Blue water baby...

Finally Ravi's passport arrived on Friday. We'd applied for it when he was 5 days old at the end of September, now he's a chunky 2 ½ months. Much to every Fijians surprise a Fijian passport was never an option since neither of us have citizenship. Apart from being a little pedantic about the background of a photo which is supposed to show authorities what Ravi looks like up until he is five years old, the delays were numerous but mostly not to do with the UK passport authority. Once a countersigned photo and covering letters for all our irregularities were received, the passport was sent on the 21st November. It then proceeded to take 17 days to get here. That was on DHL expedited documents service which estimates 4-5 working days. Customs was the main problem in the UK, apparently they always sit on passports for a bit before worrying about looking at them and sending them on. At every stage it seemed to need chasing.

Anyhow back to Friday. We picked up the passport from the lovely marina ladies and then were sung out by an ad-hoc gang singing the Fijian farewell song ‘Ni Sa Lei...’ as we rowed back to Impetuous anchored outside. A sail north up to the port had us checking out just in time on a Friday afternoon... Or so we thought. 

We’d visited the port twice in the previous two days checking details would be ok for our imminent departure and enquiring about overtime fees in case we had to leave at the weekend. At neither of these visits had Peni the customs officer felt the urge to inform us that we had to add Ravi to our crew officially with immigration. Their office is in town and only open during office hours. We'd already been to see them that week to ask for a few days visa extension since we were now over the 6 months readily allowed, but no one at that time had mentioned the need for this extra form either. 

We quickly realised that we needed to stop arguing in frustration and find a taxi and get there, before the office closed in 15 minutes. We ooched and owed along the hot tarmac without shoes and flagged down the first taxi we saw. ‘Please straight to the immigration office and with the meter on please', there was no time for bargaining prices. For once no queue in immigration meant the simple and pathetically short form was filled and stamped in moments. Back at the port Peni was true to his word and waiting for us just past 4pm, his knocking off time, he didn't have the gall to charge us overtime and by half past we were free to leave. 

Smug in the knowledge that all the port officials were heading to a party so there was therefore not going to be anyone around to notice us taking a bit of time. We went into town to spend our last few Fijian dollars and back to get both dinghy's stowed away.

As dusk fell on Lautoka we pulled up the anchor and main sail waving ‘see you sometime' to friends on ‘Eos' and ‘au revoir' to this Western section of Fiji we have gotten to know quite well.

It was a gentle drift out towards the pass and a gentle drift once outside too. Still in the wind shadow of Viti Levu for many hours to come. A few squalls later then finally the SE trades graced us with their presence mid Saturday morning. Since then it has been a surprisingly rambunctious sail to New Caledonia. The forecast seemed to say 15-20 knots on the beam, ideal. However we've had the staysail stowed and the jib and main both double reefed getting sloshed by short steep waves until the last day when we've slowed ourselves to a gentle 6 knots with only double reefed jib. 

It took us just under 5 days to do just under 700 miles. Once inside the reef here in New Caledonia the sail round the island was a treat, 8 knots downwind sailing with just the jib and no more waves, Ravi enjoyed this all from his car seat. Until then we'd had to cower inside for fear of a frequent drenching from waves.

Like us all, Ravi has some places on Impetuous he loves to inhabit when on passage. Sprawled out on the leeward bunk, like everybody else is high up on the list. Fortunately he isn't too big so as not to share it. However, sharing a Lee bunk with a small baby isn't as regenerative as not sharing it; oweing to what we call the squish factor.

On passage we still sleep in the bow more often than not. Indeed with a fan on either side it's quite a pleasant place to read a book. So despite all the sloshing of the boisterous sail Ravi spent a fair amount of time in the bow. With the simple addition of his dancing birdies mobile he can spend hours orchestrating them as they sway to the rock of the boat and he rolls from pillow to pillow.

We've jammed in a spare wind vane to the side of the pilot berth, covered with a sarong and padded by a blanket it makes a great leeboard. A neat addition to what has become his bunk; with his mobile frame at one end over his quilt and an enormous pile of nappies at the other. But on passage it wasn't where he wanted to be. As the occasional wave slammed in to the hull side cascading itself across the boat Ravi would be awoken; startled, from his slumber. We call it starfish baby. Arms and legs spring out as does a certain aura of panic. Ravi didn't spend much time in his bunk.

