Marquesas – HandsOnDeck

The most beautiful anchorage in the World.

We waited for a good weather window and headed further south to the iconic anchorage of Hanavave – Bay of Virgins or Bay of Penis’s, which was the original name but thought a bit too racy by early missionaries – in Fatu Hiva. This is known as one (if not the) most beautiful anchorages in the World, certainly one of the most iconic, surrounded by high, jaggered hills and lush valleys.

We had a fast sail into the wind and enjoyed watching the beauty of the island come into view, anchoring in 25m, the shallowest depth we could find, and used all our chain as we found a spot beside the team on Delos (Sailing channel Youtube followers will know who they are!). Fortunately the prevailing wind is from the east, blowing down a valley at the head of the bay, so none of the other 18 boats in the anchorage swung much, which would have been messy when we all had almost 100m of scope out!

Fatu Hiva is a beautiful lush island with tree covered steep, pointed hills, the valleys rich with grapefruit, oranges, limes, bananas, star fruit, guava and mangos in the most stunning setting. Fruit grows abundantly in the wild and fish are plentiful so no one goes hungry, particularly as hunting boar or goats is also a popular pass-time. The settlement of Hanavave has a lovely relaxed feel with all the houses built around large gardens containing several fruit trees, offering to sell grapefruit or oranges, climbing the tree to pick the best fruit while we waited below, hoping they wouldn’t fall as they climbed higher in barefeet, loading ripe fruit into the fold of their teeshirt! The fruit was worth the effort with the juicy sweet grapefruit becoming a regular treat after a meal and the oranges providing a refreshing juice after a long walk.

There is a lovely walk to a waterfall, taking about 40 minutes from the dinghy dock along a poorly signed pathway. The water was brackish but refreshing as we swam under the trickle of water that cascaded from a great height above us. We visited the small town of Omoa in the south of the island. There is an anchorage here but several boats, including Delos, attempted to enter the bay, believing it would be a better, shallower anchorage but the surf was so great and the swell awful, they all returned quite swiftly to Hanavave! The town of Omoa is lovely with a large “events” centre where the biannual Island Festival takes place, with tikis donated by the visiting islands. There are some lovely Tiki’s along the waterfront and, once again, numerous houses displaying arts and crafts for sale. We visited one man who made beautiful banjos in his backyard and he demonstrated the quality of the sound while his son proudly showed us his bone carvings.

The road from Hanavave to Omoa is windy, mostly unsealed and steep with incredible views down to the anchorage. Large groves of Mango trees grow wild along the road but sadly they are not ready until June so we were a month too early to forage for the delicious harvest! Goats climbed high on cliffs along ledges that seemed like they would crumble beneath them and at night we could hear them bleating above us – I think I’d bleat too if I’d been up there in the dark!

The anchorage was busy with boats arriving and leaving each day and then the jostling for positions as some of the good spots closer to shore and in shallower water become available. We decided to move forward into a less exposed and slightly shallower spot, slowly hauling up our chain as we motored forward to keep the pressure off as our windlass winched up our scope. We had been nursing our windlass for a little while, repairing it in Panama and treating it very carefully each time we used it, but hauling up over 75m of chain was just too much for it and, after depositing all it’s oil in the chain locker, finally made it clear to us it was terminally ill. This isn’t the best news to receive when you are about to re-anchor in 17m of water but we had no choice and hoped the first attempt at anchoring would result in a firm hold, particularly as we had been told that wind gusts can get up to 60knots, so ensuring the anchor is well bedded in is essential. The bottom is quite muddy, so it did take us a while to be happy that the anchor had indeed got a good hold but we now had 75m of chain out with the knowledge we would need to pull it up by hand in a few days time! When this day came, Steve had set up a system where we could hand winch the chain from the cockpit while I hand fed the pulled up chain into the chain locker – a slow but effective method, made a little harder due to us leaving at 9pm on a moonless night, getting quite close to one boat as we worked together to haul up the anchor!

We sailed overnight to Hiva Oa, and arrived outside the entrance to the main anchorage of Atuona as dawn broke, in time to see the supply ship slip into the bay ahead of us. This meant that a number of yachts had been moved to outside the protected anchorage to allow room for the large ship, which doubles as a cruise ship, to have room to maneuver. We were returning to the anchorage to get diesel and visit the ATM, as cash is king on these islands! The only place we could anchor was to join several other boats outside the breakwater, all of whom were being bounced around in an uncomfortable mess. We only wanted to drop the anchor once, so we chose our spot carefully and I stayed on board while Steve took the dinghy and our jerry cans ashore. We could not leave there fast enough, feeling relieved when we had slowly hauled up the anchor and safely removed ourselves from the horrible anchorage. If we had arrived from a long crossing to those conditions, I think I would have wondered why we had bothered to cross the Pacific! A hot tip for others planning this trip – go to Baie Hanaiapa on the north of the island instead. A car can be hired for a few hours on the west side of the bay – last house on beach – and drive to Atuona to check in, get fuel and provision. Much more protected and a far better anchorage!

