Marvelous! Simply marvelous. I steal the phrase, but believe it is the best way to describe life on the Twister with Lars.I joined the journey in Rangiroa, an atoll in the Tuamotus, 16 days ago and Lars asked me to do a few guest blog entries.There is so much to write and I would have enjoyed writing more frequently and somehow attempting to catch all the moments, but the moments must be lived, so writing is tough.Plus, the internet connection is not reliable.We are motoring currently from Tahiti to the neighboring island Mo’orea.We started by sailing off the anchor, but eventually the wind died and the motor began putt-putting us along.I decided it is a good time to write.
Lars suggested telling chronologically…
I met Lars on Rangiroa on June 1.It took me 16 hours of traveling from California to catch him after 5 weeks of sailing.Planes are apparently quite fast.Rangiroa is an atoll and at the widest point is about a half mile wide.The landing strip is nearly as wide as the atoll with blue tropical waters all around. Lars greeted me after my walk across the tarmac with a smile, hug, and a cold beer!! A fellow Lars met a few days before happened to be at the airport, so he gave us a ride the few miles down the atoll to a dock.There we were met by the “neighbors” Gary and Rory.They are two Brits that left Los Angeles on a maiden sail in January on their boat La Cueca.After a few months in Mexico they crossed the Pacific and anchored next door in Rangiroa.We cheers! a Hinano, a Tahitian beer, while overlooking tropical blue seas and they give us a lift in their dingy back to the Twister.
The anchorage is beautiful with crystal clear water.We are anchored in 25 feet of water, and can see the bottom, corals, and fishes with no problem while on the boat.We enjoy a quick snack of grapefruit.Grab the snorkeling gear and snorkel to shore.Incredible! We pick up the dingy under a coconut tree and Lars rows down to the passage so we can drift snorkel over a reef.The atoll has limited passages from the outside ocean, so when the tide is coming in the current is quite strong and one can simply drift along and admire the coral reef.There was so much life including moray eels, parrot fish, pipe fish, pufferfish, fish with hot pink spots, banner fish, squirrel fish, and, and, and… We return to the Twister sip rum from coconuts we just harvested, shared a PBR, and cooked up some pasta.Then, relax in the cockpit under the most twinkling night sky!!! There was a no moon, so the stars had the sky all to their selves and put on quite a show.The Southern Cross shines brightly each and every night with shooting stars.
Typically we awake to roosters “cockadoodledoo” before sunrise around 6.We are anchored 200 meters from shore.We watch the sunrise while the water boils for the French press full of coffee.I like a morning swim and then we can kick it with coffee and a grapefruit in the cockpit as the day begins.Most mornings we listen to a bit of RadioNew Zealand from the shortwave radio.This keeps us having a clue about the happening in the world.Listening to human news from a peaceful lagoon has a sci-fi feel to it.A sense of ease dropping onto a world far far away with updates on wars, war crimes, trade agreements, food stamps, murders for sorcery.The pressing issues of the day. Busy, busy, busy. And then we switch it off.And must decide if we want Norwegian Pancakes or French toast to go with the nutella and bananas that Lars acquired by trading a chunk of rope. So, that was my first 18 hours!
Okay Highlights….
After a few days we sailed across the Rangiroa atoll to the Blue Lagoon. BEAUTIFUL.Before we drop anchor we already see 5 black tip reef sharks.We dive in a swim with the sharks, check the anchor, and snorkel over to Rory and Gary in La Cueca.They buddy sailed with us to the Blue Lagoon.We wander the lagoon.Gather coconuts, see sting ray, little baby sharks about 1-2 feet all over the place.Lovely sunset sunset over the lagoon! Dinner on La Cueca.
Day 2 at the Blue Lagoon -The dingy engine works for the first time since November 2009! Miracle, which is celebrated with wine and dingy rides.Snorkeling and more coconut gathering. We play the violin/fiddle. Lars has learned a Norwegian folk tune on the violin.Happy Hour CocoLocos (rum in our coconuts) while floating in inner tubes with sharks swimming past. We catch 3 crabs from the island for dinner and prepare them with potatoes and coconut rice.STARS!!!!!
