Hanging out with the locals Monday 25 May 20

One of the biggest benefits of the sparsely inhabited Tuamotu atolls is the outright friendliness of the local inhabitants. When we were finally able to visit the village at Raroia, the local folks greeted us warmly and invited us to sit and chat. I got invited to go spear fishing with a couple of guys and the hunt was so successful that they gifted us two nice fish then invited us for a BBQ feast on a large black jack the following day. Spending time with the entire family and some friends was a blast, eating their cooking was great. Turns out cooking a big fish slowly over a very gentle fire really brings out the flavor. Folks gave Isabel pearls for her birthday, and when I went to the store to grab a couple of things the proprietor went out back to fetch me some herbs from her own kitchen garden.

 

Makemo was a great stop, and the local villagers were all smiles and friendly. We found locally grown lettuce and the farmer was really helpful, and the shopkeepers were as nice as they could be, offering me a ride back to the dinghy after purchasing fuel, even helping me load the jugs.

 

Here at Tahanea there are only local inhabitants during the copra harvest. We’ve spent time the last several days with a fellow named Yo (well, that’s how it sounds anyway) and his cousins. They all have been working their asses off harvesting, drying, and bagging up the copra. The weather will finally settle enough for them to travel with their harvest back to Fa’aite, the atoll where they live with their families. Over the past few days we’ve all looked at ways we can offer a little help, and I’ve rebuilt their solar charger and camp lighting battery connections, fabricating alligator clamps from materials on board JollyDogs. Today I’m copying music onto a couple of our small 4 gig micro-SD hard drives to give them. Turns out they like Bob Marley, UB40, even the Scorpions, and they’ll also get a wide selection of whatever we’ve got to offer. We brought their little boom box out to the boat to charge as Mr. Sun is hiding behind the clouds and they’re not getting much out of their one small panel.

 

Yo spent some time this morning teaching me how to open dry coconuts with a simple tool (gotta get me one of those) and he showed me how to harvest and open green coconuts for their water. His cousin Vahine spent a few hours this morning giving Isabel and Rachel lessons in the local Polynesian dialect, while Rachel’s husband Josh finished making a fiberglass repair on one of their fishing harpoons. Josh and Rachel have also had the opportunity to go spear fishing with them, learning about the local fish and shark habits in the process. Tonight we’ve the opportunity to go with them on a coconut crab hunt.

 

This is the sort of interaction we’ve been looking for since we arrived. Polynesians are some of the friendliest people on Earth, happy to share what they have, wanting to learn about our culture and teach us about theirs. In turn we look for ways we can give back to them, and it’s a big win for everyone. They make their living from the copra harvest but are also happy for us to take some coconuts to eat for ourselves. They’ve been out to visit various bats in the anchorage and have shared meals there and ashore. Yesterday morning when we went ashore to see what projects we could help out with, Vahine had made a big platter of the local fried donuts called Fidi Fidi, and we all helped ourselves.

 

There are parts of the country where the inhabitants choose to live off the government subsidies rather than work for money, trading or hunting and fishing for everything else. These men and women we’ve had the good fortune to spend time with have been working their butts off with the hopes of sending their children off for higher education or improving their living situation. Harvesting copra is really hard work.

 

It’s not just the “American Dream”. It’s many other people’s dream, too.

How much time do YOU have left? Sunday 24 May 20

I took up skydiving as a hobby when I was 19 years old. It was a way to make new friends and confront the fear of falling towards Mother Earth. Took about 13 jumps before I learned to relax and enjoy the sensation of freefall, as 10 second delays before opening got me close to “terminal velocity” where the air began to feel like a mushy waterbed and I finally felt in control. Skydiving was thought of as extreme sport back in 1978, but the risk of injury or death was never on my mind. It was all about fun, maximizing my enjoyment of life, enjoying the camaraderie of fellow jumpers who inspected each other’s gear for safety, finding my tribe. We all SCUBA dived together down in Mexico as well, the same group of trusted friends looking after each other.

 

Covid-19 seems to have been a wakeup call for some folks. Our friends Jamie and Behan on SV Totem coach wanna-be and newbie cruisers, and they expected cruising plans and ambitions to be crushed by the pandemic. While the current health crisis has kept most of us cruisers from moving about, what Behan reports is that to her surprise, she and Jamie never been busier with their growing list of coaching clients and boat owners wanting new sails to prepare for their cruising dreams. Sounds like they’re not going to continue putting “turning the money crank” ahead of their life’s ambitions.

 

As my high school English teacher Nancy Coward was fond of saying, the only 2 things guaranteed in life are death and taxes. Death seemed abstract when I was young and even when close friends were killed in auto accidents, by skydiving mishaps or rare infections, the feeling of “it can’t happen to me” was always foremost in my mind. More recently my closest friends have died of cancer, ALS and other maladies and their deaths have had a much greater impact on me. As we get older our bodies malfunction, betraying us and occasionally trashing our dreams. Pretty much nobody is immune to this, and ultimately “we ain’t gettin’ out of this alive”. The realization that life is truly finite, that tomorrow might be the day I’m diagnosed with a fatal illness or get squashed by a drunken driver, that realization marked a turning point in my own life.

