We've arrived!!

What a sight! Land after 26 days at sea. Fatu Hiva crept slowly towards us as the sun scampered further away. We studied the charts and guides at the imminent and mildly daunting prospect of our first night entry. We crept into the bay of virgins in the middle of the night. (it used to be called the bay of penises - another story, another blog - blame the French). Our friends on Spruce and Toodles guiding us in waving flashlights and directing us as to where to anchor. 

We dropped the chain in 60ft of water and dropped back into 90ft. Not my best work, so out came the rode and that went out too. We soon discovered that one swings very differently on rode than when on anchor especially when the winds funnelled down the cliffs at gusts of 25+ knots.

Two tired and happy little sailors curled up together for the first time in almost a month and were soon fast asleep. 

Dawn heralded more than just a new day for us. We had accomplished what was for us one of our greatest challenges to date and were in the most beautiful anchorage we had ever seen.

The enormous othello black volcanic cliffs towering above us; stark contrast to the deep blue water and rich tropical greens that adorned the land. Every few hours the heavens would dust the island with watery sprinkles to keep the land a tropical paradise. Goats peered down at us from the vantage points high above the anchorage. The shore looks unpopulated as the village is tucked around the corner from the bay and gives one the feeling of being in a true unspoilt paradise. 

The smell! After smelling only our own bodies and salt infused air for almost a month, our senses were assaulted by the scent of land. I think this must be something that only sailors can fully appreciate (maybe astronauts too). My mother always used to say that you can smell land well before you can see it. Unfortunately we were upwind of Fatu Hiva so did not smell it first. There was the pungent aromas of citrus and flowers and steamy jungle like earth that wafted out to the boat beckoning us ashore.

Once we had settled in and de-rigged we assembled the dinghy and were keen to head ashore to know once again just what terra firma feels like. Ashore we were greeted by very friendly Marquesan's who bid us good day in French. We spoke to a couple who insisted that we go and look at all the carvers on the island (including their work) to decide on what we wanted. It is truly inspiring to come to a place where the capitalism and materialism had not as yet tainted the people (not that I am in the least bit Marxist). 

Tiki

We took our wobbly little leggies up the few streets in the village and admired beautifully manicured gardens, fruit trees dripping with assorted in-season produce. The citrus smells were that of limes, pamplemousse, green oranges(?!) and the occasional lemon tree to add a dash of yellow to an otherwise green ensemble. Pigs snuffled, horses neighed and chickens clucked to add to the whole ambiance. 

That evening, out came the beers and the gin and tonics to celebrate what for us was an amazing accomplishment. Lets remember that we know enough about sailing and boat ownership to fill a postage stamp, yet we had made it 3100 miles fairly trouble free.

The next day at 5am I was up to fish for some live bait. After pulling a few little guys out and into a bucket Gary (Toodles) and I headed out to the coast to try our luck. Plopping the little fellows in the water near some circling frigate birds, we soon had our first strike and Gary landed a good sized (20lbs) yellowfin. 10 minutes later i had a nibble and landed a slightly smaller tunny. Both quite chuffed with our quarry, we dragged a last now "not so live" bait along behind the dinghy and hit upon a 3rd strike for the morning. Landing my second tunny of the day we bade Neptune farewell and headed for the anchorage just as the clock struck 7am. Great days fishing! The whole anchorage received tuna courtesy of Gary and I. 

Local dance for passing cruise ship guests

We did go out fishing a few more times and landed some decent sized Jacks which we threw back for fear of ciguatera. Gary, ever scornful of the humble bonito has converted me too and we used them as live bait to try catch even bigger prey. Something large took our little bonny once but it did not come close enough to be identified, however we believe it to have been about a 1.5m shark. Anything that manages to stretch stainless steel trace wire like it did must have been large. 

Ashore after haggling in broken "Frenglish" we made a few acquisitions of the ever famous local craft. Fatu Hiva is known for it Tapa (cloth made from the bark of the breadfruit tree). It used to be used for clothing back in the day! We also picked up a Tiki (a symbol of Polynesia) and a rosewood box with a Marquesan symbol carved into it. This cost us a few dollars and some of our precious bottles of wine / rum (Oh and Sally gave up a T shirt for the Tapa).

