And Now in Color

Lots of chores as we prepare for our next passage from here to the Tuamotus. We still haven't figured out precisely where we are going to go, but we can assume it'll be at least 4 or 5 days to get there. It will be probably 3 weeks at least before we go as far as Tahiti and there are not a whole lot of services twixt here and there. So, propane, fresh veg, lots of extra washing water and a few jerries of diesel. We've done laundry, washed our sheets, and sluiced out the cockpit, several times. Tomorrow, I must kill the monster in the fridge. The girls spent hours on shore stretching their legs. They were all troopers today trucking water, jerry cans, food, and people from ship to shore. We'll keep them.

We moved back around the corner from Baie de Comptrolleur to the principle harbor of Nuka Hiva. This is where a cruiser can find services in this part of the world. In a bit of pretty unsurprising serendipity, the double canoes all headed around the corner too. So nautically speaking, we're still anchored in the most picturesque bay in the South Pacific. I'll probably post Mera and Aeron's essay responses to their experience with the crews, boats, and shore party in the coming days when I don't feel like writing myself.

In the meantime, you can see some of these many wonders for yourself. I finally posted pictures on http://flickr.com/toastfloats. I don't know why the photos got all mixed up on posting. Sorry about that. I'm just ecstatic that I was able to secure a decent enough connection for long enough to get the photos up at all. Internet in the Marquesas is sketchy at best. While online, I was also able to read some of the many comments on Facebook for the first time in nearly two months as well as check out the blogs of some of my friends.

Browsing Google news was a bit of a shock. We've been disconnected from the world before, but clearly never to this extent. Someone finally killed Bin Ladin? There was a tornado in Auckland? The Rapture didn't show up on schedule (May 12)? I feel like we've dropped into some news black hole. It's probably healthy. It may be dangerous. For all I know, Tonga declared war on the Cook Islands and we're heading into a war zone. There are no doubt ways cruisers can avoid this complete obliviousness to the Real World (tm), but I am not willing to invest the time or energy to sort it out. For now, its enough to know that we still have money in the bank (I know because the ATM keeps giving me some every time I ask) and that DrC still has a job waiting for him on his arrival.

As part of our prep for the next leg, we've finally started reading about the Tuamotus. These are some seriously hairy scary places to drop a hook. Boomies and passes and sharks, omi! Maybe it's just as well we'll only have a few weeks. We're still vaguely certain we want to make it to Papeete in time for the Tahiti Moorea Rendezvous. Fortunately, it's only a day or two from the atolls to Tahiti, so it's doable. Besides, we'll probably run out of fruit.

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Arrival of the Double Canoes

Guest Blogger: Jaime Conger

On the 29th of May 2011, the double canoes made their appearance in the Baie de Comptroller on Nuku Hiva, an island in the Marquesas. The seven traditional catamarans of the islands put up their red, yellow, and orange sails at sunrise and slowly made their way to the awaiting greeting party. Te Mana O Te Moana is a group of ancestral double canoes of the South Pacific that are traveling from New Zealand to Hawaii and visiting different island chains while celebrating their culture with other islanders. They make a point of visiting each chain of islands, and at each one there is a traditional tribal gathering. My family and I were lucky enough to be at one of these festivities.

At about half past 10 we rounded the corner to the bay and immediately heard the deep sound of the drums welcoming the beautiful vessels with a rhythm designed, it seemed, to intimidate foreigners. A woman's voice could be heard amongst the drums singing tales of the ocean. As the crew of the ships arrived on the beach, a group of Marquesans advanced to greet them. The leader stepped away from his tribe and called to the strangers to come forward. And so they did. The Marquesans walked closer, stopped, and began to dance in a tribal welcoming, their feet stomping the sand, their grass skirts swishing around their legs. The men danced and spun in front of the outlanders displaying their power, masculinity and welcome to the island. The women stood behind the men calling out 'whoop's and 'whooaa!'s, moving gracefully.

Once the Marquesans had finished their salute, the islanders all moved to a sandy flat just above the beach so the seamen could begin their greetings. Tribes from the Fiji, Samoa and American Samoa, New Zealand, Hawai'i, Tahiti, and the Cook Islands each in turn presented the Marquesans with their own tribal hellos. Some tribes did a form of Haka -- a loud chant accompanied by much stamping, postures, gestures, thigh and chest slapping and facial gestures. Others danced in time to a traditional song from their homeland. All of the groups strongly represented pride, strength, and respect for their homelands as well as respect for the Marquesans welcoming them.

Once greetings had been exchanged, each tribe walked up to a stone table and gifted the Marquesans with a stone from the shores of their homeland. After this had been done, the Marquesan leader came forward and thanked them all. He finished by welcoming them to join him as family and feast with him on the local fruits, vegetables, and meats. The food was laid out in woven baskets on a long table. Coconuts, pamplemousse, breadfruit, kava roots, plantains, and fried bread had all been placed on the table. The guests feasted on the fruits and then smoked meats were brought out and placed on the table. Afterwards, the seamen were loaded on to a bus to go to the town center. We understand that they will be spending the rest of the day with more music, dancing, and food which the organization lady said was "the big food." All that food on the table was just a snack!

This cultural experience of a lifetime had me feeling great amounts of respect and admiration for these tribes and a yearning for more chances to view this exciting island culture.

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When It Rains

"God damn thing won't start. I don't know what is wrong with." DrC glares at the outboard, eyes boring a hole through the thing.

I try to say something inconsequential and non-descript. I don't know why it won't start either. We've tried everything. Yesterday, he took apart the carburetor, the fuel pump, the fuel filter. This morning on the recommendation of a fellow cruiser, he spent two hours rewiring some of the electrical to fix the primary and secondary ground. We have both read the manual... several times. We talked it out, used logic, sunshine, method acting, and voodoo. Nothing has worked. We are done. We're heading to the mechanic on shore to see if yet another few hundred dollars of someone else's time can solve this problem.

The wind is picking up and we must now row the heavy dinghy with the even heavier motor ashore to the mechanic. I clamber aboard making those noises that wives make when they know their spouse is about to completely lose it at something mechanical. I pick up an oar and start paddling. DrC grabs his own oar and grimly begins to paddle as well. He is not happy.

DrC is never happy when things break. He is at his least happy when things break for no apparent reason. It is this single fact that renders him completely and utterly incapable of being a computer programmer. DrC is someone who likes things to break for a reason and in a way which allows for identification and remedy of the problem. This is why he is an eye doctor and not a G.P. Our outboard is generally the type of machine he likes best: simple, straightforward, logical, non-talkative, and composed of readily exchangeable parts. Unfortunately, ever since we got back to it in Mexico, the thing has been.... well let's be honest... a complete piece of crap.

The wind is getting stronger, blowing us sharply sideways relative to the shoreline, towards crashing surf and rocks farther up the beach. The doctor's eyes narrow, the wind now an enemy he can see and feel. He digs the paddle into the ocean with fierce, frustrated determination while I wildly flail over on my side in a vain attempt to keep up. Any moment now, the battle will be lost and the boat is going to careen madly around in the direction of my husband's vitriolic energy.

Before this can happen however, fate steps in. Abruptly and unexpectedly, I'm in full control of the dinghy and headed back in the right direction. I hear a growl accompanied by truly creative profanity as out of the corner of my eye a large chunk of grey paddle disappears behind us. Before I can send us overshooting the other way, I lift my oar and look at DrC. "Uh... oh." He is holding the shattered end of the oar, looking at it very much as though he'd like to gnaw off a limb before admitting he broke it. I stare at him for a moment. I'm generally pretty good in a crisis, but I'm a bit stumped. We're halfway between a breaking shore and Don Quixote in a bay known for sharks with no motor, one oar and the wind blowing like stink. Hard to know precisely what comes next.

So of course, the skies open up. I lean over my oar and bounce my head against the tube. I'm not sure if I'm laughing or crying or both. Even if I were crying, there would be no way to know. In moments, we're both drenched to the skin and several inches of water rock back and forth in the bottom of the dinghy to further weight us down. Visibility is down to a few dozen feet and the temperature drops. On the up side, with the arrival of the rain the wind dies back a bit and clocks around. We're now being blown more or less in the direction of the boat ramp. Standing in the bow of the boat, I flap the paddle on alternate sides of the boat and make reasonable headway. My husband sits with his back to me, lodged between the motor and the remnants of our ill-fated oar powering our progress by channeling his ire at our wake. I imagine it propelling us like Acme rocket fuel or seasoned chili farts.

