Remember that old breakfast joke? 30 Jun 20

Where the heck did June go? We’re now halfway through 2020! Can ANYBODY believe that?

 

We keep a logbook of all our movements and guests, so at least we can go back and accurately recall where we were and if someone was visiting. Pat and Celine managed to join us and escape before the Covid-19 pandemic caused shutdowns and quarantines. We managed to escape from Nuku Hiva’s Taiohae Bay before the shutdown and actually enjoyed our self-isolation period at the very lightly populated atoll of Raroia. In hindsight the only better option would have been the unpopulated atoll of Tahanea. Still, we had a good time and if that darn shark hadn’t attack while I was out paddling one of our inflatable SUPs it would have been a stellar experience.

 

We left Nuku Hiva with a load of fresh veggies, fruit and leafy greens. We ran out of anything to make salad with after a few weeks, and it was well over 2 months before we saw anything like lettuce again. There’s nothing as wonderful as a big fluffy salad after doing without for months! Provisioning for long periods in remote locations is something Isabel is extremely good at, and I’m betting she’ll be back to growing microgreens onboard once she can get some seeds. I’ve already built her a couple of planters out of old pearl farm floats.

 

We continue to be bummed about what we can’t find to purchase even in the more populated atolls of Makemo and Fakarava. Partly it’s due to international supply chain disruptions caused by the coronavirus, partly it’s because many of the store shelves are cluttered with junk food instead of healthful foodstuffs. Like the US and Mexico, obesity is a serious problem in French Polynesia. I’m not sure how bad alcoholism compares as booze is seriously expensive here but sugar is a subsidized staple and plenty of folks are using it to make their own hooch.

 

Soon we’ll make landfall in Tahiti and quickly learn just what’s in short supply there. Of interest is what’s on the shelves of Maxi, a shop that resells all kinds of goodies from Costco in the states. Carrefour is the place to go for general groceries and great French cheeses, pates, etc. Super-U over on the adjacent island of Moorea seems to have much better prices for wine and other forms of alcohol. No telling why, perhaps something to do with local taxes?

 

For now, we’re weathering an impressive maramu here in Hirifa. Have a look on Google Earth – there’ll likely be a few yachts in the image. Great place to tuck in for a strong Southeast blow, nice sandy beach and kite surfing is a great pastime.

 

Yesterday was to be a private lesson for Isabel, but the wind was so hard and gusty she made a wise decision to decline and I made the somewhat silly decision to go in her place. As instructor extraordinaire Adrian noted, he couldn’t teach me a lot right now, I simply have to put in a lot of kilometers to build my skills and teach my body to react to rapidly changing conditions. It was still worthwhile and I learned lots. We pulled the plug on further lessons until the blow lessens and scheduled Isabel for Friday when the wind should be lighter and steadier.

 

In the meantime I used one of Adrian’s 8 meter kites yesterday and found it to be much more controllable in the conditions. We only have a 10-meter kite of our own and it’s just too windy for it. Other kiters have noted that if you’re serious about enjoying this sport, you need a full quiver of kite sizes and Adrian advises for our body weight a compliment off 8, 10 and 13-meter kites is about right. His wife Aline is going to let me demo a used 8-meter kite this morning and if I like we’ll add it to our arsenal of gear. She’s also contacted a kite shop on Moorea to see if they’ve got a 13-meter kite to sell us. It’ll be a rather large commitment in $$$, but hey –we’re way under budget for eating out!

 

Back to that breakfast joke, about eating bacon and eggs? The chicken is participating, but the pig is fully committed.

What a difference a day makes! Sunday 28 Jun 20

Yesterday I couldn’t seem to kite surf without being a major hazard to myself, those around me, and the boats in the anchorage. Today I launched from the beach, albeit after a rather inauspicious beginning, but after nearly an hour of blasting back and forth including actually succeeding at several turns, I returned to the beach I had departed from and carefully landed the kite for Isabel to catch.

 

Wow. I did forget to remove my last Boeing Phantom Works cap before entering the water and I did lose it, but Alex from SV Ari-B was providing crash rescue support for his wife Carla, and he found my cap. Today was a lucky day. I’m still barely in control at times but beginning to successfully deal with rough water and gusty conditions. Maybe tomorrow I’ll have another epiphany.

 

Isabel got grumpy today and announced she was done with kite surfing, which I took to mean she’s done with me trying to help her make progress. While she took a long walk on the reef to hunt pretty shells with some cruising friends, I found Aline of Tuamotu Kite School and enlisted the support of her husband Adrian, an absolutely exceptional kite surfing instructor. Tomorrow Isabel will have a private lesson from 1030 to 1230, and I’ll ride along with Adrian to learn as much as I can about launching from a dinghy. It’s a good skill to have as there’s a shortage of beaches in lots of places.

 

With luck Adrian will get Isabel past this current learning hump and back to having a great time hurling herself around the bay. This is a way we can play together, something rare and special, and it’s worth a little short term pain to reap the long term reward. Cross fingers.

Bad kite surfing my way! Saturday 28 Jun 20

Remember Leslie Nielsen? Starred in the movie “Airplane”, then did a video (or maybe it was a book?) called “Bad Golf My Way”.

 

Hirifa is where Tuamotu Kite School sets up operations during this time of year. Adrian and Aline are a great couple, teaching kiting and free diving and hosting guests on their catamaran named “Pizza”. What a great name for a boat! Who doesn’t like pizza?

 

Anyway, the kite surfing wind was on schedule today, and we began by giving Isabel a shot at building her skills. She’s hit a bit of a hump that she needs to get over, so either she’s going to soak up some training videos or take a couple lessons from Adrian or Aline. We need to get her past this point of frustration and back to having fun, blasting around the bay. She did pretty good today.

 

Then it was my turn. The wind was building, but also gusty and a bit unpredictable. Skilled kite surfers were setting up or already doing their thing. Time for me to get after it, so we got the lines laid out, the kite inflated and properly rigged right there on the sandy beach, then launched and stable overhead. So far so good. Isabel walked the board down to me and helped me get set up in the water, then I was off!

 

I started out pretty well, staying upwind while doing my best to avoid conflicts with other kiters. Need to review those “rules of the road” to make sure I don’t create a safety hazard, bad feelings or a bloody collision. Eddie, a young teenage boy from SV September a.m. was bopping around on his wind surfer and darned if he didn’t feel like a magnet. Kind of like during my snow skiing days when if I looked at a tree I headed straight towards it, but I managed to avoid whacking Eddie or anyone else all afternoon.