 

Perhaps the best question to ask yourself – “is this as good as it gets”? Have you reached the pinnacle of your personal aspirations? Do you have a mate that shares your dreams? Maybe you’re at the peak of your earning power or your position at work or society, but is there anything else you and your partner want to do before you die? If you were diagnosed with a terminal illness would you find yourself wishing you had led a different life?

 

My mom’s dad scrimped and saved his whole life so he could travel extensively after retiring from the railroad. He ended up with a nice pile of cash but got to use it up paying for his nursing home care, as about the time he retired various illnesses had put him in a wheelchair. My own dad worked until he was nearly 70, and when he finally retired found he had a higher income than when working, ultimately wishing he had retired sooner. Luckily mom and dad had good health, tottering into antiquity in good style.

 

So here we are in French Polynesia, currently trapped by closed borders and the uncertainty of the lingering pandemic effects. It’s not bad being trapped in paradise, and ours is certainly a high-class problem. As we game out our various options for the next one or more years, the real questions are “where do we still want to go, how much time and money do we need to budget, and are we in a hurry”? Illness or accident might smite us at any time, so our focus remains on fun, friendship, a highly satisfying lifestyle and finding meaning in our own existence. It’s a big world and there’s no way we’ll get to experience it all, but we are aiming to hit the highlights.

 

As our pal Trevor Griffiths has always noted, “life is what happens while you’re making plans”.

What to do? Where to go? 23 May 20

Well here we are in the Tuamotus and it’s darn near the end of May. While there’s talk of a Pacific Bubble opening up to cruisers, right now there are no countries to the West that we can set out for. Our original plan had been to depart Bora Bora in early July and head towards the Cook Islands, then Tonga before heading down to Minerva Reef around late October then waiting for a good weather window to sail the 800 or so miles to New Zealand. That plan gave us about 3 months to enjoy the Cooks and Tonga, perhaps also calling on Suwarrow as well. A little compressed, but still the opportunity to go a little slower and enjoy each stop for a bit of time. The big attraction to Tonga is the whale calving season which would be in full swing. We’re pretty wild about whales and wildlife in general, so we’d want to devote several weeks to that amazing experience.

 

Now we’re wondering how soon countries to the West will open up, and something a bit funny has happened to us. The self-isolation period here left us anchored in various spots within a single atoll (Raroia) for about 2 months. We slowed down, enjoyed the natural beauty of the place, met and spent time with some local inhabitants, and socialized with our fellow cruisers a bit. It was relaxing, and we began to appreciate the concept of “stopping and smelling the roses” as opposed to “go go go”. Now we’re at Tahanea with 4 other vessels and we’re really enjoying the socializing as well as all the fun we can make. Wandering around looking for seashells, snorkeling and discovering reef fish we’ve never seen before is fun. Last night we had dinner on SV Agape and Rachel’s shell collection left Isabel with a case of “shell envy” which must be remedied. It got worse this morning when we breakfasted on Le Pukeko and the girls pulled out their shell collections. Isabel is determined to be competitive, and I bet I’ll get to help.

 

I do projects as the spirit moves, today turning a couple of old pearl farm floats into planters just like the one on Le Pukeko. For years Isabel swore she wouldn’t tolerate any sort of planter, but just recently we’ve been on several boats that are growing micro greens and mint, basil, tyme, rosemary, you name it. Isabel has finally become determined to have her own “kitchen garden” on the stern, as there’s just nothing like fresh mint to turn the local Tahitian rum into something quite interesting. Given that a hunk of lamb is roasting in the oven right now, it would be supremely wonderful to have some rosemary to enhance the meal.

 

We’re now thinking about the unique opportunity that coronavirus has presented us. Likely there will be no international tourists in the islands anytime soon, which means that even Bora Bora could be relatively quiet without jet skis roaring around, and the charter fleets will likely be unused. The world may be our oyster! Perhaps we’ll spend a couple of months wandering around the leeward Society islands then come back to Tahiti and Moorea before moving East back into the Tuamotus around October. This sort of plan might provide the opportunity to store JollyDogs and fly to New Zealand if the Pacific Bubble opens up. Maybe we’ll just be land based tourists in New Zealand for a couple of months. Maybe we’ll fly back to the US to meet the kids – and perhaps on to the UK to visit Isabel’s family. It’ll all depend upon how this crazy pandemic is evolving. We’re good to stay in French Polynesia until May 2021, so as Isabel’s dad is fond of saying, “why not”?

 

This plan might even provide an opportunity to sail to the Gambier, the one archipelago we had hoped to visit but were thwarted by a lack of a good weather window back in January. In any case, it’s fun to game out the various options and the upside of slowing down a bit and then departing French Polynesia next May, allowing a couple extra months to enjoy the islands down range. There would even be time to go to Samoa. . .

 

Well, why not?

