Impetuous four....

Here’s an interesting and novel tale,
About a couple who loved to sail.
They bought a boat made strong and stout,
And proceeded to sail her West about.

Of course there was difficult work to do,
But that didn't phase our Impetuous two.
Sanding and filling were most of the task,
But in woodwork they found joy, even built their own mast!

Having a boat they'd rebuilt gave them confidence and style,
They had pride in her lines and basked for a while...
In frequent admiration over what they had done,
Though lining up to do all that work there'd been none.

From there to here, from here to there;
Wonderful things could be found everywhere.
Texas to Mexico, Belize, Guatemala;
Always in time, they found a safe harbour.

Working betwixt their adventures was sure…
To make them appreciate their life all the more.
They found that hard work was what could be said,
To bring about the ‘luck’ in the life that they led.

Cuba was a joy that could not be overstated,
Though seasickness all the way there; Ruth hated.
Panama beckoned; perfect islands, wondrous art.
Through the canal they traversed; frugally every part.

Late in the season, the cruisers' boat party was downhearted,
Stocked to the gunwales a few days later they departed.
The Galapagos, of course, to visit would have been nice,
‘Expensive', ‘uncomfortable', ‘over regulated’ came the advice.

So five long weeks at sea they toiled,
Two slow, three fast, faster still the seas boiled.
There many young sailors, some with startling boat failures;
Adventurous new friends, they found in the Marquesas.

Jacques Brel; Gauguin; Herman Melville found a home,
On these glorious rich islands, which truly stand alone.
Among waterfalls and mountains where dreams are fulfilled,
Pamplemousse; mangoes; breadfruit; chillies all found in the wild.

The Tuamotus and Societies could never disappoint;
Iconic and exotic, their excitement was joint.
Through the Cooks on to Tonga where whales could be seen,
They made many firm friends at that party for Halloween.

The land of the long white cloud rose out of the grey,
After a terrific New Year's party they decided to go play….
Down the bottom where only the most Impetuous go,
they found out just why when it started to snow.

Into Milford they bouldered the wind on their tail,
All computers were damaged, but they'd weathered the gale.
All around them the mountains rose out of the gloom;
They thanked their lucky stars they were graced by the moon.

The Fiords are all beautiful and thrilling in their way,
Ample fish when they ran low on food saved the day.
The weather was wild with no folks to be found,
But the scenery; untamed nature, could not fail to astound.

Foveaux straits dolphins were worried and so were they all,
When the wind was so strong, Impetuous started to stall.
In the lee of Stewart island she could heave-to in peace,
How they wished they'd found time to sew in that fourth reef.

Over the years they had sailed many atolls and isles,
And always were met with genuine smiles.
They learned much about both the lands and the sea,
And started to think that they'd like to be three.

Money had to be found to fund all of their plans,
So Impetuous; left again lonely, in far away lands.
Ruth nursed; Duncan taught, so back they could go...
With a bump in the tum; so happy they did know...

Lovely Ravi arrived in beautiful Fiji,
As mangoes dripped from the trees bright and leafy.
They were sad to move on from all the friends they had found,
But truly they loved to sail all around.

His first Christmas was spent at sea bold and breezy,
Ravi never seemed fazed as he chewed his first lychee.
The timing was perfect as round other boats they did weave.
Arriving in Sydney amongst the rockets; New Year's Eve.

They sailed on around Tasmania, to again feel the cold;
People were friendly, and there were great mountains to behold.
Then they sailed again north up the land of down under,
When the seas rose up, poor Ravi would chunder.

On and on they traversed along the Barrier Reef Great;
The Louisiades had to be postponed; they were late.
Across the Arafura sea, and into Indonesia...
With still many miles to go before the delights of Malaysia.

But now our family are having a difficult time;
The sun in Indonesia refuses to shine.
The winds are against us and the currents inclement.
Pip the engine is protesting with new problems fervent.

Delay after delay has put them at odds with the weather,
To be this far into the North West monsoon is not clever.
But sailing is what these sailors do,
Otherwise they wouldn't be Impetuous Too.

Whilst sailing onwards, we've kept a secret,
With New Year's day, we thought we might leak it...
Before too long there's going to be more;
Before too long they will be the Impetuous four.

From Rags to Riches

There used to be a time I floated around the Mediterranean and the Isles of Great Britain on a small and leaky wooden Clinker boat. Pegged along the aft safety lines would usually be an assortment of rags. Some were my clothes, some tea towels and some rags. All ultimately became rags in time. It was argued by some, that this time had long since come; I simply chose to wear some.