 

Apparently I need to review those “how to turn and go the other way without sinking” videos. Had it working really well a week ago, now can’t do it to save my life. Still, launches were working and I was having a great time, that is until I got too close to the tree line near the end of the beach, with a bunch of anchored boats nearby downwind. That’s when a big gust launched the kite out of my control and next thing I knew I was releasing the primary and emergency attachments only to have the kite blow past Pizza and the lines tangle in the mast rigging. Gee whiz.

 

I swam towards the boat hollering at anyone onboard to “help”. Bodies who were probably napping or having tea quickly emerged and began addressing the entangled lines, while Adrian lept into his dinghy and rescued the kite. Oddly enough he didn’t deflate the kite, rather just controlled the situation until the lines were untangled from the boat, then towed it all to the beach so I could set up and continue kiting. Seemed to be no big deal to him, hugely embarrassing to me but as I recover quickly from doing stupid things, I was soon re-rigged and back at it. No telling what Isabel was thinking, but she continued to keep an eye on me and ended up rescuing me when the leash attachment to the board broke after one horrendous crash. I elected to continue for a bit longer and she stayed pretty close with the dinghy, figuring it was only a matter of time before disaster struck again.

 

She was right. My objective was to work my way upwind and back to the beach launch point so I could recover the kite to the beach. I was making decent progress and got to a point close to the beach (and the dreaded tree line) with boats downwind when I sank during a turn. A gust took the kite and while I was trying to get control of the situation it crashed into the water near an anchored boat, so I immediately cut away. As luck would have it the kite bar got entangled with a boat’s anchor marker float, once again proving my incompetence.

 

Charlie from SV Long Temps helped Isabel gather everything up, then we packed up for the day. She declared I was no longer allowed anywhere upwind of anchored vessels, and I heartily agreed.

 

It was a fantastic afternoon!

Dear Seawind, Part 1 27 Jun 20

Isabel wants a bigger boat. A Seawind 1400 ish thing, something in the 45 foot range? Has to do with more volume and load bearing capacity, more internal and external storage lockers to allow extended cruising in remote environs. More room for the toys such as SCUBA gear, tanks and compressor. Inflatable SUPs and kite surfing gear that we want to store in an outdoor locker while on passage. Less or no requirement to devote a guest cabin to piling gear in or on (mostly on the bed). More comfortable seating.

 

The Seawind 1160 is an amazing boat, but we’ve heard even the big brother 1260 still lacks what we want. We’ve spent 3 years in Mexico and 1 year in French Polynesia, so we’ve gotten familiar with lots of other catamarans. We’ve toured Outremers, Catanas, Lagoons, Leopards, Fontaine Pajots, Privileges. Newer and older models. None are as well ventilated as our boat. Those near our size with galley up designs have almost no counter space making cooking unnecessarily difficult. Few have a master cabin that allows occupants to climb out without disturbing their partner.

 

We love JollyDogs but cruising in a rainy tropical environment full time has made us acutely aware of her design compromises and flaws.

 

The only reasonable seating/dining position for the saloon table provides for 4 folks. Rotating the table 90 degrees to create a bit more seating space means everyone has to lean way out to reach their plates. We’ve also realized that settee isn’t full sized; there’s a lack of depth to the seats that limits thigh support, and the backs don’t offer good lumbar support. Sorry to be a whiner, but there’s nowhere else to sit while on long foul weather passages and we all end up with backache.

 

After enduring about 3 weeks of hard blowing rain last year we realized that the cockpit to structure isn’t optimized for rainwater catching. That’s important when weather conditions in the anchorage are gray and icky for days on end and we’ve on extra solar input to run the watermaker. Why waste lovely clean rainwater? The other shortcoming is the cockpit top design that doesn’t provide good attachment opportunities for an effective rain enclosure tent.

 

Removable windows with no designated storage design accommodation seems silly, but we think you solved that later on. Looks like you solved the galley counter space issue by changing the way the freezers open. Bravo.

 

We’ve found room for 1440 watts of hard Sunpower solar panels, and 720 a/h of LiFeP04 batteries. It’s changed our life, and the only reason we have a little 2kw Honda generator on board is because someone gave us one. We’re the quietest boat in the anchorage and quite profligate with our power and water use. Isabel gets a hot shower anytime she wants one. We almost always boil water with the electric kettle, which makes our cooking gas supply last even longer.

 

For us it’s all about how long we can enjoy remote locations. Sail drives are much quieter than direct drive. The Yanmar 3YM30’s with SD20 sail drives and Gori 3-blade props are extremely efficient, and the dog clutch design in the SD20 is great. The prop shaft wear from the lip seals to be really annoying, but perhaps a ceramic coating on the lip seal bearing surface will fix that forever.

 

Unlike most newer cats, JollyDogs sails well in light air and her solid structural design gives us confidence in rough conditions. The helm and line working stations keep us safe and less exposed to wet or danger. The visibility from the saloon is superb and we’re never wet or cold on passage. The saloon door still amazes other cat owners, and the BBQ grill is the best one in the anchorage. Sleeping sideways underway is great – we don’t roll around in beam seas.

 

She’s still the best boat in the anchorage and we appreciate the design compromises you had to make in 2008. Still, why not strive for perfection? Build us the perfect JollyDogs-II!

Fun and games at Fakarava Friday 26 Jun 20

Well arriving Fakarava North on Wednesday the 24^th of June around 0700 started out well with an easy entry through the North pass. After looking at the chop out in the center of the channel we elected to bias well to the East side and enjoyed pretty smooth water, not much current and darned if we didn’t catch a big dog tooth tuna, about a meter long. Biggest fish we’ve nailed in a long time, and good to eat. SV Ari-B passed us by not knowing why we had slowed down so much, but it does take a bit of time and struggle to convince a large fish that dying for our dining cause is the path forward. Pretty bloody too – I got the gaff in the fish while it flailed around then used the filleting knife to slice the gills up so the fish would bleed out. Took about 5 minutes before that was a done deal, then we secured the fish to the rail and headed on in the channel to the village, anchoring off a short dinghy ride to the beach landing near Fakarava Yacht Services.