We left Hiva Oa with Freya and had a lovely fast sail to Ua-Huka, 50NM north. We were hoping to explore this beautiful looking island with incredible rock formations, but the anchorages were far to exposed for us and, after watching Freya being thrown around after they had set their anchor in one of the bays, we made the call to continue sailing to Nuku Hiva. We arrived at 11pm and were guided into the wide anchorage at Taiohae by a fellow cruiser we had been berthed next to in Shelter Bay Marina in Panama. We had ordered a new windlass from Tahiti and it was being delivered on the next supply ship in a few days time. In the meantime we could do some laundry, avail ourselves of the freshly baked baguettes and check out Nuku Hiva which, on first impressions, was equally as beautiful as the other islands we had visited. Together with our friends on Freya and Coddiewomple we walked to the head of the bay and enjoyed spectacular views of the harbour and hills beyond. The small village of Taiohae had a relaxed Polynesian vibe which I really liked with the locals cheerfully smiling and greeting you with “Kaoha” as we passed in the street. The women often wore a frangipani flower in their hair while the men were heavily tattooed and equally ready with a welcoming smile. Horses were exercised on the beach by young bareback riders who rode with elegance and expertise as they galloped the length of the sand at terrifying speed.

Each morning fishermen cleaned and gutted their catch on the quayside, throwing the entrails into the shallow waters of the harbour where sharks gathered in anticipation of an easy feed. We bought fresh tuna here for $5 a kilo – the cheapest food to buy in French Polynesia and caught in a sustainable way in local waters!

While we were waiting for the supply ship to arrive with our windlass, we sailed to Baie d’Anaho in the north of the island. We rounded the corner into the protected bay and were immediately mesmorised by the beautiful horseshoe shaped bay, surrounded by tree covered hills with a small village hidden in the trees just behind a wide sweeping beach. The village had a school and small church with horses being the main mode of transport as there were no roads and one tractor which seemed to belong to the whole village and used as needed. Everywhere was clean and well kept with well tendered gardens and horses tethered around the palm trees that lined the beach. We found a track that led us to the top of a hill and, after stopping to admire the beautiful view from the top, down to the town of Hatiheu. The path on the other side of the hill was less rugged and we walked through heavy ladened Mango trees on either side of the track.

Small cruise ships occasionally visit Hatiheu and the town seems very well set up to look after them. The streets are wide and paved, a large thatched restaurant with open sides caters for tourists, but was shut as it was a Sunday, and a large Norman looking church with two turrets, was set back in immaculate grounds and a beautiful backdrop of sun shadowed hills. But one of the most striking features of this bay were seven high, steep and jaggered outcrops of rocks that dominated the western side of the bay. They gave an impressive natural backdrop to the town, sandy beach and bay.

The anchorage was lovely and flat, which was a welcome change to the roll we had experienced on the other side of the island. Turtles occasionally popped their heads up close to us but the water clarity was not great so seeing other marine life, which we knew was there, was not possible. This could almost be the most beautiful anchorage, but The Marquesas have so many you can choose from!

On the day the supply ship was due in, we left to return to Taiohae and excitedly jumped in the dinghy as soon as we were anchored to collect our new windlass. We had only gone about 10 metres when the outboard suddenly stopped and refused to start again – very unusual for our extremely reliable motor. We rowed back to the boat and Steve started to dismantle it while a friend picked me up in his dinghy to collect our parcel and purchase some fresh fruit and vegetables.

I’ve said this before, but the cruising community are never slow at offering to help if they see a need and we were, once again, overcome with the kindness of our friends. Todd from Freya gave up hours of his time to help Steve install the windlass while Bram from Coddiewomple checked out the outboard that Steve had not been able to fix the day before. Todd and Steve had great success with the windlass which fit perfectly and sounded great, while Bram diagnosed the problem as being with our electrical coil which was not an easy fix as parts are hard to come by in The Marquesas. We looked on line and discovered that Amazon had them for US$50 so, armed with this knowledge we contacted a supplier in Tahiti knowing that flights leave Papeete for Nuku Hiva every two days. The supplier had the part in stock but were quoting US$450 for just the part and delivery would be on top of this. Needless to say we decided to wait until my son visited in a few weeks and get the part delivered to New Zealand. In the meantime we dug out our trusted old 3hp outboard and was amazed when it started first time!

Boats were starting to leave Nuku Hiva for the Tuamotus as a small weather window had developed which was only going to last a few days. We decided to forgo our planned visit to Ua-Pou, south of Nuku Hiva, and head south too, before the winds died later the next week. So, early one Saturday morning of another long weekend (there are five public holidays in The Marquesas in May), we left the beautiful shores of The Marquesas behind us and with a heavy heart, bade farewell to these special islands which I could have happily spent a few more months exploring.

