I sold the boat!

It has been a long ride with Pelican but now it has come to an end.  The title has been handed over and the only thing left is to deliver the boat to the big island with the new owner.

So how does it feel?  I don't know yet.  It will take a bit of time to gain perspective.  Even this morning I heard my subconscious go through its daily routine with the reminders, suggestions and concerns related to Pelican.  But this time my conscious mind shouted, "No, no more, it is no longer my responsibility!"

I will take a break from blogging.  For now, the lurkers wondering what I am up to will have to email me!  I also wanted to say thank you for the many emails I have received from readers over the course of my trip.  For those of whom that this blog and my trip have inspired, hearing from them and knowing this has inspired me.    

I have my life back, but what will I do now?  There is the dread of ending up like so many - moving sideways in a functioning but mediocre existence wondering if this is really all there is or if maybe there should be more to one's life.

If I think now of the biggest achievement as a result of the time I spent with Pelican, it is that after nearly seven years and over 50,000 miles, the dream is still intact.  The cynicism hasn't won.  At times it had been pretty close.  I'd been brought to the point a few times where I thought it wasn't worth it anymore but I always found the drive to keep going.  I know too, that you cannot fake this.  It has only been two days and already a new part of my subconscious is forming.  What sort of boat do I get next?

We will see you out there.

Had to indulge in a bit of sentimentality.  Forgive me!  Music by William Tyler. "Cadillac Desert"

Minimalist sailing

I recently heard about an article in a cruising magazine where a couple who were out sailing were on a thousand dollar a month budget.  This is supposed to be an impressively low amount and I guess if you were able to obtain figures of what people out cruising are actually spending, a thousand dollars would be comparatively low.  What does a dollar amount actually say about the quality of an experience though? Is that how we approach experiences, by reducing them to a number?

Most of the people who read these magazines will never go cruising and we all know that.  Today, with the odds of achieving an upper middle class life getting slimmer, most are even less willing to take a chance and cast off the dock lines before retirement. What kind of a person might I become?  Would I want to be like that?

There are people out cruising though and, yes, most look like they are retired and right out of the cruising magazines.  Sometimes you see cruisers that definitely do not resemble this profile and I become curious. Take “S“ who arrived about the same time that I did here in Hilo, Hawaii.  I rowed over to his boat and introduced myself one afternoon.   I learned that  he single handed over from California. His thirty foot fiberglass mono hull had the look of a marina lien sale special or the free boat you find posted on Craigslist with the requirement that it be moved by the weekend.   S lost his rudder on the passage over from California with about a third of the distance to go and had to jury rig one out of the panels that walled off the engine compartment.  He claimed he made it into Hilo without “human” assistance.  I learned, very quickly that S is a man of god.   He was glad to have this boat in the islands as it was a replacement for his other that was impounded by the authorities on Kauai.  S has had a few problems with the authorities as they don‘t particularly see eye to eye when it comes to rules, that is, rules made by people.  When it comes to things like valid photo ID, S simply stated his position;  “I don‘t do that“.   Even when discussing the loss of his last boat to the authorities, S lamented,  “It was the Lord‘s boat that they took“. 

I have also met “N” during my time anchored in Hilo.  I met N early one morning when I awoke to the sound of him fending off his boat from mine to avoid a collision.  After helping him, I asked what he was doing.  Apparently, he was trying to pick up a mooring that he knew nothing about which was obviously (but not to him) too close to where I was anchored.  “That mooring is too close to me, why don’t you just use your anchor and find a spot a bit farther out?“  After a short conversation in which I found out that N only had a total of six feet of chain on board, two lengths of three feet each, (which is completely inadequate to safely anchor), I changed my tack.   I became patient and ended up giving him some guidance and help for I know that at one time we were all pretty green ourselves. N had also single handed from the west coast, leaving from Seattle to Eureka, California and then a straight shot to Hilo.  He admitted that he had never had to anchor in his entire sailing career. (He got a slip in Eureka).  The passage over from Eureka took over 30 days which isn’t bad considering he hand steered the entire way as he has no autopilot.   Upon arriving in Hawaii, he promptly got on EBT(electronic benefits transfer), known locally as “eat better today.”  It is the modern non stigma credit card version of food stamps and from what I have seen and heard, Hawaii is about the easiest state to qualify.  When I remarked that he was cruising on not even a low budget but more of a “no” budget, he said that he promised himself he would leave in 2012 no matter what.  I asked N how much he received in food benefits and was told that here in Hawaii they give you $320 a month per person!  With that high a rate, I doubt most of the “poor” here have even heard of TVP (my staple boat food for my 2012 crossing).   In fact I priced TVP at the exorbitantly priced organic food store and found that it was twice the price of ground beef!  Only in America…  N also confided in me that his next destination after Hawaii is the Marshall islands as he claims his EBT card will work there as it is a U.S. territory.  How about that as the criteria for a destination? 

Epic journeys of transformation. To fall in love with the sea and to find your sailor’s soul.  How can I make this happen right now with what I already have?  Isn’t that the minimalist creed?  Or maybe it is really, do all this but make sure you get back within a year so you don’t threaten your career or retirement plan... I don't know if N or S maintain blogs about their trip.  Lots of photos of themselves flashing winning smiles with captions like “Doing it” or “Living the dream!”.  Maybe they do, I didn’t ask.  Do you think the slick glossy cruising magazines would do stories on them?  It could read, “Forget about a $1000 dollar a month budget, do it on a $2000 boat and food stamps.  God will watch over you!”