The landing through the swell and surf on the steep slippery boat ramp would normally rate a full blog post of its own for its epic unpleasantness, danger, and skinned knees. Today, it hardly deserves a mention. The fact that we land nearly a half mile from where are supposed to go, the diesel station is closed for the day, and the guy that fills propane tanks is a complete asshat merely ices the poop-cake which is our day. All that really matters is that many thousands of francs to a mechanic later (~$75US) we still don't have a functioning outboard. There is one more remote possibility involving lots of money and parts in Tahiti that might work, but I'm not counting on it. Right now, I believe that both my husband and myself are voting for some enterprising thief in Moorea. They stole 7 dinghies, several motors and a 42' catamaran last week. Hopefully by then, our luck will have changed, and they'll want a Mercury outboard to fill out their inventory.

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Things That Go Bump in the Night

What you don't want to do is wake up to the sound of a bow sprit scraping down the side of your boat. It is only slightly less disconcerting to have this sound awaken you when it is the two boats next door banging around in the night. I think the boats involved are still intact. We haven't had a chance to ask or poke around, so we're assuming since everyone is still afloat, it's all good. Nevertheless, not a great way to wake up.

The wind last night was really squirrely. The prevailing 15 to 20 from the east south east had a nice battle with a land breeze at about the same. So back and forth against our anchors with the wind occasionally canceling itself out and disappearing entirely for a few minutes. We spent the night listening to the wind generator flip directions and rev up only to flip again and die out. The sound of boats crunching was -- in retrospect -- not entirely unexpected. Today, we'll go ashore to grab some fresh produce and bread, wash our laundry, and then we're off to Nuka Hiva. One night in this is enough.

In other news, our dinghy motor died. Again. The one we thought we had fixed? Well, not so much. It was temporarily fixed. Or partially fixed. Or fixed-ish. Another reason to head to Nuka Hiva is that another boat reported favorably on an outboard mechanic in the harbor up there. We're thinking of just handing him the motor and driving away. If it doesn't work when we get back in a few days to provision for the Tuamotus, we'll buy a new one. The guy apparently sells refurbished machines as well. I suspect we get last year's fleet rejects. Some more boat will probably get our Mariner next year. Whatever. I just want a motor we can reliably start.

PPJ Note #?: STERN ANCHOR. Not an option. I know, the cruising guides mention casually that on occasion you might want to put out a stern anchor to reduce discomfort and point into the swell. This is not true. You will ALWAYS want to put out a stern anchor. Every anchorage in the Marquesas is either a) rolly, b) crowded and/or c) micro-small. We have visited precisely one anchorage where a stern hook wasn't necessary. Get one, make sure it's good enough that you feel comfortable hanging on it all night, design and practice a relatively easy method to deploy it. We have bad names for cruises who show up around here without stern hooks, and I can assure you that they are never invited over for sun downers.

Catching Up On the Cool Stuff

The grass is always greener on your neighbor's lawn when you have a lawn. Someone else's cruising schedule and stops usually seem more interesting than your own. This time, however, I think we may be in the sweet green spot of touring the Marquesas. We've finally had a chance to compare itineraries with the group that left Puerto Vallarta about nearly two weeks ahead of us, and oddly enough, I'm not jealous. It would be lovely to be part of this cohesive group of cruising buddy boats (complete with three kid boats and a couple of multihulls), but I don't think I'd trade it for the many little and big experiences we've enjoyed these past two weeks.

Taking a step back, since we've arrived in the Marquesas, Don Quixote and Loose Pointer have been anchorage sampling. Settled weather largely from the east south east has resulted in really nice conditions on the north and west sides of the islands. Little pocket anchorages that are somewhat marginal in bigger winds or when swell runs from the north have been for us really pleasant, beautiful spots to spend a day or a night or both.

Our first tour was of Tahuata. We visited all the little anchorages and villages from Baie Hanamoenoe on the northwestern end and down the back side. Some we dropped the hook and spent the night. Others we simply motored into, dropped a lunch hook, and explored for a few hours. We completed our tour by motoring around the southern end to oogle the island's incredible rock formations, cliffs, and spires.

We briefly returned to Atuona on Hiva Oa to get our laundry. While there, DrC and I took in the Gaughin museum. While the art work was fascinating, I must say that my appreciation for the artist is considerably less. From his letters and writings, he sounds frankly like a prick. His is definitely not a personality I would go out of my way to spend time with. The museum was strangely compelling, however. The art work is all copies. Yes, copies. So here is the explanation. Gaughin actually only spent the last few years of his life in French Polynesia, with the final year or so on Hiva Oa in the Marquesas. He was very prolific during those final years, but due to debts owed to the French government and others, all his art work was sold and nothing really remains here in the islands.

The museum as a result features almost no original pieces. In fact arguably the only items of source interest are artifacts from an archeological dig conducted on his homestead -- e.g. bits of glass, a morphine syringe. Instead, the museum commissioned copies of an enormous number of his pieces. They are quite open about this. The entrance features a copy of a famous piece done by four different artists so that you can see how different reproducers interpret the original work. Each piece has a digital image of the original as well as where it can be found and its provenance. So basically, you're wandering around examining 100s of fakes. Yet, if you want to really get a sense of an artist's total body of work, this is a compelling way to do it. We "saw" pieces from his first years all the way through to the very last sketches completed on Hiva Oa. The work was life-size, life-like, and officially certified by the French government complete with provenance stamps and all. It's a fascinating approach to displaying art, and the first time I have encountered this strange "official reproduction" phenomena. For that reason alone, I recommend visiting this museum if you ever happen to land on Hiva Oa.

After grabbing a bunch of fresh bread, tuna, and veg, we zipped around the corner to rejoin our buddy boat. Loose Pointer was tucked into an anchorage on the northwest corner of Hiva Oa waiting for us. Baie Hanamenu featured a fresh water creek and pond for washing but not much else. So after a day, we both enjoyed a speedy downwind sail to Ua Pau, roughly 60 NM west. Again, we didn't head for the popular and populous anchorage on the windward side but instead tucked in next to a cute little village about a third of the way up in Baie Hakamaii. I've already described that one, so we'll move a day forward and 2 NM north to the next anchorage at Baie Hakaotu. This looked like another rather unexciting little spot at first glance, but it grew on us to the tune of three nights. First, it was completely unpopulated, which is nice. Second, there was surprisingly good diving on the north side of the cove. DrC, Jaime, and the Loose Pointer adults indulged in several dives while the rest of us dodged jellies and snorkeled.

However, we're running out of propane so Don Quixote left Hakaotu yesterday to head around the corner. Our original plan (such as we plan anything) was to pop into Baie d'Hakahau just to see it, then head over to Nuka Hiva's main anchorages today to fuel up before rejoining Loose Pointer in Daniel's Bay. Arguably, these were nothing like a "best laid plan" so it's not really a spoiler to let you know we're not going anywhere today. The supply ship is coming in so the locals are putting out the artisan tables, putting on a dance, and rolling out the friendly mat. The spires are even more stunning on this side of the island, there are fresh baguettes on shore, and we may have a bead on where to get some garden vegies.

Also, the bay is simply packed with puddle jumpers -- two of them multihulls and three of them kid boats. We hosted sun-downers on our boat last night to meet all these folks, hear their stories, let the kids run wild, and learn how to pronounce Cielydh (Kaylee... I will never understand the Gaelic). These are really good people. Their crossing was rougher and faster, and they seem like highly supportive, good people in a fleet of boats that is the kind of group we remember best from Mexico. On the other hand, they haven't seen what we've seen. Tomorrow, they'll head out to the Tuamotus without us but no worries. Don Quixote has propane and Loose Pointer waiting for us on Nuka Hiva and a whole bunch of anchorages left to visit before we head west.

CMR: Vaitahu, Tahuata, Marquesas, French Polynesia

If weather permits, Vaitahu is an excellent day stop even if the only thing you do is visit the beautiful Eglise Sainte Marie de L'Enfant Jesus Catholic Church. The pleasant village includes several magazins (markets) as well as a tiny museum, administrative building, clinic, and school. Unfortunately, the anchorage can best be described as "difficult" with a steep sloped bottom and a lot of rocks.

I. Location
A. GPS – 09º56.217'S 139º06.675'W

B. Political – Tahuata is an island in the Marquesan chain of French Polynesia. Vaitahu is the largest village on the island. You must check in to Polynesia before you visit this island.