Hiva Oa – Finding our land legs

The small island of Hiva Oa has a population of just over 2000 and covers an area of 326 sqkm. The majority of the population live in the main town of Atuona which is dwarfed by a spectacular tree covered mountain that rises sharply from a valley where the small town sits, nestled against a sweeping beach. The sweet smell of perfumed flowers and citrus trees fills the air and, together with the beautiful scenery creates a senses overload for anyone but particularly for land starved crusty sailors who have been at sea for over a month!

Our first formality was to check in to French Polynesia at the local gendarmerie, which involved a long walk along a sealed road with little shade to give us some respite from the hot sun. We had been told to make sure we arrived at the Gendarmerie in the morning as they are often closed in the afternoon, so armed with our boat papers, proof of a flight booking out of French Polynesia to NZ and passports we were buzzed into the police station. The procedure was quick and easy with the final step being us mailing one part of our entry permit to Papeete from the local post office, a distinctive yellow building across the road from the gendarmerie. While there we purchased a local SIM card which came complete with data and across the road we managed to buy a few groceries including baguettes and some very expensive vegetables (red cabbage US$17), chosen from a very small selection. We soon realized that items with red price stickers were considerably cheaper than other similar products and learned that these items were subsidized by the French. Crazily you could find several different brands of milk but only one was subsidized, making it at least three times cheaper.

The French artist, Paul Gaugin moved to Hiva Oa and became part of this small community, spending the rest of his life painting scenes from the island. He, along with Belgian legendary singer, Jacques Brel, is buried in a small cemetery overlooking the spectacular volcanic peak of Temetiu and the main town nestled at its foot. We paid our respects, admired the incredible view and started the long walk back to Cerulean, having been told of a precarious shortcut down a steep path and across a small black beach at the head of the bay.

As we walked around the town, watching a wedding take place, we were struck with how familiar everything felt. From the carvings of tiki’s, to the meeting house and karanga that was performed when the bride walked down the road towards her groom, it all felt like Maori culture, which we shouldn’t have been surprised about but we were amazed by the similarities. The language was also very familiar and we later discovered that when Maori speakers have visited the islands, they can understand each other’s language although but only barely.

Back at the boat we started cleaning. We had been shocked when we had seen Cerulean after our passage as her white gelcoat was now a tone of green and brown with long goose barnacles hanging off the red antifoul just below the water surface. We looked like a boat that had been abandoned, so we jumped in the warm water and started scrubbing.

Over the next few days other boats we knew started arriving, similarly dirty, and the anchorage became a social buzz as we celebrated our achievements and discussed plans. We were keen to move out of the rolly anchorage as it was getting busy with some large boats arriving and squeezing themselves into any spot that looked vaguely large enough for them with few using a stern anchor to prevent turning and potentially hitting other boats. We knew a supply ship was due to arrive soon and when that happens all boats anchored within an area indicated by yellow markings on the shoreline, had to move. We were within that designated area so, together with our friends on Freya and DanceMe, we sailed out of the sweeping bay and back into the SE tradewinds that blow pretty consistently around the islands. DanceMe peeled away to a different anchorage while we and Freya sailed around to the north side of Hiva Oa, entering the quiet bay of Hanamenu, surrounded by high, jaggered red cliffs with ridges that came to a thin sheer pinnacle. The bay was deep with a black sand beach, fringed with palm trees at the end of the cove. We anchored in front of the beach, hoping for protection from the swell that swept into the bay, but failing as we rolled in the anchorage we shared with Todd and Susan from Freya, the only boats that day adventurous enough to get off the beaten path of the popular, protected bays closer to Atuona.

Ashore we left the dinghy on the beach and found a man in one of the lived-in huts on the beach. AwJuan had lived at Hanamenu for three years, with only one other family as a neighbour, looking after the property for his uncle. He spoke no English but had a gentle face and ready smile, speaking slowly for us to understand as he guided us towards the footpath that led to the plateau and inviting us to eat with him later. The four of us walked up the well trodden stoney path to the top of the hill and looked down on the bay and lush valley below, surrounded by baron cliffs on each side. It was a magnificent view as we looked down on our two boats anchored below us as we watched the surf pound on the beach in front of our yachts. No roads led into the little settlement of Hanamenu, and the hills behind looked beautiful in the mid-day light acting as a barrier between the settlement and the main town of Atuona. Wild horses roamed the hills and some days later we watched as attempts were made to tame those caught by taking them to the beach and into the sea, calming them so they became used to human contact. Horses are still a regular, and often only, form of transport and it takes a week to break in a wild horse, getting them accustomed to wearing a basic wooden saddle and being around the rider.

A small, spring-fed oasis on the western side of the bay, provided a welcome refreshing cool-down swim after the hot climb where we washed ourselves under a pipe that diverted a strong flow of water into the pool from a waterfall that cascaded down the fern clad hill.