Tapa

Wanting to stretch our sea legs, we scurried off to see the waterfall early one morning. Timing it so that we would get there near noon when we would be hot and sticky and most appreciative of the water and its temperature. Wading through waist high grasses it became apparent that we were "off the beaten track" (pun intended). A local chuckling away at us gave us a few directions which put us back on course and we soon made it up the muddy slippery route (marked by towers of stones) to a very sleepy waterfall. Although it is 200ft high, it was a mere trickle but the pool below was lovely and cool. Crawfish and fairly large eels have made the water their home. Eels being the less attractive creatures on this earth. The trip back down in slops (sandals, jandals, thongs) was more eventful and had us once again regretting our poor choice in footwear for such outings. 

Fatu Hiva is amazing. We loved every minute there. We played football with the locals one afternoon and there was loads of giggles and camaraderie as yachties and locals mixed to form teams. Sport truly has no language.

Playing football with the locals

We were anxiously awaiting the arrival of the rest of our buddy boat friends (Waka Irie and Dolphin of Leith). Dolphin went straight to Hiva Oa but Waka arrived a few days after us. We had a grand welcoming party to celebrate their arrival and then a farewell session for Toodles who would be heading off at a faster pace than us and as such we are probably not to see them again until we get to New Zealand.

After a great spell in Fatu Hiva it was finally time to bid it farewell. We upped anchor and sailed for Hiva Oa keen to catch up with Dolphin and their kids. 

The south pacific is really fantastic and we are loving it!

Crossing the largest ocean in the world

Well all in all it took us 26 days to cross one of the longest passages (of normal cruising routes). We only motored for a total of about 3 hours and even that was to top up the batteries with the engine in neutral. The wind, sea and current with us most of the way. After spending almost a month at sea in these conditions, my admiration for friends Ian and Laani on Kadoona has only increased 10 fold. They sailed against the wind, current and sea from OZ to Panama. Pair of nutters!

We left San Cristobal and spent about 3 days in Floreana. No, we were not anchored, just drifting past it. Being becalmed is not a very pleasant experience generally as one flogs the sails and rolls around in mild discomfort. However, it allowed us to do and see some very interesting things.

Just off of Floreana, whilst becalmed with no sail up (fortunately we had some current taking us west), we watched a resident mahi mahi (dorado) circling the boat. There I sat, for an hour on the bow, speargun poised waiting for a decent shot. Unfortunately it shot off when it saw me before i inject it with a little stainless steel. Then later that day a school of large yellow fin tuna (3 / 4 feet) circled us. This was too good to be true. So in I went with the speargun into the middle of the pacific ocean (about 2000 feet of water beneath me) with Sally spotting on the bow. Water crystal clear and just inviting you to swim down into it. The old tuna were having none of it and buggered off. Not wanting to venture too far from the boat in the middle of the ocean, I was reluctant to follow.

Fishing throughout the passage was exceptional. It is an enormous ocean, yet we would get a strike almost every time we put the lure in the water (and we had to be doing 4.5 knots+ too). Flying fish seemed to be having a wonderful time committing hari-kuri on our decks each night, Part of my daily routine in the morning was to clear the deck of the little fellows. When we first left Galapagos (first couple hundred miles) squid also leapt onto our deck with the goal of shortening their own lifespans. I had never seen squid leap onboard before!

With the exception of a single bonito tuna, the rest of our catches were mahi mahi (one of the best eating fish in my opinion) all about 1.5 - 2 feet in length and mostly females we noticed. We lost two fish and threw a few small mahi's back. Most were perfect 2 person sized meals. For anyone interested, we used a red and white squid skirt with a size 8 stainless hook on 1 foot of trace. Low drag, cheap and incredibly successful (beats all the damn rapala lures I used to spend $40 on only to lose to bigger fish)!

Where we had expected good fat squalls with torrents of rain enabling us to wash boat and bodies alike, we were underwhelmed. The cloud gods sprinkled us with a bit of drizzle on a few occasions. Only enough to piss off the person on watch (as this generally occurred at night) making them soggy and a bit chilly (mostly happened to Sally…chortle chortle). 