 

Anchoring by the village always sucks because visibility is poor and to avoid bommies we have to anchor in enough water that a stuck anchor or wrapped chain would mean dragging out the SCUBA gear. Still, we got the hook down in what looked like a patch of sand, installed pearl farm floats as we deployed chain, and as the forecast was for light and variable wind, went with about 4:1 scope. Worked out OK. Isabel whipped up some breakfast, we gathered up computers and laundry, then we went ashore to say hello to French couple who run the business. Customers get free internet access so we left our phones downloading our favorite podcasts while we wandered up to the various shops to see what was for sale. The supply ship was late but was expected by 1600 so might as well buy what we need and they’ve got, then join the scrum tomorrow for fresh veggies and such once the shelves are stocked.

 

FYS got our laundry done the same day, and by the end of day Thursday we’d completed all our internet banking, checking investments, answering email, researching fantasy properties in Hawaii, and generally screwing around on the internet. We had successfully provisioned for everything except fresh local lettuce and veggies, but the local farm sets up a stand in town at 0600 Friday mornings so we told Carla on Ari-B we’d pick her up then and go score some produce. SV Avatar had broken a inner forestay attachment while bashing from Tahiti to Hiva Oa, so they’d had to return to Fakarava to attempt repairs, so we paid them a social call in the evening and volunteered to assist in removing the stay with sail still hanked on over at the fuel dock Friday morning. We scored our veggies then assisted with that successful operation, then got ourselves underway to Hirifa at the Southeast corner to tuck in for the upcoming maramu.

 

We’d tried to sail the route previously and darn near hit a sneaker bommie in bad visibility, so our new rule is only sail if we can stay in the narrow channel. Nothing doing today, so we motored down, charging batteries, making water, washing the aft decks and doing a little laundry we had overlooked. We were part of a “mass exodus” from the village as well as Pakakota Yacht Services, about 9 nm South of the village. Arriving at Hirifa mid-afternoon we joined about 30 other boats, but as we’re both not scared of shallower water these days, we tucked well inside them with about 3 meters under the keel and with little fetch to the palm tree laden motu. Excellent shelter from the upcoming high winds and flat enough water to paddle the SUP. Our pals on SV Agape nearby, SV Avatar now anchored close by, SV Yamaya with little Leo who’s made an excellent recovery from his scalding coffee mishap, all is well with the world.

 

Isabel launched the dinghy and made us an evening adult beverage and we set off to say hello to numerous boats, greeting old friends and making some new ones. Looks like we’ll be having a good time here.

Helloooooooooo, Fakarava! Wednesday 24 Jun 20

Well what a bizarre overnight passage. Started out great with an easy sail up the Tahanea lagoon with just the jib out, a fine exit through the pass with no standing waves and smaller swell at sea once we established our course. Isabel knocked up a great stir fry, enjoyed a hot shower and went to bed. I stood watch as things went from fine, sailing with a double reefed main until things began to get a bit silly.

 

I encountered a couple of “dry squalls”, almost no rain but wind climbing from the low teens into the low to mid 20s, going from 110 degrees (ref true North) to 30 degrees in a matter of seconds. We were sailing with the wind on the starboard aft quarter, as deep as 140 apparent and suddenly we’re almost pinching and blasting along at 11.7 knots. Sooooooo, turn to port until the wind is well aft of the starboard beam and slow this mother down. Eight knots is still respectable, isn’t it?

 

Anyway, this went on through perhaps 3 iterations, then the heavens opened up and cats and dogs began raining down upon us. We had already shut the saloon doors in anticipation of rain with wind from the stern, so that was a good thing. One of the things I like about the Seawind 1160 is that there’s no reason to be outside in foul weather unless inspecting or changing sail trim – everything else can be done from the safety and comfort (warm and dry) of the saloon. I did have to go out and furl up some jib a couple of times to keep our speed under control, but no foulies required – just my good ole REI rain jacket.

 

Isabel popped her head out a couple times to see if I needed any help, and the second time I welcomed her assistance as SV Ari-B had turned pretty hard to starboard and was crossing our course line about 0.25 nm away. She kept an eye on their position while I managed the boat and monitored their AIS icon and radar signature along with the various squalls and wind shifts. Eventually she confessed that she couldn’t sleep and that I might as well crash for a bit. Excellent!

 

She awakened me around 0400 with about 6 miles to go to the Northeast corner of Fakarava. The wind had died away and she had just begun motor sailing. Coffee hadn’t helped and she needed to rest, so I took over, eating the leftover stir fry, making a cup of lousy instant coffee and firing up the water maker. The port engine makes lots of electricity AND hot water so heck, how about a nice long hot shower? Ari-B was about a mile away on a parallel track and nothing else out there, so why not?

 

Sunrise was pretty sweet, and we should be anchored in front of the village in about 1.5 hours. Time for groceries, internet banking, email, and maybe a decent bottle of wine. We’ll probably go out for a meal or 2,  but truthfully the restaurant food at Fakarava is mediocre. Better to spend our CFPs on an overpriced bottle of wine and grill up some of that excellent Uraguyan beef from the freezer. We can buy more!

 

After more than a month anchored at various spots around Tahanea, i.e. no inhabitants, no cell phone signal, no internet BS, only fun and friends, Fakarava will feel like the big city. More than one shop! Restaurants and SCUBA shops and pearls to purchase!

 

We’ll have Fakarava Yacht Services wash all our dirty sheets and clothes, catch up on all the internet related stuff, reprovision for a few weeks of food, fill the cooking gas cylinders with butane, and have ourselves a bit of fun. By Saturday we’ll need to be tucked in at Hirifa, down at the Southeast corner. There’s another maramu coming. . .

Time to move on! Tuesday 23 Jun 20

Well, Tahanea has been a wonderful stop full of fun and games such as spear fishing, beach walking, collecting pretty seashells, snorkeling, catching the elusive low speed spider conch for conversion into fritters, kite surfing, repairing our own and other people’s boats, etc.

 

We managed to resuscitate an abandoned pup, feeding her whatever we had and treating her mangy body with medicated shampoos and oil rubdowns. Mike brought worm meds and dog food rations from Nuku Hiva, and everyone in the anchorage has shown Lassie lots of love and affection. Darned if she didn’t go from being a shy little girl to the happy doggie that follows folks around during their beach walks. With any luck she’ll find a home.

