobby Fiji or some other country to let them in after a suitable quarantine period?  Some of the folks checking in, but it must be observed that the English sailor sound particularly chipper.  Stiff upper lip and all that – party in the rain and just hold your hand over your drink so it doesn’t get diluted.  Tough folks.  Many of the boats are within a couple hundred miles of us on their way to Papeete to see what fate awaits them.  We wish them luck!

 

We’re going to ease on up towards the Northeast corner of the atoll today, as the wind is finally piping up a bit and our anchorage is getting a bit choppy.  Moving within the atoll to ensure a safe anchorage is permitted, although there’s really nobody here to bust us anyway.

 

Reuters doesn’t report the news on the weekend.  I did download it this morning only to read the same thing from yesterday.  It’s almost as if nothing of import happens on the weekend, which isn’t so different than reality, really.  It used to be that the world news was on TV Monday through Friday for a half hour, and that was all the time necessary to bring up what was important.  Nothing has really changed except now the news organizations have generally sold out to ratings and selling adverts so sensationalism and “breaking news” and screaming at each other is what’s being served up.

 

We’re lucky all we get is Reuters.

The upside of being in the middle of nowhere Tuesday 24 Mar 20

We're anchored in an atoll called Raroia, which is a long oval thing. One pass on the Northwest side, the rest a bunch of sections of reef with many motus, small islets in some cases, rather long land masses in some places. The village is to the Southwest of the pass, located on one of the long sections, and there's also an airport on that bit of land, long enough for an ATR-72 to conduct terminal operations. The commercial airport means there is a firetruck, and trained emergency personnel. Power for the village is provided by a combination of a diesel generator and solar panels wired to battery banks.

Tonight at 0200 local time there's no moon above the horizon. According to my old friend Chevy, now just dust in the wind, one of the features of being and older guy is needing to get up in the night to use the bathroom. Given the squalls we've endured the last few days and the fact the wind is moving around the clock, it's good to have a look around anyway at various times of the night, verifying that the anchor is still secure. We use our AIS as an anchor alarm, and it continuously plots our position relative to the anchor. We've been painting quite a nice arc around the anchor point. We may have a full circle before the current weather disturbance moves through.

As I did my nightly (ahem) safety check I noticed how clear the sky is, how bright the stars are, and darned if there wasn't something really odd just a little South of East. Not a constellation I'm familiar with - fumbling around I find Isabels iPhone and turn on the Skyview app, do a quick calibration and voila! Jupiter, Mars and Saturn all nicely lined up a bit above the horizon. Darned if the International Space Station (ISS) hasn't just gone below the horizon. I think back to one of the times our pal Alvin was up there on that thing and we were emailing back and forth. He didn't see me moon him from our hot tub, but it was pretty bright in Phoenix that night, tough to pick me out of the clutter. Alvin has had a pretty interesting life and is still kicking high. At one time Chevy was Alvin's boss, and Chevy had a good life too. It's a shame his candle blew out early.

They turn the lights off at night in the village. There are one or two additional inhabited motus on the atoll where a few individuals farm pearls. It's dark out there. With no moon and no light polution the view is spectacular, and as we've only been in the Southern hemisphere for less than a year there are always new constellations to identify. It is satisfying to find the Southern Cross and perhaps hum a few bars to the song.

It's a big sky out there. We're a tiny boat. I can see the anchor lights of the other five boats we know about in the atoll, one close, the rest miles to the North. Ain't nobody but us chickens out here.

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Cruisers could be the ultimate preppers! 23 Mar 20

I used to think the whole prepper movement - those seemingly preparing for the zombie apocalypse - only existed in the fringes of society. It started to seem a little more mainstream when we noticed Costco selling very large containers of "nutritional biscuits" and purified water with long expiration dates. As Costco shareholders and members, we're sure the management knows how to make a profit and stock the shelves appropriately, and if they're selling that sort of stuff, well . . .

We used to live down the street from a large Mormon church. One of our "Jack Mormon" pals told us that it had a basement. Living area with a year's supply of food and water. And ammo. Don't know if he was just kidding, but it did come as a surprise. Mormons do look after one another.

We just had a look at the Monday Reuters news feed. Sounds like the current political administration is still fumbling the ball, and the Democrats and Republicans can't agree on an emergency funding bill. What a big surprise. Locally, our 14-day quarantine period now officially began on March 21st, and the rules have just gotten a bit more "interesting". Inter-island travel is prohibited without proper authorization. We've heard most inter-island domestic flights and virtually all international flights have been curtailed or completely canceled. Not sure about the facts. We just saw text of an order from the High Commissioner that nobody is even allowed to go swimming, paddle boarding, kite boarding - wait, what? We live on a boat. Part of the routine maintenance is underwater hull inspections for integrity and to remove plant growth.

I certainly understand why the head cheese might want folks to avoid beach gatherings and swimming together but there's absolutely no risk of an individual catching Covid-19 from the sea or giving it to a fish. Guess we'll have to use a little common sense regarding that one.

Back to that prepper thing. The more I think about it, the more I realize that cruisers might be the ultimate preppers, except in rare exceptions we don't carry firearms. Good luck getting caught with a gun or ammo anywhere in Mexico - you want a cell mate / lover named Jose? Elsewhere around the world cruisers that carry firearms have to check in with local officials, often surrendering the guns and ammo while in local waters, then having to return and collect them before departing. Kind of defeats the whole purpose of having guns in the first place, and really adds to the administrative hassle factor during the arrival/departure process.