C. Approach – Baie Vaitahu is on the western side of Tahuata roughly 1/3 of the way down. Because the points on either side of the bay are uncharted, it is recommended that you approach from at least a half mile off shore. The bay itself is wide open and unobstructed.

D. Distances
Baie Hananoemoe, Tahuata – 3.5 NM
Baie Hanatefau, Tahuata – 3.0 NM
Baie Hapatoni, Tahuata – 4.0 NM

II. Boat
A. Anchorage – You can anchor in 25' to 40' feet virtually anywhere in the bay. However, the ground is rocky and slopes steeply. If a strong westerly comes up, there is no protection. If a strong south or easterly, the wind can flow into the anchorage from offshore and push boats off the steeply sloped bottom.

B. Mooring – Mooring balls on the northern edge of the bay are reserved for local use.

C. Dinghy – The shoreline is rocky and even in the most settled weather there is a swell and surf. This leaves two options for going into town. You can take your dinghy to the boat ramp at the center of town. Alternatively, you can tie up to the concrete quay (09º56.083'S 139º06.610'W) used by the supply boat. The swell around the quay can be rough and push the dinghy against the concrete. A stern anchor for the dinghy will keep it off the dock while you visit town.

III. Goods and Services
A. Food
i. Magazins (corner store) – There are two magazins in town. The one closer to the water appears to offer a greater variety and is owned and operated by a former French cruiser (09º56.228'S 139º06.509'W) . If you know any French, ask him about his attempt to sail to the Marquesas from Panama. His magazin carries the usual assortment of packaged dry goods and limited frozen and fresh foods. He also operates a patisserie with fresh breads in the morning straight from his industrial oven. The magazins are open the following hours: M-F 7:30 to 18:50, Sat 7:00 to 11:30 and closed Sunday. Stores often close in the middle of the day for a few hours near the lunch hour.

ii. Neighbors – Many cruisers report being able to walk up to homes along the road to purchase or harvest produce. The owner of the magazin will help you identify locals willing to trade or sell you additional produce.

B. Water – (09º56.083'S 139º06.582'W) There is a fresh water spigot at the concrete quay on the north side of the bay. We do not know if it is potable, but it is certainly good enough for washing.

C. Emergency/Medical

i. Clinic – (09º56.231'S 139º06.546'W) There is a small medical clinic in the public building. However, it does not appear to be open at all hours or days. Ask locals for more information.

IV. To Do

A. Cultural
i. Eglise Sainte Marie de L'Enfant Jesus – (09º56.266'S 139º06.512'W) The Catholic church in the center of town is a beautiful combination of local materials and art with European tradition. Church was built to commemorate the 150th anniversary of the arrival of Catholic missionaries to Tahuata. It uses local materials combined with the ballast stones from 19th century trading ships, and it is adorned inside with wood, ceramic and fabric art as well as a gorgeous stained glass window.

ii. Fenua Enata –(09º56.231'S 139º06.546'W) At the public administrative building in the center of town is a monument proclaiming the original Marquesan name for the Marquesan chain which is Fenua Enata, translated as "Land of Men".

iii. Museum - (09º56.231'S 139º06.546'W) A small museum is located in the same complex of buildings as the clinic, administrative buildings, and school. It is open for limited hours on week days. Some cruisers report purchasing locally made hand crafts including bone carvings at this location. Need more information.

V. Reporting Boats
- s/v Don Quixote, Toast Conger, 2011

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CMR: Hanamoenoa, Tahuata, Marquesas, French Polynesia

CMR: Hanamoenoa, Tahuata, Marquesas, French Polynesia

Baie Hanamoenoa is the most popular anchorage on Tahuata Island. It is a great place to escape the crowded rolly conditions of Atuona without spending a lot of energy that most newly arrived Puddle Jumpers do not have. It is a wide open bay with gorgeous views, excellent snorkeling, giant manta rays, no people, and clean water.

I. Location
A. GPS – 09 54.500S 139 06.275W

B. Political – Tahuata is an island in the Marquesan chain of French Polynesia. Baie Hanamoenoa is an essentially unpopulated bay on the north west side. You must check in to Polynesia before you visit this island.

C. Approach – Baie Hanamoenoa is on the north western side of Tahuata. Because the points on either side of the bay are uncharted, it is recommended that you approach from a half mile off shore. The bay itself is wide open and unobstructed.

D. Distances
Atuona, Hiva Oa – 9.0 NM
Vaitahu, Tahuata – 3.5 NM
Hapatoni, Tahuata – 8.0 NM

II. Boat
A. Anchorage – You can anchor in 20' to 35' feet virtually anywhere in the bay in mixed sand and rock. There are clear patches of sand which, due to the clarity of the water, are readily identified. This anchorage is very popular during the height of the season which may require that you anchor in a rockier portion. There are two additional lobes of bay to the south of the main anchorage if you are looking for additional privacy. However, in both cases, there are homes on shore with fences and no trespass signs.

B. Dinghy – The shoreline is sandy with patches of rock to the far edges. The swell is weather dependent but generally light enough to dinghy in without incident.

III. Goods and Services
NONE

IV. To Do

A. Snorkeling – The southern edge has a nice coral and rock formation with a good amount of fish and wildlife. It is not overwhelming, but the clarity of the water makes it tempting and enjoyable. Also, lucky snorkelers get to swim with the giant manta rays that are prone to visiting the bay to get their hides cleaned by the local symbiotic reef fish.

B. Walking – The beach is white sand and makes an enjoyable walk. Some cruisers report cutting overland to join the road that circumnavigates the island. Need more information.

C. Beach Party – Some enterprising cruisers (or locals?) set up a fire pit and seats at the north end of the beach (2011). Please pack out your trash and any trash you see left by former party goers.

V. Reporting Boats
- s/v Don Quixote, Toast Conger, 2011

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CMR: Tahuata, Marquesas, French Polynesia

Tahuata is a small island just south and west of Hiva Oa. It is 5 by 10 miles and roughly crescent shaped with a long tale. It is separated from the much larger Hiva Oa by the narrow (2.5 mile) Canal du Bordelais. The prevailing south-easterly winds funnel through this channel creating stronger seas and a current which can build to 2 or 3 knots depending on conditions.

It is useful to think of Tahuata not as a 2,000 foot island but rather as the top 2,000 feet of a 12,000 foot mountain. The slopes of the island rise dramatically from the ocean in rugged, coconut covered ridges. The scenery is spectacular. Villages are found in the pocket valleys along the coastline with the majority of locals taking shelter on the leeward (west) side. The total population in 2006 was reported as 600 and can mostly be found in Vaitahu and Hapatoni on the western side.

I. Location
A. GPS – 09º55'S 139º05'W

B. Political – Tahuata is an island in the Marquesan chain of French Polynesia. You must check into Polynesia before visiting this island. See Hiva Oa.

C. Distances
Hiva Oa – 8 NM

II. Reporting Boats
- s/v Don Quixote, Toast Conger, 2011

Speed Run West

The wind elected to cooperate today to send us rippingly fast westwards to Ua Poa, yet another Marquesan island. For once, Don Quixote behaved appropriately like a zippy catamaran and walked away from our buddy boat. It is good to know that there is at least one sea condition, wind direction, and wind speed wherein we can pretend we are the faster boat. In the run west, we averaged roughly 7 knots -- which for us is ridiculously high -- and our speed demon driver daughter actually hit 12 surfing the back side of a wave.

Ua Poa is amazing. The island features tall volcanic plugs which spear the through the ocean and push up into the sky with forbidding intensity. Vegetation doesn't even try to grow on this grand rocks, leaving the cliffs striated with layer on layer of geologic history. For most cruisers, the appeal of this island is on the northeast end where the largest village circles Baie Hanamae. While smaller than Nuka Hiva and Hiva Oa, the population is the largest of all the Marquesan islands. Some cruisers report that the services and produce available here considerably better than Nuka Hiva.

So of course, Don Quixote is not on the northeast corner of the island. Instead, we have jammed ourselves and Loose Pointer into a very tiny little bite well south of the midline and on the western side. The weather has been so settled that these somewhat marginal anchorages are appealing, remote, and reasonably comfortable. This one at Hakamai is arguably a bit dodgy. There are dark, basalt rocks in every direction pounded by walls of blue green water. The "anchorage" is nearly impossible to see from the ocean as it just barely fits between a cliff to the south and volcanic debree to the north. On the other hand, the little pocket displays a gem of a little village and the swell -- at least for now -- is barely noticeable.