 

I spent about a day on SV September, identifying the cause of a burned up electrical relay, then coming up with a work around so they could get their generator running and get the water maker back in service. Boats might not seem like a vibration environment, but the pounding of the hull into seas creates broad spectrum energy that causes things to loosen up. In this case a 230 volt lead between the generator and the 3000 watt Victron inverter. Harry and his family should be able to carry on just fine, and once the new relay arrives the boat can be returned to standard configuration.

 

That burned up electrical relay got me to thinking about the high power inverter switch on JollyDogs, so I whipped out a brand new spare and did an R&R (remove and replace).  Sure enough, the old unit showed signs of getting pretty hot. Crisis averted.

 

There was an Austrian boat with a family aboard about a mile from us down in the Southeast corner. Both the teenage sons were superb kite surfers and the one named Florian was rather complimentary of my brute force and awkwardness approach to “survival kite surfing”. Florian spent as much time flying through the air over sand bars as he did skimming along the water’s surface. If he wasn’t such a nice young man I might have been tempted to throw seashells at him as he passed. Maybe that’ll be me someday . . .

 

This morning I baked a loaf of crude bread – Jim Leahy’s “no work” recipe. Easy peasy. Luc from SV Caroligui came over to review the weather forecast and our passage planning up to Fakarava. We ate warm bread with butter and jam. Yum. For lunch Isabel sliced up the tomatoes that Luc’s wife Isabelle had given us, and we had ‘mater sammiches with Isabel’s own homemade mayonnaise. Wow. Shawnee knows what a ‘mater sammich is.

 

We weighed anchor at 1400 and sailed at 6 knots with just the jib up to the pass where we followed SV Ari-B through at 1615. No standing waves, and the swell once at sea wasn’t as bad as we had expected. We’re now underway for Fakarava North pass, hoping for a dawn arrival and adjusting our sail plan to try and make that happen. The entire trip is about 90 nm, with a 72 nm leg with wind on the starboard stern quarter, apparent wind wandering around from 120 to 150 degrees, and the seas about the same.

 

A bit of an update at 2100. Wind just went from 090 to 030 and from 14 knots to the low 20’s, helping us achieve a boat speed of 11.7 knots. Woohoo. Gotta slow things down a bit – so turned to port to bring the apparent wind well aft of the starboard beam and got things under control. One consideration is SV Ari-B which is now about 0.5 nm to port, and obviously trimming their sails to deal with this squall. JollyDogs is closing on them so time to furl about half the jib, as we’re already as deeply reefed on the main sail as we can be. A radio call to Alex on Ari-B assures him I’m tracking him visually and with radar, so he’s not over there wondering if I see him.

 

Now it’s 30 minutes later and the wind is back to 073 true and down to only 9 knots. I’ve redeployed the jib and if this keeps up it’ll be time to shake out reef 2. I’ll rig for reef 1 just for the squalls and because it’s dark outside. Time to download some fresh weather.

Sometimes the bear gets you? Sunday 21 Jun 20

And sometimes you get the bear. This last weather rotation got us a bit worked up, as after examining the prognosis charts and daily forecasts we felt we were looking at pretty similar potential outcomes. The wind clocked around to the West and blew hard enough to create a pretty choppy anchorage, and with a day to go before the full anti-clockwise rotation to the Southeast we figured we could either risk the abuse up by the pass or just say the heck with it and wander on down to the Southeast end of the atoll while we had good light. We invited all the boats in the anchorage over to pore over the weather data with us, and we shared our waypoint route down to the Southeast anchorage. We’d made the trip numerous times and had a safe path along with having marked the sneaker bommies.

 

Right after lunch two American boats, SV Rapture and SV Easy departed. Once out into the lagoon they reported seas not much worse than in the anchorage, so we got underway ourselves along with the English vessel SV September A.M. Soon we were joined by the French boat SV Caroligui. The chop in the Southeast anchorage was a bit rougher than that we had left, but reports from SV Ari-B and SV Windward up by the passes indicated that the wind was dying off and the water flattening. We anchored with a lee shore, but with confidence in the holding and the wind swinging around and dying off. We were rewarded appropriately and spent a restful night, a relief after the previous night that found me sleeping near the helm station fully prepared to get underway at a moment’s notice. Yesterday in dead flat conditions we reanchored in 10’ of water under the keel and sand all around – no chain floats required. Throughout the day rain showers moved through the area and visibility was poor, reinforcing our decision to move on Friday while we had some sunshine. Screw you, bear.

 

Lassie the abandoned puppy was thrilled to see us and she endured her medicated shampoo and oil with grace. She also gobbled up lots of food and her worm meds and delighted in the human companionship after several days of being alone. She’s looking pretty good, growing fur and filling out a bit. If we can keep cruisers coming to this anchorage, feeding and caring for her she’ll turn into a healthy dog and may even find a home.

 

Yesterday we had everyone in the anchorage over to participate in coconut cream making. I had already demonstrated how to husk a coconut using an “O” at the copra camp and had then opened 6 coconuts for the festivities. Isabel showed folks the utility of our Vitamix blender and how to squeeze the ground coconut flesh in a nut bag. Everyone left with a jar of coconut cream and a big smile. September asked us and Easy over for dinner and we scarfed down something like 6 pizzas before I had to return briefly to JollyDogs and do my thing as net controller. It was a lovely night and by the time dinner was done we were all facing Southeast with a light wind blowing. Later in the evening the wind climbed to perhaps 25 knots and the heavens opened, bucketing rain for nearly an hour.

 

Today I replaced a failing power switch for the inverter, then held a trash burning ceremony on the beach, then we busted out the kite surfing gear for an afternoon of fun and games. It was gusty and difficult for my very low skill level but still fun and a good workout. Isabel declined to kite in the challenging conditions but was gracious to provide life support for me. After returning to the boat and cleaning up it was time for a bit of guitar practice. Yes, I still suck, but maybe just a little less.

 

The French boat (Luc, Isabelle and Taylor) invited us over for a glass of wine and snacks this evening and we passed a lovely time before retiring to JollyDogs for a quiet night. It’s gotten cold out – down to about 77F and with the chill factor probably down in the low 70’s or less! Probably have to bust out the blanket tonight. . .