Hellooooo Tahanea!! Saturday 23 May 20

Having provisioned for ourselves and several other boats while in Makemo, we enjoyed a rather sporty “hard on the wind” sail to Tahanea on Monday the 18^th. Sailing around the Southeast end of Makemo then setting course for Tahanea, we found ourselves pointing as high as possible and still not quite laying the course with full main and jib. The seas were pretty flat with only a little wind wave chop, a result of having so little fetch to the Southwest side of the atoll. The wind strength was as forecast, but a more Westerly than expected. After pondering our navels for a bit, we dropped and stowed the screecher, getting rid of a lot of drag way out on the bow. That configuration change bought us a few degrees of heading and along with a little swing in the wind back to the North, we were soon laying the course and then having to decide which direction to aim to dodge a couple of small atolls between us and Tahanea.

 

Ultimately, we made Tahanea without having to tack, but during her late-night watch Isabel had to play with various methods of slowing JollyDogs down to avoid arriving at the middle pass of Tahanea before dawn. The “tidal guestimator” had suggested that about 0800 would be slack tide then the water would begin flowing into the lagoon. Given the location of the pass and the North Northwest winds, we wanted to transit the pass on an incoming tide. Arriving a bit before slack tide gave us a chance to observe what was really going on in case the tide wasn’t behaving quite as advertised.

 

To kill a little time we reached up and down the Northeast side of the atoll, fishing lines deployed, hoping for a tuna or mahi mahi. SV Le Pukeko had been in view during the passage, and they had just reported catching two wahoo, so our hopes were high. Suddenly the starboard side line went tight and the bungee stretched to an impossible length before all went slack. What the heck? We scanned the water behind the boat to see just what sort of monster might have gobbled our little squidlet lure and were rewarded by the sight of a big marlin leaping out of the water and twisting through the air. Wow! That was a great show, and we reckoned the spectacle was worth losing a lure over. Guess we wouldn’t be eating marlin or any other fish today. . .

 

The pass entry was easy, then we turned to starboard and motored about a kilometer to where our pals on SV Agape and two other boats were anchored. Soon all the folks were aboard and after warm greetings all round we were distributing gasoline and groceries. That task complete, we deployed our dinghy, grabbed our snorkel gear and headed for the West pass to drift snorkel it a couple times. Josh and Rachel from Agape had raved about how many big fish and sharks hung out there; no time like the present to go see for ourselves. We motored out until the water turned a very deep shade of blue, then in we went, hanging on to the dinghy painter and drifting with the incoming tidal current. Looking down, we were first staring down into the abyss, then the subsea terrain began to reveal itself as we drifted into the pass. A very steep wall sloped up to shallower waters and we enjoyed seeing a variety of sharks and large fish in the depths, then lots of colorful reef fish as we washed in towards the shallower coral laden bottom. It was so much fun that we did it all again before declaring both success and “we’re cold”.

 

After reviewing the weather forecast, we all decided that moving to the Southeast corner that day would be a prudent decision, as we had good sunlight on our backs and light winds, minimizing chop and providing ideal conditions to see bommies. Initially we thought we would be able to sail gently to our destination, but the wind died off so that eventually all boats were motoring along. By 1600 everyone was nicely tucked in at the Southeast corner, and the serious socializing began.

Fun and games in Makemo Tuesday 19 May 20

Well Makemo turned out to be a great stop! As we departed Raroia our pals on SV Le Pukeko were just ahead of us, and they texted the local policeman to let him know we were both heading to Makemo. He must have called the policeman on Makemo because when we arrived he knew we were coming and was happy to see us. Entering the pass was easy with an incoming tide and wind on our backs, and our anchor spot worked out great, with no challenging bommie tangles. We wandered around the atoll smiling and saying hello to all we met, and we experienced a warm reception from everyone. Lots of folks wanted to know where we had sailed from, what country we were from, and while Isabel rattled on in French with many people I managed to get by just fine with my terrible French and somewhat questionable English, probably better described as Southern ‘Merican.

 

We arrived on Friday morning and that meant no “official” alcohol sales until Monday. Let’s just say it all worked out just fine, and we did leave with ample supplies. Isabel made her list, checked it twice, then shopped until we just about dropped, but away we came with enough food for another month or two. Having completed our own provisioning, we then purchased numerous food items and 60 liters of gasoline for our friends on SV Agape and some of their buddies who have all been at Tahanea for about 10 weeks. Josh and Rachel on SV Agape have a dive compressor and maybe we’ll squeeze in a few SCUBA dives while there but snorkeling and some kite boarding will also satisfy pretty well.  There’s no permanent settlement on the atoll and no ciguatera problem, so the spear fishing is meant to be outstanding. Nobody should be going hungry.

 

We succeeded at getting the ATM to give us cash both Friday and Saturday, then it decided it didn’t like us anymore. Hopefully that’ll do us for a while. The VINI hotspot by the post office offered a strong signal in the anchorage, and we finally got our MicroTik mast-top WIFI repeater to earn its keep, allowing us to boost and rebroadcast the WIFI inside the boat and then update apps and software and such on all devices simultaneously. Isabel managed a Skype video call to her dad, and I succeeded at a WhatsApp call to our pal Mike Racine who was to have been with us a few weeks back but is hanging around home in Albuquerque until Covid-19 isn’t such a problem any longer. We both managed to update all our podcasts, so now I can wallow in The Motley Fool’s range of audio productions for weeks to come until once again we emerge in the land of “data”.

