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Captain's Log 8: French Polynesia--
The Marquesas Islands
April - June 2008
The Marquesas Islands
April - June 2008
March 31 - April 22, A 22-day ocean passage from the Galapagos to the Marquesas
This was the big one--the longest passage of our trip: 3,300 miles across open ocean from the
Galapagos to the Marquesas, a remote cluster of volcanic islands in the northeast corner of French
Polynesia. The passage would take 3 weeks to a month, and during that time, we'd be out of reach of
land and, most likely, other vessels.
To make this passage, a sailboat first must find the southeast trade winds--a broad river of wind that
flows northwestward from South America across the South Pacific Ocean. We spent the first few days
fumbling around in the backwaters and eddies of this river of wind, sailing southward through rain
squalls, calms, headwinds, and messy, rolly seas. Exasperating. But at last, using GRIB files
(graphical wind and pressure forecasts) and other weather reports, we finally steered ourselves into
the middle of the trades and proceeded to ride their powerful force westward, our sails plunged deep
into the wind current like an upside-down keel and rudder. Trade winds are the 8th wonder of the
world. They blow at a steady speed and direction hour after hour, day after day. They are the winds
that swept the clipper ships across the oceans, and to ride them is thrilling. We set our sails and our
self-steering vane, and then simply hung on for the ride, like passengers on rocket ship hurtling
through space.
Sailing in the trades is nonstop, 24-hour sailing, Casteele dancing over the wild and wind-whipped
seas, surfing and surging and slicing and sledding. Continuous fluid motion, side to side, up and
down, white foam churning outside the portholes like a Bendix washing machine, our ears filled with
the sounds of rushing, gurgling water, perhaps the way it sounds inside the womb. Water and sky, sky
and water, and the untamed expanse of exuberant, dancing waves stretching to every horizon. For
the first week, we had 25-30 knot winds, squalls with torrential rain, and 8-10 foot seas that crashed
against our hull and over our decks to dump buckets full through any open hatches. Even with
triple-reefed main and reefed headsail, we maintained a steady 7-10 knots. Later, the winds eased off
a bit, but we always had plenty to push us along at a good pace.
What does one do day after day on the open sea? Well, just staying upright is a constant challenge,
with Casteele pitching and rolling, throwing unwary crew sideways and levitating into space any item
left unattended on a counter. (We were having a contest of who had the most bruises. Jan's bruises
on top of bruises were always a point of contention.) With our crew person, Ben Haket, we divided the
day into 3-4 hour watches, the person on watch responsible for watching for ships, keeping an eye on
the sails, seas, and our heading, and spotting wildlife (our best siting was a pod of "false killer
whales"--look very much like orcas but without the white markings.) Off watch, there were weather
files to download, scheduled chats with other boats, cooking/cleaning, and most important, catching
up on sleep after being on nightwatch. When the wind speed diminished, we put up more main sail
and rolled out our genoa, often holding it out with our whisker (spinnaker) pole. When the wind picked
up, we reefed down again. (Jan and Joan are VERY conservative sailors. Poor Ben--as an ocean
racer, he is accustomed to pushing boats much harder than we are willing to push our baby.) Of
course, we had lots of good reading time too, but what we often found ourselves doing was simply
sitting in the cockpit, staring at the seas, mesmerized by their motion.
Jan, being the social director, started her own NET. (A net is a network of cruisers who talk to one
another over the single-sideband radio at a predetermined frequency and time.) It is for socialization
and safety. We keep track of one another's position, sea conditions & any hazards. If someone gets in
trouble, there is usually someone behind them who can render assistance. One cruiser lost his
steerage, and hailed another boat, which then towed him over 200 miles of open ocean. This net
became known as the Flying Fish Net because of the flying fish that jumped into Joan's lap one night,
and another that landed in the galley--though not the frying pan--of another cruiser. The net started
with 2 boats and ended with over 13.
Overall the passage was exciting, irritating, long, painful, wonderful, and exhausting. One thing you
can be sure of, one never gets bored. I think we were all ready for it to be over when it was over.
This was the big one--the longest passage of our trip: 3,300 miles across open ocean from the
Galapagos to the Marquesas, a remote cluster of volcanic islands in the northeast corner of French
Polynesia. The passage would take 3 weeks to a month, and during that time, we'd be out of reach of
land and, most likely, other vessels.