Later, we sat with AwJuan as he prepared a meal for us, earlier being insistent that we return at 3pm to eat with him. His kitchen was sheltered by just a sheet of corrugated iron over the open fire. A sink and metal bench doubled as one of the kitchen walls, separating the cooking area from his garden and working area. He masterly moved a large breadfruit he had been roasting in the fire by using two long sticks and transferring it onto a work surface using large leaves to handle the hot vegetable. He then peeled and mashed the fruit, adding water and kneading it into a dough like consistency. Todd was put to work, squeezing fresh grated coconut through a cloth and extracting coconut cream which was poured over the breadfruit dough. A table was laid under the shade of a large tree with several dogs lazily lying close by, hoping for a morsel of food to be thrown to them. The table almost sagged under the food – wild boar, shot in the hills, breadfruit done two ways, fried bread, fresh coconut milk to drink and lots of fruit. It was a wonderful treat and we were overwhelmed by AwJuan’s generosity, not wanting anything in return except our company. As we prepared to leave, we were given hands of bananas, buckets of limes, grapefruit and mangos, all grown on his property. It was a very special day.

Wanting to get out of the swell and longing for a calm anchorage, we headed for the island of Tahuata, to the south of Hiva Oa. Here we found calm water and many friends, enjoying the anchorages of Hanamoenoa where mantaray feed and fearlessly allowed us to swim with them, getting so close they even nudged a friend of ours out of the way! Early morning or evening, they would swim around the boat, staying for over an hour doing acrobatic turns below us before coming back towards the surface, allowing us to see right into their body through their large open mouths as they fed on plankton.

Hapatoni is in the south of the island and we anchored in sand under impressive high cliffs in the north of the bay just as a small pod of dolphins entered the anchorage. Spinner dolphins regularly visit the area, often in small groups where adults teach babies how to jump and spin. The small quiet settlement of Hapatoni is a very traditional village with a lovely stone church, large impressive community space and well kept houses beside a clean sandy beach and rutted road. A community of artists and craftspeople live here, keeping alive the tradition of wood and bone carving, passing down skills to the children at a small school. On recommendation, a small group of us attended a church service, delivered in Polynesian with enthusiastic and uplifting singing from the small congregation. An impressive looking man played a traditional drum which was over a meter tall with goat skin tightly stretched across the top. He struck an impressive figure with every inch of his body tattooed, including his face and we later discovered he was the chief during the island festival, held every two years. When the missionaries first came to The Marquesas they banned tattooing which had long been in the Marquesan culture, telling stories of important/significant events and being a right of passage from puberty to adulthood. Although not done in the traditional way, most men will have a tattoo – always just in black and a traditional design.

After church we headed to a nearby house and ate a traditional meal of fish, breadfruit and bananas while chatting with a visiting artist who had helped set up the community many years earlier and now teaches at the school. It was fascinating talking to him about art, politics, life in the village, the connection with Maori and having him play us a tune on a pipe, played by breathing out through his nose. He explained that in the bible, life is given to Adam by God breathing into his nose and likewise, in death it is believed the last breath out is through the nose, so playing a nose pipe is a deeply spiritual thing. It certainly was a memorable end to our time in Hiva Oa, a beautiful island with genuine, interesting, happy people who enjoy a simple life in a stunning location, tucked away in a forgotten corner of The Pacific.

Pacific Crossing – A month at sea

The Pacific Ocean is the biggest ocean on the planet, covering almost a third of the earth’s surface, an area greater than all the earth’s land masses combined. Sailing across the Pacific is the longest passage a sailor can undertake without seeing land and is a major achievement in any sailors life, in fact less people sail across the Pacific Ocean each year than climb Mt Everest, so to be on the cusp of doing this voyage, filled me with excitement, but also nervousness. Were we ready? Was the boat ready? Were we physically and mentally capable of being alone at sea for 30+ days? We were about to find out, and as land gently slipped away and the vast Pacific Ocean lay ahead of us, we bade farewell to internet and morning quizzes, access to fresh fruit and vegetables and social interaction (outside the two of us) for the next month!

A few days before leaving we were following the story of a fellow cruiser who had set out to cross the Pacific a month earlier. He was about 600NM from The Marquesas when he hit a whale in the early evening, causing disastrous damage to his boat and injuring the whale. It took 15 minutes for his boat to sink and fortunately everyone on board was rescued but it certainly made us very aware of the numerous dangers that lay ahead of us.

A strong current and favourable wind swept us southwest as we headed out of the Gulf of Panama, and we enjoyed a fast magic carpet ride away from land. We were in no hurry and decided to sail under jib only to avoid the stress of an unplanned gybe while the hydrovane steered us downwind. We knew that if we waited a few more days there would be a better weather window for us to get through the doldrums but we were keen to get moving and start the adventure with the knowledge that we had a weather router keeping an eye on the conditions that lay ahead for us. We would only be granted a 90 day visa on arrival in The Marquesas as we had decided against going through the long process of applying for an extension, so we needed to make sure we did not check in until 25 April at the earliest, as my son and his wife were joining us in Tahiti in July.