 

There’s a bit of a blow brewing, coming up from down South, so Monday morning we blasted off for Tahanea, driving out of the pass with about 4 knots of current and wind effects on the bow. A last phone call to sort out a credit card update and we were off! It’s been a lovely sail, hard on the wind but in fairly flat sea conditions, and the only challenge now is slowing JollyDogs down so that we don’t arrive too early. About 0820 the tidal flow should be just about right, so that’s our planned arrival time at the middle pass of Tahanea. We’ll probably drop the hook and sneak in some drift dives in the pass before following Josh and Rachel down to the Southeast corner where a large sandy anchorage and good protection from the wind and seas outside the reef will be our friend. Looks like about a week of strong winds, hopefully in the right range for our 10 square meter kite.

 

Funnily enough, even with all that broadband internet access I never thought to look at the news until about an hour before we departed. I realized why when I finally did have a look. Nothing but Covid-19 and political squabbling. Our own fearless leader keeps the smoke and mirrors going at high speed, demonstrating a blatant level of corruption not seen since Huey Long ran Louisiana.

 

Glad we’re here.

Back to the land of plenty! Friday 15 May 20

A good word to describe our 20 hour passage from Raroia down to Makemo might be “easy”. Departing Raroia was challenge free. After turning on course for the South end of Taenga we rolled out the jib, shut down the engines, and tooled along at about 5.5 knots until the breeze died a bit, then eventually removed the soft shackle holding the twin headsails together, tensioned up their individual sheets rigged through barber haulers, and turned dead downwind, seas at our stern. Pretty much a sleigh ride, nothing to do but wait.

 

The moon didn’t rise until after midnight, and with only a few little puffy clouds lingering, the stars were magnificent. Catching up on old podcasts while kicking back and watching for shooting stars made for a great night, and around 0130 this morning I gave Isabel her chance to enjoy the view so I could snooze a few hours, then up again around 0600 for coffee and to prepare to enter the pass by the village. By 0820 we were through the pass and hunting a suitable anchor spot, finding a fine patch of sand amongst the bommies. About a half hour of snorkeling and rearranging anchor chain floats and we were set. Isabel deployed the dinghy and we launched an expedition to plunder the village.

 

Having been here last October we kind of know our way around, but no doubt there’s something we’d missed. First stop – the shop where we purchased both croissants and diesel, a store that compared to the little shop in Raroia felt like going to a bloody Costco. I’m not kidding when I state that it was almost a sensory overload experience! Both of us wandering up and down the isles, gawking at things like fresh red onions, more than one kind of toothpaste, and cheese!

 

Best of all this shop also takes a credit card which is good, because even though there is an ATM down by the post office, there’s no telling whether it’ll work or not. Given we’re going to provision for a month, and oh by the way they can now sell spirits Monday through Thursday, vast sums of money could change hands.

Remembering how to sail JollyDogs Thursday 14 May 20

So today, after about 2 months of being confined to the Tuamotu atoll of Raroia, we finally shifted from anchorage/housekeeping mode to “let’s go to sea” mode. I relocated the 80 pound valise-packed life raft to the saloon, did the same with the ditch bag, removed and stowed the sun and rain protection canvas and covers, then secured the dinghy for passage. At 1220 local time after a lunch of grilled fish and veggies, and after a monster squall finally passed, we weighed anchor and motored carefully from our spot near the Kon Tiki motu through the bommies to the pass on the West side of the atoll. The tide was still running out and the wind was at our backs, so no wind over tide, all should be good. There was some interaction between the outgoing tidal current and a current running outside the atoll which created some low standing waves, but about 1330 we motored through a calm section of the outflow then turned towards a waypoint about 5 miles South of the atoll of Taenga, 40 miles from the pass at Raroia.

 

Once on heading out came the jib and off went the engines, and voila, we were doing about 5 knots SOG towards our objective. Taenga blocks our direct route to Makemo, and the decision whether to leave it to port or starboard was made after evaluating the sea swell and wind conditions after getting out of Raroia. It’s now 2110 ship’s time and in about 6.5 miles we’ll reach that waypoint then turn about 25 degrees to starboard to lay the course to the East pass of Makemo, just by the village. The second leg of this short journey is about 36 miles, and we don’t want to arrive before 0800 when the tidal flow is flooding into the lagoon, the wind is with the tide, and there’s good sunlight to see the bommies when we get to the small village anchorage. The wind after our arrival is forecast to be 10-12 knots from the East Northeast and tapering off, so the anchorage should be pretty settled and safe for our stay. A supply ship is due in very soon so with luck we’ll score some fresh veggies and other provisions.

 

Moving safely between atolls takes a bit of planning. Wind direction and strength at departure and arrival destinations need to be considered for the planned pass transit times. Depending upon the orientation of the pass to the prevailing wind, either an incoming or outgoing tide might be desired. Wind and sea conditions enroute dictate sail plan and which side to go around obstacles. The hops are short enough that the real trick is figuring out how to make the boat go slow enough so that arrival is at the desired time. For this 76 mile passage we’ve had just the jib out and we’ve been averaging around 4.1 knots. Once we turn the waypoint we’ll still have about 10 hours to go only 36 miles, so unless the wind drops off a bit we’ll roll in a bit of the jib to slow down. That turn will put the seas dead astern rather than on the port aft quarter, so the ride will be more comfortable, but it hasn’t been at all uncomfortable today, just a slightly obnoxious roll at times.