To make this passage, a sailboat first must find the southeast trade winds--a broad river of wind that
flows northwestward from South America across the South Pacific Ocean. We spent the first few days
fumbling around in the backwaters and eddies of this river of wind, sailing southward through rain
squalls, calms, headwinds, and messy, rolly seas. Exasperating. But at last, using GRIB files
(graphical wind and pressure forecasts) and other weather reports, we finally steered ourselves into
the middle of the trades and proceeded to ride their powerful force westward, our sails plunged deep
into the wind current like an upside-down keel and rudder. Trade winds are the 8th wonder of the
world. They blow at a steady speed and direction hour after hour, day after day. They are the winds
that swept the clipper ships across the oceans, and to ride them is thrilling. We set our sails and our
self-steering vane, and then simply hung on for the ride, like passengers on rocket ship hurtling
through space.
Sailing in the trades is nonstop, 24-hour sailing, Casteele dancing over the wild and wind-whipped
seas, surfing and surging and slicing and sledding. Continuous fluid motion, side to side, up and
down, white foam churning outside the portholes like a Bendix washing machine, our ears filled with
the sounds of rushing, gurgling water, perhaps the way it sounds inside the womb. Water and sky, sky
and water, and the untamed expanse of exuberant, dancing waves stretching to every horizon. For
the first week, we had 25-30 knot winds, squalls with torrential rain, and 8-10 foot seas that crashed
against our hull and over our decks to dump buckets full through any open hatches. Even with
triple-reefed main and reefed headsail, we maintained a steady 7-10 knots. Later, the winds eased off
a bit, but we always had plenty to push us along at a good pace.
What does one do day after day on the open sea? Well, just staying upright is a constant challenge,
with Casteele pitching and rolling, throwing unwary crew sideways and levitating into space any item
left unattended on a counter. (We were having a contest of who had the most bruises. Jan's bruises
on top of bruises were always a point of contention.) With our crew person, Ben Haket, we divided the
day into 3-4 hour watches, the person on watch responsible for watching for ships, keeping an eye on
the sails, seas, and our heading, and spotting wildlife (our best siting was a pod of "false killer
whales"--look very much like orcas but without the white markings.) Off watch, there were weather
files to download, scheduled chats with other boats, cooking/cleaning, and most important, catching
up on sleep after being on nightwatch. When the wind speed diminished, we put up more main sail
and rolled out our genoa, often holding it out with our whisker (spinnaker) pole. When the wind picked
up, we reefed down again. (Jan and Joan are VERY conservative sailors. Poor Ben--as an ocean
racer, he is accustomed to pushing boats much harder than we are willing to push our baby.) Of
course, we had lots of good reading time too, but what we often found ourselves doing was simply
sitting in the cockpit, staring at the seas, mesmerized by their motion.
Jan, being the social director, started her own NET. (A net is a network of cruisers who talk to one
another over the single-sideband radio at a predetermined frequency and time.) It is for socialization
and safety. We keep track of one another's position, sea conditions & any hazards. If someone gets in
trouble, there is usually someone behind them who can render assistance. One cruiser lost his
steerage, and hailed another boat, which then towed him over 200 miles of open ocean. This net
became known as the Flying Fish Net because of the flying fish that jumped into Joan's lap one night,
and another that landed in the galley--though not the frying pan--of another cruiser. The net started
with 2 boats and ended with over 13.
Overall the passage was exciting, irritating, long, painful, wonderful, and exhausting. One thing you
can be sure of, one never gets bored. I think we were all ready for it to be over when it was over.
April 22-April 26, 2008: The Marquesas Islands--
Fatu Hiva
After 22 days, we made landfall on the South Pacific
paradise of Fatu Hiva, the southernmost island of the
Marquesas. Stunning beauty that neither photos nor
words can convey. The Marquesas are a small version
of Hawaii--tall, steep-sided volcanic islands, draped in
lush, tropical greenery, surrounded by warm,
turquoise-blue waters. But these islands have remained
virtually untouched--no resorts, no condo complexes, no
golf courses, no shopping malls, not even sugar cane or
pineapple plantations. Just pristine, tropical beauty that
takes your breath away. Soaring pinnacles, knife-edge
snaking ridges, steep hillsides, and deep, lush valleys.