Day 3- Weather goes crappy! So we must leave the blue lagoon and cross the atoll for shelter.Back return to our original anchorage near Tiputa.
The weather, wind, and swell meant no leaving Rangiroa for 5 more days. Rainy days equal cribbage, French toast, guitar, swims.Weather cleared on Rangiroa, but the open ocean still had large swell and lots of wind 30+ knots.We surf.The locals are so friendly and invite us to share the better wave at the peak.We toss the Frisbee with the local kids after which every time we come ashore kids ask us to toss the Frisbee with them.We dive with grey reef sharks in the deep blue ocean.We hitch rides around the island and learn that the best deal for lunch is a baguette with canned sardines and we eat lots of those sandwiches.We play chess on the beach. Lars plays guitar.We cook pasta with tons of garlic and always hard boiled eggs.We campfired on the beach with Rory, Gary, and a few local kids.We watch the dolphins do crazy jumps in the rushing currents and standing waves in the passage.We hitch rides around the atoll. All lovely adventures.
Bridget flew home to Los Angeles last night. It was nice to have a friend along on the Twister for a couple of weeks. She kindly agreed to write a couple of guest entries on the blog. I posted a few pics from the last few weeks.
Just a quick update--Bridget and I arrived Tahiti before sunrise this morning and anchored at 17 deg 34.938 min S, 149 deg 37.190 min W near Marina Taina. We had a nice 2-day sail from Rangiroa. Hope to post some more pics soon (sharks).
I wrote this on June 7 but forgot about it and am just posting it now.
Tiputa Pass, Rangiroa, Tues 7 June 2011 21:23 Tahiti Time
I surfed Avatoru Pass Tues the 31st. It was 4-5 ft and pretty clean. My first time surfing over coral reef--A little unnerving when the water is so clear. The locals were the friendliest I’ve met anywhere. When I chickened out on my first wave, I thought I wouldn’t get another chance (which is what would happen many other places), but nobody seemed to care. They actually continued to encourage me (hooting and hollering) when I would paddle for a wave.
Bridget arrived Wednesday the 1st of June. We drift-snorkeled Tiputa Pass the next day. We saw a lot more life than I did on my first attempt. Most of the fish I can’t ID, but we did see at least four Green Morays, a couple of White-tip Sharks, many Parrot Fish, Triggerfish, Unicorn fish, and I think a Napoleon Wrasse. Friday we motor-sailed (mostly motor because it was very calm) to the Blue Lagoon (a lagoon within Rangiroa’s large lagoon) on the western end of Rangiroa, along with our friends on La Cueca, Rory and Gary.Before we even dropped anchor, we had seen 4 or 5 Black- and White-tip Sharks. It was nearly dead calm the two days we spent there. Parts of the lagoon are too shallow to even snorkel. It is like a miniature atoll, with several coral islands surrounding it and passes in between. From what I could see, the best diving is on the outside of the eastern end (ie inside the big lagoon) of the Blue Lagoon. Everywhere you turned there would be another shark. We picked coconuts and collected a few crabs and had coconut juice with rum and crabs for dinner one evening. We were going to go back for more crabs if we didn’t get sick from the first batch, but the weather had other plans.
It remained dead calm until Friday around noon when the wind suddenly piped up after a little squall blew through. Being on the western end of the (big) lagoon left us on a lee shore with a lot of fetch on the windward side and an uncomfortable swell built up quickly. We pulled up the anchor and had a wet and bumpy ride beating back to our old anchorage by Tiputa Pass. We arrived just before dark and have been hunkered down here since then along with about 20 sailboats and one mega-yacht, waiting for this front (or whatever it is) to blow through.We put down a second bow anchor yesterday morning, more for the practice than out of necessity. Things have calmed down a bit now, but I think we’ll stay put till Friday when it looks like conditions will be nice for the sail to Tahiti and the big city of Papeete (I think it’s pronounced Pa-pe-eh-te). Bridget and I are looking forward to seeing Teaohupoo in all its glory. I think I’ll let her surf there while I take pictures. We’ll also head over to Moorea (right next to Tahiti) for a couple of days.