 

We need to keep a little speed for ride quality when moving through lumpy seas, but with the seas dead astern even 3 knots should provide a nice ride. It seems odd to be thinking about ways to slow the boat down – generally we’re looking to make speed on long passages until we’re in close range of an anchorage, but here we are, playing tricks to go slower. With bare poles and 10 knots dead astern we’ll still do almost 3 knots, as the stern of JollyDogs presents as a barn door to the wind.

 

It sure feels good to be at sea after being confined in our own private Idaho for about 2 months. Raroia was really great, but it’s time to move on. Makemo has 3 shops, an ATM and internet that actually works! We’re talking metropolis here! Today the government announced that spirits can now be sold Monday thru Thursday, odds are we’ll lurk the village until Monday before departing and wandering up to the Northwest end of the atoll. Remember, Shawnee?

Free at last! Free at last! Tuesday 12 May 20

Well, the powers that be finally decided that we could more within our own archipelagos as of Wednesday 13 May. That’s all of the Tuamotus for us, a vast area to explore. We’ve been at Raroia for about 2 months now and it’s alternately felt like home and a really nice prison. Now that we can leave we almost don’t want to.

 

Just yesterday I got invited to go spear fishing with some of the local guys, and out to the pass we went to see what was for dinner. There were 4 of them and me, and it was an amazing time watching them whack pan size fish with a spear gun from 5 meters away. Dudes were great shots! One of them, a fellow named Michelle, had speared a fish some time ago and apparently a shark decided he wanted what was on the spear as much as Michelle did. Michelle did the usual thing of quickly reeling the spear in and hugging the fish to his chest while making his way up to the surface to pop said fish into the boat. Mr. Shark wasn’t having that and in his excitement bit Michelle once really deeply on one leg, then nipped him a couple more times. Michelle showed me the wound, which took plenty of stitches to repair. You pays your money and you takes your chances, I reckon.

 

Anyway, it was pretty exciting to be part of the action yesterday, and there were plenty of sharks about. White tips, black tips, and grays, many in excess of 2 meters. Michelle shot one nice fish just when a shark was looking, and apparently there’s nothing a shark likes better than a wriggling fish with a spear sticking through it. Watching that shark shred the fish was awesome. Watching Michelle let it happen then have to straighten his bent spear was pretty darn interesting as well. As they say, sometimes you get the bear, sometimes the bear gets you. I do believe Michelle has learned to give one up now and then so he can live to spear fish another day.

 

It was quite a successful hunt, including some pretty darn big fish, so today Isabel and I were invited to Cali’s home for barbequed Black Jack, a really large and tasty fish from yesterday. We spent several hours kicking back watching the fish cook over the coconut husk fire, then pigging out on roasted fish and poisson cru and rice and the Ghiradelli chocolate brownies I had made for dessert. Quite the feast, then the guys got ready to go fishing again while Isabel and I retired to JollyDogs, then motored across the atoll to the East side of the atoll where we’re better protected if the forecast comes to pass. It’s supposed to blow up to a good steady 16 plus knots from the East, and there’s just too much fetch across the lagoon where the village anchorage is. Better safe than sorry, as an all-night anchor watch isn’t restful, and dragging towards a lee shore is not on our list of fun and games.

 

Part of my daily routine includes downloading a pile of weather forecast products, then prowling through them to determine if we’re safe where we’re anchored, or if an upcoming sailing voyage to another atoll is actually a good idea. There be dragons out there, and sailing is a lot like flying.  As my old test pilot pal Bob Merrill used to say, “it’s a lot better to be in a bar wishing you were flying, than to be flying wishing you were in a bar”.

 

So now we’re free to move to other atolls, and it’s looking like we’ll blast off for Makemo Thursday afternoon with a nice sailing forecast which should get us into the pass by the village there Friday morning. We need to leave Raroia’s West side pass in the afternoon during an outgoing tide, then arrive at Makemo’s East side pass during an incoming tide. Especially during strong winds, the wind over tide effect can create extremely dangerous standing waves. Having misjudged a pass once last year, we’ll not be doing that again, thank you very much.

 

After stocking up on goodies in Makemo we’ll sail for the uninhabited atoll of Tahanea for more spear fishing. By golly, things are looking up!

Doing what good cruisers do. Sunday 10 May 20

Well, I’m as tired of pondering my navel about the political mess in America as any of the two or three occasional readers of my somewhat twisted blog comments are of my musings. Back to the job of being a sailboat bum in French Polynesia. It’s a tough gig, but I’m committed.

 

The past few days have been somewhat idyllic, as the weather, i.e. that which might smite us, has been just wonderful. Well, except the wind just refuses to blow hard enough to play with our kite boarding gear. Someday we’ll get that magical sixteen knot steady breeze, then we’ll give it what fer. If you haven’t seen “Inglorious Basterds”, it’s perhaps Brad Pitt’s finest work, definitely one of the greatest movies ever made.