So the JollyDogs situation is kind of as follows. I keep the diesel tanks full (always treated with biocide), and I always have some full jerry cans to replenish the tanks. Same with gasoline - the dinghy is our lifeline to shore for provisioning or exploration. I've got spares on board for most mechanical failures, and raw materials to build up new rigging components. Isabel has provisioned us for several months away from civilization. We've got spear guns and poles (and lots of lures) for fishing. We make our own water. We deal with our own sewage. We make and store our own electricity. We've enough entertainment options on board for months of intellectual stimulation. We have satellite and HF radio comms. We have a flare pistol and monster flashlights, and various clubs and pokers for self-defense. We've got a soda stream machine with several spare CO2 cylinders!

JollyDogs is on a progressive inspection and maintenance schedule, so I'm always looking for chafe and wear and leaks, hatching ways to make repairs with what we've got on board.

We are generally prepared to spend several weeks at sea, moving from one country to another, or in a remote anchorage. After Raroia we were planning to go to a completely uninhabited atoll for a few weeks - still hope to once this blows over.

It's a bummer I no longer make craft beer on board, but I reckon we are, by some definition, preppers! Bring on the zombies!

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The JollyDogs at anchor daily routine Saturday 21 Mar 20

Everyone has to be somewhere. We're anchored on the East side of the atoll Raroia, about a half mile South of the motu where Kon Tiki crash landed. We went ashore yesterday to look for the wreckage, but as it's been 73 years and the raft was built from bamboo and other natural materials, we certainly didn't expect to find any trace. Well, we didn't, but we did find some firewood; perhaps we'll have a beach bonfire in a few days. We also found the plaque commemorating Thor's adventure, and some very proud Norwegians and Danes had hung some rather worn ensigns in a tree near the monument. Pretty cool. Maybe I'll finally get off my duff and read the book.

Now that we've shifted from passage mode to daily living mode, we've got the air scoops, sun and rain shades deployed. After arriving we had an adult beverage to mark the occasion followed by a good nap, and the last couple of nights we've slept like logs, recovering from the almost 4-day passage. It was a really great sail, but as always it's nice to be where we were aiming. There's always a higher level of apprehension while underway, especially hundreds or thousands of miles from land. Here in the anchorage we still keep a sharp eye out, but the anchor is dug into sand and we keep an anchor alarm running should we drag. It's blown a bit the last 24 hours or so, several squalls moving through the area, 1 even with lighting and thunder. We've stayed put through it all so it's pretty darn good holding.

Our daily routine is pretty much a couple cups of coffee, get the fresh weather and any emails, and read the dismal Reuters news feed. Next up is generally an adventure - snorkeling for an hour or so is quite satisfying and OK lower body exercise. Next, back to the boat to relax a bit, perhaps have a bit of lunch, then a nap, then perhaps a task, then another adventure that involves exercise. A land excursion to hunt for coconuts and shells, or if the water is flat toss the SUPs in and paddle for an hour or so. That's always best with good visibility and overhead sun - it's amazing what we see with our eyes about 5 feet above the water. Sea kayaks are fun, but the view down is degraded because of the angle and distance. We do love our Red SUPs!

Today's task for me is to pull apart the steering gear and grease the pins that bearings move on. We began to hear some creaks during this passage - as nothing else is amiss I'm optimistic that the bolts that hold the cross arm to the pitch horn pins or the pin that attaches the autopilot actuator to the steering linkage must have gotten a little dry. Last time I greased them was when we were hauled out at Rocky Point in 2019; looks like it'll become an annual event like the winches. The goose neck was creaking a little as well, so once I figure out how to support the weight of the boom and stacked main sail assembly I'll pull that apart and lubricate as well. The windlass is sticky too. That bugger has been persnickety for a while now, so I may find myself lapping the brake bearing surface. For now all I can do is clean it up and make sure everything is properly lubricated.

While I'm banging away with all that Isabel will probably be doing a bit of mildew control, vacuuming or inventorying all our foodstuffs. As we're going to be without reprovisioning options for a while, a little meal planning is in order. Thanks to the massive solar array we have we can use the electric kettle to boil water for coffee, tea and dish washing, stretching our cooking gas supply by several weeks.

Need to get out the self-taught guitar and ukulele books and get serious about some pickin' and grinnin'. It's pretty silly to carry those instruments around if we're not using them.

Before we know it another day will have passed, it'll be time for sundowners, the evening SSB net, a little dinner, then perhaps a movie or a good read on the kindles. Just another day in paradise.

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Paranoia will destroy ya Saturday 21 Mar 20

It would seem the zombie apocalypse is upon us! We're hearing from friends in England and various parts of the US about empty store shelves, closed schools, overburdened healthcare systems, economic meltdowns, politicians pointing fingers and avoiding responsibility. You claimed to own the booming economy, Donald. Now own this.

We request via email and receive a Reuters news feed Monday thru Friday, a couple pages of text that summarizes what's up around the world. Haven't figured out how to get that from NPR or BBC or perhaps the Economist, but if anybody knows that trick we'd love to hear from you! No Fox, no CNN, no Facebook, thank you very much. The command in our email that we send out is "send reuters-daily-news. I've tried that and other permutations with BBC and NPR to no avail. Rob, Stas', you're both IT kinda guys, hook a brother up, will ya?