On an old wooden boat there never needs to be a shortage of rags; to dry the bilge and oil sodden hands upon. Having coaxed a recalcitrant engine back to life or the almost constant struggle to keep two mutinous bilge pumps and float switches functioning, a cloth must always be to hand. In dire circumstances when a few remnants had been lost over the side and I was elbow deep in grime, an old holey t-shirt would be grabbed and the rag pile replenished.

So what's changed? Our boat though not wooden, has many of the hallmarks. We're blessed with grubby bilges, plenty of varnishing to do and an intractable engine necessitating plenty of time nursing it to servitude and cleaning up afterwards. My t-shirts are still purchased from charity shops and worn until bleached by the sun and decayed by sweat they fall apart. I still very much dress in rags but riches are now ours. Since Ravi recently hit the 8 months mark some of his nappies are starting to be too small, to fade, fray and rip. Yes, we're now becoming rich in rags.

We've become nappy origami pros. Our arsenal consisting of different outers; some bought and some homemade, different folds, fabrics and sizes to suits different occasions. Most we bought whilst in Fiji from the supermarket where they were cheap and still the norm. Some are made from a bumper pack of microfibre rags bought in New Zealand and some are made from cut up and hemmed towels. Adorning the safety lines as they flutter in the breeze are always an assortment of nappies.

The very notion of disposable nappies horrifies us. Of course they are not degradable, so can't be thrown over the side. Imagine a week or two's supply of soiled nappies festering in a cockpit locker, stinking. Then imagine trying to find a receptacle to put them in. Who would be willing for us to use their bin for this? Then they either get carted off to landfill to not fully degrade or blow about littering the beaches and scarring the countrysides we visit, where people are struggling to cope with their new found 'conveniences'. We're constantly trying to reduce, reuse and recycle so this was just not an option.

When water is short we sometimes wash them in salt water then do a final rinse in fresh. We've heard from a couple with a similarly young stowaway who have had the forethought to sew button holes in their nappies. Now they can be dragged along whilst on passage then raised aloft where the spray can't soak them. Since we've fixed our third water tank, water is often available onshore and it rains here enough, we find we need to use less detergent and heat by using fresh.

Because we're changing him frequently and only use water and cotton wool to clean him, Ravi has never suffered from nappy rash. There's no doubt it's pretty time consuming but with all the washing, our hands have never been so clean.

As Ravi grows older we're already starting to reap the benefits of learning when its time for him to go; often catching him before its too late. If we stick him on the toilet at an oportune time we are frequently rewarded. Cloth reared children tend to grow out of nappies when it's time sooner than those using disposables. I think its the advertised lock away pockets that does for them. When finally that day happens we will be truly rich in rags.

Pacific passage

We were tearing along; rather than reefing we dropped the mainsail altogether. Slewing about at 8 to 9 knots was not how we wanted to catch our first glimpses of land. Once the main was tied up Beryl (our Aries wind vane) was able to bear off on to a dead run.

Ruth went off to sleep and I got the kettle on. A couple of hours later Hiva Oa crawled out of the dawn like a slumbering dinosaur. Her high rocky craggs becoming visible; Land for the first time in five weeks.

We left Isla Mogo Mogo (Las Perlas, Panama) on Saturday evening, the 14^th June delighted to be heading out into the big blue. There were no nerves; just the exhilarating feeling that finally we were doing what we've wanted to do for a very long time.

We had a beautifully auspicious start; reaching along at 5 knots. Only half an hour out a whale sounded near our boat three or four times. We put two fishing lines out and caught Mackerel on each within an hour; yum... When the wind died down later that evening we were barely drifting along, we were pleased to see that we were still going in the right direction at 1-2 knots, the current was wafting us out.

We were expecting the first leg of our trip to be arduous however, and we weren't disappointed. The sea between Panama and the Galapagos islands is characterised by fickle winds and calms. There is talk of this year being the beginning of an El Nino which may explain why there was even less wind than expected.

Our first two weeks were hard work getting nowhere slowly and at times working pretty hard to stem Impetuous going North or backwards. For two weeks we averaged only 60 miles a day with one memorable day tacking into a light head wind with occasional squalls; out one way and then back, reefing and shaking them out frequently, making a net gain of 10 miles over 24 hours! Not entirely disheartened we gradually edged our way into the Pacific and slipped further in to the enjoyment of ocean passage making, despite the unreliable wind.