 

Anyway, the past few days we’ve been anchored up at the Northeast corner of the atoll, where there are lovely colorful fishies, flat water to paddle our one remaining SUP upon, long rugged reefs to comb for treasures, land crabs skittering around everywhere, and all the coconuts one could ever want. We’ve had crews from various boats over for dinner, visited them for dinner, caught crabs, done yoga on the beach, done boat repair projects, studied on the weather, and brainstormed on what we’d ever do if we finally get permission to even leave this lovely atoll of Raroia. Seems like we’ve decided to sail to Makemo, load up on provisions in the village, get a little internet stuff done, then sail on to the uninhabited atoll of Tahanea where we’ve some pals hanging out. There are three passes to drift snorkel, the best way to view sea life and subsea terrain. Apparently spear fishing there is great and no ciguatera is present, so I’ve sharpened up the tip and will be putting on new rubber bands.

 

Today after a yoga routine and an X-3 workout I went ashore to use the local internet, essentially an exercise in frustration, then wandered over to our new best friend Cali’s place to see if he would let me use his coconut shucking spike. Sure, no problem – so he went and got it, stuck it in the ground, then insisted on opening all six of the coconuts I brought. Four of them were “no good”, but no problem – one of his buddies (there were three of them sitting around) fetched up some good ones, and soon I had a bag of shucked coconuts to take back to Isabel. Thai curry soon, and I got a lesson in how to select good coconuts. Cali’s wife had made some lunch, so to be polite I gorged myself on poisson cru, sashimi, and fried dogtooth tuna along with rice and a fried bread confection. Oink.

 

Back to JollyDogs to report on my poor coconut picking judgement and just in time for some fresh crab salad – leftovers from our hunting trip. Next, off to snorkel the pass during the incoming tide with two other dinghy loads of cruisers. Visibility virtually unlimited, amazing fish life, three flavors of sharks. We hit the pass during low slack tide and then had a couple of rides after the flood tide started coming in. That pretty much involves hanging on to the dinghy painter and floating along, buzzing across the sea floor at the tidal inflow speed, maybe two to four knots during our drift dives today. All great fun, sharks left us alone, then we passed Cali and some of his buddies spear fishing on the way back to our vessels. Before putting the dink away we motor over the anchor and donning mask and snorkel verify that all is well. Visibility is good today.

 

Only way to celebrate a great snorkel (and get rid of that salty taste) is to down an ice cold Hinano lager and bask in the sunshine for a bit. Top that off with a nap in the hammock, some guitar practice, then time for the evening SSB net then dinner. Write a blog post, go outside and work on my star and constellation memorizing for a bit, then maybe watch a movie or read a bit before crashing.

 

It’s just all in a day’s work on JollyDogs. Apparently French Polynesia has four active cases of Covid-19 left. With any luck we’ll be allowed to sail to another atoll soon!

American Exceptionalism Tuesday 5 May 20

Our French Polynesia wide WhatsApp group recently provided these stats:

USA cases: 1,187,804, new 27,000, deaths 68,589, recovered 178,263.

World cases: 3,560,000, new 81,000, deaths 250,000, recovered 1,153,071.

 

Comparing the US against all other reporting countries in the world, regardless of poverty level or population, one thing is abundantly clear: WE’RE #1, WE’RE #1, WE’RE #1!

 

The true numbers are certainly a lot higher. Poor access to reliable test kits, an abundance of symptom free carriers, those who had a mild case of the virus and were never diagnosed (I thought it was the flu) and the elderly or infirm who’ve recently died of multiple complications disguise the true impact of the virus.

 

Does it really matter?

 

Was Nathan Hale the guy who said “Give me liberty or give me death”? Our president lives in his own bubble and seems to have always leaned towards keeping the economy ticking while for the most part state governors and local authorities have leaned towards sacrificing short term economic goals to limit the spread of the virus. For a while Trump seemed to cave into medical advisors and perhaps political pressure from his own party, but now he and some Republican governors are beating the economy drum while other state governors and many local officials (mayors, etc.) continue to urge caution. Civic leaders farther down the ladder are more accountable to local voters – their “bubble”. This push me/pull you dynamic defines American politics, but as Senator Sam Ervin once noted, “all politics is local”. The US economy has taken a shellacking in the past few months and states are probably asking for federal relief dollars. Those dollars have to actually come from somewhere, and if the federal government just keeps printing money our grandchildren will get stuck holding a larger bag than we’ve already dumped on them.

 

In a year or two we can assess how deaths and permanent disabilities caused by Covid-19 stack up against the usual suspects; flu, household accidents, suicides, automobile accidents, mass shootings. Maybe it’ll just look like a bad flu season, or it may look like a national disaster. One can accuse our Twitter-in-Chief president of betting his approach supports his reelection hopes, and there is certainly evidence that some Americans have had enough of the self-isolation. The natives have gotten restless. Trump’s base would vote for him regardless of the outcome, so maybe he’s betting that undecided voters will be supportive of his approach by November. Everyone dies anyway but survivors still need to make a living. One can accept death and move on or feel bitter and vindictive.

