We bought this boat nearly a year ago. Didn’t move aboard for a couple of months. Then it was dead of summer in Mexico and we were holed up inside most of the time waiting out the heat, looking forward to cruising season. When the weather cooled, and we were ready to head out around Banderas Bay, we found an engine had a corroded heat exchanger and was out of commission for a month. About the time that was going to get fixed my mom became sick and we had to return to the States to care for her. We didn’t get back to the boat until mid-March. In ten months of boat ownership we had sailed a grand total of zero hours.
Despite that, we returned in March determined to stick to our plan to cross the Pacific. We spent four weeks preparing. Four weeks which included just one hour of sailing, and one night at anchor.
Then we set sail for the Marquesas, 2,800 miles away.
I sometimes wonder if I’m/we’re simply overconfident. I knew things would break on this trip. I knew things would go wrong. Yet I never doubted that between the four of us we would find a way to fix anything and carry on. I never worried about our safety. I knew weather would be relatively mild, with mostly short bouts of squally weather. I trusted that our sailing abilities—as rudimentary as they remain to this day—were good enough to keep us moving towards our destination. I knew that our boat was strong enough to stay afloat regardless of the conditions. Beyond these things there just didn’t seem to be any reason not to go.
It really doesn’t take much to cross an ocean. We did it twenty years ago with a lot less sailing skill, and a pathetic understanding of a boat’s systems and how to repair them. Today I know engines in and out, I have a fairly firm grip on electrical, and plumbing is easy. Ali senses when to reef better than I ever will and does a good job of keeping us safe. She whips up a meal seemingly out of thin air and keeps the family healthy and fed. She also keeps a damn tidy ship. We’re a pretty well-oiled machine at this point. While life afloat isn’t always easy, there isn’t much that could be thrown at us that we couldn’t handle. Meanwhile, every day is still an adventure.
Land Ho! Cloudy skies kept Hiva Oa hidden from us until afternoon.
I have a terrible sense of smell, so I never did smell land. That said, land was located downwind, so I’m not sure I would have even if I was a dog.
Hiva Oa is so thick, so steep, and so jagged that most of it remains untouched to this day.
Dang, I’m proud of this bunch. Everyone handled that passage like a champ. Ali and the kids were so laid back about the whole thing that you’d think we’d just sailed three hours across Banderas Bay in Mexico.
When Ali and I arrived here last time there were four other boats. Today there are at least forty. We didn’t even bother trying to get inside the harbor. Boats are anchored with stern anchors about thirty feet apart in there.
We dropped anchor outside the harbor. There’s some roll, but on a catamaran you hardly even notice it. Monohullers are puking over their rails.
It didn’t take long to realize that a good chunk of the boats here right now are part of the World ARC (they fly flags and have racing numbers on them). This is something that I will never be able to wrap my head around—sailing around the world in a pack. It just seems like the antithesis of what the cruising life is about. That said, who am I to judge what this lifestyle is about? So… I step off my soapbox. I do, however, hope they spread out and we don’t run into them again.
It felt so good to get in the 88-degree water. I’ve mentioned previously that the kids weren’t even all that excited to make landfall. They were content at sea. But if there was one thing missing, it was swimming.
Shot from inside the escape pod.
Atuona, Hiva Oa, Marquesas. It really is remarkably beautiful. The mountain almost always wears a cloud cap, but every ten minutes the clouds or the lighting provides a new picture. Anchor down, swim complete, long neglected cold Tecates washed down, and time for a deep sleep.
Despite saying, “We’ve crossed the Pacific,” we’re really only about halfway there.
22 Comments on “Landfall”
BRAVO! You’re both such a great example to your kids to live life to the fullest, not limited to their “comfort zone”-though you all seem quite comfy at sea! 🙂
A grand adventure. As always I enjoy your beautiful pix!
Thanks for sharing!
Thanks Gail+Frei! I’m thankful for a safe first passage.
Color me wowed! What a dream for me, vicariously.
Thanks, John.
Well done Pat and crew. Panama to Nuku Hiva was my first ocean sailing, with a level of comfort with boat systems comparable to your first crossing (which helped inspire me). Took 37 days on my 34-year-old Pacific Seacraft 34. Yet I found it all quite doable even at 66, and enjoyed it thoroughly. I caught 8 young mahimahi and 3 small tuna, so ate fish most of the way (deliberately used small lures to avoid the big guys). You will hopefully find fresh tuna at the dock for a lovely meal. And I envy you the baguettes, croissants, bananas, and pamplemouse. I almost want to do it again, and have followed three boats doing it this year, others are Paradigme2 with Starlink, and the Sailing Brothers going old-style. ENJOY!
Wow that’s great Hugh! Good for you. Paradigme2 was anchored right behind us a few days after arrival. He was starving and we told him a good place to head to. Making french toast with our few day old baguettes this morning. It’s been a holiday weekend here, so no fresh ones until tomorrow.
Despite those boat small problems you had( let’s call them kindly rich dad problems-hihihi), I never doubted a second you’ll make a smooth landfall. I imagined you are a lot more mature now that 20 years ago, when everything went well circumnavigating in your Wildcat.
You guys are confident and enjoy the life as it should be, probably you don’t watch tv to get your daily dose of lies, violence and insecurity. You are rare nowadays normal people( I don’t now how you did it to escape the system hihihi)
Bon voyage. Félicitations.
p.s next time sail the boat a little longer, let’ s say 2 hours, before you leave for a 2800 miles voyage hihihi
sailing races is the fine art of slowly going nowhere at great expense….
PS
You wrote:
“Beyond these things there just didn’t seem to be any reason not to go.”
When I read that to my hubby, he laughed & reminded me of when we went cruising (inspired by your first go around) & met so MANY people waiting for the perfect alignment of all things possible (all systems GO, weather window, etc.) before setting off-most had been waiting years already….possibly still waiting? So kudos to you all for that leap of faith!
After getting Pat’s mother into the right place after months of care (she is doing AMAZING btw), we knew we had to push to get moving or it wasn’t going to happen this year, and then might not the next year either. It all came together by us.
Kudos on a successful crossing! Hope you have a few down days before you dig into all your repairs and fixes.
Such a wonderful crossing, well done! I can’t wait to see your explorations in the Marquesas. Now I want to go (even looked at google flights — geez $17k+ RT business)
The flights we booked (and got refunded) were one-way Tahiti to San Francisco for $1k each. I didn’t upgrade any seats. 🙂
beautiful. wonderful good work. looks delightful. happy family learning the best stuff. congratulations.
Thanks, Zeehag.
HIP HIP HOORay!!!! So happy for you’all……..Take care…..and have fun…
Thanks, Marilyn.
Yea! It’s all in the attitude. Can’t wait to see the stories to come.
Thanks, Judith!
Bravo and Well Done to all Four Bums. Blue Water! — LandFall! — Next?
Thanks, Capt.Doug. Sleep and clean up is always next.
Congratulations, neighbors!
We just returned from an amazing trip to Africa.
Miss you all,
Jay and =Terri
So glad you guys had a great trip!