Sometimes you just connect with people. Thursday 18 Jun 20

We’ve been here a bit over a year now. We meet new folks now and again, and reconnect with cruisers we shared an anchorage, a dive, a beer, a meal with after months of separation. It’s kind of interesting – almost always we find the other folks interesting and enjoyable company, but occasionally we really find ourselves bonding over a shared experience, background, point of view, or general outlook on the meaning of life. In the past 12 months we’ve made more good friends than 15 years of living in Phoenix, Arizona. Perhaps that says a bit about how work absorbs one’s energy, but it also is indicative of the enormous distractions there are in our consumptive economy back home.

 

We feel it ourselves when we fly back for a visit, kind of like being bombarded with information and the necessity to buy more stuff. Gotta go shopping! Well, I usually do need some new flip flops. It leaves less time to spend relaxing with friends, talking about where our lives have taken us so far, and where we hope to find ourselves going next.

 

Some of the folks we’ve developed the strongest connections with have gone or are about to go. Andrew and Julia on SV Hullabaloo sailed for New Zealand in 2019, and no telling when we’ll see them again.. David and Kris are about to sail home to Australia. These folks are more than just casual friends – we feel like family when we’re in their company. It’s nice to have family, and it’s nicer to realize that they don’t necessarily have to be blood relatives.

 

John, that big red blob is coming to get us. It’s a maramu, and we’re hoping it doesn’t last too long as we need to depart Tahanea soon for the village at Fakarava. Tomorrow we’ll run out of coffee. That’s an emergency. Problem with the village is a strong Southeasterly makes the anchorage untenable. A strong Westerly as happened a couple weeks back leaves a dangerous lee shore where the holding is dicey at best. Two boats, a monohull and a cat, were lost there in that storm a couple weeks back. We just got scared. Those sailors were left homeless.

 

I had a bit of a busy schedule today. Started off troubleshooting our single sideband (SSB) radio for noise and poor reception. Pulled all the RF connectors loose, inspected them for corrosion, applied dielectric grease and secured them all very well. Darned if the net didn’t sound a bit better tonight. Next up – share all our route waypoints and evil bommie waypoints with Mike on Easy. Open a couple of coconuts so Isabel could make fresh coconut cream to give to others in the anchorage. That done, off to visit SV September A.M. and try to help them determine the cause of an electrical fire a couple days ago.

 

Well I found it. Loose connection on a relay that started arcing and melted a few wires, also destroying the relay. No way to make a repair without changing how the system worked. If it were our boat I’d create a work around, make some notes on what I repaired and how it changed the functionality, then carry on until we got to a place to order parts and return the vessel to standard configuration. But this isn’t my boat, and none of the family members aboard are mechanically or electrically inclined. I did offer to assist with a repair if the yard that built the boat would provide a suitable work-around document and operating procedure. We’ll see how that goes.

 

Bloody storm is brewing up. Wind has been above 20 knots and clocked around to the West. We’re starting to get some occasionally nasty swell in here, but fortunately the wind is moving back to the Northwest. Guess it’s going to be a long night standing anchor watch and maybe tooling around in a holding pattern out in the lagoon. If we do have to motor around for hours, at least I can make some water, and some hot water. We’ll reward ourselves with a nice hot shower if we have to put up with this nonsense again.

Here we go again! Thursday 18 Jun 20

Well, the wind came around to the East a few days back and we moved back up to the anchorage just NW of the middle pass at Tahanea to meet our friend Mike who was on his way from Nuku Hiva. Mike’s a single hander, a former Olympian, and just all around good guy. He was kind enough to bring us some goodies from the Marquesas, so now we’ve got dried bananas, oatmeal, even a couple of pamplemouse.

 

While waiting for Mike to arrive we did a bit of drift snorkeling on the NW pass with our friends on SV September A.M. It wasn’t without a bit of excitement. There we were just minding or own business and observing rather carefully a group (it’s a murder of crows, isn’t it?) of gray sharks about 15 meters below us. They seemed to be uninterested in the 6 of us when suddenly one of them broke from the pack and began a high-speed vertical ascent to the middle of our group. Sharks swim faster than people. Even scared people. I watched it all unfold with a rather unsettled feeling, when about 4 meters from us the shark veered off, apparently deciding we didn’t look like brunch after all. I wish that had happened when that silly shark bit my SUP with me on it.

 

We saw one really big dog tooth tuna during that drift snorkel, a fish that would have fed us all for days but had anyone been bold enough to go after it with a spear gun, the sharks would have arm wrestled for it. Best just to have a look.

 

Mike also brought worm medicine and some dog food for the abandoned mutt that Yo and the other copra workers left at their camp in the Southeast corner. Lassie is a sweet pup, probably around 10 months old. When we first encountered her she was about half starved and hairless from mange. Several of us cruisers have been feeding her, bathing her with home-brewed medicated shampoo and then rubbing her down with medicated coconut oil. We’ll try more food and worm meds next to supplement the love we’ve been showering upon her, and maybe she’ll return to good health. Perhaps if she looks healthy the copra guys will actually care for her and take her back to Faaite when they leave next time. We were encouraged to see her fur coat returning, although her bare tail resembles that of a rat.

 

For the most part French Polynesians have a much different attitude about dogs than us Westerners. Isabel and I had 2 Jack Russell Terriers which were obviously our fur babies. Our friends with pets regarded them as family members. Not so here, where dogs in the Marquesas are used for hunting pigs and goats, and often the pigs tear the dogs up. No telling what the real purpose of dogs is here in the Tuamotus unless it’s to keep the rat population down. Anyway, we’re guests in their country and it isn’t appropriate to lecture them, however perhaps we can change some behavior by setting a good example. Worth a try.

 

The weather map looks almost like that we experienced just about 2 weeks ago. Last night around midnight we were up making sure we were ready to get underway then things settled down and today has been pretty mellow. Naturally now that it’s dark it’s rotating around the West and blowing up a bit, so we’re spring loaded to up anchor and move out into a holding pattern in the lagoon. No more 40 knots and breaking waves over our bow with a lee shore – we’ll launch out of here if things start to get interesting.

 

Looks like POTUS is planning a big indoor rally in Tulsa, Oklahoma this weekend. If you’re a fan, you should go support him. If not, you should hope all his supporters turn out for the event. Seems that coronavirus is making a comeback, so either the rally will help that herd immunity concept move towards 100%, or there will be a few less Trump supporters in a few weeks, or at least folks will take this thing a bit more seriously. New Zealand declared themselves Covid-19 free, and it’s already popping up there again. Wonder if they’ll keep on schedule for the America’s Cup racing in 2021?