I am thinking I should just quit working and get on food stamps.  I get tired of my leftover TVP…

The Lee Shore

Sometimes when you hear of a cruising story that ended in tragedy, it makes you pause and you feel it as it hits a bit closer to home.  There are loads of mishaps that happen out there and most of them never make it past the nets or a handful of personal sail blogs.  Usually I pay attention to try and make note of what you can learn in terms of logistics.  Then there are those that you immediately know are way beyond mere logistics.

I first heard of this one when was I was on the hard in Whangarei, New Zealand.  The yard owner was telling me of a cruising couple on a budget who bought a low priced 30ft wooden ketch.  They had it surveyed and the surveyor had told the couple not to buy the boat(one of the details was that the chain plates were moving).  With the all too familiar enthusiasm, they went for it anyway.  They worked on the boat and left New Zealand bound for British Columbia choosing the initially higher latitude route using the westerlies until below Tahiti and then heading straight north up to Hawaii and onward around the North Pacific high for their destination.  Apparently their boom had snapped right before Tahiti and they continued with a couple of two by fours as splints.  They made it to Hawaii but disappeared somewhere on the last leg to Canada.

Back in 2008 I searched the Internet for some account of the story and found their blog (since removed) with the comments on the final post being panicked concern from friends and relatives demanding that they contact them immediately.  There were photos in the blog of the boat in the New Zealand yard in early 2007 almost in the exact same spot where Pelican was in early 2008.  The yard owner confided in me that months after the couple were over due the parents still called him just to see if he had heard anything.  Now, here in Hilo in 2013, it turns out that one of the local sailors that I have seen around quite frequently reintroduced me to the story again. He met the couple in late 2007 and had tried to talk them out of doing the final leg of their passage so late in the year (they left in October). He had offered them work and a place to stay for the winter here.

The youthful idealism, the bad decisions and the naivete about the reality of the ocean environment are all so glaringly obvious. Yet I can't write the story off.  It feels like it has revisited me to remind me that the only way one can be safe is to not go at all...
 

"I've sailed farther than most have dreamed"

Bonus points if you know where I lifted the line. 

I can't claim to have sailed that far but the recent weeks spent re entering American society have made it clear to me just how far out in my own floating universe I'd been.  Most people are not out crisscrossing the globe treating the world's oceans as their personal playground.  Instead, they are going to work - everyday.  Day after day after day.  Now I am too.  It has only been a few weeks and I already feel like I've transitioned from being a cruiser to one who dreams about going cruising.

One of the many pointless mind games I engage in while poring over charts include trying to divide all ports into either destinations or points of departure.  The destinations are usually easier to identify.  At least in reputation as they promise exotica, the antidote to all those years you spent working day after day.  Like, in the Marquesas, I didn't meet locals living on sailboats saving up their money so they could one day fulfill their dream and sail to a place like Long Beach.  Hawaii is a bit curious in this regard as it isn't so clear which side it sits on.  Hands down it is THE tourist destination for mainland Americans but that doesn't easily carry over into the cruising scene.  The truth is that it has a crap reputation and in some ways deservedly so.  Too much wind on the windward side and in the dreaded channels while the leeward side requires motoring.  Not enough natural harbors and the worst state run marinas anywhere in the country that are unfriendly to visiting yachts.  Hawaii isn't on any of the circumnavigation routes.  The customs official that cleared me in said sixty boats a year, the overwhelming majority from Mexico in May.  These boats are usually west coast boats doing a half hearted go at the South Pacific.  A bit of French Polynesia, a straight shot up to Hawaii and then they head back home at the peak of summer avoiding the nightmare of where to keep their boat as they only spent a few months in Hawaii.  As a visiting yacht you can only stay in one facility for a maximum of ninety days per calendar year provided there is space.  There are locals who have endured the bureaucracy (often compared to the third world) to obtain an annual permit.  I have met many of them while rowing to shore while anchored here in Reed's bay.   The anchor out community is very familiar.   If you have ever attended a nautical flea market in the USA and witnessed the cast of arm chair sailors, mostly older males all looking the imagined version of the wizened salt, then you know well what I am referring to.

This is my current reality.  Trying to get along with the system so I can keep the boat here the entire winter while I try and finance a refit.  On a good day, I can convince myself that this is part of my cruising experience, that it is fun to be in the Hawaii phase of my trip.  On the bad days, the blog could easily turn into the tired rant of what it feels like to see the "new" corporate run America.  We won't go there.  I grew up in this.  It is all too familiar and I have seen it spreading.  What was I expecting?  That it would change while I was out sailing and become better?  I know the drill.  Make the money.  Don't give it back.  Go simple.  Go now. 




   

You can make it back.

Pelican is anchored safely in Radio Bay which is in Hilo harbor off the big island of Hawaii.  I sailed here non stop from Fiji which took over seven weeks.  The rhumb line is 2800 miles but because the entire passage is uphill, the GPS recorded over 4400 miles sailed.  Simply put, it was a grind... 

I didn't make any of my trophy destinations that I blogged about on the eve of my departure from Fiji.  It is ok.  Those places are still out there.  The story isn't over. The stamina for my detour below the equator had run its course and it was time to get back to the original plan which was to sail to Hawaii from Mexico.  Hawaii is now only one passage away from my home port.  So I am back on track, just a season behind.