Tiputa, Rangiroa, Mon 30 May 2011 19:41 Tahiti Time I had a fast but bumpy ride from Nuku Hiva to Rangiroa. It took me about 4 ½ days to cover the ca 580 miles. I arrived at night, so I hove to about ten miles offshore until the sun came up (I couldn't see the island until I was about 5 miles away as the highest point is only 3 or 4 meters above sea level—not counting the palm trees). Thinking back now, the passage is a blur. I guess there weren't that many memorable events. The wind was never less than 15 knots, and often over 20, and the swells got up to 8 or 9 feet as I approached Rangiroa. Unlike my departure from San Diego, I felt upbeat and relatively confident as I sailed out of Taiohae Bay. Getting through the passes into the atolls can be tricky because of the sometimes strong current caused by in- or outgoing tide. When the wind is blowing the opposite direction of the current, it can cause good-sized standing waves in the pass. I had read that slack tide is typically 5 hours after moonrise, and since I had observed the moon rising during the night, I entered the pass almost exactly 5 hours after. It was a bit exciting going through the pass. The water was not smooth, so I don't think I timed my entry perfectly, but I made it without too much difficulty. Once inside the lagoon, it was such a contrast to the sea outside—there was no swell, just some ripples from the east-southeast tradewinds. The anchorage here is much more comfortable (less swell and thus less rolling) than the one in Taiohae Bay (at least with the wind blowing the direction it is now—east-southeast. If it starts blowing hard from the south, I may need to move). I'm anchored in about 20 feet of water. The bottom is sand with scattered coral heads. The water is very clear, so I dived down to check that my anchor was set properly. If you want to look in Google Maps or the like, I am anchored at 14 degrees 57.92 minutes S, 147 degrees 38.37 minutes West. I've met a few more of my fellow cruisers here—there's two English lads—Rory and Gary--on a 40 foot yawl anchored next to me and a group of four on a large catamaran (they actually left for Tahiti this morning). Both boats were in Nuku Hiva while I was there, but I didn't meet them until now. There are about 12 boats anchored here, and one of them is not a sailboat but a trawler (long-range powerboat). I'm curious to hear where they came from. Today I snorkeled through Tiputa Pass (on the incoming tide) with my English neighbors. Rangiroa is known as a scuba diving destination, and I think Tiputa Pass is the most popular dive spot. Rory and Gary have a lot of scuba equipment, so I may join them for some scuba diving too. Tomorrow the plan is to surf Avatoru Pass (the western of the two navigable passes on Rangiroa) which is the main surfbreak here as far as I can tell. I rode my bicycle there my first day on the island and watched the locals surf. There are more boogie boards than surfboards, but they ride their boogie boards like surfboards. The vibe seemed pretty friendly.
Today I sailed to Taipivai, a village at the end of Comptroller’s Bay, a few miles east of Taiohae, to fill drinking water. Somehow, there is nowhere to fill drinking water in Taiohae,but there is in a couple of the smaller villages like Taipivai. Yesterday I got back my water jugs from the guys I gave water to during the passage. They just arrived the night before. I had a nice sail to Taipivai—sailed off the anchor and onto the anchor in Comptroller’s Bay. I made two trips to shore, collecting 16 gallons each time then sailed back to Taiohae. Based on how much it took to fill the built-in tanks, I apparently used 35 gallons of fresh water from April 18 to May 22.
Friday I spent a good part of the day disassembling the toilet which was suffering from acute indigestion. Not a task for the faint of heart. Aside from that, I’ve been riding my bike around. I actually biked to Taipivai a couple of days before I sailed there. It was a tough uphill followed by an epic downhill (Bill Webb, if you’re reading this, make sure you bring your bike if you visit Nuku Hiva). I’ve also been getting to know some of the other cruisers. There are around 30 cruising boats anchored in Taiohae Bay. It seems the majority are Americans, but there are also several Aussies, Kiwies, some Germans, Italians, French, and apparently I missed a Norwegian boat by about a week. My total lack of French-speaking-ability makes it difficult to talk to the locals as few of them speak English. If only the Spanish had colonized the south pacific.