I am sure I recall as a child crossing the Pacific and having fantastic tropical squalls with loads of thunder and lightening and enough water falling from the sky to purge all my sins…

As there was no rain water and we were conservative with our reserves, clothes washing did not get done. By the end of the trip, I was actively sniffing all my undies in the wash basket to find the least smelly to wear. My parents at this stage are probably tutting away thinking that when you are out at sea you should not need clothes, however I have this innate fear of catching my equipment in a winch or on a sharp split pin or something equally horrific and living out the rest of my days with the nickname "mono nut" or "stumpy".

Having an SSB is very useful. There was the informal Gallopers Net run by British vessels Minnie B, Spruce and Flapjack who were net controllers tracking our merry bunch of sailors across the puddle. We would check in daily and people would tell us weather conditions where they were allowing us to navigate accordingly. We also made friends who we looked forward to meeting when we reached port.

Truth be told, running downwind is a fairly pleasant form of sailing. For most of the trip all the hatches were open with good through flow of air to keep the boat from being stuffy or hot. There is a slight squirrelling motion that one gets used to. The quality of the sunrises (that Sally never saw as she was always catching flies at the time) and sunsets were fantastic. The colours that mother nature is able to produce are quite astounding. I will never tire of sitting in the cockpit, coffee in hand watching a new day unfurl before my eyes. 

I was expecting the middle of the ocean to be devoid of life except that below the waves. But there was birdlife throughout the passage. Not being an ornithologist, I would have a hard time telling you what the hell I was looking at other than to say we saw small finch sized birds that "scooped" up the water (eating whatever organisms were on the surface) and a few gull types. The small birds did not look like the types to sit on the ocean for a snooze at night and none did land and rest on Orion. We are talking about birds 1500 miles from the closest land. What the hell are they doing all the way out here?

I suppose we only really got into a good solid groove / routine at the half way mark. The end was now closer than the beginning and everything was going well. We celebrated with a half way party.

Sally made "Gem's Tipsy Tart". A recipe she got from Jean (on Legend IV), who swears that she got it from my mother (Gem) 25 odd years ago. The trouble is that my mother is adamant that she has never made anything of the sort before. I put it down to old age and mild dementia. Mother, your tart was lovely and I even sacrificed some Jonny Walker Black label for the syrup!

For interest sake we decided to send off a message in a bottle. Well 3 actually! These we plopped into the water at our half way mark. We will be very interested if anyone A) finds them and B) takes the time to respond. We even put our mailing address in incase we find some one who is rather old school and responds by snail mail! Wouldn't that be
exciting?!

On the subject of litter in the ocean, there is none! Admittedly this is probably due to the wind and current coming from Antarctica where there are few humans to pollute the sea. Makes for a nice change coming from the Atlantic / Caribbean.

Lessons learnt from an ocean crossing

Travelling almost the equivalent of 10% of the way around the fattest part of the world at a speed of roughly 5 miles per hour can take quite a long time. To be exact, it took us 26 days to cross from Galapagos (San Cristobal) to the Marquesas (Fatu Hiva). At one point we were 1500 nautical miles from the closest (dry) land. 

When we left San Cristobal, we were intending on going to Isabella for a day just to see our friends on Dolphin and Waka Irie (who we had not seen for well over a month). As we bobbed our way there, we got fed up with the lack of wind and just decided to head south to pick up the trade winds and get to French Polynesia (we had already cleared out of Galapagos).

Having read a number of articles about crossing an ocean or two, the one that stuck in my mind was an article / survey of yachts that did the "puddle jump" to the Marquesas in 2008. There were 3 major issues that many of the yachts encountered / identified:

1. Chafe

2. Autohelm failures

3. Problems with watermakers 

I think the 4th one was generator issues…

Looking at the list, it was clear that of the top 3/4 we could only suffer one of those (having no auto helm, water maker or generator). In preparation to our departure, we were listening in on the SSB radio nets in the morning to hear what conditions the fleet who had already left were encountering, where they were picking up steady and consistent trade winds (from the South East), current and what breakages served to annoy them along the way. 