It is hard to describe why we make the decisions we do.  When I left Mexico in March and sailed to the Pitcairn group, I went with the least conservative option.  I was not even interested in the Marquesas and when I calculated that the Pitcairn group might be possible without tacking, I said, why not go for it?  When in Fiji in August, I pretty much did the same thing again.  Visiting the trophy spots and selling the boat in Australia would have been the most conservative bet.  A part of me wasn't satisfied with that.  Any well found yacht can sail downhill across the Pacific.  The challenge is, what do you do when you get across?  Many west coast boats sit in Mexico delaying the puddle jump not because of the initial 3000 mile passage but because they don't want to deal with the consequences once on the other side. From all the possible things I could think of doing with the boat, the most rewarding and also the most extreme from a sailing point of view turned out to be the simplest idea - sail the boat back.  Conventional wisdom says that if you go west of the Cooks, you have gone too far, but there is one strategy that is not talked about much - the equatorial counter current. A thin band of water that sets to the east between 5 and 8 north.  Being close to the edge of the trades, the winds are lighter.  The plan was that if I did the bulk of upwind work against a light force three with a knot to a knot and a half current boost, how bad could it be?  There was one catch, however.  The location of the current coincides with the doldrums.  Who the heck said there is no ITZC west of 160 west?  Or that you will never see winds over 35 knots in the doldrums?  Other random bits of tribal knowledge accumulated from years of sailing were dispelled as well.  "There is only bad weather on the northern boundary of the doldrums, never on the southern" or "You will never see a wind from due north but you will see a wind from due south".  The weather turned out to be a total mixed bag - good and bad - and the only truth I found after over three weeks in the doldrums is that I never saw the wind come out of the westerly quadrant, ever... 

It was a decisive moment while still within sight of the Yesawas off Fiji.  Part of myself dreaded the passage.  You know very well that a passage of this magnitude is guaranteed to have some brutally low moments.  Gear will break, you will burn out and absolutely regret the decision. You have to accept it and make your peace as you need to be fully committed otherwise you will fail.  You have to remember that this is why you love sailing.  If it was only easy and pleasant, it would be boring and without a sense of accomplishment.   I looked toward the west, downhill, knowing how close I was to my first trophy destination.   Then I turned around and looked behind me.  Those winds and seas had been pushing me for so long... The decisiveness set in and I said to myself, let this be the moment.  I sheeted in the sails, pushed the tiller to the low side, and turned Pelican around right into the trades and the accompanying swell.  The shift was immediate and dramatic.  The pronounced heeling, the first jarring stop, the first bit of spray that makes it all the way back to the cockpit.  Bring it on!

It was a beautiful passage.

I'm off!

I should be out of here tomorrow.  There will be a major swell at my destination so I will go slowly and maybe it will die out by the time I get there.  There are only three places left on the planet that I want to sail to with Pelican.  The first has no anchorage and is barely a mile square.  I have never met a cruiser that has set foot on this island.  Some have.  Not many.  Maybe I will get lucky.  If I can't make the first, I might be forced into trying the second.  The second has a tough pass and all I have is a Google Earth image.  The third is far away and is the least attractive except in the trophy sense so I might let it go.  If I end up going for all three, I will be out here for awhile which isn't that attractive.  I have used up quite a bit of my stamina for this second crossing.

There still isn't email on the boat so it will be awhile for some news.  If I get marooned on one of these spots, I will try not to use the 406 EPIRB as a glorified taxi service.  Gotta have some interesting stories to post.

If you have been following the blog, you know that this passage is a meaningful one.  After this, it will be about passing on the boat and doing something else with my time.  At least for a little while.  There is this place called the "Southern Ocean"...  But that is for another boat.

See you on the other side.

Checking out

So I checked out of Fiji this morning.

I took the bus up to Lautoka instead of taking the boat up there like you are supposed to.  Of course, the second I show up, the first officer sitting indoors behind a desk asks me where my boat is.  Out front I lied.  The main honcho who did all the paperwork also asked me during the course of things, where my boat was.  Anchored out front I lied.  He asked me if all my shopping was done.  "How much time do I have after I clear to remain in Fiji?  Half an hour was the reply which isn't enough time for shopping.  "No problem, I can leave now" I said.  So all the paperwork was done and at the final moment he stood up holding my passport and said that he would accompany me back to the boat for a final inspection and then I could leave.  I guess I am not a very good liar...  At that moment, I could have told him the truth, that the boat was an hour bus ride away but what would have happened next?  Even when someone doesn't believe you, they can never be one hundred percent sure.  Since I started this little game, why not play it to the end?  I pressed on with this advantage knowing that a lie can still work until you are actually caught.  I only felt like I was caught knowing the truth but he did not know that.  Why give it away?  So I stood up as well and said "no problem, come out to the boat" and I stuck my hand out for my passport which he handed over.  Strike one for the officials...  We both walked out the office together in the hot sun.  I smiled and made small talk while my mind raced to figure out how to get out of this one.  There wasn't anything at stake, I followed all the rules up to this point.  I had paid all the check in fees, I even did the weekly boat reports.  How many yachties do that?  The offices we just left were located in the port which was a gated complex.  One idea I had was to run for it. I am in a lot better shape than the paper pusher that was following me.  I would still have to get past the security gate and the consequences of getting caught this way would not be worth it.  We walked towards the dinghy dock and plan two quickly came to mind as I selected another cruiser's dinghy without the boat name written on it.  I made sure it had oars and quickly lied to the official saying the outboard wasn't working and that we would have to row out.  He said it wasn't an issue and that he wouldn't be coming out after all.  I don't think he ever really intended to.  Instead, he asked which boat was mine in the anchorage.  They were all too far away to read the names so I pointed out one that was the same length as Pelican.  He stood there watching me as I climbed into this dinghy, untied it and began rowing away.  I didn't know it, how could I, but the dinghy was also anchored from the stern.  I only rowed about twenty feet before I began rowing in place.  I didn't get it right away, that I was no longer making progress, but a couple of workers lounging around caught it and began motioning at me.  Luckily, they were too far to yell at me and the official didn't get it either.  He was satisfied, waved and turned around to walk back to his office.  I rowed back to the dock, retied the dinghy and quickly headed toward the security gate on foot.