I was finally able to upload some pics. Here are three from Nuku Hiva. And a few from the passage from San Diego to here.
Tomorrow I plan to set sail for Rangiroa in the Tuamotos (still part of French Polynesia) where my friend Bridget is meeting me. She arrives June 1, and Rangiroa is 500-some miles from here. Hopefully I’ll beat her by a couple of days. Based on the weather charts I’ve downloaded, the winds should be favorable.
Tues 17 May 2011 1630 Marquesas Time
The short version: it took me 27.5 days to sail the 2821 nautical
miles from San Diego to Nuku Hiva, so I averaged over 100 miles a day
which is what I was hoping for. I caught one fish-a beautiful tuna. It
was tough mentally, physically not too bad. There were some beautiful
sunrises and sunsets and stars. The Eastern Pacific was gentle with me
and didn't throw anything my way I couldn't handle. I crossed the
equator at longitude 132, but didn't have a party as I was sleeping. I
was quite excited when I first spotted land (Ua Huka just east of Nuku
Hiva) after 27 days at sea. Thank you to my friends for your
encouragement, gifts (food, snacks, booze, photos, books, digital
media, blanket, towel, pirate flag, etc) and help—you made it a much
better experience than it would've been without your help. I'd love to
see y'all somewhere along the way. I still plan on stopping at the
same places, but probably going a little slower than I said in my
initial itinerary.
The internet connection is slow here as I had expected (I think it's
all by satellite), so, I'm not posting any photos yet. I may try
tomorrow, but it's slow just to read an email.
The long version:
I am sitting in Twister, anchored in Taiohae Bay, starting a long blog
entry. I just looked out the window and saw a Manta Ray swimming by,
so I had to step outside and admire it for a few minutes. First time
I've seen one. Today I rode my bike around the outskirts of Taiohae. I
had aspirations to bike to Taipivai on the bay just east of this one,
but a month on a small boat does not do wonders for conditioning. This
bay is surrounded by mountains on three sides. To get anywhere from
here by land, you have to climb close to 1000 meters. Tomorrow I will
try again. I spent the first few hours this morning fixing a leaky
window. During the passage from San Diego, water had been dripping in
through the window by the toilet every time a wave hit that spot. It
just rained, and it seems to be more or less water tight. I then
loaded my bicycle onto the dingy and rowed ashore. My poor bike did
not enjoy a month (on the deck) on the ocean, but after a fresh-water
rinse and some lubrication, she was almost good as new. This place is
quite rural. I guess I'd call it a town (one step above village).
There are chickens and horses walking around. And this is the capital
and biggest town in the Marquesas. I had read that the Marquesans are
not very friendly to outsiders, but I have found the opposite to be
true so far. I stopped to have lunch at a van (of which there are
several around town—this one had goat in coconut milk curry and tuna
sashimi; I had both. Another one specializes in crepes) and met some
fellow cruisers. In fact, it seems everyone who is not a local came
here by sailboat. An Italian couple invited me to dinner this evening,
on their boat. They sailed here from Italy, via Panama (There goes the
last bottle of wine, Greg—sorry it didn't last till Fiji). The boat
anchored closest to me also belongs to a singlehander (as they call
folks who sail solo). There are around 35 cruising boats anchored in
the bay with room for many more. Twister is by far the smallest
cruising boat in this bay. Folks were impressed by the amount of stuff
I managed to cram into and onto her—my bicycle, two surfboards, two
guitars, one violin, and most of the rest of my possessions. Like most
of the boats here I have two anchors out—one from the bow, and one
from the stern to keep the boat pointed into the swell that comes into
the bay from the south.