DrC vacillates between settling comfortably into this beautiful and remote little spot and rummaging in the bilge looking for his baseball bat. Our arrival was greeted by the local young men with monkey hoots of happiness as our nubile daughters cavorted on the transoms. I call it fortunate that the swell rolling into the concrete quay rendered it impossible for these two forces to meet. Our daughters were able to dance around like the teasing, beautiful little monsters of siren fame while the hooting young teenage males jumped and gestured ineffectually on shore. This was not so much a cultural experience as a remote hormonal exchange and display of feathers.

Our latest foray into local eating is breadfruit. I'm still not really sure what to do with the thing. The one we have is now fully ripe, so DrC sliced it open and started eating. I was all for doing a skin test first, but instead I just waited 15 minutes to see if my husband died first. Since he didn't, I tasted the thing. Oddly, it tasted like custard. This is not what I anticipated based on what my cruising cook book described nor did I hear such description from other cruisers. It makes me seriously question whether or not this is actually a breadfruit. Maybe it's a custard fruit. Maybe it is a previously undescribed hybrid between eggs, vanilla, and sugar cane. It is really nice having custard without having to heat the boat to cook it.

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CMR: Atuona, Hiva Oa, Marquesas, French Polynesia

<i>Someday, I'll get back to the Internet and post this to some wiki somewhere along with pictures and a really neat chartlet I've been working on. In the meantime, in case someone needs this who is coming into the Marquesas in the next few weeks, this is my idea of a chart/wiki entry.</i>

Atuona is a village in the southwest corner of Hiva Oa Island in the Marquises of French Polynesia. It is a commonly used port of entry for French Polynesia for boats arriving from North and Central America, particularly those originating from the Galapagos1. The village is fronted by two bays: Baie Atuona and Baie Tahuku. The small eastern Baie Atuona is protected by a short breakwater behind which boats can take shelter from the prevailing swell.

While commonly considered one of the less interesting and comfortable of Marquesan anchorages, it has the advantage of being a port of entry and well-situated within the chain. The village includes several markets, a bank, and many people willing to provide services such as laundry, provisions, and food. You can also purchase gasoline and take on fresh, potable water. Cruisers who would like to legally visit islands south of Hiva Oa can check in, restock on fresh foods, and head the short distance south to the renown Fatu Hiva before island hopping up the chain to the northernmost large port on Nuka Hiva.

Atuona is the largest town on Hiva Oa with a population of approximately 1,500. It includes the administrative center for the southern Marquises as well as a radio station, bank, several markets and shops where you can purchase hardware and household goods, a medical clinic, a church, and two restaurants. The walk into town is 2 miles, and while it is beautiful, it is a bit of a hike. A nearby airstrip services the island with flights to Tahiti.

I Location
A. GPS 09 49'S 139 02'W

B. Political - Hiva Oa is an island in the Marquesan chain of French Polynesia. Atuona is the largest village on the island and the administrative center for the South Marquises. This is a French Polynesian port of entry.

C. Approach - The Baie of Atuona is on the southern coast of Hiva Oa. It can be identified during the day by a large rock on the western edge of Baie Tahuku and at night be a large light on the point which divides the two bays. The approach is deep and unobstructed. Avoid the island and the two prominent points.

D. Distances
San Jose del Cabo - 2670 NM
Baie Hananoemoe, Tahuata - 8 NM
Baie Hanamenu, Hiva Oa - 17 NM

II Boat
A. Anchorage - You can anchor either in front of or behind the small breakwater in Baie Atuona. The entire bay is exposed to prevailing winter trade winds. However, the swell is reduced somewhat if you can tuck in behind the breakwater. Though very shallow, Baie Atuona remains at roughly 8' to 10' for a considerable distance behind the breakwater. As a courtesy to accommodate large numbers of vessels during peak season, most boats use a bow and stern anchor.

B. Dinghy - A concrete quay on the southeast side of the bay is used to land dinghies. It is prone to strong swell bashing boats up against the pier. Use a stern tie to pull the dinghies off the dock. There is a fresh water spigot and shower stall just up from the quay.

III Goods and Services
A. Food - There are three options for purchasing food: small markets, local truck market, and appealing to the neighbors.
- Magazin - In the town of Atuona, there are four small stores which sell a variety of packaged foods as well as a limited supply of frozen meats and fresh vegetables. The variety of fresh foods is extremely limited, and all the prices are high. Two of the stores also sell beer, wine, and hard alcohol, again in limited variety and at very high cost. Most of these stores are open the following hours: M-F 7:30 to 18:50, Sat 7:00 to 11:30 and closed Sunday. Stores often close in the middle of the day for a few hours near the lunch hour.

- Truck Market (09 48.188'S 139 02.565'W) In the parking lot in front of the Police Municipale, there is a small truck market which meets from approximately Mon-Sat 9:00 to noon. The number of vendors and the variety of goods presented varies daily. Get there early to get the best selection. The prices are considered high by island standards but are considerably lower than those offered by the stores. The quality and variety is also greater than available in the stores. This is where locals sell the excess from their own yards, and it is a good place to purchase fresh seasonal produce and seafood.

- Neighbors - Many cruisers report being able to walk up to homes along the road to purchase or harvest produce.

B. Water - The water of Baie Atuona is too dirty to make water. Make sure you go in with full tanks or be prepared to shuttle water from the spigot on shore. Above the dinghy dock is a small concrete building with an open shower and three spigots. The water is gathered uphill in a cistern from rain run off. Many cruisers use this for drinking water, though it is advisable to filter the water prior to drinking. There is only one temperature nicely cool. You can fill up your water jugs, do laundry on the shelf, and take showers at this building.

C. Fuel - The station near the dinghy quay sells both diesel and gasoline. However, they limit the quantity sold, and it is not uncommon for the supply to run out. This is particularly true during the height of the cruising season.
- Diesel - Station near the dinghy quay in Baie Atuona.
- Gasoline - Station near the dingy quay in Baie Atuona.
- Propane/Butane - You can not get a small boat propane tank refilled anywhere on Hiva Oa. It is possible to purchase a 10 liter pre-filled tank from a store in Atuona (09 48.145'S 139 02.585'W) and transfer the gas via gravity into smaller tanks. This is illegal, somewhat dangerous, and really expensive. You probabaly will not have the proper fittings to make the transfer.

D. Emergency/Medical
- Police (09 48.186'S 139 02.568'W) The municipal police station located in the village of Atuona.
- Gendarmarie (09 48.162'S 139 02.446'W) The French gendarmarie is located in the village of Atuona. This is where you can complete your visa paperwork for entry into French Polynesia.
- Pharmacy (09 48.177'S 139 02.411'W) There is a small pharmacy located in the village of Atuona. The selection is very limited. You must have a doctor's prescription for most of the goods offered. Hours are also limited to mornings on weekdays.

E. Hardware - There are 4 stores in Atuona which sell hardware or household items. The range of goods is surprisingly broad and includes electrical fittings, appliances, and fishing tackle. You can also purchase fabric, kitchen supplies, and clothes. The vendors are very helpful, so ask if you do not see what you need.

F. Laundry - You can wash your laundry at the water spigot near the dinghy. There are also several locals who advertise laundry services. The price is steep, but after a long passage, many cruisers feel the expense is worthwhile.
- Sandra Wallarert (2011) Sandra is the CMA Agent who handles the paperwork for many Puddle Jump cruisers. She also has a laundry business. She will pick up her laundry from the dinghy quay and deliver it washed, dried and folded within a day. She monitors VHF 11. Her phone number is 927.985.232247. If you'd like, you can go with her to her house while she is doing your laundry and take advantage of her offer for free Internet while you wait.

G. Internet
- Sandra's House See Laundry > Sandra Wallarert
- Anchorage - You can purchase time from HDG-HotSpot while on the hook in Baie Atuona. The connection in the anchorage is strong and clear. However, once past the local router, you run into the slow speeds common to all the islands. You can purchase time in 1 hr, 10 hr, 50 hr, and 100 hr increments.

H. Money
- Banque Socredo (09 48.215'S 139 02.545'W) You can not exchange money at this bank. You can use your Visa, MasterCard, or other ATM card to withdraw French Polynesian francs using the cash machine outside the bank.