What is your favorite place visited after all that sailing?

I did a quick visit out to Musket Cove, the main yachtie hub here on the west side of Fiji.  As I already knew, I don't identify with places like this but  I still go and check them out to make sure. Sometimes I am wrong and it is a wonderful surprise. As it turned out,  my suspicions were confirmed and the cynicism quickly set in. There is a good portion of the cruising community that has the most juvenile vision of the good life.  It is about the level of what an adolescent California beach bum would dream of if he had won the lottery.  Buy a fancy yacht, park it at a hip resort, surf all day and drink all night.  Well, that describes Musket cove perfectly as it is a short dinghy ride from one of the most famous surf spots in the south pacific.  The berths, which are part of the resort, are less than a minute walk to the main bar which is on its own island.  How cool is that? 

Sometimes when the funk sets in, I am reminded of an interview I had once seen with a former political prisoner.  He was describing in detail the torture he had endured when held captive.   Part of the torture involved having his testicles spread out on a table top and hammered flat.  When alone in his cell, he scrounged for flakes of rust, bits of concrete, anything to use to try and slit open his wrists so he could commit suicide.  Thinking like this has the effect of a reality check and I am quickly embarrassed, realizing my funk is based on just about nothing.

So I sat at the swank bar talking to some wealthy yachtie who was telling me the reason why he liked the resort so much.  It was because, it didn't matter how much money you had, whether your boat was worth millions or wasn't.  "We were all here hanging out together."  "We are all human beings" he told me. This sort of philosophy is popular with rich people and I have heard it all before...  In a lot of ways, I consider myself to be rich (maybe not in actual dollars) so I let it go and just played along. There is a small voice inside that does ask, "Where is the rage?"  I am sure that if I drank as much as most I was surrounded by, the voice would be even smaller.

As with any funk, you question just about everything including what am I doing out here cruising?  How did I end up, yet again, feeling jaded and cynical in a place I should have had the common sense to avoid in the first place?  (I knew better back in 2007).  Ok.  I made a mistake with Musket Cove.  You gamble sometimes and you lose, but the answer about why go cruising goes back to the interview.  The horrific events described had taken place decades earlier so the interviewee was now an old man.  If the account of his ordeal wasn't enough to make one flinch, the scarred look in the old man's face certainly would...  It is a simple answer, I don't want to end up looking like him.  If I can just get through this without having my face end up being the record of a slow progression towards having my faith in humanity completely shattered, I will have done alright.  Cruising most of the time works wonders.  I have been in anchorages so magnificent, my skin involuntarily ripples with waves of goosebumps. Being on passage completely alone is even better.  Alcoholic yachties behaving like spoiled children in sweatshop resorts?  I will forget all about them.  I won't even remember their faces.  The world and all its ugliness will be reduced to the level of knowledge.  Empty facts without power.  It just takes a bit of time out on the open water for the world to recede and you are back.  You stare at clouds.  You stare at stars.  Maybe they stare back.  You find your way to the miraculous again.  Imagination and optimism take hold without even trying. You don't need ideas.  You don't even really need destinations.   After a week out alone, I think that anything is possible. If you don't feel better, skip the closer destination and go for the one another week away.  I am not out here looking for anything.  There isn't anywhere to go anyway and it is quite alright.  I  just have to protect what I have and make it through without having it being smothered (or flattened) and I will be fine.  And you never know, maybe the next place will be better.  Stay out on passage a little longer and I will even want to give Musket Cove another go. How cool is that?

Fiji time...

Time in Fiji is running short.  Probably a good thing.  I still haven't made up my mind past my first destination out of here.  There is one island, which is on the trophy list, that is only about 600 miles from here.  I will still have options open but it will be the absolute last stop before I am forced to make a decision with which way to go.  I know I won't make up my mind here on land so we will just have to see on that one.