I guess I'll try to go chronologically: I departed around 15:30 local
time, Monday April 18 and had a beautiful sail out of San Diego. There
was a light breeze, just enough to move the boat 3-4 knots. Several
pods of dolphins came to swim on my bow wave and to wish me von
voyage. I chatted with several friends for as long as I had coverage
on my cell phone (my phone number hasn't changed. Call me anytime and
most likely I won't answer, but you can leave a message. It now goes
to my Google Voice account, which is very similar to Skype. I'm also
on Skype: larsperegrino). I felt nervous and ill-prepared. I decided
to motor for a few hours to get some distance between me and coastal
boats before it got dark. The wind picked up from the Northwest and
didn't stop until I hit the doldrums (I don't think it dropped below
10 knots for 16 days). I sailed west of the Coronados (islands off
Tijuana) and could see the lights of TJ in the east and San Diego to
the northeast. At dawn I was out of sight of land and felt nervous
again (hadn't slept more than a few minutes at a time). By the evening
of the 19th, I was pretty tired. I saw the last boat I would see till
I arrived Nuku Hiva. I couldn't get the Cape Horn windvane to keep
Twister on course (I could probably have solved the problem
by reefing the mainsail, but I was tired, it was dark, and I didn't
feel like it, so I put on the electronic autopilot (it's a little
metal rod with a screw and motor on one end, the other end attaches to
the tiller of the boat at a right angle. The autopilot also has a
built-in compass, so simply push a button to set your course. The
autopilot will pull or push the tiller to keep the boat going the
right course) and went to bed. I felt better after some sleep. I saw a
couple of black-footed albatrosses the next week or so, which cheered
me up each time. I also saw what looked to me like a black-browed
albatross (it was considerably bigger than the black-footed ones, so
that is evidence for. Against is that black-browed albatrosses don't
live in the northern hemisphere as far as I know).
The morning of the 21st I awoke to find the house batteries drained. I
had been running the GPS and chartplotter nonstop since I left SD.
That, the nav lights, and the electronic autopilot was too much for
the solar panels to keep up with. Electricity was in poor supply the
next 10-12 days as it was almost completely overcast. That morning I
ran the engine several hours to charge the batteries. I didn't use it
to propel the boat as I was sailing along at around 5.5 knots. That
day I managed to free the whisker pole from its mount on the mast. I
had to saw through the pin that is supposed to close around the jib
sheet but was able to make it work. That was good because I used it
non-stop for weeks at a time, on a broad reach. The best sail
configuration I found (for broad reaching/running) was actually the
jib poled out and the mainsail furled. The most important thing for
any sail setup is of course that the windvane self-steering can steer
the boat, and this setup passed that test. It was also nicer because
the jib was kept full of wind whereas when the mainsail was up it
would block some of the wind and cause the jib to flutter very
annoyingly. After the 21st, Horny (which is what I've nicknamed the
windvane in the great tradition of naming autopilots. It's a Cap Horn
make) sailed the boat almost all the way to Nuku Hiva. I probably
steered a total of 5 hours. I soon learned how to balance the sails so
Horny wouldn't have to fight too much weaher-helm (which is when the
boat tends to turn into the wind)
I passed about 60 miles west of Isla de Guadalupe, known as a good
place to find Great White Sharks. I stopped seeing black-footed
albatrosses somewhere along the Baja coast (well, hundreds of miles
off the coast), and what looked like storm petrels started showing up.
They look to me just like the Wilson's storm petrels (is that the
right name, Mike Force?) we saw in Antarctica. I saw some other
petrels (?) that looked similar to the white-chinned petrels (Mike?).
I felt ill at ease for the first week. It was so surreal, and I was
nervous I'd commit some catastrophic blunder. After one week at sea I
had gone just over 700 nautical miles (from now on, miles = nautical
miles = 1.15 statues miles), and I was feeling more, if not confident,
then at least calmer. I didn't cook anything except water for coffee
or tea the first week. I ate leftovers the first three days and just
snacked the next 3-4 days. I wasn't seasick, but didn't have a big
appetite.