Random brain waves Saturday 13 Jun 20

The thoughts I recently shared about the American medical system elicited interesting responses from a couple of respected friends. Sounds like getting old in Germany might be a bad idea if you want good access to medical care. As well, many countries lack something like the Americans with Disabilities Act, which forced businesses to make accommodations for handicapped people’s access. Ramps, elevators, electric door openers, special toilet facilities. My friends Pat and Jack who participate in the American Medicare system seem to be really happy with it, although as Jack recently noted, some medical facilities aren’t available to him. Seems that wealthy Canadians who Winter in Arizona clog up the local “for profit” medical facilities, paying for procedures that their own nationalized healthcare either won’t provide or else they find themelves at the back of a very long line. Wealthy Mexicans come to America for procedures too. I learned in 2015 that Scripps Green Cancer Center in La Jolla, California offers a 40% discount to patients paying cash rather than using health insurance. Likely Canadians bring suitcases full of cash and get the same sorts of discounts from the likes of The Mayo Clinic. Good for them. The relationship between the medical system and the health insurance system in America is one of the biggest problems with our system.

 

It would seem that the COVID-19 pandemic has been a wakeup call to the American medical system. Ridiculous and archaic laws regarding doctors practicing across state lines. Telemedicine is rapidly becoming a common way to seek medical help. Hope you bought Zoom and Teledoc stock! With any luck the American medical system will be forced to continue modernizing and hopefully competition or patients will drive positive change including lower costs.

 

The American capitalist system is all about competition, except when it isn’t. Raisin growers in California have their own cartel to prop prices up. Lots of businesses and industries get subsidized. The government props up the housing real-estate market. Fortunately or not, the Iridium satellite communications system has been propped up by the US Department of Defense. We love having satellite communications using our Iridium Go, but the email and texting apps are absolute junk and the service seems quite expensive. Elon Musk promises to solve this problem within a couple of years with his own satellite constellation, including smaller cheaper hardware and faster cheaper service. Elon is big on promises and doesn’t always deliver, but I wouldn’t bet against him. Sure wish Space-X stock was publicly traded.

 

Ever eat industrial waste? Did your mom fry chicken with Crisco or feed you margarine instead of butter? It’s amazing how marketing and bad science can get us to put total crap into our bodies. Remember when eggs were bad for you? Ignoring the recommendations of mainstream nutritional authorities in America is probably a great idea, and instead eat your meat and veg like grandma always said. The English have marmite, and the Aussies vegemite. Sludge from a brewing operation of some sort. Americans would probably have turned that into cattle feed, but because I married an English girl I have learned to really like marmite on buttered toast. It’s an acquired taste.

 

John, that big red blob way down South of us is likely something brewing up from the Southern Ocean. Our own available forecasting products include 24, 48 and 72-hour prog charts for the South Pacific as well as the Predictwind subscription products. Have a look with your high-speed internet and let me know if something is coming to smite us. Thanks. We’ve had enough of that for a spell. . .

 

Got an attitude or some intel to share? Love to hear from you: email text only to WDG9444@SAILMAIL.COM.

After thoughts from a calm anchorage, part two. Saturday 6 Jun 20

Years ago while skydiving with ten of my closest friends, an air traffic controller error resulted in us passing an America West 737 climbing out of Tucson. We were doing around 110 knots straight down, the aircraft perhaps 300 knots horizontally. It’s the only time I’ve ever heard something other than the roar of the wind at terminal velocity; the roar of the engines was clearly audible. We only missed the left wingtip by maybe 50 meters, and we didn’t even think to wave as we went by. We continued with our freefall formation and only after we all landed did we begin to appreciate how we narrowly avoided disaster. The close call was a result of human error, a simple geometry and physics problem that perhaps contributed to a moment of spatial disorientation. The jump plane was well above the jet when we were cleared to exit, and by the time the controller realized his error and radioed the pilot to “hold your jumpers” we were already in freefall.

 

We’re fortunate we didn’t get badly hurt or lose our boat during that storm. The waterspout was the first real hint that the weather forecasters might have underpredicted the severity of the system. The wind came in directions and magnitudes (hey, that’s called a vector!) that we weren’t expecting. The speed at which things went from good to marginal to extremely bad was astonishing.

 

I used to fly little airplanes, mostly slow ones, then we purchased a Van’s RV-6 which cruised around 155 knots. My first real flight in that airplane was from where I collected it in Florida all the way to Arizona, and the airplane was ahead of me the entire time. It took several more flights until my brain and flight management skills caught up, then we enjoyed several years of blasting around the US.

 

Part of our slowness to react to the deteriorating conditions in the anchorage was the misplaced faith in the forecast that said winds from the West would be reasonably light. Part was lack of experience in that sort of weather event while in a vulnerable anchorage. Perhaps a bit of our delay in responding was just plain disbelief that this couldn’t be happening to us. Regardless, we should have gotten the anchor up and headed out into the lagoon much sooner, and after the waterspout we should have had the boat completely ready to go to sea if necessary. Like skydiving, it’s the hard things that will smite you, in this case a lee shore and breaking waves in fairly shallow water.

 

We’ve spent the last 3 days reflecting upon our escape and how we’d handle things differently next time. We still believe we selected the most protected anchorage given the weather data we had to work with, but if and when this happens again we will depart for open water as soon as the wind and wave trends begin to go high and right. We’re safer at sea, and as long as we can navigate to avoid hard things JollyDogs is tough enough.

 

The question is, are we tough enough? Neither of us were challenged by the physical exertion required. At the time we handled the mental and emotional stress well. No panicking, only shouting to make our voices heard. We both did our jobs, made informed decisions and got the situation under control. After following SV Long Temps over to the number seven anchorage on Thursday, all we’ve really done is relax, snorkel, sleep, eat, and do a couple of minor projects. Nothing ambitious. We both seem to need time to chill out, to reflect upon that dangerous night, appreciate the lessons we better have learned, and calm our frayed nerves. This anchorage is gorgeous! Have a look on Google Earth. Latitude 16deg 57.083’ South, Longitude 144deg 44.528’ West.

 

These sorts of situations help you understand just how strong your partner is, and the strength of your relationship with that person. Over the years we’ve been through some very difficult things together, but Wednesday night was the biggest test yet. I think we passed.

 

We also got our anchor chain floats back!