Part of me thinks I enjoy hanging around the tourist scene, especially when I am treated like an exotic animal one has never seen before.  "You sailed all the way from California in that?"  "Well, not exactly, this is my second time here in Fiji in that..."  Sometimes the truth is too much for people and they just draw a blank.  "Do people really do things like this?"  Part of the dues of cruising is putting in your share of educating the masses.  Cruisers do this all over the world.  I remember being tied up to the international jetty in Richard's Bay in South Africa where local whites would come down on the weekend for an afternoon stroll to look at all the pretty boats.  The cruisers would roll their eyes at each other as they came towards the dock.  They would peer down at us and read the various home ports spelled out on the transoms and start to ask all the standard questions.  Some would get so curious that you felt obligated to invite them aboard so they could see what it was like down below.  It has been like this in Fiji.  At moments I understand why the yachties all stick together in Musket Cove.  Hanging out with the locals isn't that different.  Even with the aid of a world map, I have been unsuccessful in communicating what I have been doing for the past six years.  Most locals can't even get over the fact that I own the boat and just repeatedly ask for clarity's sake, "You own the boat?" Sometimes though,  I really break through.  It is as if can share the experience of what it is like to have single handed all those miles to someone who will never venture out on the water more than taking the ferry to the resort on this island.  It is a great feeling with something transcendent about it, like I haven't been doing this all just for myself....

The resort scene is as bad as ever as I have checked out a few more spots.  One resort actually built a fence between  it and the staff quarters and lower end backpacker digs.  Even Lonely Planet is in on the action describing the fence as a "mini Berlin Wall keeping out the ragged poor to the east". 

I will provision up and get ready to fling myself out there again.  I will post once again before heading out.

 

Everybody knows...

Back in Nadi to buy some fresh produce before heading back out to the islands.  I still haven't made it out to Musket Cove.  I will get to it.  Maybe.  In the meantime I have been hanging out with Fijian islanders.  They are much easier to meet than the mostly Australian tourists up here on holiday.  I am convinced that suburban white people from first world countries have about the worst social skills imaginable.  They pay hundreds of dollars a day to sit on a beach, and as one Fijian laughingly told me, "to sit and read books".  It is like being in a cafe back in California.  Nobody talks to each other.  "Don't bother me, can't you see I am busy reading."  Crap books too.  A lot of pulp thriller type stuff you see waiting in line in those suburban supermarkets. 

Fijians are about the friendliest people I have met out of the nearly forty countries I have visited on this cruise.  If eye contact lasts for more than a glance, the arm moves up for a handshake without skipping a beat.  You learn the basics of each other's stories.  "You on the yacht?"  "You by yourself?"  "You want some cassava to take with you to eat tonight?"  I admit that being a yachtie does have its advantages.  I will crash the grounds of some resort, meet the staff (all Fijians from the nearby village) and once it has been established I am from the yacht and not a guest, I am in.  I have had the cook at a posh resort offer me some food that he cooked for the guests and when I hesitate explaining I didn't pay the expensive meal price, "Don't worry, take it to the staff area and eat there".  Most of the Fijians at these resorts are getting paid a dollar and a half per hour US.  At this price, labor is cheap and there are loads of staff at these resorts.  They look like extras on a movie set.  Friendly and authentic island village faces selected to create a certain ambiance.  The pay starts to sound especially bad when you see the price charged at some of these places.  Cocktails are between ten to fifteen dollars US.  The bures (cabins) range from about 130 US to 400 US per night!  This isn't lost on the local islanders at all.  They all complained to me since once again, I am the on the yacht and not a guest.  To keep things interesting, I will tie the hair back, talk like a serious and rational white man, and mention that "I am on the yacht anchored out front".  Do this and suddenly I am chatting amicably with the older Australian owners at the swank bar.  Just to stir the pot, I will ask in a voice of concern, "Did you know that your staff is openly complaining to the yachts about low pay?  I had one tell me "I am a slave."" They aren't surprised.  One owner mimicked the staff, gesturing with his hand out "We aren't getting paid enough!" implying that they were trying to gain some sympathy and of course, money from me.  "These people were living in grass shacks before we got here!"  "Instead of hiring one barman who actually moves, I have to hire three" "Our labor costs are about the same as anywhere else". "We do have people getting paid a real salary but they have credentials and experience from abroad".  The owners were quick to mention all the extra benefits they provide for the village including paying for every one's education all the way up to university whether they work at the resort or not.  When I asked how many actually take advantage of this the owner did mention that they recently changed the rules on how the resort pays.  Now, the family has to front the money and the student must finish and only after they finish will the resort reimburse the costs.  Clever indeed...  The owners also mentioned that they were buying laptops and getting an Internet signal installed in the village!  Grass shacks to Facebook in less than a generation.... Globalization proceeds faster than ever.  Well, what can you do... 

There were a few other French boats anchored off and they were getting the same perspective as I was.  After the bigger picture had sunk in, we all stared at the tourists.  One French crew person said, "These tourists are in a completely different world, do you think they know what is going on?"  The verdict amongst the cruisers, except for the one who asked, was yes, they know...  How does the Cohen song go again?

 "Everybody knows the deal is rotten,
old black Joe is still picking cotton
for your ribbons and bows
and everybody knows"
  

Conundrums...

I saw a McDonalds restaurant this morning.  I walked right by it on my way into Nadi..  That pretty much sums up where I am.  (How many McDonalds are there in the South Pacific?) 

I know I judge a good portion of the yachtie world pretty harshly for being retired well to do tourists but when I see real tourists I feel like I might have to back track a bit and eat my words. There are real tourists on the west side of the main island in Fiji.  Hordes of them.  There are also loads of yachts as there are a lot of anchorages and many islands.  One island in particular has a reputation for being yachtie paradise.  Musket Cove was skipped the last time I was here.  Maybe I will change my attitude and brave a visit this season.