There' a danger for folks with constant access to BS "news" that spews sensationalism to sell ads. Could get the natives all restless and worked up, wanting to "take action". In the US that could get really ugly given all the guns and ammo laying about. Social unrest is a real risk. My gun enthusiast friends stockpile ammo, but perhaps what they should really stockpile is food and water and rent a porta-jon to put in the back yard. Imagine what it would be like if the fresh water stopped flowing, if the sewage system backed up, if the electricity went out for multiple days or weeks. Those are the kind of situations that would rapidly lead to civil unrest, martial law, riots, etc.

Sounds like the UK is taking some really smart steps to get ahead of this thing, while the US has been pretty flat footed and is now playing catch-up. No surprise with the lack of real political leadership in our country. At least the Brits finally went hard over for Brexit, so the uncertainty factor is less in their society even though the final deal is undefined. In America the Republicans and Democrats are trying to figure out who will run the country for the next four years. The poor handling of this latest crisis combined with the economic meltdown will either prompt a change in administration, or perhaps fear will prompt a "stay the course" response. Given the travel situation it remains to be seen whether we'll even be able to cast an absentee ballot given our own state's electoral policies.

Out here in French Polynesia we're all under lock down. As invited, legal guests in this country we are doing our best to observe all restrictions and limit our exposure to others. We're confident we're virus free, but no telling who we might encounter that's been exposed to the thing. In a couple of weeks we'll go over to the local village to see about provisions and cooking gas (that would suck to run out of), otherwise we'll enjoy our own company and that of a few other yachts who have also self-isolated for weeks on end.

French Polynesia is now indicating that arriving boats, or at least their crews, will not be allowed to stay in country. All inter-island flights are stopping, and we hear the last international flight departs this weekend. Countries to the West are denying entry to yachts, and no telling what New Zealand will come up with - we're still waiting to hear. The local government is now trying to decide whether even long-term visitors with all the appropriate visas will be allowed to remain in country or told to leave.

Interestingly enough our only option (and this is a really long shot) could be to sail back to the US, sort of on the old clipper ship routes. The scenario would likely be that we sail either to Tahiti or Nuku Hiva to provision and clear out, then make for Hawaii as an interim stop for food and fuel then continue on to somewhere like Bellingham, Washington. Great place to visit (in normal times) but I wouldn't want to live there. Given what's going on in the US right now we're better off right here. Hopefully common sense will prevail.

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Quarantine the JollyDogs way Tuesday 19 Mar 20

Well, it's official folks. We're not allowed to move from the atoll we just arrived at. That's the new reality for the forseeable future, maybe 2 - 6 weeks while corona virus hopefully burns itself out here in French Polynesia.

What we've heard about vessels arriving from Mexico or Panama or wherever is that they'll be required to self-isolate for 14 days, then given time to make repairs, reprovision, and then they must sail for Tahiti, put the boat in storage and depart the country. Given that most folks would have been at sea for around 3 weeks already, that 14 day thing might be a misunderstanding, but altogether it ain't pretty. There are going to be some pretty bummed out sailors. Don't know what this might mean for our pals down in New Zealand that would be making preparations to sail up to Vanuatu or wherever, as many smaller countries are effectively closing their borders.

We learned all this today when we arrived at Raroia. We slowed JollyDogs down so that we got to the pass just after dawn, the tide still flowing out with the wind, so no wind over tide condition. Even though the "tidal guestimator" figured it for slack tide, we had nearly 4 knots on the bow but with no standing waves it was pretty much a non-event and we simply powered through. We motored about a mile to the village, dropped the hook and had a visit with the folks on two other yachts in the anchorage. Didn't even go ashore. About that time a third vessel showed up, a beautiful cold water boat from Poland. We had been tracking them on AIS for about 2 days and as we were working out way through the pass Isabel advised them of the conditions over the VHF; the elected to wait a little while to let the current slack off some.

So now we're at Raroia with (we think) 4 other boats. Once the sun got up pretty high we weighed anchor and motored about 6 miles across the atoll to the East side. As the wind is predominately from the East, tucking up against the motus and reef sections over here reduces fetch to almost nothing, so even if the wind howls the water is flat. Turns out we're anchored about ½ mile from where Thor Heyerdahl crash landed the Kon Tiki raft back in the 1940's, tomorrow we'll dinghy over there and look for the monument commemorating his adventure.

The supply ship with provisions is expected in about 3 weeks, so we'll likely wander back down to the village then for some fresh veggies and whatever else might be available. We'll need cooking gas in around 6 weeks so we'll see about getting a cylinder of butane to recharge our on-board cylinders. Isabel swears we've got enough food to easily pig out for 2-3 months, we'll just run out of veggies, fruit and leafy greens. We scored enough limes and pamplemouse to avoid scurvy so our teeth won't fall out of our head. Perhaps our biggest risk is running out of CO2 cylinders for our SodaStream machine. We do love our fizzy water and lime sundowner cocktail.

Nothing to do now but get out the guitar and ukulele and start making noise. Maybe some daily workouts on the SUPs. A little yoga on the foredeck or the beach. Snorkel and look at amazing marine life. Get the kite board gear out and start working on our skills. Do a boat project here and there. Walk on the beach and look for interesting shells. Pick a new e-book from the several thousand we have on board (that's one heavy hard disk). Write a blog post to bore my friends. Meditate. Learn to speak Polish. Find out which fish are safe to eat, then poke 'em with a spear gun.