I. Other
- Airport Flights daily to Tahiti.
- Postal (09 48.185' 139 02.374'W) Agence Fare Fenua, Atuona
- Hair (09 48.178' 139 02.402'W) Vero Coiffure
- Tourist Information (09 48.176' 139 02.468'W) Centre du Tourisme, Atuona

IV. To Do
A. Restaurants
- Relais Moehau (09 48.293'S 139 02.217'W) Located on the road into town, the Relais Moehau is a beautiful restaurant overlooking Baie Tahuka. The speciality is wood-fire pizza. However, the restaurant also serves a variety of local dishes as well as meat, seafood, and poultry. The prices are reasonable given you are in the islands ranging from USD$15-$30 for entrees. In addition to the restaurant, there is a small shop selling local arts and manufactured goods, an ice cream bar, and hotel. You can call in advance, and the restaurant will provide free, round-trip transportation between the dock and the restaurant. Open every day.
- Snack Make Make (09 48.181' 139 02.350'W) Almost all the way into town is a small bar / snack stop. The cuisine is typical of a French fast food stand with croques monsieur and other sandwiches. There is both interior and exterior seating.

B. Cultural
- Centre Culturel Paul Gaughin (09 48.201' 139 02.466'W) A small museum dedicated to the French painter Paul Gaughin is located in the middle of Atuona. Admission is FP600 for adults and FP300 for children. Open Mon-Fri 8:00 to 11:00 and 14:00 to 17:00, Sat 7:30 to 14:30.

V. Reporting Boats
* s/v Don Quixote, Toast Conger, 2011

Anchorage Hopping

<i>Editor's Note: My Mom... Okay, look. She's been amazing. Fantastic. Supportive in every possible way. After we dropped the hook, I thought it would make sense to go back to my regular 2/week schedule on posting. She thinks otherwise. If this blog spends the next 6 months being less story-like and more daily journal-like, please attribute it to my desire to be a good daughter, not to any belief that you care what we're eating, where we are sleeping, or how often we have to yell at our children.</i>

Atuona on Hiva Oa is a reasonably good place to stop. There are most services a cruiser needs after a few weeks at sea: water, port of entry, bank, small markets (I'd say tiendas but it's the Marquesas so now we call them magazins), a place to purchase produce, and an Internet connection. On the other hand, the anchorage is small, rolly, and uncomfortably crowded with boats. After only two days, we were ready to get the heck out. Unfortunately, we had SO MUCH LAUNDRY that the very nice lady we hired to wash it, couldn't finish it. *sigh* We begged her to finish a bag of panties, and left anyway.

Around the corner a mere 8 miles away is the lovely island of Tahuata. It is useful to think of Tahuata not as a small island with 2,000 foot peaks, but rather as a very large mountain of 12,000 feet with the top portion sticking out of the water. The terrain is extremely rough, jagged peaks and steep valleys plunging into the ocean. The entire thing is covered with a thin veneer of vegetation, coconut trees dominant in the valleys with scrub and barely clinging bushes higher up. The peaks make for dramatic scenery and the open westward facing bays offer the counter point of stunning sunsets.

Tahuata is blessed with several anchorages on the leeward, the most beautiful of which is at the north end called Baie Hananoemoe. This bay features clear water, beautiful fish, giant manta rays, and a long white sand beach. In other words, this is Polynesian paradise. We enjoyed several days relaxing and swimming before DrC got the urge to see more, do more and we pulled the hook to explore the rest of the island. We visited the small town of Vaitahu and then the even smaller village of Hapatoni, anchoring in the shelter of a towering volcanic cliff.

There were two high points to our town visits: the church and the Frenchman, both in Vaitahu. The village supports a beautiful Catholic church built of a combination of local materials and the ballast stones from 17th century trading ships. The church is a lovely combination of local art, fine craftmanship, and Catholic symbology. DrC was particularly fond of the stained glass window which supports the first Polynesian Madonna either of us had ever seen. Baby Jesus, apparently, is an islander. Brown skin and Pacific Island features look good on him, by the way. We also saw the first of what is proving to be a series of Holy Clam Shells. These are large clam shelves carved with Jesus in some fashion and back lit to make it glow and are featured in every church we've visited to date.

The Frenchman owns a magazin in Vaitahu. My French isn't as good as I would like, but what I was able to tease out is that he was a Puddle Jumper himself, some two decades ago. Unfortunately, there was not a breath of wind between Panama and Galapagos. He motored out to that island chain, after which his engine died more or less permanently. With no wind in the forecast, he drift/sailed north to Costa Rico where he more or less abandoned his boat. He then caught another boat as crew to the Marquesas. He's never left. In addition to opening his magazin after hours so the girls could buy chocolate, he whacked us down a bread fruit and a few pamplemousse out of the trees in his yard before sending us on our way.

Pamplemousse. Don't let the name fool you. These are not really grapefruit, which is the strict translation of the word. First, they are much larger and basically stay green even when they are ready to eat. Second, the taste is similar to grapefruit in the way that tangerines are similar to oranges or nectarines taste sort of like peaches. You can tell it is in the same family, but pamplemousse in the Marquesas is different. It is sweeter and more floral than a white or yellow fleshed grapefruit. The pulp is larger, fitting the generally much larger size of the fruit. The skin and segment flesh is what tastes most "grapefruity". Jaime doesn't particularly care for it, but the rest of the family is very much enjoying it.

Hmm. Mom is probably right. (Moms are always right. Even when they are not right, right?) I am not writing often enough. I'll finish catching up on this narrative tomorrow.

The Land, She Moves

The dinghy dock did not look promising. Tidal surge and wave action made the concrete extension a moving target. We approached very slowly, arms out to fend off the dinghy. The last thing we wanted to do after getting the dink all the way from Mexico to the Marquesas was to pop the thing on our first landing. Jaime went ashore first. With the mass and the strength to handle the painter, she could hold us steady against the waves while the rest of the family scrambled ashore.

I stumbled up the rock stairs towards our French Polynesian contact. It looked flat, but my feet kept tripping over non-existent bumps and rocks. With some difficulty I made it to the side of her jeep and braced my feet apart against the inexplicable movement of the island. I smiled at the agent wanly.

"Bonjour!" Sandy greeted us cheerfully.

Weakly I replied, "Uh... Bonjour." I looked around, my head started spinning, "I need to sit down."

Sandy laughed merrily as I thunked down in place. Apparently, her customers do this routinely. Thankfully, closer to the ground and seated, the island was considerably less active. I stared at the boats bobbing reassuringly in the harbor. Everything slowly stabilized. I took deep breaths of the very green, very wet air detecting jasmine and gardenia on the wind. When we were all gathered, DrC gave me a hand up and folded me into the van. The nausea was under control, just barely, as Sandy set off screaming around hair pin turns on a wild ride into town and the local gendarmerie.

It took nearly three hours for my stomach to completely settle. I'm afraid as a result, my first visit into Atuano was a bit of a bust. At least I fared better than David of s/v Imagine who apparently lost his breakfast more than once on his first trip ashore. It's called "land sickness", and it is surprisingly common. Sailors who have been out to sea for long periods of time, particularly on smaller vessels with considerable wave movement, find that their bodies have completely acclimated to the movement. Like a parent who is able to tune out entire categories of voices and sounds but who can detect the sound of breaking glass from anywhere in the house even through closed doors, high volume stereos and video games, the sailor brain tunes out all movement of the boat that indicates typical, safe operation. Now if the boat were to slew sideways, beam on to a wave, surf unexpectedly, or suddenly jerk in a way indicating a loss of rudder control, or wind shift, the sailor is instantly aware of the change in movement. Otherwise, crew happily read, watch TV, cook, and sleep while in constant, irregular motion.

But the downside to this human tendency to tune out anything that isn't important means that sailor brains are trained to automatically "level" the world in amazingly bouncy conditions. Remove the bounce, the brain takes awhile to stop leveling. And so, the land, she moves. Seriously, I would swear the entire island was bobbing up and down and sideways. On our first day, I returned to Don Quixote with relief. The anchorage was very crowded. We were anchored in a less than ideal position on the edge where swell rolled behind the breakwater and caused us to bob and weave on our double anchor. Good! It felt great! I think if Don Quixote had been settled into a crystal clear, calm anchorage with no movement, I would have spent the evening hugging the head. Not a great welcome to land, I say.

Now, some cruisers who are prone to land sickness actually prepare for this condition in advance. Yes, the day before making landfall, they begin to take anti-nausea drugs such as meclizine. Obviously, we did not take such a precaution. I will, however, seriously consider doing so after our next long passage. It's not polite to throw up on the customs officials.

Land Ho!