After thoughts from a calm anchorage, part one. Friday 5 Jun 20

Anybody get that REO Speedwagon reference? Great band, the favorite of my USAFA doolie year roommate Jim Malaere. Jim was an intensely religious fellow and we didn’t get along too well. That said, he introduced my ignorant 17-year-old ears to REO Speedwagon and for that I’m eternally grateful.

 

Two nights ago Mother Nature took a shot at putting JollyDogs on the rocks and either hurting or killing one or both of us. The storm that attacked us wasn’t forecast in a way we or many of our sailing companions could understand. There were 8 vessels in the atoll, 3 went to the North side which left them exposed from West, South and East. One remained at the Southeast end of the atoll and so was exposed from the South around to the Northwest. One (let’s call it “vessel A”) went North from that location several miles and was still exposed from the West Northwest around to the Southeast. Three of us moved to an anchorage just South of the Northwest pass, which left exposure from about 160 degrees around to about 300 degrees. The forecast depicted the strongest winds from the East to the Northwest, and we 3 thought we had picked the best spot. What we didn’t know at the time was that we needed a “hurricane hole”, that mythical place that provides protection from wind and waves from all directions.

 

The waterspout was the first clue of the violence that was about to be visited upon us, but that was Wednesday morning. The day settled down after that and we thought maybe the serious stuff had moved on, but just a bit after dark it blew up from the West leaving about 15 miles of fetch to the far side of the atoll. There were some steady winds from the West in a short portion of the forecast, but they didn’t exceed the upper teens and were only a couple of hours in duration. The other stuff looked like the more dangerous stuff, hence our choice.

 

Nobody got off easy that night. While the three of us all had to abandon the anchorage to save ourselves and our vessels, vessel A endured the same conditions but was unable to raise their anchor. Their anchor chain had gotten wrapped around a bommie multiple times and they were left on a very short scope. This can result in a broken anchor chain, but luckily they only destroyed the bow roller and narrowly avoided ending up on the beach. The boat at the Southeast end had set two anchors and lost one but the other held. The boats up at the North end had a rough night but the wind remained just far enough to the North that the distant Westerly terrain provided some protection and to our knowledge nobody had to abandon that anchorage.

 

At the time we were trying to raise our anchor, the first time that is, the waves were occasionally breaking over the bow as I worked to remove anchor chain floats and get the chain on board while directing Isabel’s actions at the helm to avoid excessive tension or slack on the chain. Too much slack and the chain might wrap on a bommie which could result in us dumping the entire anchor/chain system to escape, too much tension and the windlass might rip out of the locker and depart, doing major damage to the boat and possibly seriously injuring me. Judging from how much it was flexing as we got the chain and anchor on board, the bow roller structure saw some extreme loads. Detailed inspections may result in some expensive repairs.

 

Back in my skydiving days, my pal Jim McChesney fixed me up a big hook knife to Velcro around the main left webbing on my parachute rig. That same hook knife helped me to rapidly cut away anchor chain floats without cutting myself. It was still sharp because I never had to cut tangled parachute lines or risers from around my neck or elsewhere.

 

The three floats I cut away are probably washed up on the beach somewhere, but they’re like Lay’s potato chips. I can get more.

Riding the storm out! Thursday 4 Jun 20

Well, the waterspout was just the prelude for more “interesting” things to come. During the day the wind behaved as forecast, giving us confidence in our anchorage. That changed when the wind clocking around to the West and began building, reaching a peak gust of 47 knots. As cousin Johnny says about hurricanes, “it’s not the wind that’s the problem, it’s what’s blowing in the wind”. In this case a lagoon full of water, miles of fetch to absorb wind energy and subsea terrain rising into the anchorage, resulting in breaking waves. Participants on the evening SSB net couldn’t even hear my efforts as net controller, likely because of the monster storm that was almost upon us, and all I could hear was static, and Christine on SV Sugar Shack had to take over.

 

When the swell began to build and JollyDogs started pitching up and down we made preparations to get underway. The other boats in the anchorage were doing the same, and we were the last boat to depart, raising the anchor with waves breaking over the bow. We got the anchor up without serious mishap and began motoring through the swell towards a safe part of the lagoon, when Isabel shouted something about the dinghy. I looked around and realized a shackle on a lifting block had failed and the stern of the dinghy was dragging in the water. Isabel took the helm while I wrestled with various lines, and soon the dinghy was detached from the davits and safely in tow with a second painter attached in case the primary one parted.

 

We motored out into an area of the lagoon that we believed to be well charted and began a back and forth course over the same safe subsea terrain, trying to keep the wind and seas at about 60 degrees off the bow. Not quite lying ahull, that still resulted in a fairly comfortable ride and the dinghy seemed happy enough to stay in position. Nearby SV Ari-B and SV Long Temps were doing pretty much the same thing. In deeper water the seas were fairly short and steep but there were no breaking waves. We reckon we departed the anchorage a little after 1900, and about 2300 the wind had abated and the seas calmed so that the two other boats returned to the anchorage for some rest, with the hopes that this storm had finally passed. We did the same, arriving last and feeling our way around to find a sandy spot to drop the anchor. The water was really churned up and Isabel struggled to see the bottom even in 4 meters depth, but we found a place and got a good anchor set. As soon as we had about 13 meters of chain deployed we swapped places and she took the helm while I moved to the bow to install floats on the anchor chain. Soon I had the bridle installed, Isabel pulled down with both engines at high rpms and we were safely anchored. Isabel went for a hot shower while I set the anchor drag alarm on our AIS, then I soothed my own nerves with a hot shower and we crashed.

 

Well that didn’t last long, and about 0300 we were awakened by “freaky storm part deux” with winds strengthening again from the West and a building swell. This call to action was enough that we got the anchor up and moved out into the lagoon once again, joining Ari-B who had departed the anchorage about an hour before. Long Temps elected to remain at anchor and simply post an anchor watch. At sunrise the VHF crackled and Long Temps announced that they had safe routing data from a previous journey over to the #7 anchorage on the West side, and we were welcome to follow them over to seek protection from the West wind. Both we and Ari-B joined them and in about 2 hours we were safely anchored underneath sunny skies in beautiful calm blue water, celebrating our close call with disaster aboard Long Temps with fresh fruit, cake, and a shot of rum. The strongest friendships are made from these sorts of shared experiences.