We get a text news feed from Reuters when we request it. No Fox, CNN or other mainstream noise. Sound like the world is pretty nuts out there. This self-isolation thing ain't so bad. Rip Van Winkle might have had a good idea!

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A plague of locusts over the land Wednesday 18 Mar 20

Corono virus. WTF? What to do? Self isolate! What better way to do that than to get on a boat and go to sea for a few weeks? We've heard of folks canceling their plans to sail from Mexico to French Polynesia - perhaps due to their general fear about this pandemic, or perhaps they don't think they'll be let in.

There are countries that have closed their borders to travelers, or who have quarantine restrictions on new arrivals. Funnily enough corono virus seems to have made its way to French Polynesia by way of the minister of tourism and some of her entourage who were very recently in France for some sort of conference. We've also heard of a single reported case on Fakarava, one of our favorite atolls. Don't know the vector for that one.

The initial response rumors were that certain atolls didn't want any cruisers ashore unless they needed to go for groceries, fuel, or other "official business", and perhaps they would be escorted by police or whatever. No wandering about willy nilly. Things are changing rapidly, but apparently there was an official government policy issued from Tahiti yesterday. The latest information may possibly be found on the French Polynesia Cruiser's Facebook Group. Out here we talk to other cruisers on our SSB radio each morning and evening, and the folks lurking the marinas in Papeete seem to be up to date.

Some folks wearing masks at the grocery store, but no run on toilet paper or other supplies, apparently. Folks seem to be going about their business, but large gatherings, shaking hands or kissing cheeks (a very FP thing) while greeting folks, simple commonsense things are officially advised against, or perhaps forbidden. Medical facilities in the hinterlands are quite limited so it's understandable, but those of us who have been tooling around the country for months are zero risk people. Folks coming back from outside FP, whether returning residents or visitors are at risk of carrying.

We have heard that some small countries such as Galapagos and the Cook Islands are refusing to allow cruisers to enter their countries. Here the government seems to have taken a more intelligent approach, noting that cruisers arriving after a 3-week passage and not exhibiting any symptoms are pretty darn safe and may check in. Policies like that will continue to evolve, but the country seems to be taking an intelligent approach to "nipping it in the bud" as Barney Fife used to say. Remember "Mayberry RFD" Kal?

Anyway, we're going to spend the next few weeks in remote atoll locations We've got plenty of provisions, make our own water and electricity, plenty of kindle books to read, and plenty of snorkeling to do. Pretty good deal, and we could continue that for maybe 3 months but we would run out of fresh veggies, cheese, etc. Nevertheless, we could get by, and those spear guns could be pretty handy.

International supply ships are still arriving in Tahiti, and the small ships that supply the various island groups are still running. It's all good here.

The best place to be is at sea, alone or around other folks who've been behaving like us for the last few weeks. It's a shame some folks might cancel their plans to sail from Mexico this year, but fear is a powerful thing. For us, we're postponing plans to return to the US or the UK to visit friends and family, because that's where the problem is. Don't want to be exposed to something, definitely don't want to pick something up then deliver it to a creaky old parent or other loved one. That's perhaps a more commonsense approach. Other than traveling home our plans haven't changed but we'll see how our idea about traveling West to New Zealand is impacted as the cruising season progresses. As Spencer might say, being forced to remain in FP another full season certainly feels like a "high class problem".

Official government & airline websites are posting current policies and restrictions. Get the latest information there.

And wash your damn hands.

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Nobody loves us everyone hates us! Wednesday 18 Mar 20

Think we'll eat worms. . .

Remember that? No? Well, you are obviously not the same sort of culture freaks as us! Anyway, the situation out here in French Polynesia is changing rapidly, as more cases of corono virus are popping up. We heard of one today - a Swiss person who had flown in to join a yacht. Very bad public relations for yachties! In the age of everyone looking for a boogeyman to blame for their own lack of preparation, poor life choices or just plain bad luck, we do stand out and perhaps be thought of as the bad guys. Never mind the economy here runs on tourism.

Time to keep our heads down and blend into the landscape. Not terribly easy, but we'll arrive at Raroia just at dawn, enter the pass, then as soon as there's enough light to make out the bommies we'll tool slowly across the lagoon to anchor somewhere near where Thor Heyerdahl crash landed the Kon Tiki raft back in the 40's. It's about 5 miles from the small village, and a mile or 2 from a pearl farm. Likely will only be us chickens.

Well, except I wouldn't be surprised if there are already a couple boats there, and darned if there isn't a sailboat off our port beam making for the same atoll. Looks like we might have some company, folks to commiserate with if we get treated like pariahs by the locals.

With an increase in the identified corono virus cases in French Polynesia, the haute commissaire in Tahiti released new guidelines today. No visas will be issued. Don't know exactly what that means for cruisers who are now at sea and on their way from Mexico or Panama to French Polynesia, hopefully someone there will seek clarification for the sailing community. Those of us already here are fine and dandy, but the rulers are advising no movement between islands except for family or work reasons. Don't know how that will impact us either, but our best strategy for the next few weeks will be to remain in remote atolls in basically uninhabited areas, like where we're headed at Raroia.