We had arranged to have nightly SSB radio calls with friends and looked forward to the communication, talking to other boats in different locations – Jamaica, Galapagos, Panama, Pacific Ocean, Guadeloupe and Anguilla. By day two there were no other ships on AIS and we felt completely alone, even seabirds were an uncommon sight with only a few boobies and terns swooping around us as we headed further out to sea, disturbing flying fish which the birds caught as they flew away from our bow. Using information provided by our weather router, we tried to stay in a narrow band of wind and avoid the worst of the doldrums just north of the equator. On the third night when we were still 5 degrees north of the equator, the wind died to nothing so, after drifting for a few hours and watching the wind instruments do several complete circles, the engines were turned on at 2am, along with the watermaker and anything chargeable was plugged in to make use of the power generated by the engine. As the sky started to get light, with the engine still running, I did my usual 360 degree look of wonder around us and was alarmed to see a yellow buoy following us at speed. I had wondered why we were not going as fast as I would’ve expected, and I could now see a long trail behind the buoy and realised we had hooked a fishing line. As the sun came up, I woke Steve, and he gallantly jumped into the calm, deep, warm waters while we drifted with no engine or sails. We could see two lines coming from under the boat but were unsure where they were caught. Cerulean has a bar installed which runs from the keel/hull to the bottom of the rudder skeg, protecting our propellor. The line must have slid down the bar and was attached just at the base of the rudder – very lucky as, although we do have a rope cutter attached to our propellor, we did not want to test it out at the start of a long crossing! Steve was able to untangle the lines from the boat without having to cut them and we then hauled the rope, hooks and floater on board, scoring a squid that was on one of the large hooks. After untangling the lines, Steve then re-attached the hooks, cut the squid up for bait and tested our luck with fishing on our rescued lines! Watching the fishing line out the back of the boat while I made breakfast, Steve suddenly noticed another line was caught around our rudder and we immediately stopped the boat again to investigate. As before, Steve jumped in the water and released the strong line from the rudder, handing it to me as he climbed back on board. We started hauling the line in and, from one of the buoys behind us, we could see a large game fish jumping out of the water, giving us more enthusiasm to keep pulling in the line. About 45 minutes later we were still pulling in more line and our cockpit was starting to look and smell like a fishing boat! We realized that the line must have only recently been put in the water as nearly every hook had a fresh looking squid attached to it, but now we had started pulling it in, we felt we needed to continue, even though the big fish had freed itself. With over 700 metres of line now in the boat, numerous old plastic oil containers to act as floats, and several large fish hooks, we continued on our way hoping we did not have to encounter any angry Colombian fishermen. A few miles on and we almost ran over another line as it lay just below the surface of the water, with small, hard to see floaters. Realising we must be on the same trajectory as the fishing boat, we altered course to a more westerly route to get further away from the Colombian coastline, over 200NM to our east. We certainly were not expecting we would have to dodge fishing lines this far off the coast and thanked our lucky stars it had happened in daylight otherwise, judging by the weight of the second line, it could have done real damage to our rudder.

While on passage there are a number of things that can cause problems or at least affect comfort levels. One of those things is bugs! We try really hard to make sure we do not bring bugs onto the boat. While in Panama I saw a couple of flying cockroaches in the saloon and our cabin and immediately took action – cleaning, killing, lifting, disinfecting and (hate to admit it) spraying in all the crevice’s they may be lurking. I obviously didn’t kill them all as at various times on passage, a loan cockroach would appear and, after killing it, I started cleaning and searching again! Another pest that is even harder to get rid of are weevils. They are often already in the food we buy, pasta being the worst offender, but I also had to dispose of a bag of lentils that was infested with them and a bag of rice that was too precious to throw out, so I decided to zap it in the microwave instead. One of my tasks on passage is to check the food storage regularly and try to control, or at least keep on top of, the critters. Another routine is to turn the egg boxes every two days. We made sure we purchased eggs that had not been refrigerated but in the heat of the tropics, eggs will go off if the yolk touches the shell for too long, so by turning the boxes regularly the eggs will last longer. There is nothing worse than the smell of a bad egg in a boat, believe me!

We started our passage on a waxing moon which meant it rose in the morning and set early at night. This made the nights very dark for the first few days of our journey, accentuating the star filled night sky but making night watches long, only using red lights when needed otherwise our eyes would take too long to adjust to night vision again. I love the sound of the boat moving through the water on those dark, still nights – the gurgling sound as Cerulean cut through the calm ocean with the only light coming from the millions of twinkling stars that cut through the blackness of the huge skies above us. Trying to decide whether it was a star or masthead light on the horizon ahead and the instruments assuring us we were still headed in the right direction!