Distance: 133/2553 Day: 22/23

"Land HO!!!" called the captain about mid-way through his watch this morning.

The family boiled out of our cabins and the salon to stand precariously on the deck. There it was! A dark smudge on the horizon still many miles away. But it was big and it was decidedly not blue. More like a dark grey. While the girls cavorted and screamed on the deck, DrC admitted to me, "Did you ever think it wouldn't be there?"

I smiled wryly, "I've been thinking about that since I got off watch this morning without seeing Hiva Oa on the radar."

"I mean... we've come all this way and maybe our GPS is wrong..."

"Or the charts..."

We grinned at each other. Maybe every boat has this fear. Maybe after three weeks, it's almost impossible to believe that we've navigated directly to a relatively small spot of land in the middle of nowhere. Even with all the modern technology on this boat, Google satellite images, charts both electronic and paper, after all this distance and all this time, it seemed quite possible that we could have somehow 'missed it.'

But we didn't. Today, we make end our journey with a shlep down the south side of Hiva Oa to a safe harbor. From sighting land, we figured it would take at least 12 hours to get into Atuona where our buddy boats Imagine and Loose Pointer await us. It is not the best place in the Marquesas to make landfall. Fatu Hiva is reputedly more beautiful. Nuka Hiva has more services. We chose Hiva Oa because it is a port of entry and positioned mid-way in the island chain. It will let us bash 50 miles south if we really want to see Fata Hiva, while giving us a relatively easy downwind sail to Nuka Hiva.

Tentatively, the plan is to spend a few days in Atuona. We have to check, find a place to get Polynesian money, do laundry, clean our boat and ourselves, load up with water, get whatever fresh food we can beg, borrow, buy or scavenge, and recover a bit physically. Then we will head slightly south west to Tahuata for a week or so of snorkeling and deep recovery time. We may venture south to Fatu Hiva if conditions permit. In any case, eventually we'll work our way south through Ua Poa and on to Nuka Hiva. After a few weeks in Nuka Hiva, it will be time to leave the Marquesas and head west for the Tuamotus.

PPJ NOTE: SAVE SOMETHING FOR LANDFALL. Rum, fruit juice, and either ice cubes or frozen fruit is my recommendation. We're making the kids apple juice spritzers and I'll bake cookies. I liked Dan's (Loose Pointer) approach the best. He made landfall at 8:45 AM local, sent an email to family and friends, and then he had a rum cocktail and went to bed. Heh. Perfect.

~ Toast
S09 45 W138 44 230T 5.75
May 9 20:30 UTC

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Almost There

Distance: 130/2420 Day: 21

Our friends and buddy boats are settled into Hiva Oa either sleeping or scraping the gunk off themselves and their vessels. Jealous. Our next boat is definitely going to be faster. *sigh* Maybe. I'm beginning to think that Don Quixote is as slow as her owners. We reef. A lot. We don't like it when she goes super fast. And we hand steer. A lot. The former is perhaps timidity? Maybe if we were more confident or bolder, we'd leave the sails up in higher winds. Course, we haven't broken a lot of stuff on this trip (pause to knock on wood until knuckles get sore). I'd like to add a wind vane to the boat. There really needs to be a solution for a mechanical wind vane that will work on a catamaran. Must research. Alternatively, we should just add several back up auto-pilots and motors.

Of course, we're getting better at steering. Jaime is arguably the best. She drives the boat like a teenager, of course, with a combination of pre-natural accuracy and a touch of recklessness. We always ALWAYS go faster when she is at the helm. DrC also tends to gallop along, surfing the waves like a pro. Mera turns up the Glee, sings under her breath, and goes exactly where you tell her. She's not particularly innovative, but she is highly competent. Aeron is the only one who can stand at the helm. She plants her legs apart braced against the swell, steering the wheel which is nearly her height with a cheerful sawing motion which involves her entire body swinging port and starboard against the swell. What I can say about my steering is that when we need to do something dodgy like send Jaime up the mast to reset the location of the radar in 15 knots in a 10' swell, I'm the one at the helm minimizing the jostle.

The kids are munching grapefruit and arguing about chemistry. What is carbon monoxide? How about oxone? Pop quiz: Do we expire oxygen, nitrogen, or carbon dioxide? How does oxygen naturally occur in nature? Plants? NO! What? Come on... Oh! Two atoms together. Right. Now define an electron...

After dragging a lure from Vancouver Island to Zihau, up into the Sea of Cortez, and now halfway around the world, we finally caught something other than a skip jack. In fact, I figure we caught enough swordfish to pay for the fishing gear. The fish on our line was 64" long, and DrC gauges it was about 35 pounds. We have 4 stuffed large zip lock bags of steaks freezing down in the Norcold while we munch our way through the rest. Last night, dinner was absolutely astonishing. Swordfish steaks pan-seared in olive oil in their own juice with a bit of ocean water. We served it with multi-grain rice, wasabi aoli and teriyaki dips, and a coleslaw. We topped the entire thing off with cinnamon rolls.

Yes, in addition to the amazing Victory Over Fish, we also managed to produce a batch of really tasty, homemade cinnamon rolls. I feel this to be a major victory. The only downside to my recipe is that it takes 24 hours. Not a particularly spontaneous recipe, I'll grant you.

One more night. We should get to our way point about 5 miles off the coast of Hiva Oa sometime mid-day tomorrow. This will give us all afternoon to make our way down the south side of the island to the anchorage. Fingers crossed, we'll be in well before dark. Everyone is very excited to be nearly done with this first leg of the Puddle Jump.

Happy Mother's Day! to our mothers out there.

~ Toast
May 8, 17:30 UTC
S08 10.5 W136 56.8 225T 6.25 kts

Hotter and Sticker

Distance: 143/2390 Day: 20

We are on the final days of this journey so -- masochist that I am -- I looked at our future island hops. Ugh. That was a mistake. Several days to the Tuamutos. Another several from there to Tahiti. At least a week, more like 10 days to Roratonga. The same to Niue. Five to Tonga from Niue and nearly two weeks on the last leg. Big mistake. The thought of weeks more at sea like this is daunting. Of course, it won't be the same. Future legs will have fresh produce and fresh water buckets from beginning to end. I'll also have more clean panties and bras since I'm going shopping in Tahiti, and no one can stop me.

Having fixed the spinnaker, we have no occasion to use it. The winds are now the consistent east southeast trades in the 15 to 20 knot range of which we have heard so much. Just abaft of beam, it makes for a bumpy but steady, speedy ride. Yesterday, we clocked our second longest mileage. I won't say we're making up all the time in light winds, but we're certainly inching back towards making this trip in the ~5ish/hour range which I planned for. Given the short days, we've pulled all the fruit out of the bilge. We are gorging on grapefruit. Did I mention how effective it is to wrap your citrus in aluminum foil. All the citrus survived plump and juicy. I might have to make apple pie out of the last of the apples, however, as their crispness isn't. The sour dough is working well. The cinnamon bread is a complete bust. I think the dough recipe must be different. However, I left my Joy of Cooking in New Zealand, so I'm at a complete loss. What I've got now is the prospect of feeding the family cinnamon bread and butter for dinner. Maybe. Aeron made an excellent paste for the swirl and is super eager to make the icing. All we need is active, happy yeast.

One aspect of the journey that is proving difficult is to maintain vigilence. During our first week out, DrC and I did a chafe check twice a day. We looked in our lockers regularly to spot things moving. We swept, rinsed, wiped, yelled at the children, and were generally on top of everything. Now we still do this, but I for one lack enthusiasm for all these tasks. It might be habituation or it could be simple exhaustion. As usual, my husband is considerably better than I at maintaining his focus on all the sundry tasks necessary to keeping us afloat. Thank all the gods of the sea I am traveling with this man rather than any other. He's a marvel. Yet, even he is getting tired of the routine.

They say that there are two types of sailors: those that love passage making and feel regret on making landfall and those that simply endure the passages. I am in the later camp. I want to be done.

In up news, my flute practice is coming along. Our first monthly family concert went well. We all played our best pieces. And even though we'd heard each other rehearse a million times, it was still fun and different to perform. Mera played a new composition, a little jig, which we are trying to get her to put down on paper. We might be able to write flute and guitar accompaniments and play ensemble. Good stuff. I'm taking Jaime's technical drawing class as well. Except for the entire chapter on computer technology which I not only skipped I told Jaime to skip as well, the book is excellent. Drawing, however, in rocky rolly seas is proving challenging. My first attempts are inspired crap. I'll call this series: At Sea.