I stowed the main sail about 1900 this evening when we got within 30 nautical miles of our objective, and since have been playing a game with the jib, furling a bit in or out to keep us around 3.5 knots. That'll get us a dawn arrival outside the pass, a good time to assess the current and standing wave action in the pass. With any luck we'll be able to motor on it around sunup and then we'll have to look for a spot to drop the hook and wait for the sun to get on up and reveal the uncharted bommies. Those coral heads can take the bottom of the boat off and they can be hard to see, so the best course of action is to wait until the sun is high and the sky clear, then post a watch on the bow as we motor carefully the 5 or 6 miles across the lagoon to the East side of the atoll. There we'll have good shelter from the predominately East winds, with no fetch for waves to build thanks to the reef. There are several motus (sandy little islands) scattered along the reef, places we can go ashore and do a bit of yoga, look for a fresh coconut or perhaps launch for a bit of kite boarding. Bet your butt the SUPs are going to see a lot of use too!

We're good until we run out of cooking gas - currently butane. I reckon we've got 6 - 8 weeks of that, but Isabel will be clamoring for fresh leafy greens well before then. Maybe we'll find someone who will be willing to interface with us and sell us some farm goods.

Still, this is better than putting up with idiots making runs on toilet paper and hand sanitizer. Looks like we'll finally eat our way through the provisions Isabel stocked before we left Mexico! Imagine how much waterline we'll get back.

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Light airs and little fish Monday 16 Mar 20

Have I mentioned we love our Seawind 1160? It sails wonderfully, but its light air performance is supreme. Forget what you think you know about the mythical tradewinds. Somedays it is really 15 knots from the East. Lots of days it's more like 4 - 7 knots. If your boat won't go in that kind of wind, you better bring a lot more diesel or plan on bobbing around waiting for your tradewinds to return.

We launched out yesterday in 10 - 12 knots of wind on the beam. Boogied along at about 7.5 knots for hours. Wind died down to 6 knots, we were still doing 5 knots. At about 3 knots of wind we still can make almost 3 knots of boat speed if we work the angle properly. Right now in early to mid afternoon we're in the peak of the breeze for today, and it's still only 7 knots true wind a bit forward of the beam, and here we are doing 6 knots. Certainly things are better because the seas are basically flat, but that's also a byproduct of light airs. The full main and screecher are doing their thing beautifully today.

Diesel is relatively cheap, but when the motor is spinning it's wearing out gears and bearings and belts pumps and pretty soon the engine oil or transmission oil will need changing or a raw water pump will be leaking or a hose will blow or some other minor catastrophe will occur. It's also noisy. There's something supremely satisfying about motivating in light airs under sail. It's quiet and efficient, kind of like making electricity with solar power. No muss, no fuss, just results. In these light conditions with flat seas we can sail with the saloon and some cabin hatches open so JollyDogs stays mighty comfortable and well ventilated inside. That's another attribute of the Seawind 1160 - they're designed for sunny tropical climes where excellent ventilation is critical to comfort.

Turns out that sailing around 5 - 6 knots is also good for fishing. A sushi grade yellow fin tuna, originally about 26" long, is now in the fridge. Pat, we nailed him on the little squid jig. We were also towing the Rapala style lure that Jim and Darda gave us- it's a diver that swims like crazy, but evidently something a bit "large" ate it. We got back the meat line and a broken swivel at the end of the steel lure. Them's the breaks. Now that gigantic squid jig lure that Pat left us is out there doing its thing.

Out here in the land of plenty (of water) we'll be eating fresh sashimi or poke or sushi for dinner. We gave up a lot to come out here and do this, but there are upsides

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Being on watch 16 Mar 20

During our visit to the UK last fall we spent time with several of Isabel's old sailing companions. Back in the day they did some great stuff together, sailing across the fog-ridden English channel to France, or past Land's End all the way to Ireland. Crappy weather. Cold, wet, smelly, but having a blast. In particular her old boyfriend and sailing pal Rob was keen to know what it's like to be deep at sea for days on end. It's kind of hard to explain but here's a try.

For the most part these days it's just Isabel and me. We divide our watch schedules according to our biorhythms. Isabel's favorite hobby is sleeping (mine is eating or sampling craft beer), so she crashes after dinner and I stand watch until around 0100, then get her up and she stands watch until I awaken, generally by daylight. During the day one of us naps or fools around with projects while the other keeps an eye out. We're never asleep at the same time unless at anchor.

In truth, there's a whole lot of nothing out here. On a cloudy moonless night you can't even see distant terrain unless there are lights ashore. We can go days without even seeing another boat. We're alone.

Last night the moon was waning around 50% but it didn't even rise until well after midnight. There were a few leftover puffy clouds, but the stars and especially the Milky Way were spectacular and I did see one shooting star. Nice. Otherwise nothing to see, and absolutely no hope of detecting and avoiding something like a partially sunken shipping container. Remember that horrible Robert Redford movie?

Anyway, my dark night routine is kind of as follows. . .
Turn on the radar every 15 minutes or so and look for squalls and undetected marine traffic. Look for AIS targets on the chart page. Have a look at the sail trim if things don't feel right or there's excessive sail chatter. Verify we're still going in the right direction. That's kind of important, as gradual wind shifts over time can really throw us off course if the autopilot is steering to apparent wind as is often the case. Experiment with the nav/wind mode on the autopilot to see how that seems to compromise between the two objectives. Make a cup of coffee or tea, eat a snack, select another podcast, then kick back and enjoy the stars. Rinse and repeat, but only 1 cup of coffee each evening.

