Hiva Oa, 4-13-2017--Exploring the area

Hiva Oa, 4-13-2017

We've been just over a week in Hiva Oa and are ready to head south about 45 miles, to the Bay of Virgins on the island of Fatu Hiva, one of the most beautiful anchorages in the South Pacific. It's also where Thor Heyerdahl and his wife spent a year in the 1930's and began to develop his ideas about Polynesian settlement.

Unfortunately, it appears the wind isn't ready to take us south. The forecast is for north and northwest winds, which are great in terms of direction, but they're predicted to be very light. It looks like we might get a brief opportunity early next week. We took on water and provisions today, so are ready when the wind is. Winds from those directions are unusual here in the tradewind belt. Most sailors have been commenting on the unusual tradewind weather and resulting slow passages.

The harbor continues to be a busy place, with 1 or 2 sailboats arriving each day, all of them from either the west coast of Mexico or from the Galapagos, having come through the Panama Canal.

The majority are from Europe, mostly Sweden, but also Denmark, Switzerland and France. The mix of languages is fun to listen to. English though, is clearly the universal language. Even when a boatload of Scandinavians get together, if they're not from the same country they generally speak English.

We hope to spend a week or so in Fatu Hiva, then sail northeast to the island of Tahuatu for a few days. From Tahuatu we plan to sail further north to Nuku Hiva, where we'll again have access to internet.

Poor Minimus is reduced to a clothesline

Our newfound Scandinavian friends on Sea Wolf. From Pearl and going right to left is Sebastian from Denmark and the captain of Sea Wolf, Anameta a Danish crew member, Kim a Danish crew member, Mikel a Danish crew member,  Lasse a Norwegian crew member, Tron a Danish crew member and Alexis from Sweden.

It was Sebastian, Lasse and Tron who helped us retrieve our stuck anchor.  Thanks guys!

David takes water jugs to shore.

One of David's rashes from sea lice, actually an immature form of jellyfish, when we bathed in saltwater during the voyage. The stings itch mildly, but are slow to resolve even after more than a month.

   

Hiva Oa, 4-11-2017--Island tour

We just returned from a tour of Hiva Oa, an enchanting experience and one we likely would not have done were it not for the generosity of Lynn Smith-Lovin who made it a landfall gift to us. In addition to archeological sites we would never have found on our own, we learned the names of innumerable plants and were treated to incredible views of the rugged, jungle covered mountains that make up virtually all of the island. So, a huge thank you Lynn!

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Our international tour group. (L-R) Francois from France, Tim and Sandra from Canada, David and Pearl, USA and Eva and Peter from Sweden

David and Pearl in the Hiva Oa jungle

Our guide John cuts down a banana tree

...and we all enjoy fresh bananas.

Stone platform on which the dead were laid. The body was covered with oil and every few days more skin and muscle was stripped off by relatives.  After a month or so only skeleton was left, which was moved to its final resting place among the roots of a banyon tree.  

The smiling tiki. It's about 3-1/2 feet high. There seems to be little information about when it was carved or for what purpose.

The jungle covered central spine of Hiva Oa

Rugged north shore of Hiva Oa

Gravel road on the north side of Hiva Oa

Guava fruit

Breadfruit

A large leafed plant similar to ones we've seen in coastal British Columbia.

Tiki site near Puamau village on the northeastern side of Hiva Oa.

This is considered the largest tiki in Polynesia

Another tiki at the Puamau site

Tiki at the Puamau site

North shore of Hiva Oa near Puamau

John made us a lunch of rice with chicken and papaya, baguettes a fruit dish of papaya, mango, pamplemousse and banana and cooked plantain.  And of course wine.  It was delicious.  

Pandanus tree.  It looks like something out of a Dr. Seuss book.  It's used for thatched roofs and John says it lasts about 15 years.  

We didn't get the name of this tree, but everywhere we saw them, they were host to ferns and a wide variety of other plants. 

Everywhere we went on the island we saw chickens and roosters.  They seem to outnumber all other birds.  In fact, we were surprised to see so few bird species.  Mostly it seems to be a species of small dove, myhna birds which are excellent mimics and a sparrow sized bird that flew in small flocks.

Our guide John picked us up at 8:30AM in a small Ford 4 wheel drive pickup with a covered bed and bench seats. Aside from John, there were 7 of us. Francois from France, Peter and Eva from Sweden, Tim and Sandra from Canada and the two of us. The perpetually curving road climbed steeply from Atuona toward a high ridge forming the spine of the island.