Non sailors, upon hearing I have single handed nearly fifty thousand miles in the last six years, are impressed and want to know about the challenges.  Did you ever have bad weather or storms?  What they should be asking about is the panic that sets in when you get invited to the cruiser's potluck and all you have on the boat is texturized vegetable protein and unsprouted mung beans.  It is less than three hours of motoring to Musket Cove (there is no wind on this side of the island) but it might be the most challenging passage yet.  I think I would have to change my image to survive it.  No admitting I am a single handler - they are all sleaze cases that you find cruising places like Madagascar or Thailand.  I would have to finally get around to setting up the brand new outboard sitting on the stern pulpit.  I haven't even put oil in the case.  Only guys that went to wooden boat building school in places like Port Townsend are allowed to row and their dinghies don't look beat up like mine.  I don't have a beard anyway so I can't do the Master Mariner wood thing...  If I make fun of polo shirts with boat names and pleated shorts with a belt, I have to keep in mind what they are seeing when they look at me.  The wild hair and seven dollar knock off surfer shorts at my age means "life long marijuana user."  This is no paranoid projection.  It has been plenty of times when the square looking cruiser suddenly comes over all friendly and does his best at being a "dude just like me".  It turns out they are always looking to score some pot.  I don't even drink alcohol so no help there...

Aside from the terror of contemplating a visit to Musket Cove, I have been mulling over how to finish this trip.  Fiji puts me within striking range of the first of the true places I wanted to visit on this second pass.  Pitcairn and the Australs were just the appetizers.  The problem is that I cannot hit enough of them and make it out before the close of this season.  The reality is that to do it thoroughly, it would take another whole season, which means nearly another year out here.  I don't know if I have the stamina for that and I certainly cannot afford it.  Get a job then!  Yes, this has been considered with the Marshalls being part of the U.S. and I am sure I could get something there.  One cruiser who has been there said eight to ten dollars an hour which may sound like nothing to some readers of this blog but that buys a whole lot of texturized vegetable protein. On a side not, my fishing skills have gotten a lot better.  I could just visit one spot and call it quits and get down to Australia by October and give the boat away for cheap there.  What to do...  Maybe my community of fellow yachties in Musket Cove will give me some great insights.  You never know, right?

Eight Bells

One thing I have learned on this second pass of the South Pacific is that even high latitude cruising is becoming part of the main circuit.  My old understanding was that you do the easy trade wind circumnavigation in your plastic boat but after completing it you graduate, become a true sailor and part of an elite minority.  You get a real boat (metal), aluminium if you have money and steel if you don't and you head to destinations like the Chilean Fjords, Antarctic or the west side of Greenland.  My older Cornell guide says that the number of boats that go to places like Antarctic are in the single digits.  That isn't the case anymore.  I think that in the early nineties once GPS became affordable, it triggered a big growth in cruising.  The latest is the accuracy and affordability in being able to receive weather forecasts.  There are GFS weather forecast models that go out to twelve days now. 

Before the availability of GRIBs, yachties used weather fax but also depended a large part on land based guys who knew yachting, local weather and would disseminate crucial info over shortwave radio.  Two big names recently died.  I heard of Don Anderson's (Amigo Net) passing en route to Pitcairn and this morning I heard that Des of Russel Radio passed a couple of days ago.  Guys like Des and Don do a great service to yachts on passage.  I have used both of them many times, checking in as often as twice a day.  I have fond memories of listening to Don completely exasperated when some greenhorn wants a detailed report for a 50 mile hop on the Mexican Gold Coast after he just said it was land and sea breeze for the entire area.  I remember it was Des who was the first to welcome me to New Zealand when I hailed him on VHF to let him know I had made it to the Bay of Islands... 

Short clip of checking in with Des just south of Vanuatu when I did the passage up back to the islands.

Friday Night

Last night, being a Friday night, was one of only two nights during the week when it is worth checking out the nightlife here.  Savu Savu is a pretty slow town.  There are three different venues and I opted for the one I was warned to stay away from by the very polite Fijian staff at the posh Copra Shed marina.  "It is unsafe for yachties."  I think the truth is that is unsafe for anybody as I witnessed at least three fights and two persons who had gone way over their limit passed out in front of the club on the lawn.  Fijians like to party in that rowdy sort of way.

The other two options were the club for Indians and the bar/restaurant for the yachties. I also spent a good portion of the evening with the Fijian staff at the Waitui Marina.  Copra Shed gets all the business so the small bar at Waitui was empty and the workers do a kava circle every evening right on the dock where I tie my dinghy up.   It attracts locals who live nearby so it was a good group.  Kava circles have elements of plain old peer pressure traditionalized into a ceremony.  They pass the bowl full of drink around, there is hand clapping and a few other gestures but mostly it feels like a strange game of trying to out last one another and/or maintaining some composure despite being completely subdued by the drug.  It is a bit lively in the beginning with a guitar, songs, "bullshit" stories.  I even got to hold the floor with that liberal shtick of commiserating with them about how unfair it is to have expats come and slowly buy up beautiful pieces of property that they couldn't afford in their own country which ends up making it unaffordable for the Fijians(no law about foreigners owning land here).  My shtick usually includes the waring to not lust after an opportunity to live in America making big bucks.  Complete trap...  "You think you'll have time to hang out and do a kava circle???",  Most people who have never been to American don't realize just how bad the neighborhoods for the non white working class really are...  After a couple of hours of drinking kava, the drug starts to take effect and there isn't any conversation anymore.  I left and by the time I came back from the club the ones still there looked stoned and incapable of moving.  At some point you have to rouse yourself up and go home.  It is considered bad taste to sneak off and when your turn comes you have to announce your departure.  It is part of the ceremony.  Everyone wakes up momentarily, partially self conscious of the fact they spend every evening drinking themselves into a stupor, but it seemed barely conscious and buried by the ceremonial gesture of saying goodnight.