On day six we crossed the equator. We were watching the latitude degrees, minutes and seconds countdown to zero when with about five minutes left a large pod of dolphins appeared in the flat waters around us. We could see them rushing towards the boat in every direction, cutting through the still water until they found the bow wave of Cerulean. We rushed forward and marveled at the large dolphins just below the surface, swimming often two or three deep just in front of the boat. They all had markings on them, some quite intricate almost like a tattoo, and all seemed to have their own personality. One swam just in front of us and turned on its side to look up as we hung over the pulpit to get close to them and then did a full spin before disappearing. They stayed with us until just before the equator, peeling off, jumping high out of the water and splashing down on their side or lying on the surface and flapping their tails. We really felt as if they were communicating with us and it had been a very friendly encounter! With seconds to go, we grabbed a bottle of rum and, as we reached the equator, celebrated with a small nip as well as pouring some into the ocean for Neptune, asking him to keep us safe for the rest of our journey.

We can make water, stock up on food, but there is a limit to how much fuel we carry – once that’s gone, there are few options! We have a large fuel tank, carrying 660litres plus jerry cans, and felt we had plenty for the passage but, after four days of motoring, we were starting to consider different scenarios. As we gazed out over the flat vast ocean with no ripple of wind in sight, we agreed that we could continue motoring for only another 24hours and then we had to turn the engine off, regardless of whether we had even the prospect of wind or not. This way we would still have fuel for emergencies and topping up the batteries while on the remaining part of the passage. We downloaded weather charts and the forecast was grim to say the least. Our weather router, John, also confirmed that we would be unlikely to see consistent wind for a few days as the predicted westerly we were heading towards had now died and with it, so had our hopes of being able to sail. We discussed the option of changing course and heading to the Galapagos, just 150NM north, and filling up with fuel there, but the implications of this were big. We would almost certainly be refused entry as the bottom of our boat was not clean and, even with the calm water we would not be able to get all the barnacles off on the base of our keel. We plodded on and hoped that Neptune would thank us for our earlier gift – always a reliable option! After one night of utter frustration, going round in circles in glassy seas with rolling waves and not a breath of wind, I was ready to call it quits, which was a bit like a woman in labour announcing she wanted to go home and not have the baby!

At 2am on the start of day eight, Neptune returned our gift and the wind started to build. Not quite from the direction we were hoping but we took what was on offer! We hoisted the main, unfurled the jib, altered course and we were sailing hard on the wind as a 10-12knt SW blew. It was a relief to turn off the engine and have the peace and quiet of the familiar creeks and noises that Cerulean makes when she’s sailing. The wind did not last for long and we spent the rest of the day hoisting, pulling down, changing and resetting sails, trying lots of different combinations and plans to try and get our speed up. With our daily email check came updated weather news and it became apparent we needed to get south to find the wind as the forecast was for them to completely disappear in a few days. With that news we turned the engine on again and headed SW as fast as we could to get away from the Galapagos where we were encountering fishing boats which were not on AIS and we can only assume were fishing illegally.

Making the most of the light morning wind, we put the cruising chute up to help us on our way. We had just noticed a rain cloud behind us and tracked it on radar but, based on past rain and the sea state we took the decision to leave the chute up as we felt the wind gusts would help fill the flapping sail. When the squall hit, the boat was pulled over by the chute and attempts to snuff the sail were futile. In the chaos of the moment, a strain was put on several parts of the boat including a low friction ring slamming against the coachroof, with a very real possibility of breaking a window. We made the call to ditch the sail into the water and we hauled the soggy mess back on board, sorted it and repacked it into the sock while the mainsail kept us moving. We surveyed the damage around us – the safety lines had been stretched on the starboard side and were sagging from the stanchions and the pushpit had been bent a little due to the pressure put on by a block we had installed in the wrong place. Lessons were learned, but so frustrating after having had no wind for so long!

No wind continued to be a real issue and as we progressed on our southern dash we were informed by our weather router that forecasters had officially named this season as being El Nino, Christ Child in Spanish. This was not good news as it meant the currents and winds would not follow the usual pattern and could be a lot less than normal. Books and advice we had studied said attempts should not be made to cross the Pacific during an El Nino – and we were in the middle of it! Then, at last, after another frustrating night and morning trying to find wind with a strong current against us in lumpy seas, we crossed the 05 degrees latitude point and were rewarded with a building wind from the SE. The boat suddenly came alive and built up speed as we trimmed the sails and settled in to, what we hoped would be, trade wind sailing to French Polynesia. The current against us died away and our speed picked up along with our spirits as we started to put some much needed miles under our keel. We celebrated with fresh baked bread and, with the fishing line out, hoped to replenish our dwindling supplies of fresh food as our fruit and vegetables stocks were coming to an end. The wind continued to blow from the SE at around 15knots and we now felt confident we had found the tradewinds that would be with us for the foreseeable future and we made good speed and progress towards our final destination. We watched the Latitude and Longitude readings tick over as we sailed away from the equator and closer to French Polynesia, celebrating each milestone as we continued on our journey.

As we progressed west we adjusted our clocks by an hour every 14 degrees of longitude so that when we arrived in the Marquesas the 4.5hr difference between Panama would be an easy transition. We made the adjustment in the morning after my watch had finished at 8am, so we had all day to readjust our body clocks. Each morning, watching the sky get lighter and the sun come up at slightly different times made us appreciate the miles we were covering, and each night we enjoyed watching the journey of the moon as it set earlier or later and the position of stars in relation to it. It is wonderful to have the time to really look and observe just how we fit in with the solar system!