Dense jungle lined the sometimes gravel, sometimes concrete road bed. We soon stopped at a non-descript place beside the road where John led us down a side road, then onto a path through the jungle. In a grove of banana plants he spied a ripe bunch of bananas and, with the help of Pearls tiny pocket knife, cut around the perimeter of the 10" diameter trunk and toppled it over. We all stood there in the jungle gorging on fresh bananas.

A short way later we came upon a platform made of large rocks, many of them 2-3' in diameter. He explained that these were platforms where the dead were placed. The corpse was covered with oil, we presumed coconut, and as it decomposed, relatives would peel off skin and remove muscle over a period of a month or so until only a skeleton remained. The bones would then be moved to a final resting place among the roots of banyon trees.

Below the platform was a stone tiki about 3-1/2 feet high. It's called the smiling tiki because the mouth curves upward. Behind it and below it are stone terraces which John said go all the way down the sea. From that point the sea is several miles and a couple thousand vertical feet down the drainage. The number of rocks required to build that many terraces is staggering, but John said that according archeologists, the Marquesas were once home to around 100,000 people.

From there we continued up the winding road to the spine of the island. The views as we climbed the south side to the central ridge and then looked down on the north side were spectacular. Virtually every inch of the steep mountainous landscape is covered by jungle. The largest trees are a variety of acacia 80-100 feet high and with canopies as large. The canopies are relatively flat on top, giving a sort of umbrella effect.

We stopped frequently to photograph the views and at every stop John identified new plants for us and explained their uses. As it turned out, all of us were keenly interested in learning plant names, especially fruiting ones, which seemed to be most of them.

Switchbacking several thousand feet down to the surf pounded rock cliffs of the north shore, the road continued east, climbing one precipitous ridge after another, but never far from the sea. Each valley had a stream emptying into the ocean and a small settlement of a dozen or so homesteads. The lower sections of the valleys were covered with coconut trees, an apparently lucrative crop given the increased demand for coconut oil in recent years.

At the village of Puamau on the northeast corner of the island we stopped at the only store we'd seen since Atuona, where in fine French tradition, Francois insisted that we buy a couple bottles of wine to have with lunch. It was a good call.

First though, we stopped at a nearby archeological site that included many stone platforms and several tikis, one of which is considered the largest in Polynesia. The site was well preserved and the grounds nicely manicured, but the mosquitos and the still, humid air had us wondering why a village was once located here, rather than on the beach a half mile away where the refreshing trade wind cooled the air and discouraged the bugs.

John set up a folding table just above the beach and laid out a meal of rice accompanied by a delicious chicken and papaya dish and baguettes. It was followed by a fruit cup of fresh papaya, mango, pamplemousse and pineapple. Then came boiled plantain, which was surprisingly good.

The 2 1/2 hour trip back to Atuona was on the same road we'd come on, as it's the only one on the island. We were so grateful to have made the trip that morning in relatively clear weather, as the higher portions were mostly clouded in on the way back.

Throughout the day Pearl and I mentally pinched ourselves, almost not believing that we were actually in the Marquesas Islands.  I'd first read about them in grade school and have wanted to see them ever since, so it's very much the realization of a life-long dream.  It's hard to express how grateful we are for this experience.  Sharing it with all of you adds a delightful dimension for us.  

Hiva Oa, 4-9-2017--Land life

We continue to enjoy meeting other sailors from around the world, mostly Sweden, Denmark, France and a few from the US.  We had a rollicking fun time with new Danish and Swedish friends on their boat last evening.

Our current plans are to do the island tour on Tuesday or Wednesday and head south toward Fatu Hiva later in the week.

Last night we had quite a storm with lots of lightning and 6-8 inches of rain.  The sailors are all glad to have been here rather than at sea.  Lightning seems to be the one common fear than every sailor we've met has.  And for good reason.  It's of course so random, can either do nothing, or take out all of one's electrical system, or even blow a hole in the bottom of the boat.  Fortunately,  the latter is rare.

Below are a couple pics of David, one of the view from the anchorage, and the rest of various kinds of fruit.  If anyone can help us with fruit ID, we'd welcome it.

View from Minimus toward the village

Now that our requisite stalk of bananas hangs from the rigging, we're officially in the South Pacific.
In the bucket are papayas, mangos, avocados and pamplemousse 

Mangos, one of our favorites

We're clueless. Does anyone know what it is?

Again, we're clueless about what it is

Coconuts of course.

Pamplemousse. These are like grapefruit on steroids.  We love them.

Papaya, another favorite

Finally, a picture of David.  Minimus is just above and to the left of the catamaran without a mast.

And, a somewhat more revealing picture of David, enjoying the public shower.

Credits

This post is to recognize and thank several people who contributed above and beyond to the success of the voyage.