Perhaps his favourite place is his car seat that we've bungied on to the boat. From there he can truly embrace the wonder of sailing. Smiles always abound when he is placed in it, A happiness we're keen to foster. It won't be much longer before his wriggling turns to crawling and the car seat has buckles that still work, despite the salty years of service it provided for our friends on Eos II. We haven’t told him this yet.

All in all Ravi has taken the whole experience in his stride; noticing only that whilst at sea there's always someone awake to give his head a stroke should he open his eyes when a noise disturbs him. Also at sea his dangling toys never stop dancing!

So we’re now in new Caledonia enjoying all the culinary delights a French country has to offer. The plan is to feast on baguettes, pate', cheese and wine for a few days before heading off to Australia. It will be Ravi's second blue water passage; they say that we can only dream of experiences we have already enjoyed, we often see Ravi dreaming of drinking as he sleeps. But now when he closes his eyes he has one more experience to dream of. Dreaming of blue water sailing.

Marquesan Meanderings

Within 24 hours of arriving another two boats had arrived. After 48 a further four boats squeezed into our small anchorage that already had a fair few boats in it. All had recently made a big passage; whether from Canada, Chile, Mexico or like us from Panama, some but by no means all via the Galapagos. It was like pulling the pin on a party time grenade. Evenings on each others boats late into the night revelling in someone new to talk to; bbq fire pits on the beach where we roasted two chickens amongst all kinds of other treats; to a finale night of a drumming competition in the village. Atuona on Hiva Oa was just what the admiral ordered.

The mountain of Temetiu (1213m) towered above us almost permanently ensconced by a veil of cloud. We decided to set the alarm; somewhat a rarity in our current life, and scale it, or at least get as high as possible. After five weeks at sea our legs needed some exercise and they certainly got it.

We timed it perfectly in that the bakery was already open as we walked through town; proper french baguettes; and there were already plenty of people around to frequently ask for directions. Finally finding the start of the track we picked our way up through the paths in the relative coolness of the early morning. The Marquesans easily tell you 'sure you can go up there, there is a trail which they will point out on the hillside, but ask them if they've ever been themselves and it's a different matter. Consequently the track was far from obvious and at times pretty exciting but we made it as far as we could without turning our hands to rock climbing. 

Atuona was a real highlight of our Marquesan meanderings where we found goats cheese, new friends and fun but after a week there we felt we rather ought to see another island. It was a shock to the system as we ventured out of baie Tahauku. There hadn't been any breeze to speak of inside the natural harbour so we hadn't worried about the windows and were fully prepared to have to motor the 10 miles to our next anchorage. It was a wet and wild ride across to Tahuata and the wind continued to gust alarmingly once we were tucked up into our next beautiful bay anchorage.

 Ua Pou was our next island and is characterised by it's dramatic basalt volcanic plugs. We stumbled upon a rehearsal of a traditional dance/ play in an out of the way village where we were the only boat visiting. The actors and musicians appeared to be largely around the 18-30 age group and were putting a lot of sweat and passion into their performances. Our fellow spectators did not appear to take it all so seriously; children were running about getting in the way, one little girl enthusiastic with her newspaper kite and whenever there was fighting or other such excitement in the performance, the 5 or 6 dogs prowling around would join the melee with howls, pouncing and barking. It was a quite unexpected spectacle.

Now we're at our final Marquesan island 'Nuku Hiva'.  Here we've been cracking on with a few jobs (the dinghy is still wending it's merry way towards being a 'sailing dinghy') and enjoying lovely long walks in the  scenic countryside which ranges from Scottish highland style desolate peaks to tropical and temperate rain forest.

We've been enjoying doing the tourist thing whilst in the Marquesas; we saw the graves of both Guaguin and Jacques Brell, searched extensively for the monument to Herman Melville and have walked many miles.  We managed to get to see the third highest waterfall of the world (there's a bit of a drop off after the first two!) such trips are greatly improved by the excitement of finding fruit trees allover the place and several chilli bushes. 

The Marquesas have been beautiful; the people have been friendly and helpful but we have to leave too soon.  Next stop is the Coral Atolls of the Tuamotus before heading onwards to the Society islands.  Plenty to look forward to!

 

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.