On the evening of day 17 we reached the milestone of 2000nm left to our destination and officially our halfway point in the 4000+nm passage. This was a major boost to our moral as it signified we had sailed more miles than there were remaining. For the remainder of the passage we could see the miles melt away to a reachable target and with the diminishing miles our spirits lifted in equal measures. To celebrate I put fresh sheets on the bed and did a load of washing in our hand operated washing machine. We pegged the laundry to the lines around the boat and they baked in the mid-day sun! Cleaning the sheets will need to wait until we arrive as they are too big for our small tub!

We put a fishing line out every morning, certain that today would be the day we hook a good one. Fish came on the line but managed to fight free before we could land them, and as we continued west, sunsets became redder, the humidity started to drop and evenings became a little cooler, giving us a comfortable heat to sleep with. Each day we tackled different jobs on board and checked for wear and tear. A boat is put under huge pressure doing a passage like this and I don’t think I really appreciated how much until we were halfway across! Our daily checks were more looking for ways to prevent breakage and trying to spot any points of wear before they broke. We also cleared the deck of flying fish which had somehow misjudged their flight and landed on a moving target instead of the vast ocean around it! Must be the unluckiest fish and so probably deserved to die!

The days passed by with us filling each one with daily chores, cleaning, cooking, reading, repairing, sorting and researching. It’s amazing how busy you can be on a boat in the middle of the Pacific with no internet. Twice a day we connected to our satellite phone to receive updated weather and get news from family and friends which was always a highlight. I remember equal excitement waiting for the postman to deliver letters when I was away from home in my 20’s and the building anticipation each day.

On day 19 we had rain and with it came wind and big swells. We spent a very uncomfortable day and night being thrown around, making any task frustrating, difficult and dangerous. Just making a hot drink or preparing something to eat was a major challenge as items slid along the galley bench, depositing themselves on the floor, in the sink or over us. Having sailed down to 10 degrees Latitude, we decided to alter course and head NW and follow the large rolling waves, instead of fighting them. We had the wind directly behind us and just one poled out jib up, making the sailing more comfortable although every so often a big wave would come on our side and we’d roll violently, usually while we were preparing food! We hoped that by heading further north the seas would flatten out a little so we could change course to a more westerly direction. The next day the sun was out and, although the waves were smaller, they were still too big to consider altering course more west, so we continued on our NW heading until the waves reduced to a more manageable size! Point Nemo in the South Seas, is the most isolated spot on earth. When there the nearest human contact, apart from other boats, is with the International Space Centre. We had reached our Point Nemo, being the furthest point from land we are ever likely to get. The closest land was Easter Island, located 1000nm to our south, 1600nm west of us were the Marquese’s and east was Peru while 2000nm north lay Hawaii and somewhere in the NE over 1300nm away were the Galapagos. It was while at this remote spot we learned of two boats possibly needing assistance. One was Tomas, a solo sailor, whom we mad met in Panama and had failed to make his regular contact call with a buddy boat, and was only 300nm SW from us at last known position. The other was a yacht further west who had lost their rudder and had made the decision to abandon ship, presumably once a rescue boat was close by. We were asked to alter course and head towards the last known position for Tomas while another boat rescued the yacht with the broken rudder. As it turned out, Tomas was having an issue with his satellite phone and a low level satellite picked up a new position for him showing he was still making good progress along his course, so we stood down and continued on our planned course. The other boat was going to be more of a concern as, being adrift with a current helping it, the yacht could well be on our course in a few days time so we will need to be alert. Learning of the two incidents while at this remote spot certainly made us very aware of the perils we need to face and I was extra vigilant on my routine boat checks for the remainder of our passage.

On day 23, in the early evening, the wind started to build. We changed our sails, reefing down to just one small jib and settled in for the night. With the wind, the seas also grew and by the morning we were being bounced around as we slid down large waves as they came up behind us on a slight angle. Our speed was still good but the ride was not particularly comfortable. These conditions continued for a few days with the occasional wave breaking over the boat and throwing Cerulean off course while we hung on to anything to prevent us becoming missiles as we tried to keep our balance! We knew that the conditions would change in a few days with the wind reducing substantially as we got closer to our destination, so we wanted to put as many miles as possible behind us while the wind blew. We were averaging 140nm a day and celebrated on day 25 when we reached the milestone of less than 1000nm remaining – we used to think sailing 500nm was a big passage but now we were celebrating “only” a 1000 to go!