PPJ Note: ENTERTAINMENT. It is really important to bring things to do that do not require fixated concentration. Also, reserve some of the items and pull them out as you go along. Every few days, I unearth another game or puzzle for the kids. For example, to celebrate week 2 I pulled out Travel Blockus. Next passage I need to find our newly minted set of Flux. Should be good!

~ Toast
May 7, 18:30 UTC
S06 44 W135 22 225T 6.5kts

Truly Skank

Distance: 135/2252 Day: 19

I'm not actually sure this is day 19. We switched the boat to UTC a few weeks ago which makes everything a bit weird. We did this for several reasons, but the most important was that we kept missing the nets because we couldn't do the math to get from local to UTC. Pathetic, but there you have it. So as I sit here typing at the end of Aeron's morning shift, the sun is rising, the bread is baking and it is 15:38 on Friday, May 6. We've changed local time zones twice, the Marquesas are apparently at UTC -9:30 and the rest of Polynesia is at -10:00. To make matters more confusing, I know sometime in the coming months we'll cross the date line as well. Before we get there, I'm hoping I'll figure out whether that makes it tomorrow or yesterday.

Last night was spent dodging thunderstorms. At one point, we hove to rather than run smack into a storm front. Heaving to is not nearly as satisfying as I had hoped since the wind was blowing a steady 22 and pushing us bass akwards towards the storm at 2.5 knots. It's like backing your butt into a meat grinder. Fortunately, we were slower than the storm and after about 30 minutes, we could turn back downwind and head towards the western edge of the storm.

Despite this pause, we appear to be once again making reasonably good time. Our friends Loose Pointer are going to make landfall in two days, we will hopefully be no more than two days behind them. A sign that we are nearing our destination is that we have dramatically increased the resolution on our chart plotter. We're also on the last major way point between San Jose Del Cabo and Hiva Oa, about 4 miles off the coast. It is incredibly satisfying watching it clock down. It is also encouraging that the ETA number is gradually resolving around a date and time. Before, a very slight change in speed over ground would change our arrival time by several days.

Due to the considerable swell, we have been unable to make water for a few days. We are also out of our washing bucket stock on the deck. As a result, it is officially true: Don Quixote stinks. We stink individually. Our clothes stink. Our towels are sour. The sheets are disgusting, the cushions damp and sticky, and the floors simply soul. There is not one item of clean clothing on this entire boat fit for summer weather (though incongruously, I have several glorious smelling, clean and fresh fleece pullovers). All the boats in Hiva Oa will know when we have arrived by the miasma which proceeds us. While the girls dream of ice cream and treats, the visions that dance in my head are of clean sheets, dry clothes, and a completely pristine wash cloth.

Children are incapable of even the most simple of tasks. Assigned the responsibility of their own head, you would think they could handle the most basic job of taking the toilet paper and throwing it overboard on a semi-regular basis. However, glancing below as the door swings back and forth I notice fouled TP overflowing their little basket, spilling across the floor of the head, and bouncing in brown stained puff balls down the companionway. Add another stench to the mix. Never mind the cat, I'm going to pitch the children overboard.

~ Toast
May 6, 16:00 UTC

The Slow Slog

Distance: 109/2117 Day: 18

Even I'm not buying the "slow days are good days for the boat and crew" line any more. The first half of the trip -- despite one day of being becalmed -- we averaged 5 knots/day. Now we're averaging more like 4... when we are lucky. Our landfall target date slipped today into May 10 soonest. This wind needs to hold or freshen a bit, or we are seriously going to run out of patience.

Food, water, and fuel in good supply.

Spinnaker busted yesterday. Actually, it was a fitting way up at the top in the sock. Two swivels separated by a 10" stainless steel bolt. The bolt was showing signs of rust and bent. Yesterday, it simply snapped. DrC and I agree that the thing was clearly under-powered, a much stronger fitting is required. We may eventually purchase a replacement, but obviously that it not possible in the middle of the Pacific. So DrC built us a replacement out of spectra line. Here's the thing about boats... if this line works and does not case chafe or cause other problems, we may never replace the stainless. Sometimes the fix is better than the original. Almost inevitably when you replace stainless with spectra, that turns out to be the case.

Last night was for me one of the hardest nights on helm. The winds varied between 10 to 28 as we passed under and through squall after squall after squall. None of them lasted particularly long, but the cumulative total of steering and worry took its toll. You can not be complacent passing through these squalls. At any time the wind can do some insane thing and pop up to 35 and even considerably higher. We haven't seen it *knock on wood* but that does not mean we don't believe that it can happen. Each time the wind starts to rise, you have to reef. When the wind drops, you shake out the reef. Now most of the night we were able to actually lumber along with a single reef, but there was a memorable squall where I was pulling in the jib, taking a second reef, and untangling a reefing line from the wind generator while perched precariously on a stanchion all the while we bounded over and around wind waves in 27 knots. Of course, literally the moment I had all this in place, the wind dropped to 11. *sigh* It took nearly a half hour for the adrenaline to clear my system. Yes, Mom, I had on a safety harness. It made me seriously reconsider my passage drinking policy.

I made sour dough yesterday. Now, let's be clear. I've had sour dough starter and made bread from it for years. The bread was delicious and tasted faintly sour. This, however, was the first loaf I have ever made that looked and tasted like real sour dough bread. Real Sour Dough Bread for a western American is SOUR. It comes from San Francisco or Seattle, the tang is evident in both the aroma and the taste, and has a crisp crunchy crust. We think the trick was that I made it the night before and let it rise incredibly slowly all night. Then I proofed it and let it rise for another 5 or 6 hours. It smelled divine. It tasted great. The family inhaled it. It's gone. Now I need to figure out how to recreate it. I'll give that a try tonight. I really have nothing else to do.

~ Toast
May 5, 18:00 UTC

Another Day in the Middle of Nowhere

Distance: 100/2008 Day: 17

The kids have resorted to making paper fortune tellers. Those are the little hand-folded things that open and close and you pick colors or words and then have your fortune told. It's about as intellectually stimulating as a Magic 8 Ball and provides some clue as to how flippin' bored we are getting. DrC, of course, is engaged in upgrading the boat. In this case, he installed new backing plates for the stern cleats. These will come in handy if we ever find enough wind that our drogue becomes necessary. The more likely use case is to strengthen those cleats for all the stern anchoring we will no doubt be required to do in the islands.

If we ever get there.

We've run out of everything fresh except onions, cabbage, oranges, apples, and limons. There are some frozen meats and vegies left, but I am parceling them out like little bits of gold. I am now at the phase where I am trying to think of clever ways to make pasta different and exciting. Homemade bread is also now a substantial component of the menu. For example, lunch today is a loaf of Italian bread fresh out of the oven served with olive oil, sun dried tomatoes, anchovies, walnuts, balsamic vinegar and grated cheese. If everyone is very well behaved, I may be talked into finding three apples which I will slice thinly and serve on a silver platter with much ceremony.

Now fear not that the Conger clan will starve. Even were we stuck out here for another month, we wouldn't starve. The provisioning lockers are chock o'block full of food. It's just that the food is all dried, canned, or preserved. Jaime won't shut up about a green salad. Mera wants ice cream. Aeron wants soda pop? I'm raising that one wrong. DrC wants gazpacho soup and ceviche. I've pointed out to him that we are simply awash in limons just waiting for him to catch a damn fish. He's not happy with that one. I want tacos on the street complete with the sliced cucumbers, marinated onion/carrots, and five kinds of salsa. And the cold cold beer.

Actually, the beer is an interesting issue. We haven't been drinking since we left San Jose del Cabo. In fact, in 17 days, DrC and I have split two beers, and DrC drank most of the second last night since it didn't taste good to me. There isn't much sacrifice in this. The heat and movement combined with dehydration make any diuretic sound completely unappealing. We haven't had coffee or caffinated tea either. Our celebratory Fresca on the equator crossing made everyone slightly sick from the sugar rush. Arguably, a crossing is a good way to break some bad eating and drinking habits.

PPJ Note #11: PERSONAL WATER BOTTLES. Dehydration is a serious problem out here. Make sure everyone on board has a wide mouthed plastic bottle with a lid which can be carried everywhere. Keep it handy and full of water at all times. We are using PowerAid bottles. They have fantastic lids which only release beverage when you suck on them. You want the bottles to be slightly wide-mouthed so you can get a bottle brush inside and clean them periodically. Our bottles appear to be well nigh indestructible which is a good property in a water bottle as they get thrown, tossed, and ejected from one part of the boat to another on a routine basis.