Jimmy, patron saint of our voyage

If there could be said to be a patron saint for this adventure, that recognition goes to Jimmy McPherson. From the first time we mentioned the idea two years ago, his generosity, encouragement and support in too many ways to mention have literally made the trip possible. In addition to all that, when our spirits occasionally lagged along the way, he had a gift for putting the situation back into perspective and doing so with just the right mix of encouragement and humor. As a sailor himself, he knew whereof he spoke.

During the voyage we received invaluable daily weather reports thanks to the efforts of our friend Mark Nay. Mark is one of those rare people who can resolve all manner of technical challenges with a laser-like focus. He quickly developed algorithms and a shorthand code for sending us weather forecasts in a format that we could interpret literally within seconds.

Additionally, he tracked other vessels in our area that were transmitting AIS signals outside the range of our receiver. That gave us a comforting heads up on what was heading our way.

Mark is also the person who developed the tutorial that many of you used to find our messages on the tracking map page after that turned out to be more complicated than the satellite device company had initially indicated.

Then there is Lynn Smith-Lovin, who sent us greatly anticipated world news summaries each day during the last half of the voyage. I (David) am a news junky and, with history currently being made (for better or worse), I was anxious to know about it. Lynn would send us strings of 160 character messages daily that then would give us hours of topics to discuss while looking out across the endless seascapes.

Last but not least are all of you who followed our progress and sent us messages of encouragement along the way. A highlight of every day was reading and responding to your messages. Your many questions added an unexpectedly welcome dimension to the voyage as we enjoyed answering them.

By the way, we responded to every message we received. Unfortunately, because the satellite device was somewhat screwed up throughout the voyage, we had no way to know if we were sending our responses to the correct person. We believe this has now been fixed, so future messages should go back and forth more seamlessly.

The Passage from San Diego to Hiva Oa

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This post covers a few notes and photos of the voyage from San Diego to Hiva Oa.

--The total distance according to our daily noon to noon runs was 3035 nautical miles. The actual distance sailed was somewhat farther, as we probably never ran straight for 24 hours at a time.

--The passage time was 41 days. Our longest days run was 125 nautical miles, near the beginning. Our shortest was about 8 nautical miles during a windless day in the doldrums, though we had several other days almost as short.

--Our water consumption was 47 gallons, or an average of just over half a gallon per person per day. That is somewhat misleading though, as we drank much more per day during the last two weeks due to the heat during windless days in the doldrums. We left San Diego with 67 gallons and arrived in Hiva Oa 41 days later with about 20 gallons on board.

--In general we had good wind with the exception of a day or two, from San Diego to 7 degrees north. There we had a particularly vigorous squall lasting several hours with winds in the 30-35 knot range. From there until 5 degrees south, a distance of just over 700 nautical miles, wind was highly variable, with frequent squalls.

At 5 degrees south, we experienced a squall similar to that of 7 north, but stronger, as a minor depression formed and then dissipated several hours later. Even south of 5 degrees, winds remained somewhat variable in direction and speed. Only during the last two days did we experience classic trade winds with cumulous clouds, few squalls and fairly sustained east wind at 10-15 knots.

Almost all the other sailors here at Hiva Oa came from the Galapagos Islands and experienced unusual winds along the way. Most boats reported going down to 12-15 degrees south before picking up reliable tradewinds.

--There is no way we'd have wanted to do the voyage without self steering. Our self steering system was a home built modification of a design by the Dutch engineer and sailor Jan Alkema. We named it Clap Trap and it did the vast majority of the steering throughout the voyage. We used a combination of the boat's rudder and sail adjustments to balance Minimus, then adjusted Clap Trap to self steer. Sometimes the steering range was fairly wide, up to 20 degrees each way and other times it would be within 5-10 degrees all day. It depended on course relative to wind, wind speed, sail combination, etc.

--Our nighttime routine was to reduce sail to a very conservative area and then set Clap Trap. We'd both go to bed a couple hours after sundown. Pearl set the alarm for every two hours during the night and would get up to check course, squalls, etc. then go back to sleep.

Obstructions like floating containers, logs, sleeping whales, etc., we couldn't have seen at night anyway, so there was no use losing sleep over them. Our AIS receiver warned us of any commercial vessels in the area, which was the main reason we felt relatively safe sleeping at night. By carrying only a conservative sail area at night, squalls, which always brought sudden stronger wind, were less of a threat.