Millionaires

I paid the health fee yesterday and expressed some "concern" over the rate increase.  I figured it was a more tactful angle than being a jerk and complaining about it.  Everyone in the office admitted that the increase was a lot and that it wasn't their decision and in so many words, expressed that it wasn't a big deal because all the yachties were "millionaires."  I loved that one...  There is truth in it though.  I just wished the money was going toward something decent instead of the military that took over the country in the last coup.  This sentiment was also shared by the women in the office.

I do have a million dollar view from the entrance of the creek...

Good news is that I purchased a USB hard drive "box" ($20 U.S.) that allows me to plug in the old hard drives from the laptops destroyed by the elements during the course of this trip.  This means a lot of forthcoming flashback posts and I also owe some people some photos and clips from years back.  Great stuff.

Here is a quick scene from a church service I attended in Raivavae.  I have always had an issue with the amount of influence missionaries have had on the indigenous cultures here in the South Pacific.  I have noticed though, that there are many elements of their past traditions that they have incorporated into the modern day version.  The service I attended in Raivavae was quite special as it only happens once a year and involved groups from the other Australs.  A celebration of community, pride in their respective islands and a shared rejoicing in how they understand their relation to the cosmic.  All of this expressed through singing.  Definitely moving stuff...

Waitui Marina

A quick plug for Waitui Marina, which is a good alternative to Copra Shed if you are going to check in to Fiji through Savu Savu.  They can contact the officials and ferry them out to your boat just like Copra Shed.  Kendra, one of the proprietors, upon seeing me tied up to a Copra Shed Marina mooring remarked that my boat wasn't pretty enough to be associated with them....  (Part of the reason why I made the refit schedule in Mexico was that I only got about halfway with painting the cabin top...I will finish it here).  She is right and I felt it too, so once checked in, I promptly moved out by the entrance to the creek and am the only boat on anchor.  There are three other long term ones on the hook but they are way up the creek where there isn't any more room...   Being on the hook saves a whopping ten Fiji dollars a day.  The folks at Copra Shed made it appear as if there isn't a general anchorage anymore.  I found an all you can eat curry buffet for that same price.  Need I say more...

I hate to beat this issue to death but it feels like I just cannot escape how much money there is in the cruising scene.  I think a lot of it has to do with the simple fact that most cruisers are older.  The average age is in the sixties.  If you have worked all your life and put off cruising to retirement, it is understood a lot differently.  It makes sense.  If I would have continued working the past six years, and was going cruising this year, I probably would opt for a nicer boat than Pelican.  That said, I see now that I could have actually left earlier and settled for a smaller boat and in some ways this would have been the wisest choice of all.  I remember back in California coming up with the idea of a "disposable cruiser" with a friend of mine.  They give plastic boats away for free in California and you can dumpster dive/visit scrap yards for odds and ends.  Ebay and Craigslist for used gear and off you go.  It takes a certain amount of confidence to go this route and I admit, I didn't have it before taking this cruise but I see it clearly now.  Pelican is a solid cruising boat comparatively.  It is like with Robin Lee Graham's "Dove" and "Return of Dove."  The first Dove was a Cal 24 and then the Return is a Luders 33 which is a lot like Pelican.  I remember reading how impressed Robin was with how much more substantial the Luders felt, but note that he didn't switch to this boat until over three quarters of the way around the world.

The face of cruising has changed tremendously in the last thirty years but how much has the ocean changed?   

The check in fees for the health inspector has gone up from $17 when I was here last (2007) to $33 last year to $172 this year!  I will have spent more money on check in fees than anything else upon leaving Mexico.  I have only used 10 gallons of diesel since San Blas, Mexico.  Granted, I only dropped the hook in a total of six anchorages so this has been more about passage making than gunkholing.

Namana Creek seen from the Copra Shed mooring.  

Savu Savu, Fiji

I could only handle six days in Vava'u.  I try the expat yachtie thing but it isn't really me.  Sometimes it clicks but never for long.  I get another shot here in Savu Savu. (Today being the fourth of July, the American yachts are having a get together later). This is my first time here in Savu Savu and so far it is alright.  The yachts dominate the view from town but it feels ok.  The marina and its associated business are small and just a footnote.  No megayachts in the anchorage today.  Being a California sailor, I see Fiji as the Mexico of the South Pacific.  It is definitely the best value and it is the choice destination for the boats in New Zealand.   Tonga felt expensive this time around.  The market even felt like they were doing two tier pricing.  Internet was higher than in Raivavae which is hard to believe.

One of my cruising guides continually uses the word "unsophisticated" to describe the major towns in Fiji.  I understand why...  The level of education here is low and it feels pretty third worldish in the general sense.  The funny thing, though, is that a lot of people are relaxed and smiling.  I noticed it immediately.  In Tonga, everyone is so dignified and serious.  In Raivavae, they were quiet but pleasant.  I have already met a handful of locals here without even trying.  It feels good.