If there's bright moon out visibility is somewhat improved and we might make out distant uninhabited land, although the Tuamotu atolls can still be really hard to see as there is no real vertical terrain. I prefer pitch black nights as star gazing is a hobby, and we've got a really slick app that helps us identify the constellations. Still, it's important to look around and if we're navigating anywhere close to land I generally keep the radar on to cross check the navigational chart accuracy. If it's a night with a risk of squalls the radar might run all night - no big deal as it doesn't use much power and that's what we bought/installed it for anyway.

Altogether there's a whole lot of water out here and not much else. Near large ports in Mexico things could get busy. Around Banderas Bay we had to dodge whales. Isabel's tales of sailing in the English channel sounds downright nuts.

For pilots this can be described as a VFR but we keep the IFR equipment operating and cross check often.

Ahead and off our course line a little bit is the group of atolls "Isles du Disappointment". You can bet we'll have the gain turned up pretty high in that region, as it would be more than disappointing to sail onto a low-lying atoll.

On passage we've also got the life raft and ditch bag prepped at hand in the saloon. Might save us a few seconds if things get exciting or confusing. All the torch batteries are charged, passports, handhelds, torches etc. in the ditch bag. We spend a lot of time and money trying to be prepared for something we hope never happens.

Isabel is up and it's a beautiful day. Time for a nap.

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Reducing the noise floor Monday 16 Mar 20

Prior to launching on this latest little passage (4-5 days) we lurked Taiohae Bay at Nuku Hiva for a bit over 2 weeks. About 50 cruising boats in the bay, with new arrivals from Panama, and folks departing for wherever. People coming, people going. That part and the social aspect of hanging out with folks from all over the world is a real upside to the bay.

One can purchase high speed internet access from Kevin at Yacht Services. He wants 600 CFP or $7.00 US for a 24-hour period, but if you buy on Friday it's good all weekend. His rule is 1 person, 1 device for that price. Feels a bit steep.

There's a yacht service at Hiva Oa that operates out of a space called "Semaphore". It's up on the hill above the small bay with a spectacular view of the area. Sandra runs the place, and for 100 CFP one can purchase 24 hours of internet (same weekend deal) and also help oneself to a cup of instant coffee or tea. There's a lovely veranda to sit and enjoy it all, and it also works on the boat in much of the bay due to her strategically placed antenna. Sandra won't give you the access code, but she will type it into any device you bring, no limit to devices. Pretty good deal.

Two different business models and motivations. Kinds of reminds me of the 55 mph speed limit we had in the US after the 70's oil embargo. Everybody blew that off and went at least 60 mph, because a mile a minute is something one work with. Now speed limits are set based upon the environment and a bit more common sense, and of course oil is once again plentiful. Driving on an interstate highway posted at 75 mph, I rarely exceed that by much because, well, that's just fast enough, and car wrecks that happen at that speed involve an amazing amount of energy. Somebody's gonna die, plus the 75 mph limit seems reasonable. Kind of the difference in approach between Kevin and Sandra. They're both nice folks, but each has different ideas about how to conduct this aspect of their business. They also achieve results similar to the speed limit thing.

Internet access is important to conducting our lives. Banking, renewing health or boat insurance, the occasional Facebook look, whatever. However, that access comes with a penalty - all the news services and pundits that are screaming bloody murder at each other, politicians from all realms that are either outright liars or seem to live in their own ridiculous fantasy bubble, and thieves that want to sell you something you don't need.

Ultimately it's a bunch of noise and doesn't contribute anything positive to our lives or well-being. Somehow it does seem to suck us in, and we lose hours of our lives sorting through the noise for tidbits of real actionable intelligence. We'd have been better off taking a walk or having a nap.

Just before we departed the local cell system enabled 4G data access through their towers. Another way to access the noise without even paying Kevin for the privilege. Pay Google Fi $10/gigabyte instead.

We've left that 139 nm behind us and where we're going we won't have access to that "information". With any luck we'll be able to forget about corona virus, Russians and OPEC fighting over oil production limits and pricing, politicians telling lies (you can tell because their lips are moving), and the uncivil behavior that seems to be part of the populist political movement. I'm not talking about "politically correct language" here, I'm talking about people in a position of political leadership being absolutely nasty.

Our best leaders in the business community, those that run large companies or inspiring start-ups are setting positive examples of behavior that none of our politicians seem to be able to match. For me, it's better to read The Economist or the business news and listen to podcasts such as Planet Money that break it all down. Gotta delete all that noise from my life.

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We are outa there! Sunday 15 Mar 20

Beating our way back up to the Marquesas wasn't completely pleasurable or easy, but it sure turned out to be the right thing to do. Not only were we in the safest region of French Polynesia (think cyclone risk), but for the most part the weather has been stunningly wonderful during our stay. Our pals Pat and Celine spent around 5 weeks with us, and it was a blast to tour around the islands and enjoy lots of things we had missed during our brief visit last May.

Taiohae Bay at Nuku Hiva is the principal hive of activity, it being the regional capital and largest population center. We found 5 different magazins (small grocery stores) and Isabel was astonished at the selection of foodstuffs, and Larson's even had such things as organic and gluten free this and that. Go figure.