--We also sailed somewhat conservatively because early in the voyage we noticed a somewhat alarming lateral "S" bend in the mast on some points of sail. It was most noticeable on a beam reach when the boom vang was set up and the wind strong. That caused the boom to exert a lateral force on the mast, causing it to bend to one side below the spreaders and to the side above them. In actuality, the bend was only detectable when looking right up the mast along the sail track, so wasn't actually too extreme.

The mast had always struck me as being on the light side for what was otherwise a fairly heavily built boat. That was probably to make raising and lowering the mast easier for those who trailered their boats. Being a long way from a replacement though, we decided early on to sail conservatively. I've always felt this was a good policy. Comparing notes with other sailors here, the ones who pushed their boats hard tended to have the most equipment breakages.

We also re-rigged the vang to take out some of the lateral force on the mast.

--Our somewhat unique standing rigging has worked out well so far. One thing we should have done though was to pre-tension the dyneema lanyards with a come-along or other tensioning device before they went on the boat. We re-tensioned the rigging in San Diego and will be doing it again here at Hiva Oa. It's doesn't take long to do, but hopefully this will be the last time its needed.

--The latex paint we used on the hull, deck and almost everywhere else has held up well. More details on this and other aspects of our boat can be found on our website:

http://www.omick.net/adventure/sailing/sailing_offshore/sailing_offshore.html

Leaving San Diego as an aircraft carrier arrives

Turns out there was plenty of room for both of us

Passing Coronado Island, the last land for a few days

A few days later we raise Guadalupe Island, the last land for many weeks

Pearl apparently oblivious to a big sea coming up astern. Minimus rose to it as she did to all the others.

Pearl on a more relaxed day

Sailing downwind wing and wing (mainsail on one side, headsail on the other)

David's unpleasant kidney stone

Equator crossing celebration at 3AM

The inner sanctum, AKA the pit.

A squall forms nearby

Pearl plays the uke

Land ho after 41 days at sea!

Answers to a Few Questions

We've been asked a number of questions that we'll try to answer here.

--Are tsunamis a danger here? 

They're unusual here, but certainly a threat when they happen, even when generated from as far away as Chile. If it happens, everyone leaves the anchorage as quickly as possible. Once out in deep water, they're no longer a danger.

--What was the physical feeling of being back on land? 

From the instant we set foot onshore, the sensation was that the land was swaying back and forth. The feeling lasted for 4-5 hours. Even after several days, we still feel it when we go ashore, though each day it takes less time to get over it.

Emotionally, we were so preoccupied with getting the inflatable kayak ashore at the somewhat challenging landing and then dealing with the land swaying, that it was some minutes before we stopped, realized that we were indeed on land again and had a long embrace of gratitude.

Pearl says that what surprises her is how much she misses the voyage for the simplicity of the day to day routine. While we sometimes had to make decisions and carry out tasks at all hours of the day and night, there was also a lack of the sort of stress we often feel ashore. Pearl's take is that life on land is far more complicated with a much wider range of decisions and tasks than at sea.

After 6 weeks at sea, where there was relatively little physical exertion other than hanging on and balancing, we found almost every activity on land exhausting. By the end of the first day, even though we wanted to send a text message, neither of us had the gumption to do it.

Our legs were sore when we woke up the next morning, but interestingly, no where near as sore as after I sailed to Hawaii. I think the difference is that that voyage was on a catamaran in which everything was on the same level. Moving around on Minimus requires going up two steps from the cabin to the cockpit, which we would do many times a day. The frequent up and down was no doubt more exercise.

--What was it like to eat our first dinner and take our first shower?

Our first real dinner was here on Minimus. Pearl prepared salted cucumber slices followed by eggplant parmesan with french cheese melted on top and baguettes, and bananas for dessert. It was the first fresh food we'd had in many weeks and was heavenly.

Our first shower was also heavenly, though an unusual experience. Onshore beside the bay is a concrete block privacy structure about 4-1/2 feet high with a pipe overhead. It offers privacy from the chest down, but otherwise is in full view of everyone in the area. The water is cold only, which is welcome in this climate. It felt great to wash off 6 weeks of salt water!

--How did this landfall compare with Davids Hawaii landfall in 1980?

I (David) had never sailed offshore before the Hawaii voyage, so felt quite a bit of apprehension on that trip. Much of it was not knowing what to expect, feeling of course quite exposed to whatever weather developed along the way and wondering if the boat was really up to the trip. As it turned out, the boat was quite up to the trip. (I discovered afterward that according to people in the know, it was at the time the first ocean crossing ever done in a catamaran that small, something I was glad I didn't know then.) In addition, I had no communications of any kind on that trip and thus no weather forecasts, emergency calling capability or human contact of any kind. Nor did I have any check on whether my navigation was on track.