Fatu Hiva has two tiny villages. We anchored off one
called Hanavave, and walked the one main road,
admiring the perfectly kept, tidy yards, the overflowing
abundance of colorful flowering plants, and the green
hillsides rising above us. The morning after our arrival,
the school children performed a series of traditional
dances, songs, and skits for the outgoing
superintendent. Dressed in traditional garb, they sang
and danced with a wonderful intensity and joy.
We spent several days on Fatu Hiva, taking a hike to a
waterfall, swimming, and having dinner with a family that
served local dishes and entertained us with song. We
bought a beautiful carving of a manta ray and watched
the carver inscribe his initials on it. Even before we left,
we made plans to return.
Fatu Hiva
After 22 days, we made landfall on the South Pacific
paradise of Fatu Hiva, the southernmost island of the
Marquesas. Stunning beauty that neither photos nor
words can convey. The Marquesas are a small version
of Hawaii--tall, steep-sided volcanic islands, draped in
lush, tropical greenery, surrounded by warm,
turquoise-blue waters. But these islands have remained
virtually untouched--no resorts, no condo complexes, no
golf courses, no shopping malls, not even sugar cane or
pineapple plantations. Just pristine, tropical beauty that
takes your breath away. Soaring pinnacles, knife-edge
snaking ridges, steep hillsides, and deep, lush valleys.
Fatu Hiva has two tiny villages. We anchored off one
called Hanavave, and walked the one main road,
admiring the perfectly kept, tidy yards, the overflowing
abundance of colorful flowering plants, and the green
hillsides rising above us. The morning after our arrival,
the school children performed a series of traditional
dances, songs, and skits for the outgoing
superintendent. Dressed in traditional garb, they sang
and danced with a wonderful intensity and joy.
We spent several days on Fatu Hiva, taking a hike to a
waterfall, swimming, and having dinner with a family that
served local dishes and entertained us with song. We
bought a beautiful carving of a manta ray and watched
the carver inscribe his initials on it. Even before we left,
we made plans to return.
Our dear friends Brad and Sally,
from "Pax Vobiscum," with their
crewperson Elena (on the left).
from "Pax Vobiscum," with their
crewperson Elena (on the left).
FATU HIVA LANDFALL AT SUNRISE
Long awaited pizza with
fellow cruisers
fellow cruisers
Laundry day
April 27 - June 5: The Marquesas Islands
We sailed north to the island of Hiva Oa, where we officially
checked into the French Polynesia Islands. We ate pizza
with the other cruisers, stuffed ourselves with french
bagettes, and restocked our provisions---once we got over
the prices!!! (You cannot believe how expensive French
Polynesia is!!! One beer at the grocery store, $4.00 or $24
per six pack. Don't even try to imagine the cost of wine.)
On Sunday, we attended a church service on the island.
The music was inspirational--a Polynesian flair to the Old
Rugged Cross. The women tried to out do one another
with flowered hats. The windowless, open-air church itself
had a wonderful energy, exemplifying how spirituality can
be one with nature.
The Marquesans live simply but well. Even a small village
has paved and lighted streets, a very nice Catholic church
(in addition to a Mormon and/or Seventh-Day Adventist),
and modern, generously equipped school facilities. The
people are beautiful Polynesians, some with an obvious
dose of European blood. (Theoretically, the native
Hawaiians came from the Marquesas.) Some women dress
in Western-style shorts and tops, but many wear the
traditional "paraeu" (colorful wraparound cloth), and it's
rare to see a woman without flowers in her hair. The men
cover their torsos, arms, legs, even necks and faces with
elaborate, Polynesian-style tattoos. Of course, everyone
speaks French (everyone except us--we are pathetic), but
their first language is their local version of Marquesan
(which is different from Tahitian). Even a small island can
have two or more dialects; as we told you--these villages
are in DEEP valleys, separated by high, steep mountain
ridges.
Store-bought goods are extremely expensive, but most
families' food needs are met by the bananas,
pamplemouse (giant grapefruit), breadfruit, limes, herbs,
etc. they grow themselves and the seafood they harvest at
their doorsteps. The Marquesans are well-known for their
elaborate wood carvings and lovely tapa cloths, which they
ship to tourist markets in Tahiti. The other export products
are "copra" (harvested coconuts from which coconut oil is
derived) and "noni" (a fruit that resembles a deformed
pear and which, in a fermented state, is shipped to Salt
Lake City, where it is a valued additive to fruit juices.) Life
ain't bad here, and it is not uncommon to see newish, 4WD
vehicles parked outside the simple, metal-roofed homes.