 

Cheated death again.

Here comes the boom! Wednesday 3 Jun 20

Sorry, that was a really lousy movie, but the title reminds me of the weather system that motivated us to move anchorages a couple days ago. This time of year the surface prognosis charts for this area look a bit busy, with troughs and ridges and cyclonic activity popping up here and there, the effects of which put the occasional damper on our otherwise ridiculously fun lifestyle. Rule number one in this business is to review the various weather forecasting products daily and as soon as something icky begins to rear its head find somewhere to hide and ride it out. Inattention to this information can result in a lot of sucking and blowing and then your house goes away. Sorry – that’s an old joke comparing the similarities of tornados to marriage and divorce, perhaps not appropriate for this forum, but hey, nobody said this was a family show.

 

Anyway, the Southeast corner of Tahanea is no place to ride out a blow that includes big winds with a Northerly component, so we weighed anchor on Monday morning and moved back up to the anchorage just South of the Northwest pass. From where we dropped the hook the terrain gives us swell protection from the East Southeast up to the Northwest. The forecast that motivated our pick of anchorages showed a big rotation in wind direction, some pretty robust wind velocity, but not a lot out of the West before it all dies off. Now that we’re tucked in here that’s changed a bit, but here we be.

 

Tuesday a couple of other boats joined us here, having made their own judgement calls about the upcoming blow. The rest of the boats went to a couple of different spots with the exception of one vessel who remained in the Southeast end. Things were nice and calm yesterday and well into the night, then the sporty winds arrived, clocking around the East Northeast where we have excellent protection. Next up – an insanely heavy rainstorm featuring lightning and thunder, then in the middle of all that a bloody waterspout, for Pete’s sake. Our pals on SV Long Temps spotted it first and sounded a warning horn, motivating us to shut the saloon door and prepare for anything. I’ve only seen a waterspout once before, at our hailing port in the harbor of Beaufort North Carolina. I was hanging out with cousin Johnny watching a tall ship regatta featuring sailors playing pirates when we spied this tornado-looking water thing.

 

Waterspouts can be extremely dangerous to small pleasure yachts, kind of like whales. Fun to see them in the distance as long as they don’t get too close. This one got within about 200 meters of us before disappearing into the very low visibility environment. In Arizona we had dust devils which are kind of the same thing, except it takes a lot more energy to lift a column of water into the air than it does to suck up some dirt and twigs. I was happy to watch the movie Twister on the big screen – no desire at all to be in the remake called “Waterspout”.

 

The one boat that remained in the Southeast anchorage got on the VHF this morning and cried “uncle”. They’re now underway to a more protected spot, being coached in there by another vessel. Perhaps they didn’t examine the weather as hard as the rest of us, or perhaps they figured their ground tackle was big enough to handle it, but after a few hours of the abuse they came to their senses. Problem is, now they’re having to move and re-anchor in very difficult conditions. Hopefully they’ll be OK, and you can bet next time they’ll reposition before it all goes down the toilet. Right now where we are it’s blowing hard out of the Northwest, up to 34 knots so far. Despite our confidence in our own anchoring skills and ground tackle, the engine start battery is in the “on” position and the keys are in the ignition.

 

Bommies are what we call coral heads, John. The guys on the boat that’s currently moving anchorages call them “boomies”. I like that name better, because it describes the sound you’d hear if your boat runs into one.

Our international cruising world Wednesday 3 Jun 20

In the past few weeks we’ve been anchored with about ten other boats. Almost all are crewed by married couples, three of the boats with children. There’s a Swedish boat with a lovely young couple aboard. Their little boy will turn 4 in a few days and they departed Sweden together three years ago. There’s a UK boat with an Austrian husband and English wife. A Polish boat with a successful businessman and his young crew member. A New Zealand boat with a family of four, wife a French Canadian, husband a Kiwi, and two teenage daughters who have lived most of their lives in France. An American boat with a lovely couple, she from Romania and he from Norway. They met during college in Southern California. A New Calidonia boat with a couple and their two teenage children. A US boat with a young couple from Southern California. A boat from Martinique with a lovely young French couple aboard. Another UK boat with a couple from South Africa. JollyDogs is a US vessel. I was born there and Isabel is from England. We’ve all been hanging out with the French Polynesian men and women who have been working on the copra crop.

 

It’s higher math for me, but I think I counted thirteen separate nationalities among those folks. We became cruisers partly because we wanted to experience various cultures around the South Pacific and beyond, but what we didn’t truly appreciate was how many cultures from around the world would join us out here. We’ve had a Danish fellow on board as crew for a short spell. Spent time with Canadian, Swiss, German, Australian, Dutch, Hungarian and Turkish sailors. What we’ve realized is that just by being a part of this cruising community, we’ve become part of a small tribe of folks from all over the world. We drink and eat together, kite surf and snorkel and spear fish together. We learn about one another’s cultures and learn to appreciate how different people’s life’s experiences and backgrounds shape their views of the world.

 

One of the recurring questions from non-US people is “what the heck is up with the US healthcare system”? Most other people are from countries that have a national healthcare system (NHS) that provides a basic level of support for all their people. They acknowledge the limitations of such a nationalized healthcare approach and openly admit that if someone wants to priority in line or to have a higher level of healthcare access, then they need to purchase supplemental private health insurance. Isabel’s dad Paul has private insurance and one would think that at 86 years old he might have to rely on that to get prompt care, as the NHS should probably focus resources on those who have the greatest chance of repaying the system. In my mind, young people and families raising children represent the future, and those solidly in the workforce and contributing to payroll taxes are the folks who are putting money into the system. Seems like old folks would get the lowest priority, but let’s not forget that they paid into the system their entire working lives, and if they leave their children a financial legacy England’s rather significant estate taxes may also infuse more cash into the system. If Paul is a reasonable example, the NHS actually does very well by the older members of the community.

 

The point our international friends like to make is that a healthier society is a more productive society. Workers without access to paid sick leave and free healthcare continue to show up at work, spreading illness; the worry of how they’ll pay keeps them away from the doctor and perhaps further lowers their own immunity to illness and infection. The recent Covid-19 pandemic might have served as a wakeup call, even in capitalist America.

 

Naturally this is a wedge issue between Republicans and Democrats. With an election this November maybe we’ll see if this issue swings some votes. We’re registered as “no party affiliation”, but for us it’s a no brainer.