In contrast, just about all of those factors were different on this voyage. We had satellite communication, emergency calling capability, pinpoint GPS navigation, and, above all else, I not only had a companion this time, but the perfect companion.

One would think I wouldn't have felt any apprehension this time. Alas, that was not the case. I may seem like an inveterate adventurer, but the fact is, I'm a worrier at heart. Perhaps that's why I've survived some of my adventures. I'm always thinking about the weak links, about what might go wrong and about how to respond if they do.

The list is long. What if we hit a floating container or a sleeping whale at night? The boat is strongly built, but if holed, her 1700 lbs of lead ballast would sink her like a stone. What if lightning strikes the mast and melts the lanyards, causing the mast to fall? That slight looseness in the rudder, does it portend something serious there? And so forth, ad nauseum.

I've concluded there's no hope for it, it's just my nature. It's also part of why we make such a good team on these adventures. I'm always anticipating the worst and trying to prepare for it so it doesn't actually happen, while Pearl realizes how unlikely it is to happen in the first place and just chills without getting wrapped around the axle. My preparations help to insure that her perspective is what actually happens and her perspective helps me to enjoy the experience instead of focusing on what might go wrong.

Certainly part of my apprehension on this voyage was related to a sense of responsibility for her. I don't mean that to sound like she was a burden. Nothing could be further from fact. It's just that if it were not for me she wouldn't have done the voyage, so there was no escaping a certain sense of responsibility.

Hiva Oa, Marquesas Islands, French Polynesia--Landfall!

As we mentioned in our text this morning, getting cleared through immigration and customs went fairly smoothly. It's done through the gandarmerie, a sort of local police force throughout French Polynesia. The young officer who helped us was polite and friendly. We're required to post a bond equivalent to an airline ticket out of the country, about $1400 per person. It's refundable when we leave the country.

First things first though, it took us about half a day to get past the vertigo. We looked like two drunks staggering along. Then we were fine. Until we got to shore again this morning.

Right now we're sitting while the world rocks back and forth. And sore legs, oh my.  

Formalities done yesterday, we bought a fresh warm baguette and French cheese and devoured both while sitting on a long bench in front of the store alongside heavily tattooed Polynesian men. People have been friendly, but we're feeling for the first time in our lives what it's like to be in a country in which we don't know either of the spoken languages. Sign language, a smattering of French and some broken English among local folks is getting us by so far.

Climate-wise, it's hot and humid during the day, but nights are refreshingly cool by comparison with what we experienced closer to the equator. A light blanket is welcome by halfway through the night. Showers pass through several times each day.

Other sailboats come in and leave daily. There are roughly 15-20 sailboats in the harbor at any time. Most are from Europe and the USA. Minimus is by far the smallest boat here. Apparently there was a gathering of sailors the evening we came in and our having entered under oar power was a highlight of conversation.

We're getting to know other sailors, all very friendly. In comparing passage notes, it seems that most folks have had longer than expected passages due to unusually fickle trade winds. As expected, those who pushed their boats hard had significantly more equipment breakages.

Interestingly, almost half the boats here are catamarans, a sign that folks are finally beginning to wise up to the fact that they're significantly more comfortable sea boats than ballasted monohulls. It isn't the heeling (leaning over) that's the issue, but the rolling back and forth that's the issue most folks talk about. Not that even catamarans are comfortable, mind you, as no small boats are at sea, just relatively much more so. So why didn't we get a catamaran? We didn't have time to build one and small used ones are hard to find. Meanwhile, Minimus is working well for us.

There's so much we want to learn, like the names of all sorts of trees, fruit, flowers, birds, etc. that we've never seen before. We met a woman yesterday at the cultural center whose husband gives tours of the island, something we're thinking of doing partly to see more of the island and also to learn the names of so many things we don't know.

The one downside right now is that our stern anchor seems to be stuck on something so that we can't free it. We'd like to move it, as we're anchored too close to another boat. And, of course we need it before we sail from here. We're talking with other boaters now and trying to figure out a solution.

A local woman named Sandra has a covered deck overlooking the bay with internet. The view from here is absolutely stunning. I know I've already used that adjective, but am at a loss for another one.  Blue water, white surf, jungle covered, near vertical mountains rising thousands of feet into the clouds. 

We've taken several photos from here, none of which begin to show the majesty of the setting. We'll keep trying.

Land Ho!

Pearl with Minimus visible just to the left of her.

Polynesian Cultural Center

Mary Jo with art work on tapa, a cloth made from bark.

Fragrant flowers everywhere. This is the one most women wear in their hair. We hope soon to find out what it's called.

My lucky day. I (David) found a rare blond vahine in Polynesia!