On the 29th of April I saw the first flying fish of the passage. There
would be lots to come, ending up in every nook and cranny on the deck,
along with squid. The flying fish were rarely big enough to consider
cooking, and even when they were, they were usually well on their way
to decomposing by the time I found them. I did actually witness one
land on the deck and was able to rescue him. This morning when I was
working on the window I had to move my surfboards and found the
largest flying fish I have seen, decomposing on the deck.
Twister sailing in the northeast trades:
I started dragging a fishing line around day 7 when I felt like I
could go for some fish. I didn't catch one till day 19, 2000 miles
from San Diego. It was a beautiful Tuna, about a foot long. Don't ask
me what kind of Tuna. Fortunately I had gone on YouTube to watch how
Tuna are to be filleted. I didn't do a great job, but there was a lot
of meat. I ate some as is. Some I made ceviche with (Sorry, Bridget,
the cilantro plant didn't last that long. Turns out they don't like
salt water). The majority was dried: I made two varieties, one that
was marinated in soy sauce first, the other with teriyaki sauce. I
preferred the latter. Aside from that one tuna, I ate pasta, potatoes,
lentils, quinoa, lots of oranges, some spinach, celery and cilantro
the first week, granola (with dried milk (plus water, of course)) for
breakfast most days, eggs (they lasted three weeks. A couple went bad
a few days earlier, but the last 4 or 5 that I cooked on day 21 were
still good). I ate all the chocolate I was given (thank you, Adrianna
and Bridget). In fact, I ate all the snacks I had—almonds, trail mix
(a couple of varieties), chocolate, beer (that's a snack, right?),
fresh fruit (mangoes, oranges, a water melon, apples, and pears),
dried fruit (prunes), and probably more. I had read that the local
variety of grapefruit and baguettes were among the culinary highlights
here. I can vouch for both. In addition, the poison crue (Polynesian
variety of ceviche in which they use coconut milk), goat curry, and
sashimi I had were all delicious.
I crossed the equator sometime during the night between May 9 and 10
near longitude 132. I was sleeping when I crossed, so I didn't get to
take the obligatory photo of the chartplotter displaying Latitude: 0°
00' or have a party. A few days before that, I passed through the
doldrums, more specifically the ITCZ (intertropical (or is that
intra?) convergence zone), the band of light, variable winds, squalls,
and thunderstorms between the northeast and southeast trade winds. The
wind had been blowing nonstop since I left San Diego when it suddenly
died right around the coordinates that the NOAA weatherfax indicated
the ITCZ should be. I had motored for about ten hours when the wind
picked up, and I started sailing again. I experienced my first
squalls: the winds will probably be light, you may see some dark
clouds in the distance, when suddenly it starts pouring rain and the
wind starts blowing 20-30 knots, most likely laying the boat on its
side since there is a lot of sail area up for the light winds. That is
how it went the first couple of times. It was not fun with the
(assymetrical) spinnaker, but I did learn how to get it under control
quickly—drop it in the ocean. After a few times, I learned what to
look for and was usually able to reef or furl the sails in time.
Sometimes I would see squalls all around, but none would hit me, some
passing in front and others behind. The winds were variable and the
squalls were common for several days after passing the ITCZ (which
made me ask myself is there a difference between doldrums and ITCZ or
are they exactly the same?) They would often happen right around
sunset. The southeast trades were not as strong or consistent as the
northeast trades I had experienced, but I was generally able to keep
the boat moving at 4.5 knots or more.
The marine SSB radio was great to have—it was used to receive weather
forecasts (weather charts that were decoded by my laptop), to listen
to shortwave radio (mostly Radio New Zealand), and to chat with some
other boats. I had been listening to the Pacific Puddle Jump net for a
while and finally decided to check in (as I had told Greg, Mattias,
Brian and a few others that I would) somewhere south of the equator.