Today was election day, and there was a festive atmosphere around the polling places as pop-up restaurants were offering everything from roast pig to sweets - we had a brief look around (darn pig wasn't quite ready), popped into Larson's for some last minute shopping, purchased a bunch of limes and pamplemouse to keep the scurvy at bay, then completed our preparations to get underway. We'd said our goodbyes, completed all the projects, done what we wanted to do - time to go!

We've been itching to get underway for a few weeks now, initially to the Gambier, but events conspired to crush that plan. Looks like the weather down there might have been pretty doody altogether, so perhaps things worked out for the best, hanging out in the land of plenty. Here there is cheese. Well, there was, until some recently arrived cruisers from Panama must have made a run on it. Still plenty of toilet paper though. . . 80 grit, 40 grit, take your pick. Thank you Behan for your recommendation to stock up at Costco in Puerto Vallarta, and we found Maxi's in Papeete to resupply last September!

I demanded Pat and Celine purchase their own toilet paper.

We raised the hook and blasted off at 1230 local time, and had a killer sail until just after midnight when the wind finally calmed down just as advertised in the forecast. We fished. They call it fishing, not catching for a reason. Isabel whipped up a great spaghetti dinner. We had a stunning view of Ua Pou as we passed around sunset. We checked in on the evening SSB net reporting "underway". We began our watch schedule. The skies were clear and the stars amazing. Isabel crashed after supper. I made it until 0100 then she came on watch and I slept 4 hours.

The first couple days are hard, then our biorhythms get adjusted and we could go for weeks. Should be 4 days or less to our destination of the atoll in the Tuamotus known as Raroria. Perhaps we'll stay there a while then wander gently on.

Things have gotten pretty nuts around the world, exposing the weaknesses in economies and healthcare systems world-wide. The US is no exception, and our own political leadership has fumbled the ball so far. Investment portfolios have seen big drops and the economy is teetering.

Time to stop reading the news. Time to stop looking our own financial data. Time to turn off the internet, go snorkeling or kite boarding, and read a good book.

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Replenishing diesel and gasoline 5 Mar 20

The price of gasoline and diesel here in French Polynesia just went up a bit, something like 17 cents CFP per liter. With the duty free fuel certificate one can purchase diesel for about 100 CFP/liter now, otherwise it's around 157 CFP/liter. Gasoline goes for about the same price, and we probably burn 10 liters a week when using the dinghy a lot. After a long passage we generally purchase 100 or more liters of diesel, so the fee to procure the duty free certificate here in Nuku Hiva has paid off.

If one doesn't need diesel until arriving in Tahiti, the duty free fuel certificate can be obtained for free at the government tax office next to the port captain's building. Out here in the hinterlands one gets to pay one of the yacht service agencies to do the administrative pushups to procure the certificate, and that costs a bit of money. Still worth it if you're going to need much diesel.

You can only use the duty free certificate at an official fuel station, and you'll need to have your boat papers, passport etc. in hand during the transaction. The more remote atolls don't have fuel stations, so at a place like Makemo you'll purchase fuel pumped from a drum, paying a bit of a premium. We did so back in October while beating from Tahiti back to Nuku Hiva. Diesel cost around 180 CFP/liter, purchased from the local bakery / food shop. The fuel appeared clean and fresh and gave us no problems. The attendant even gave us a ride back to the dinghy!

I routinely use Biobor in our diesel tanks. It's a biocide and lubricity additive, and when refueling I add the recommended "maintenance" amount to the filler neck then wash it down with diesel. I also keep the tanks full, topping them up from by siphoning from a 20-liter jerry can as soon as we're down 20 or more liters. Don't want to spill fuel, but also don't want to leave an air gap in the tank, which will allow condensation and may promote bio growth.

We've got one of those clear vinyl hose and "rattle valve" siphon devices (we call it the masturbator) - works a charm. I generally manage to completely empty a jerry can with no spills. Trying to pour diesel using spouts and funnels underway or in a sloppy anchorage is a terrible idea.

There are fuel docks some places, but we use jerry cans to bring fuel to JollyDogs then siphon the fuel into the tanks. It gives me an opportunity to visually inspect the fuel for contaminates, and it's just darn good exercise. Besides, the surge around some of the fuel docks can create risk for hull damage or other excitement.

Last May I helped a crew moving a Moorings 5800 from BVI to Raiatea refuel at Nuku Hiva. It required setting a bow anchor then backing gingerly towards the monstrous concrete quay, whereupon we tossed stern lines to the fuel dude ashore. Once secured he passed us the giant fuel hose using a messenger line. The entire time the surge in the bay forced the captain to remain at the helm and modulate the throttles to keep the boat from hitting the dock. As they needed over 1200 liters to fill the tanks and several drums secured to the deck, this was about the only way to get it done, but it was an altogether hairy operation. I would never risk JollyDogs like that.