One vessel believed to have had a relationship with a fishing net bent / broke their rudder. Fortunately they were a catamaran and had a spare. On the subject of cats, these guys with wind, swell and current behind them were doing phenomenal daily runs. I may have to change my opinion of catamarans!

A few vessels we heard from had issues with auto helms. Although a few had wind vanes as backups (why they were using an auto helm as a primary over a wind vane is beyond me).

Our friends on Toodles with no wind vane had auto helm issues (I believe they broke the hydraulic ram) and had about 1000 miles to go. As I write this I have no knowledge of how they got on. I hope they did not have to hand steer for 1000 miles. 

The vessels that suffered from chafe (the ones that commented about it on the net) included stories of frayed halyards and sail repairs as being the two main ones. 

So with this in mind and us being in San Cristobal (not exactly the yachting / chandlery capital of Ecuador) it was a bit tricky to do any last minute stocking up on spare halyards or other anti chafe materials. 

Many authors had recommended daily (or twice daily) deck walks to check for chafe. On our passage we encountered the following issues:

1) Our main issue was the spinnaker pole. We had a "piece of string" through a small eye on the beak that we used to clip the downhaul to. When we were wing / wing (our preferred method of downwind sailing) we used to chafe through this little bastard approx once a day. Changing / repairing this in the middle of the night grew a little tiresome. As most people know the saying, the epitome of stupidity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result. So eventually I went and sourced a suitable shackle to take the place of the "bit of string". So far so good. 

I actually had to replace the existing shackle for the up haul, as the vibration had worked the pin loose and the shackle decided to join a few tin cans and some mahi mahi skeletons on the sea floor. 

2) Halyards suffered a bit. The jib halyard was fine, main too, but after flying the spinnaker for a day, there was some good chafe through the outer sheath. Yet another reason why I prefer to use a bowline to connect the halyard to the shackle rather than a splice (oh yeah, also I can't splice).

3) Wind generator bracket nut / bolt vibrated out. Even though it was a nylon threaded nut! Made for an interesting time balancing precariously on the transom with a spanner in one hand and a socket wrench in the other, Sally hugging my waist all the while Orion behaved like an unimpressed wild bronco with a circus midget on its back.

4) Control lines for the monitor wind vane were getting very worn. I had to end for end them in order to increase their lives. By the end of the trip the outer sheaths on both were frayed and only the core remained. I wish i had bought more non stretch control lines.

Lube up! I recall running around like a 5 year old with water pistol wielding a grease gun to smear all things with (grease) nipples with lube. Unfortunately the jib was already up and I was too lazy to take it down and lube up the top part of the furler. Boy do I regret. A few days into the sail, there was an unfamiliar creaking noise from the mast. I concern myself when I hear unfamiliar noises as I am adamant that Orion is trying to tell me something. This was a noise of metal on metal, which most certainly was not a good thing. 

One day when the wind dropped to a mere 10 knots, we dropped the headsail and Sally winched me up the mast at a pace similar to that which my grandmother finishes a plate of peas using a fork. All the while mother nature was intent on demonstrating to me first hand the forces associated with acceleration from pivot point 40 feet below me. While up the mast I gave it a thorough inspection and a stamp of approval. No wear to be seen. Jib went back up and no sooner were we under way than the noise returned. Drat! Back up the mast I went, this time with the jib up and with me went good ol' WD40. Everything got lubed up with a good coat of WD40, including the source of the squeak, the roller furler. Once again I returned to the deck feeling like a piñata and spent the next half hour coaxing my testicles out of my stomach where my climbing harness seemed to have placed them during my mast climb.

We met Carolyn and Fatty Goodlander in Grenada and they gave me a piece of advice which I am glad I took - get a dinghy cover. Not only as it is a good protector for your dinghy from old mr sun, but acts as a chafe guard when it sits upside down on your deck for a month. With the exception of maybe a steel boat, most vessels will flex as the various stresses are applied to it when sailing. 

I also used quick release cargo tie downs to keep the dinghy secured to the deck. These also started to chafe a little, so I placed rags between the dinghy and the cargo straps.