So the first phase of this second crossing of the Pacific is over.  Fiji was the first goal, not because it is a worthy destination in itself (it is great cruising but is not on my "trophy list") but because I am now in striking range of the places I really want to see.

I am also at a bit of a conundrum with how to play it out.  One of the first lessons of cruising that you learn is that the seasons determine your route, not your "trophy list" or whatever else....  You get a certain number of months in each part of the world and then winds, currents and the odds of hurricanes all start to shift so you have to manage around the facts of this.  I am still working on my plan.  For now, though, it will be break time...


(Two of these creatures stuck with me for half a day a few hundred miles east of the southern Cooks.  I don't know if you can make it out but they aren't exactly dolphin size....)

Vava'u, Tonga

I have rejoined the milk run route and am now (back) in yachtie playland.  Six megayachts in the main anchorage here in Neiafu.  I am used to having other cruising boats worth three or four times what I paid for Pelican but when another boat's tender is worth that what is the mother ship worth???

The Mermaid Bar/Vavau yacht club burned down and the Tongan partner has passed on....  Also the building with the friendly island bookstore, Bounty Bar, etc has also burned down.  The vibe of too many expat owned business catering to a very small yachtie market is strong.  The ones that didn't burn down were the higher end ones and they now dominate so it is almost too easy to say it is sliding towards "it was better back in the day".  Polo shirts with the boat name are standard attire.  You can feel the current batch of business owners (average time spent doing the "cool bar in Tonga bit" is 2 years) impatient for the airport to become international.  They were waiting for this the last time I was here.  Which batch will win the lottery and make real money before pulling out because it will have become too disgusting to be around?!?  To their credit, the Tongans are as low key as ever and the rule most everywhere else applies here as well, walk fifteen minutes away, not five or ten, from those expat hangouts and it starts to become cheaper and a bit more genuine.

I met an early thirties couple here in Vava'u on their second year of cruising on a budget.  They echoed a sentiment I have heard many a time, "We thought there would be more younger people on a budget and not this overwhelmingly posh scene!"  I realize now that when I first did the South Pacific in 2007, because I stayed on the milk run route, I felt the exact same way.  In Raivavae a total of six boats (three more showed up after my post) passed through while I was there and every single one were deliberately avoiding the main fleet.  There was even a report of at least two boats sitting in the Gambier waiting till June before heading to the Marquesas.  The flip side is that it can be fun to do the yachtie thing.  I have a nice polo type shirt I found in a thrift store in the states when I visited last year.  It was an expensive Nike golf shirt where they were a bit more tasteful and made the swoosh symbol a lot smaller and just put one on the short sleeve.  Easily removed with an exacto blade but no, haven't gotten around to sewing PELICAN on the breast...

I had this thought that since it takes so long to sail around the world, you could on subsequent circumnavigations, only visit places you previously stopped to take in all the changes.   Because you would have something to compare it against you would have a deeper understanding.

I paid the check in fee so I guess I will stay for a little.  (With only one polo shirt it is hard to go out on consecutive nights.)  I would have sailed straight to Fiji but they are strict about their 48 hour advance notice by email.  I heard of one boat that arrived in Fiji and realized they had neglected this important step.  They snuck ashore, found an internet cafe, went back to the boat and stayed put for 48 hours anchored right off!  What you have to do to follow the rules...

Headed to the islands

Looks like I am out of here after this low passes.  SE winds forecast for Monday finally...

Rapa will just be a spot on the map.  It is ok.  It feels good to leave something out there that I missed.  You aim high because you must, knowing you cannot call all the shots.

This should be the last long haul passage.  I will skip a bunch of common stops.  I have already been to a bunch of them.  The reality of going for the tough untouched destinations that get only a few boats a year is that I am at a big disadvantage singlehandling.  No one to keep lookout for coral heads and how about places that flat out donot have an anchorage...  You have to have someone onboard trying to hold position while the other braves a landing.  You cannot leave the boat unattended.

I will look for crew in the islands and also maybe start advertising the boat.  I have been making this trip up as I go along.

Here is Raivavae upon arrival;

Trapped in Raivavae

I am starting to understand why this island only gets ten boats a year.  Instead of doing laundry, taking hikes and relaxing after fifty four days at sea with only an 8 hour break at Pitcairn, I have been doing anchor watch for four days straight as winds generated by a tropical depression are accelerated down into the anchorage blasting the boat and throwing spray on everything.  I have not seen the sun in a week.   If you study the weather chart above, you can see that trade wind conditions do exist.  Most boats headed to the Societies from the Marquesas have a nice broad reach in 15 knots...

One of the benefits of visiting places that get fewer boats is that the expat community is starved for company and go out of their way to help you.  I will take advantage of the opportunity to upload a clip or two.

Nothing too interesting in this one.  Vid quality is poor because of the length.

Here is me gloating.

Turns out there were two other boats on the other side of the island.  One left so there is now only one other.  So far that is it for the year - just the three of us.  No one is showing up this week and that is for sure.

Raivavae, Australs

Internet is still too expensive and slow to do much except for quick updates.

This island is described as the most beautiful in the South Pacific according to two popular cruising guides.  It really is quite something.  I was told by the officials checking me in that the island only gets ten boats a year.  Crazy.

The real debate is whether to go for Rapa or not.  I could call it quits and just head north where it is mellower.  I had headwinds for almost half the passage from Pitcairn....

We wil see.  I will be here for a few days.  It is good feeling being in a safe anchorage.  Will post again.