We've never had a fuel contamination problem, and we've never had a clogged fuel filter or loss of engine power. Diesels like clean air, clean oil, clean fuel and clean coolant. We've known lots of boats that have lost power underway due to dirty fuel, generally the result of gunk in the tank getting stirred up and clogging fuel lines and filters while in messy seas. I have drained, opened and inspected the fuel tanks, polishing the fuel in the process. Since then I've been very careful about using Biobor, keeping the tanks full, and visually inspecting the fuel before it goes in a tank. Might sound a bit anal but try losing engine power due to fuel contamination while maneuvering close to hostile terr

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How to refill your cooking fuel cylinders 5 Mar 20

Here in French Polynesia, cooking gas is one of those price-controlled items, currently 2800 CFP for a 13-kilo cylinder, with another 3000 CFP cylinder deposit. The local yacht service agencies will fill your cylinder for a hefty premium if you wish, otherwise it's a DIY operation. The thrifty cruiser (yes, that's us) has a hose and fitting for their own type cooking gas cylinders fabricated before leaving for this place. Downwind Marine in San Deigo can fix you right up. Get about 10 feet of hose - it's ¼" inside diameter, heavy rubber. Purchase some little hose clamps too, and a ¼" to 3/8" barbed adapter. Once arriving in French Polynesia hike to the local hardware store and for around 1000 CFP purchase the local cylinder fitting with gasket, which has a 3/8" nipple, along with a meter of fiber reinforced clear hose, then build up your adapter assembly.

In the remote islands butane is sold at fuel stations and some of the food shops. At Nuku Hiva and Hiva Oa it's a short walk from the dinghy to the fuel station, better for lugging a heavy butane cylinder around. Go get a butane cylinder, bring it back to your boat, then hang it high as you can, upside down off the boom and put your own cooking gas cylinder on the lowest stern step. Connect the adapter hose at both ends but leave the connection at your cylinder a bit loose. Next, crack the bleed valve on your cylinder with a screwdriver to let gas escape the empty cylinder. Open the valve on the butane cylinder and observe liquid flowing through the clear section of hose. A soon as frosty liquid is leaking from the loose connection at your cylinder's end, tighten it up and you've purged the air from the hose. Next open the fill valve on your cylinder but leave the bleed valve cracked so gas can escape while filling your cylinder. With our American cylinders it takes about 20 minutes to fill, and you know it's about done when frosty liquid butane starts spitting out of the bleed valve. Once it's pretty much all liquid coming out screw the bleed valve shut, then close all cylinder valves and disconnect the hose at your cylinder end. BE CAREFUL! Keep a close eye on things, no sparks, and always do this at the stern of the boat so leaked gas blows away from the vessel! That escaping liquid is really cold - wear gloves to avoid risk of frostbite.

We can fully fill one empty cylinder, then fill a second one perhaps 2/3's full before the local butane cylinder is empty, so I monitor the flow of liquid in the clear hose section and modulate the bleed valve open and closed since liquid will never come out of the bleed valve.

If you're about to put the newly filled cylinder into service, let is bake in the sun for a couple hours to develop some gas pressure, otherwise you may never get your boat plumbing purged. Butane develops much lower pressure in the cylinder as it gasses off so if you've been using a pressure gage to determine how much propane you've still got in a cylinder, that'll be pretty much useless with butane. The lower pressure will also make it take a lot longer to purge air from your plumbing if you've let the gas run out (took us about 3 minutes once), and the lower pressure can sometimes allow the butane to puddle so that when the striker finally contacts the gas, there's a big "poof". Somewhat disconcerting. Propane can do the same thing, however because of its much higher cylinder pressure it tends to flow much more aggressively out of the burners and light more reliably. Butane actually has more energy depending how one measures it, and our cooking appliances seem to like it just fine.

Oddly enough propane is available in Tahiti - one can take their cylinder to a local Mobile station near Marina Taina then return a couple days later to collect it, paying about 4500 CFP for the privilege. Folks do it all the time.

Now you're cooking with gas!

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Return to Taiohae Bay 1 Mar 20

Well, all good things must come to an end, but also it's time to prepare for our upcoming passage down to Raroia and Makemo, two of the more interesting atolls in the Tuamotus. So, after a lovely breakfast we prepared JollyDogs to get underway, and given the forecast Isabel dictated that we would begin with 2 reefs in the main sail. The forecast did look a bit sporty and it was going to be a beat back to Taiohae, properly done it would only require 1 tack.

Out of the bay we motor sailed, rolled out about half the jib, and soon found ourselves in 20 gusting 25 knots and seas on the port forward quarter, anywhere from 1 to 2 meters. Plenty of green water over the bows and the occasional spray into the aft cockpit. Sporty indeed.

The farther we got from land the calmer the seas became, as if the interaction with the land mass amplified the wave action. Sailing 45 degrees to the apparent wind in these conditions yielded about 10 - 12 degrees of leeway. About an hour into our journey the chart plotter and our guts told us it was time to tack. We were rewarded by a nicer boat motion due to the change in the wave direction as it was more on the starboard beam. We laid the bay just fine and sailed right on in, once in the lee of the cliffs we rolled up the jib and dropped the main. Isabel motored us on in to select an anchoring spot, and we found a nice hole near our pals on SV Flip Flops. Pat and Celine have become experts at managing the anchor and bridle, soon we were securely moored and back into "living and hanging out" mode.

Cell phones started dinging as emails and texts started rolling in - as long as they're short with no attachments the cell system here is up to the challenge but keep your expectations low if you're coming for a visit.

Tomorrow we'll wander ashore for some decent WIFI internet access, a trip to the medical clinic for some routine checkup stuff, and to investigate the provisioning situation. Last chance for goodies, and a real fuel station. Gotta keep that dinghy fuel topped up for our upcoming snorkeling adventures!

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