Haul the boat and clean your bottom. I wanted to, but could not find the time or a cost effective place to do so. I probably should have done the job in Colombia and given my bottom a new coat or two at the same time. One could do it in Shelter Bay (Panama) but it is quite pricey to haul there. Moving from Caribbean waters to Pacific waters, there are different brands of paint that apparently work better due to the different water temperatures and organisms that inhabit it (don't ask me which is best as I never got around to it).

What I can say is that my 18 month old paint job did not dissuade goose barnacles and these funky jellylike creatures from taking up residence on casa de Orion and enjoying a 3000 mile trip across the ocean. This would certainly have affected our hull speed. Where we were averaging 120 mile days, a half a knot of resistance (might have been even more) meant that for every 10 days we travelled, we should have realistically covered 11. Thus adds on at least 2 / 3 extra days to your passage. If we had been becalmed, we could have hopped in and given the hull a clean, but once the trades start, they did not stop!

Summary of the lessons learnt are as follows:

- Have plenty of sticky back sail repair tape / canvas

- Check halyards regularily and "end for end" them if they are getting worn

- Use seizing wire on all shackles / stuff that can wiggle

- Identify before hand what lines will be used regularly / for long periods and have contingencies (i.e. I should have bought more control lines for our monitor)

- Grease up EVERYTHING that needs lube before you set off.

- Anything that can move needs an anti chafe guard (a rag will do in most instances)

- Have a good coat of new anti fouling on before you set off

San Cristobal Island Tour

We had done the snorkelling trips, hiked the trails to the beaches and now it was time to take a tour inland. Shaking off the agent offers of setting up a tour for us ($50 pp and no guarantee that the guide would be able to speak English) we hired a local taxi driver (Lewis) and paid $70 for a cab full. Ok it was just the two of us but still worked out cheaper, we were getting a personalised experience and he spoke excellent English.

First stop, an extinct volcano named El Junco. As we climbed higher into the hills, fog descended rendering visibility at around 10%. It was eerie being in the countryside with this mist and reminded me of the Yorkshire Dales back home. The hike to the crater was a great 15 minute work out on the leg muscles as we ascended purpose built wooden stairs (nice to see where our National Park fee is going!) to the top. We were the first people up there and the silence was shocking. So used now to the constant swish swish of the waves lapping against the hull, we were greeted with a place totally devoid of sound apart from our own heavy breathing (from the walking of course). We could have been in Wales. The area was covered in bracken, an endless expanse of green and from what we could see through the fog, occasional ramshackle houses marking the boundaries. Keen to see if the fog would lift we decided to walk around the edge of the crater which was home to a big lake where frigate birds were using it as a very large bath. 

Next stop, the Tortoise Conservation Centre and the place I was looking forward to the most. As we entered through the gate we were greeted by a giant tortoise having a lovely time munching on his favourite tree. Apparently these guys were getting too fat and as such the keepers cut back to feeding them only 3 times a week and the rest of the time they have to forage for themselves if they get the munchies. 

As we continued down the path another giant tortoise 'raced' in front of us having just given himself a mud treatment in the nearby pond. They are just massive and I swear he was posing for the camera as I snapped away. I probably could have stayed there all afternoon if it wasn't for the guide's insistence we walked on as we were yet to go through the entrance!

The centre leads you on a trail through natural habitat where you have to look under the shrubbery and through the branches for the tortoises. We spent ages by a pond where all the big males seemed to congregate and have the odd scuffle. Well their version of one anyway. They each stretch their necks and whoever has the longest…wins and has to back down. The equivalent of dropping their trousers and admiring the competition. The disagreement is normally over territory and who gets to sit closer to the water source. Continuing on the trail it takes you to a building that houses all the babies. They are incubated for 2 months to mimic being buried in the sand and then after that time, are put into pens and a number tippexed onto their backs. They are so small and it is hard to imagine that in 50 years time they will grow into the beasts that we have been walking past. 

Lunch was had in the middle of nowhere and was wonderful. The owner lives in a very small building with a lean to shack outside that houses the restaurant. Choice is 'chicken or fish' and the rest of the meal is a surprise. Bananas are plentiful and we were urged to eat as many as we wanted whilst we waited and surveyed the surrounding gardens where a dozen hens were pecking the dirt, being molested by the resident rooster. Fish soup to start, chicken for main and watermelon sorbet for dessert all washed down with homemade papaya juice. Mmmmm.