 

One’s attitude may depend on whether one is a fatalist or wants to be protected from all the evil out there. After 9-11 Americans voluntarily surrendered much personal privacy in the hopes the government would make them feel “safe”, an idea that’s pretty easy to manipulate people with. Covid-19 is one of those nebulous things that is hard to get one’s head around, and probably pretty easy for a politician to dodge the bullet, and it will be interesting to see which party has the upper hand in November. The Republicans may end up as the macho “damn the torpedos, full speed ahead” party, while the Democrats could get painted as the “nanny state” sissies. For me politics is a “pick your own brand of crook” spectator sport but given the challenges of absentee voting in our state, we might not even get to make our own voices heard.

 

Here in French Polynesia it looks like the virus is contained and may possibly be eradicated. New Zealand and Australia are aiming to be in that club as are most countries in-between, the larger area now being referred to as the “South Pacific Bubble”. Our bubble includes sandy beaches, coconut palms, pretty reef fish and the occasional obnoxious shark, but I’m tired of the remaining restrictions. Someone turn the wind machine up to 16 knots, I wanna go kite boarding!

A language worth learning Saturday 2 May 20

My high school graduating class was only 41 kids strong. We actually had 43 in the class, but 2 of them had such bad grades they didn’t graduate. A school that small didn’t offer too many college bound class options and the only foreign language offered was French, so I took 2 years of that, then two more semesters early in college. After moving to Phoenix, Arizona it was obvious that Spanish might be a bit more useful, so Isabel and I both took some Spanish classes, and while we were sailing and living in Mexico we got to practice a good bit.

 

Isabel studied linguistics at university and ended up with French as her primary language. That was quite some time ago, and even though she still speaks French pretty well such things as telephone calls with local Polynesians are still very difficult and often she can’t find the right words, or they speak so fast she gets lost. Apparently her French is still good enough to understand that they’re making fun of her during phone calls. Nuts.

 

Foreign language training for many of us with English as a primary language is an academic exercise that might help us get by years later but it truly is a “use it or lose it” skill. We might still be able to string enough words together to make a sentence, and we’ll likely always be able to order a beer, find the bathroom, and maybe even read a menu. While it’s fair to say that our French and Spanish training wasn’t time wasted, it’s become obvious to me that if you land in a foreign country and want to have fun and make friends, become competent with a portable musical instrument such as a guitar, mandolin, banjo or ukulele and bring it with during your travels.

 

Nothing opens doors and makes folks smile quicker than someone sitting down and starting to pick and grin. Musicians unfamiliar with one another who gather for jam sessions become fast friends; the stranger who can just show up and join right in is no longer a stranger but quidkly accepted into the community.

 

I don’t regret studying French or Spanish, and Isabel’s French language skills have vastly improved our experience here in French Polynesia. However, I sure do wish I had learned to play a portable stringed instrument well back when my brain was flexible and fingers more supple. Maybe it isn’t too late, and the little Martin Backpacker guitar I gave Isabel for her birthday 22 years ago is finally seeing a good bit of action, as both of us are teaching ourselves how to play the darn thing. It’s been around 43 years since I last read music and I’m struggling to regain my skills. Isabel was able to jump right in and she’s progressing faster than me, but we’re both focused on getting to the point we can play notes and chords and sing a decent song. It’ll make those beach bonfires a lot more fun.

 

Music is the one language that all cultures share, and even if you’re investing energy in learning a foreign language, learn to read music and play an instrument! Not only will you enrich your own life, but the experiences you share with others despite not being able to converse with them in their own language will be epic! If you can play for or with them, they’ll probably buy you a beer anyway.

Sharks and people with attitude Friday 1 May 20

What a day so far – woke up to a blinding but windless rainstorm that lasted about 20 minutes. It had gone dead calm in the night so JollyDogs had drifted all over the place, and after the rain (what Isabel refers to as a “clearing up shower”) was done we had a clean boat, lots of wet stuff in the cockpit, and flat calm water with great visibility. The anchor was just below the bows, the chain wandering all over the place before returning to the bridle hook.

 

Looked like a perfect morning to get a good SUP workout in. Since my encounter with Mr. Shark, who turned an $1100 Red 9’8” SUP into vinyl shrapnel, we’ve learned a bit about shark behavior and the new JollyDogs decree is there will be no SUP paddling during the hours from dawn until 0730 and 1630 until dark, shark feeding time when their behavior changes and becomes more aggressive. Kind of like the first day of hunting season back home, when itchy fingered hunters are more apt to shoot anything that moves. I recall hearing of farmers who would paint “COW” on the side of their animals lest some overly enthusiastic hunter mistake it for a deer. For the uninitiated, deer look remarkably different from cows, but perhaps they fail to mention that in some hunting schools.

 

So off Isabel went this morning while I called my little sister with the Iridium Go satphone feature to wish her a happy birthday. Calling a hardline telephone generally results in a pretty decent call, while calling a cell phone results in frustration and thoughts of suicide. Something to do with things called CODECs, whatever they are. Anyway, Lisa answered while I was explaining to her answer machine that I wasn’t a telemarketer, and even though the call dropped three times we had a great conversation. Somewhere during the third try Isabel returned from her abbreviated paddling workout dripping wet and missing her fancy new sunnies.