On day 27 the wind died and we spent a frustrating day trying to keep the boat moving, hunting for wind in the north west and then, when we were getting too far from our line, gybing and heading south west again. This meant our daily mileage covered dropped considerably, sometimes barely making 100nm, and we had to start to come to terms with a later arrival date than we had hoped for. It was actually better for us to arrive later but the psychological barrier was hard to overcome since I had the 25^th as a target and all of a sudden it had become a moving one! The tradewinds didn’t return but on day 31 we had enough wind to propel us forward again at 5knots, which was a huge relief as we had spent a few hours motoring or drifting on previous days. With our watertank full of water we made while motoring on the previous days, we were now able to enjoy seeing the miles remaining reduce at a reasonable speed and we could once again feel confident of our arrival in a few day’s time in Hiva Oa, French Polynesia. The realization that we were now closer to New Zealand than we were to Panama dawned on us and filled me with excitement but also some trepidation that our adventure was coming to an end!

On the morning of day 32 we were having breakfast in the cockpit with the two big jibs filled after a quiet night with light winds. Our furled jib was poled out to ensure it didn’t flap and stayed set as we sailed dead downwind, when we heard a loud “twang” coming from near the bow of the boat. I went forward and discovered the bracket which attached the pole for the jib to the mast, had bent and broken, making the pole unsafe to continue to use. The day was already hot and we sweated under the morning sun, getting the pole down, removing, folding and stowing one jib, gybing the furled jib and resetting so we could continue sailing before inspecting the damage. Fortunately we had a spare part but, although the piece broken was a simple bracket, replacing it was not a quick job and with every job on a boat, not an easy fix! Steve tirelessly worked, having a frustrating time as the replacement part was just slightly different to the part that had broken. On top of that, the car we needed to replace was filled with small ballbearings and these occasionally scattered along the deck as a wave hit us on the side and we started rolling violently. At last the pole was operational again and we were able to reset the jib and get the hanked on jib back out the bag we had carefully packed it in hours earlier. With the heat now stifling and the deck very hot, we worked hard to get everything ready so we could pick up speed again. Just as we had poled out one jib a squall hit, the wind backed and all of a sudden, instead of a gentle easterly, we had 20knots of a north easterly and, as the rain cloud passed over us, the wind died and turned north westerly! On went the motor so we could determine what the wind was doing. It seemed like the Marquesas didn’t want us there or we were being severely tested, I’m not sure which!

On our last full day at sea we received a very worrying email telling us that a friend of ours, sailing with just the two of them on board, had suffered a medical emergency that morning and needed to be transferred off the boat, leaving one person to sail the remaining 1000nm to the Marquesas. They were asking for help to find another boat near to them with extra crew who may consider transferring over onto our friends yacht and helping the solo sailor for the rest of the journey. We spent a few hours trying to locate boats close to them and pass the information on to a relative who was co-ordinating the rescue mission. In the evening we heard the great news that another cruiser was helping them providing extra crew and the patient was being transferred to a commercial ship where medical assistance was available. Once more we have been shown the kindness of strangers within this wonderful community we are lucky enough to be part of and I will always be thankful and grateful for the time we have spent being amongst fellow cruisers who are so willing and ready to offer assistance when needed.

At 5am Steve woke me to change watches and I asked if he had spotted land yet. He said it was too dark to see anything, even though we were within 20nm of land. I peered into the darkness and wondered whether the dark shape beside us was cloud or land. Light started breaking the dark sky and as the night gave way to dawn, land was clearly visible on our starboard side. High red cliffs greeted us, with no sign of life or lights but plenty of birds as the sea pounded the rugged rocks. It was quite a sight after 34 days at sea and I sat quietly watching the land get closer as I allowed the enormity of our achievement to sink in. I felt proud, overwhelmed, excited and a huge sense of achievement. We had accomplished what few people ever achieve, or probably want to, and had done it well, without breaking too much, or ourselves – we were completing the longest passage we will probably ever do, sailing over 4000nm non-stop across the Pacific Ocean.

As we approached the entrance to the main anchorage on Hiva Oa, we saw a boat we knew on AIS and radioed them to say hello. We continued into the anchorage and saw more boats we had met in other parts of our journey, waving to them as we found a good spot to anchor in the crowded bay. We were just getting ourselves settled when a man on our boat in the anchorage came over and gave us some fresh fruit as a welcome gift, followed shortly by our neighbours who gifted us a fresh baguette. We had arrived, and been welcomed into, a community of sailors who had all experienced the same challenges and pushed the boundaries for adventure. It felt great and we were excited to start the next chapter of our journey home.

Things we’d do differently:

Buy more pumpkins – we had five butternuts, wish we’d bought 10 as they keep for ages and they’re hard to find in FP
Carried less eggs – we had about a dozen that went off, so would reduce number bought to just 3 dozen
Bought more jerry cans for diesel – we have 60 litres, but need over 100 litres to top up in FP
Carried more fishing lures – we lost so many!
Bought cheap sunglasses in Panama as great to use to trade in FP
Instead of buying a cruising chute, we would have been better getting a spinnaker as most sailing is downwind
Left on a better weather window
Stopped in The Galapagos
Made first landfall in Fatu Hiva – we were just too honest!
Had better/more solar panels