En route back to the port, our guide took us via an old tree. Not really feeling the need to go and stare at a tree we reluctantly got out of the taxi and were glad we did! This isn't any 300 year old tree, its a kids dream! In the branches lies a tree house only accessible by a rickety bridge. The house is on two levels complete with plumbed in toilet and balcony and if you so wish, a fireman's pole that takes you all the way to the bottom. 

We thought that was pretty cool but when heading back to our guide we were called over by the owner of the property and she gestured towards the trunk. No idea what she was going on about we followed and saw her point to a hole in the base of the tree. Making Dylan go first I watched as he disappeared into the heart of the tree...and didn't come back. Ok so this really was like the Faraway Tree and any minute now I was going to be greeted by Saucepan Man. I followed him down a ladder, guided by a light and ended up underground, in another room made for their kids and again with a plumbed in toilet!! Awesome.

We think the Faraway Tree inhabitants must have been out on a picnic at the time but maybe they will be seen by the next visitors.

Clearing into the Galapagos

This is more of a factual post for anyone following behind us so you don't make the same mistakes that we did. There are loads of blog posts about the three different options of checking into the islands, we wanted to visit multiple islands on our own boat and as such, decided on the autografo. What we should have done is arrange this with an agent beforehand. That's not to say that you can't get one when you arrive but it just takes that much longer. Being budget yachties, we also thought that there may be ways and means of doing it ourselves, cutting out the agent fee…this is not the case. You cannot get around this unless you speak fluent Spanish and even then, with the amount of box ticking and to-ing and fro-ing needed with the officials, I think the $120 we spent on using an agent was money well invested!

When in Panama we contacted an agent and attempted to start the bureaucratic process that is unavoidable in the Galapagos. Unfortunately his email responses were very delayed and as such by the time we left Panama, we hadn't handed over any money or obtained a permit. We could have contacted another agent but in our haste to start our Pacific adventure, it slipped down our list of priorities.

So we arrived in San Cristobal and as soon as we dropped anchor (I was still cleating off the snubber!), a water taxi came over and Karmela Romero invited herself aboard. Turns out she is the sister of Johnny Romero who we had failed to communicate with back in Panama and is his go to person on San Cristobal as he works out of Santa Cruz. As she was so keen we didn't shop around for other agents and got the paperwork started with her right away. Make sure you have at least 4 copies of each passport (preferably colour), ships registration and crew list. We did so I'm not sure of the consequences of not meeting these requirements…

To cut a loooong story short, we never got our autografo despite hanging around for 2 weeks with promises of 'mañana mañana' - tomorrow tomorrow. It took 5 days just to get our passports back from being stamped, an anxious time for us as like most people, we hate being parted from our passports. Possibly our most important valuable, especially on a boat. To enquire on the progress of our application, we would have to traipse around the town looking for Karmela each time and when we did find her, she would often pretend she didn't understand us yet when we had the conversation about money, her English was superb. Never once did she turn up at our boat without being prompted several times even when we had an agreed time of meeting. It seems she is very eager to get the money off you and then as soon as that is handed over, all customer service grinds to a halt.

It's important to note that all of this aggro may very well have been avoided if we had successfully applied and received our autografo prior to entering the archipelago. Regardless of timing, I would not recommend using Johnny Romero's services due to their poor (if any) communication and lack of support. Speaking to other cruisers it seems others have had similar experiences to ours when using this agent. In hindsight, due to the lack of wind near the islands, if we were to do it over, we would just stay in one port and then pay for a cruise to the other islands. This would save on diesel, chafe of the sails and provide us with a mini holiday within a holiday!

This is quite a negative post due to our checking in experience but aside from the bureaucracy, we loved San Cristobal (see my next post for information on what we got up to). Others have mentioned that the islands are overrated but we wholly disagree and will be recommending it to anyone following in our wake.

Here are the costs of an autografo and other necessary paperwork as of March 2013, agent fees range from $120 - $180 depending on who you use and how wealthy you come across! 

Autografo - $200

Agent fee - $120

National Park Permit - $100 /pp

Customs and immigration - $30

Quarantine - $20

Port Captain - $100