 

Hey – this story kind of reminds me of an old Jimmy Buffet song about Mr. Bear, where he took Jimmy’s sunglasses, and Jimmy noted he was really pissed off because he had just stolen them from an Eckerds Drug Store.

 

Anyway, Isabel reported that the same silly lemon shark that had attacked my SUP had come after her, and in her efforts to ward off the demon by whacking at it with her mighty carbon fiber paddle she had knocked herself off balance and fallen into the water. That’s where Mr. Shark lives, I politely pointed out. Isabel reported that she quickly scrambled back onto the SUP (I’m imagining levitation here) and Mr. Shark vamoosed. During the kerfuffle she lost her fancy new sunnnies, but she was pretty sure she knew where they were and if her darling husband was willing to dinghy over there with her then don his mask and snorkel and retrieve them, she would be eternally grateful.

 

Well her darling husband has had about enough of this idiotic lemon shark with its bad attitude, and to show it who had an even worse attitude out came the pistola, a short spear gun that’s easy to train on a target in a danger close environment. Off we went and darned if Isabel didn’t spot her beloved sunnies on a sandy bottom in about 10’ of water. Ever the Romeo to his Juliette, her darling husband donned his snorkel kit, armed the spear gun, then after looking around for a bit did a bunch of huffing and puffing then launched from the dinghy into Mr. Shark’s world to retrieve the investment.

 

Success! No sign of that bloody shark either – maybe he realized that for me it was the first day of hunting season. It ain’t the last, and that turkey might find out what it’s like to be “consumed” by his own siblings and parents. We’re big on recycling here, so that’s just fine by us. No waste.

 

Great hearing from you Al – my old FTE friend who so kindly provided hanger space for our little RV-6 back in the day. Hope those stereo speakers are still filling that hanger with great sound!

 

Happy birthday Weez! E-mail me the author’s name!

When work is no longer life's focus Friday 1 May 20

Happy birthday Lisa! Fortunately, my little sister hasn’t passed me in age, and I hope to keep it that way. She is a pistol, that’s for sure.

 

Ever wonder what you’d do if you didn’t have to devote 40 or more hours per week to making a paycheck? Retirement is best defined as “no longer being forced to sell your time”. My brother is training to be a battlefield docent in Virginia – that’s really cool. We’ve got friends who volunteer their time for a variety of charities and community building activities.

 

I’ve found time to enjoy some creative outlets. For starters, writing blog posts that nobody reads. Fun for me and documents our adventures or what’s on my mind at the time. Kind of implies time to be thoughtful, because my nose isn’t to the grindstone. Isabel and I have both been teaching ourselves to play the guitar – never mind that we’ve owned the darn thing for 22 years. I left my banjo at Bill’s shop in Arizona – perhaps I’ll fetch it next trip and try teaching myself how to pick that thing. We took kite boarding lessons and if the daggum wind ever blows around here we’ll be out blasting around the bay having a heck of a time. Isabel became a yoga instructor and has been leading classes on the beach. I’m teaching myself how to make artisanal bread, which kind of scratches my itch for making craft beer. They’ve both got yeast in them, don’t they? My dad used to make bread for us and for church communion, and when I’m messing about in the galley it feels like he’s with me. It’s a good feeling.

 

That reminds me – need to go stir my sourdough starter. . .

 

Where was I? Oh yeah, finally having time to do lots of things we put off because we were trying to wring blood out of turnips all those years. We believed our work gave our lives meaning, and at the time it did, but there’s a heck of a lot more to life than work, or at least there better be.

 

Somehow, I recently ended up as the manager of the French Polynesia single sideband cruisers net. The former net manager and some other net controllers got into a big brewhaha and they all quit, just took their balls and went home which threatened the collapse of the entire enterprise. Since I failed to successfully mediate and diffuse the situation, I decided I’d try to rebuild without their help. Fortunately, the remaining net controllers stuck with me, we recruited some great new folks, and now we’ve got someone covering each day of the week. Tune in at 1800 UTC in the am, or 0400 UTC in the pm and declare an emergency and ask for help, or report being underway so we can follow your progress or tell us about your day and what’s up in your anchorage. We bring folks together, build community, and make new friends on the radio who we eventually meet. All good fun, and occasionally we help vessels in distress.

 

We’re no longer focused on turning the money crank. We’re focused on our own quality of life, physical, mental and emotional fitness, and how we can give back to our community. We find time for yoga, to paddle an SUP for an hour, to watch a sunset, to learn to navigate by the stars, to learn to play a new musical instrument, to improve our foreign language skills, to make delicious and healthful food, to appreciate the environment and creatures around us. A good sail is exhilarating, as is blasting around the bay on our kite board.

 

Every day at sunset we wonder where the day went, every Friday we wonder where the week went. For some reason we still seem to observe weekends differently from weekdays, even though there’s really no difference for us.

 

Life offers plenty of stimulation of all sorts including intellectual pursuits. We still work to improve our financial situation by paying careful attention to our investments and budget. Perhaps in a way we’re still working for a living, but we sure aren’t giving up 40+ hours per week.

 

The cruising life is good – we’re pretty darn self-sufficient, and we’re just soooo busy!