We spent over a month in this South Pacific paradise,
visiting the islands of Hiva Oa, Tahuata, Ua Pou, and Nuku
Hiva. Each place seemed to be our favorite until we arrived
at the next. The only thing we regretted was not having
more time, to get to know the people and their islands. The
best way to share this with you is to include our pictures,
which I must tell you, do not do it justice.
We sailed north to the island of Hiva Oa, where we officially
checked into the French Polynesia Islands. We ate pizza
with the other cruisers, stuffed ourselves with french
bagettes, and restocked our provisions---once we got over
the prices!!! (You cannot believe how expensive French
Polynesia is!!! One beer at the grocery store, $4.00 or $24
per six pack. Don't even try to imagine the cost of wine.)
On Sunday, we attended a church service on the island.
The music was inspirational--a Polynesian flair to the Old
Rugged Cross. The women tried to out do one another
with flowered hats. The windowless, open-air church itself
had a wonderful energy, exemplifying how spirituality can
be one with nature.
The Marquesans live simply but well. Even a small village
has paved and lighted streets, a very nice Catholic church
(in addition to a Mormon and/or Seventh-Day Adventist),
and modern, generously equipped school facilities. The
people are beautiful Polynesians, some with an obvious
dose of European blood. (Theoretically, the native
Hawaiians came from the Marquesas.) Some women dress
in Western-style shorts and tops, but many wear the
traditional "paraeu" (colorful wraparound cloth), and it's
rare to see a woman without flowers in her hair. The men
cover their torsos, arms, legs, even necks and faces with
elaborate, Polynesian-style tattoos. Of course, everyone
speaks French (everyone except us--we are pathetic), but
their first language is their local version of Marquesan
(which is different from Tahitian). Even a small island can
have two or more dialects; as we told you--these villages
are in DEEP valleys, separated by high, steep mountain
ridges.
Store-bought goods are extremely expensive, but most
families' food needs are met by the bananas,
pamplemouse (giant grapefruit), breadfruit, limes, herbs,
etc. they grow themselves and the seafood they harvest at
their doorsteps. The Marquesans are well-known for their
elaborate wood carvings and lovely tapa cloths, which they
ship to tourist markets in Tahiti. The other export products
are "copra" (harvested coconuts from which coconut oil is
derived) and "noni" (a fruit that resembles a deformed
pear and which, in a fermented state, is shipped to Salt
Lake City, where it is a valued additive to fruit juices.) Life
ain't bad here, and it is not uncommon to see newish, 4WD
vehicles parked outside the simple, metal-roofed homes.
We spent over a month in this South Pacific paradise,
visiting the islands of Hiva Oa, Tahuata, Ua Pou, and Nuku
Hiva. Each place seemed to be our favorite until we arrived
at the next. The only thing we regretted was not having
more time, to get to know the people and their islands. The
best way to share this with you is to include our pictures,
which I must tell you, do not do it justice.
FATU HIVA
Ben and Joan, ready for a glass of
wine, no matter what the price!
wine, no matter what the price!
Towering spires of Oa Pou
Anaho Bay, a beautiful, protected
anchorage on Nuku Hiva
anchorage on Nuku Hiva
Anaho Bay
Joan is collecting perfect beaches.
A beach on Tahuata, shown in
these 3 pics, takes first place prize
thus far.
A beach on Tahuata, shown in
these 3 pics, takes first place prize
thus far.
At a local fair on Nuku Hiva, men
carved canoes while women
showed off their seamstress skills.
carved canoes while women
showed off their seamstress skills.
Island teams racing outrigger canoes.
The children of Fatu Hiva
Fatu Hiva mothers and teachers
A typical colorful garden in Fatu Hiva
The crew of
Casteele on a hike
on Fatu Hiva. We are
so accustomed to
the tilt of the boat,
we don't know how
to stand up straight!
Casteele on a hike
on Fatu Hiva. We are
so accustomed to
the tilt of the boat,
we don't know how
to stand up straight!
Drenched by a rain
squall. The winds piped
up to 30+ knots.
squall. The winds piped
up to 30+ knots.