The cat went crazy this morning. She weighs about half what she did when she arrived. Most of this is due no doubt to hair loss. She's coming back into her kitten, un-slothful self now. When she sleeps, she sleeps. When she is awake, she tears around the boat like her tail is on fire. This morning she did laps in the salon until I got up and yelled at her. In all fairness, she was using my left shoulder blade as a launching pad. I had good reason.

~ Toast
May 4, 18:00 UTC

Another Day in the Middle of Nowhere

Distance: 100/2008 Day: 17

The kids have resorted to making paper fortune tellers. Those are the little hand-folded things that open and close and you pick colors or words and then have your fortune told. It's about as intellectually stimulating as a Magic 8 Ball and provides some clue as to how flippin' bored we are getting. DrC, of course, is engaged in upgrading the boat. In this case, he installed new backing plates for the stern cleats. These will come in handy if we ever find enough wind that our drogue becomes necessary. The more likely use case is to strengthen those cleats for all the stern anchoring we will no doubt be required to do in the islands.

If we ever get there.

We've run out of everything fresh except onions, cabbage, oranges, apples, and limons. There are some frozen meats and vegies left, but I am parceling them out like little bits of gold. I am now at the phase where I am trying to think of clever ways to make pasta different and exciting. Homemade bread is also now a substantial component of the menu. For example, lunch today is a loaf of Italian bread fresh out of the oven served with olive oil, sun dried tomatoes, anchovies, walnuts, balsamic vinegar and grated cheese. If everyone is very well behaved, I may be talked into finding three apples which I will slice thinly and serve on a silver platter with much ceremony.

Now fear not that the Conger clan will starve. Even were we stuck out here for another month, we wouldn't starve. The provisioning lockers are chock o'block full of food. It's just that the food is all dried, canned, or preserved. Jaime won't shut up about a green salad. Mera wants ice cream. Aeron wants soda pop? I'm raising that one wrong. DrC wants gazpacho soup and ceviche. I've pointed out to him that we are simply awash in limons just waiting for him to catch a damn fish. He's not happy with that one. I want tacos on the street complete with the sliced cucumbers, marinated onion/carrots, and five kinds of salsa. And the cold cold beer.

Actually, the beer is an interesting issue. We haven't been drinking since we left San Jose del Cabo. In fact, in 17 days, DrC and I have split two beers, and DrC drank most of the second last night since it didn't taste good to me. There isn't much sacrifice in this. The heat and movement combined with dehydration make any diuretic sound completely unappealing. We haven't had coffee or caffinated tea either. Our celebratory Fresca on the equator crossing made everyone slightly sick from the sugar rush. Arguably, a crossing is a good way to break some bad eating and drinking habits.

PPJ Note #11: PERSONAL WATER BOTTLES. Dehydration is a serious problem out here. Make sure everyone on board has a wide mouthed plastic bottle with a lid which can be carried everywhere. Keep it handy and full of water at all times. We are using PowerAid bottles. They have fantastic lids which only release beverage when you suck on them. You want the bottles to be slightly wide-mouthed so you can get a bottle brush inside and clean them periodically. Our bottles appear to be well nigh indestructible which is a good property in a water bottle as they get thrown, tossed, and ejected from one part of the boat to another on a routine basis.

The cat went crazy this morning. She weighs about half what she did when she arrived. Most of this is due no doubt to hair loss. She's coming back into her kitten, un-slothful self now. When she sleeps, she sleeps. When she is awake, she tears around the boat like her tail is on fire. This morning she did laps in the salon until I got up and yelled at her. In all fairness, she was using my left shoulder blade as a launching pad. I had good reason.

~ Toast
May 4, 18:00 UTC

That Won't Work

Distance: 84/1908 Day: 16

At one point, we calculated that at our going rate of roughly 1.5 kts, it would take us 32 days to get to Hiva Oa. While reassured that we would arrive eventually, it's not particularly joyful news. Either because of the angle we selected or simply a roll of the weather dice, we seem to be experiencing light winds throughout most of the journey. Light winds make for any easier trip in many ways. They make for a much longer journey, however. At this point, with extreme lucky we might make landfall by May 9. More likely, it will be the 10th or 11th.

Landfall is another issue. Loose Pointer is headed down to Fatu Oa. The entire Puddle Jump fleet is up in Nuka Hiva. So of course, DrC wants to go to Hiva Oa. The anchorage there is not the greatest in the world. However, it is a valid port of entry, and it has facilities for en plien aire showers and laundry washing, bank, markets, and other amenities. The plan would be to make landfall, check in, buy what provisions are available (including propane we hope) and then a few days later go around the corner to more pleasant and remote anchorages on the northern side of the island. From there, we would island hope up to Nuka Hiva. There we would prepare and provision for the Tuamotos. All in all, I don't know how long we'll stay in the Marquesas. A few weeks? A month? Hard to say. We're very late in the season with a hard target of Tonga in time to make the passage south in Sept/Oct. Hard to say what will make sense.

I am so sticky. Everything is sticky. Absolutely EVERYTHING is sticky. We put the pillows and blankets and cushions out on the foredeck yesterday when the air was super hot and the sun shining and the wind non-existent. It was lovely, dry and pleasant when we brought it back in. Now it's all damp, sticky and sandy again. Twelve hours later. I wonder if this is a product of passage making or some unpleasantness we are going to have to live with until we journey south to New Zealand. I am ready, however, to switch from sand kitty litter to real kitty litter. It surely can not be worse.

Yesterday, we crossed the equator. I took pictures while DrC and the girls dragged their feet through the equator. I assure you that there is a very large, dashed line that splits the horizon from end to end. I took pictures and will post them when I get to the Internet again. Loose Pointer missed the line, but we suspect that the light may have been wrong, and their boats passed between the dashes. You have to look sharp. We celebrated with Fresca Toranja (last bottle) and a pineapple upside cake. We also cast a bottle into the ocean with messages of our crossing. So it wasn't the traditional Neptune shellback pollywog ceremony -- leave it to the Congers to go all pagan and different -- but it was an enjoyable and memorable event celebrated by the entire family.

PPJ Note #10: FOIL WRAPPED CITRUS. It works. This is not a myth. Wrap your citrus in aluminum foil before you leave. We're three weeks out and just had a really tasty breakfast of grapefruit, yogurt and granola. I'm looking forward to making landfall and having a rum cocktail complete with limon juice.

~ Toast
00 54 52S 129 50W
May 3, 18:00 UTC

Are We There Yet

Distance: 103/1737 Day: 15

Don Quixote has taken over net control responsibilities for the Pacific Puddle Jump Net. This will come as no surprise to those who have cruised with us in the past. We're a bit chatty on radio. What might come as a surprise is that it was DrC who has been doing much of the work, and DrC was the one who stepped up and volunteered to take net control. Yeah. We were shocked too. Due to watch schedules, he usually manages the abbreviated morning net, while I take the evening roll call.

The Puddle Jump Net is reassuring on a number of fronts. First, it gives structure to the day and provides a welcome relief from boredom. Second, it is nice to talk to other boats that are out here. We are so very very alone in this big blue space. Hearing voices, knowing there are others experiencing the same exhaustion and effort, it reduces that sense of being overwhelmed. There is also the practical aspect of the net in that we are able to share positions, weather conditions, and weather information. We track each other and there is an option for participants whereby if they miss two roll calls in a row, net control will contact international maritime authorities with a Health and Welfare. Finally, it's super nice knowing we're not the last boat out here. For awhile, it felt like we were 'riding sweep' on the fleet. However, in the past week, we've picked up another five boats who are north and east of us.

Tomorrow, we will winds willing cross the equator. I know it's just a line on a map, but it feels significant. Even though there will be another full week before we make landfall, it feels like crossing the 0 line means you are on the last leg of a long journey.

PPJ Note #9: PRETTY PANTIES. Unless you are a very straight-laced and conservative crew or traveling with strangers, it takes only a few days before the entire boat is stripped down to nothing but panties and bras 24/7. It's hot. It's humid. It's sticky. And there isn't much extra water to wash with. It seems rather pointless to put on clothes. Therefore, it is imperative that you leave port with a somewhat excessive load of clean, attractive underwear. No smears, no spots, dark colors, and perky bras that don't make your boobs like a million years old.

~ Toast
00 49.57N 128 18.81W
April 30, 12:30 UTC