It was a welcome juxtaposition from preparing Impetuous for a long passage. Endless provisioning and checks upon the various yacht systems. Stark contrast of the serenity of actually being gone. We read, tidied and relaxed between sail changes and steering adjustments. It did get increasingly frustrating however; after nights and days of rocking on the oceans wave with the sails down, sometimes loosing the hard won miles by drifting up and back; we occasionally decided to motor a little. Slowly, but at least in the right direction.

This lasted until we were a few hundred miles north and to the east of the Galapagos. Little by little a southerly wind developed; the sails went up, the engine silenced for good and we slipped away in to the second part of our crossing; the trade winds.

For the first few days we alternated between one and two reefs in the main, staysail and yankee, our daily runs smashed through their previous poor averages. We expected the pacific to be, well, pacifying, relaxing, steady wind, rolling ocean waves, puffy trade wind clouds and weeks of comfortable steady sailing. We'd pulled in the second reef and still roared along over 7 knots. For almost the next two weeks the reefs were never let out. The yankee was furled at times partially, at others fully as we bouldered along; the lee rail awash as we rolled in the excited sea. We stayed dry, if a little hot inside as the occasional breaking wave would break into the cockpit partially filling it.

As we got closer to the equator we benefited from a favourable current. Our daily averages increased beyond what we thought possible; our record was 192 miles in 24 hours noon to noon. For most of the two weeks we were rarely below the 170 mark. Our tactic of waiting later in the season for the trade winds to fully develop had certainly been effective, if not a little too so.

I'd started peering into the toilet bowl with great interest. We were soon to cross the equator, where upon the water would swill the opposite way on route back to the ocean. For a dyslexic such as myself it takes some remembering which way it swills usually so that one can truly appreciate the change. I even thought of a sentence to help me remember; 'Antipodeans go backwards down the toilet.' As we drew closer I would spend time just curiously flushing away. Well you can imagine my delight and slight surprise when about four miles north of the equator the direction changed. As we edged closer still, I woke Ruth not wanting her to miss out on the celebration. 'We're almost at the equator,' I whispered as I gently rocked her to consciousness, 'and the toilet is already swirling the opposite way!'

Though the first two weeks were frustrating, these next two weeks of tearing along with all sails reefed, were odd. We'd look at each other, 'this is not what I expected'. We'd say. Cowering inside, trusting Beryl to keep us going the right way as another huge wave smashed down on our cabin top. A bit would inevitably find it's way in through the companion way. Our watches were fulfilled by keeping an eye on how things were going from inside. Peeking out to check occasionally, then quickly diving back inside.

With little more than 1000 miles left, there was a gradual slowing. We finally shook out our reefs, opened a few windows to allow some air to circulate and relaxed in to the final stage. We managed to put up the sunshade and sprawled out in the cockpit without fear of frequent drenchings. The sea calmed a little and puffy clouds appeared on the horizon. Our fishing luck changed somewhat too. We had lost several lures to the giants of the deep as well as having some hooks bent straight before we managed to bring our first Mahi mahi on board. With our new ingredient, calmer seas and so boat, we launched with relish into a variety of new meals. Sushi being the first.

Also with the calming of the weather our attitude to the crossing relaxed once more in to the enjoyment of the passage. Days spent relaxing in the shade as the gentle trade wind graced us. No longer pounding along, all the sails were out. We rolled on the left over waves and made a steady 6 knots. As the final days slipped away I slowly realised that I hadn't done any of the tasks I had set myself for the long ocean crossing. I am still only on tape three of French lessons. The Trumpet notes and fingering which I specially downloaded before departure remain on the hard drive of a broken computer as the ocean roll has not been condusive to taking said computer to bits to retrieve the hard drive, broken or not. The list of blog ideas has remained a list. In truth we spent almost all the time doing one of four things; cooking, eating, sleeping and reading.

So here we are. After 35 days at sea we have arrived. Stepping back into the world at the stunningly mountainous and beautifully remote island of Hiva Oa in the Marquesas. We dropped the anchor in the bay and are told the Gendarme doesn't work weekends so there's no hurry to check in yet. We'll make our way in tomorrow, relishing the miles potter in to the village to check our legs still work. 

Another country, a new flag, this time we've got the French flag with the French Polynesian flag below it.  There is a Marquesan flag too but we thought making three would be excessive.