The result was that a boat 40-50 miles north of me asked me for some
water, so I made a uturn and passed them two 5 gallon jugs of water
(I'm still working on the 50 gallons in the internal tanks that I
filled in San Diego) in the middle of the night. That was kinda
surreal. It was an old (I think the guy called it a Magellan) ketch
and looked kinda like a pirate ship. It also cost me a day or maybe
two as I had light winds towards the end and was becalmed with 80
miles to go to Nuku HIva. So I motored the last 80 miles (but after
waiting a whole night with no wind and checking the forecasts and
seeing small chance of wind for the next couple of days), OK, big
deal! The guys I passed the water to are still (slowly) making their
way here to Nuku Hiva. Their engine is not working and they sail
slowly, so that's why they were short on water. By now I think they
must be close to day 50 on their passage, leaving from somewhere in
Mexico.
As I said, I was becalmed (ie no wind) about 80 miles from Nuku Hiva.
The wind had been light (5 knots plus or minus a couple, but I had
been moving at least 4 knots) for a day or two (before that I had been
screaming along at over 6 knots, doing over 130 miles for two
consecutive days). However, the wind totally died around sunset on May
14. I left the spinnaker up, but all it did all night was flap around,
keeping me awake. So on the morning of the 15th after checking the
forecasts and seeing more of the same in my future, I started the
engine and motored the rest of the way to Taiohae Bay in Nuku HIva. I
dropped anchor at 1330 GMT (0400 local time—yes, they're 9.5 hours
behind GMT) and fell asleep where I was sitting in the cockpit. I
awoke a couple of hours later to sunrise, roosters crowing, and a
beautiful tropical island. I had already raised the yellow Q (for
quarantine) flag during the night and I rowed ashore to check in with
the authorities. Fortunately they didn't care that my Norwegian
passport was only a month from expiring, so I didn't have pay the bond
that non-Europeans have to pay on entering French Polynesia on a yacht
(you have to deposit money enough to buy an airline ticket back to
where you came from—redeemable when you leave).
I had had aspirations of reaching South Africa by December. I
reevaluated that many times as I was sailing. Now I'm thinking that
Brisbane, Australia is a good place to wait out the southern
hemisphere hurricane season.
Well, I'm off to my first cruising social event (dinner with the Italians).
Just a quick update to let you know that I'm in Taiohae, Nuku Hiva. It's beautiful here. Talk about land-legs. I almost passed out from dizziness when I first stepped ashore. I feel almost normal now after a few hours. Oh, yes, I decided to go to Nuku Hiva instead of Hiva Oa mainly because I read this anchorage is supposed to be much better. No complaints so far. The check in with immigration went quickly and painlessly. The passage was quite an experience. The first week was the toughest.
I enjoyed a wonderful bon voyage party last night with my San Diego and LA friends. I still need to do some provisioning and scrape the mucus off my brain, so I'll be setting sail tomorrow. I expect the passage to Hiva Oa to take about a month. I will be incommunicado until I arrive and find an internet cafe. From what I've read and been told, the stretch of ocean between here and there is a relatively benign one (I'll probably regret writing that at some point). If anyone wants to snail mail me (poste restante), I will check the post office in Papeete (Tahiti) when I get there. I think letters should be addressed something like this:
Poste Restante
Lars H. Thoresen
Agence OPT de Papeete Centre des Messageries Postales
98715 Papeete
Tahiti
French Polynesia (Polynesie Francaise)
Apparently they will only hold items for 15 days, so you should probably wait a while before mailing anything. I anticipate being in Tahiti by mid June.
was on the top of my to-do list. I paid the boat yard to do the sanding and painting, never having done it (on a boat) myself. Seeing it done removed any mystique and I will not hesitate to do it myself in the future. While Twister was on the hard I took the opportunity to replace the sacrificial zinc anodes and propeller shaft stuffing. Here are some pics. A few other things I have recently crossed off the list include connecting a second solar panel, finishing installation of the marine SSB radio, replumbing the fresh-water line in the sink, and registering the boat with the US Coast Guard.
Still to be done are fixing the electric and manual bilge pumps (important), wiring the new tiller pilot, replacing the running lights with LEDs, and, of course, provisioning. Tentative departure date (for the marquesas)--April 17.
