S/V Gudrun V

My friend and favorite artist Matthew Beall created another wonderful painting. I shamelessly copy the photo from his blog, because I know few people follow links. But I want you to see this:


Matthew Beall - Being on the Open Sea

The painting was inspired by the blog entries from our pacific crossing. I love it. I admire Matt as an artist for his ability to reduce and focus on the essence. I couldn't have helped myself and put a sun and some clouds in the painting. I do it all the time with my photographs. He left them out. I guess he knows them for what they are, ornamentation. Maybe you'll follow this link now.

Not sure if he sells this one. If he does, I want it. I just assume having inspired it gives me the right of first access. But check out his other art, the photography too, it's great stuff. Put a real, unique, Beall on your wall. Not the mass-market crap from furniture/department stores. They make great gifts, too.

Ua Pou, Thursday, 2012-17-05, 9:21.5S, 140:02.8W

We weighed anchor in Hiva Oa yesterday at 6pm, planning to sail the 70nm to Ua Pou through the night. Half an hour later the autopilot stopped working - thank god for the spare! Then the wind didn't come, at all, and we had to motor through the night and into the morning. Well, at least the batteries are full now ...


Ua Pou in the distance, just after sunrise

Just before sunrise we got visited by a pod of dolphins. Liz said to always wake her for dolphins, so I did, but they were hard to make out in the dark. Or maybe her eyes weren't open properly. She went back to bed again, and the dolphins went away. Then the sun came up. And the dolphins (or their friends) came back, yeah! I woke Liz, again, and we watched them for an hour. Liz stayed in the cockpit and I went down to edit the photos (lots, and lots of photos). When I came back up we had passed our destination and had to turn around. Not far, only 2nm. But still .. hehe.


Dolphins!


and a brown booby.

The bay we're at (Hakahau bay) is small but beautiful, especially the rock formations in the center of the island are spectacular. Reminds me of the game "Far Cry". Hiking hsould be good, and apparently there a number of small shops as well where we can reprovision. And, surprisingly, there is even internet to be had. I guess we'll stay here for a few days. We still have to clean the hull, I'll try to fix the autopilot, and then there is the solar eclipse in three days.


Inside Hakahau Bay. Very good holding in sandy bottom.

Hiva Oa, the second largest of the Marquesas Islands, is famous for having been the final home of Paul Gauguin (painter) and Jacques Brel (singer), and both are burried in the city of Atuona, which is an hour walk away from our anchorage. The anchorage itself is famous for being very rolly and rainy, which is something that we can only confirm. Today was the first rain-free day in five days, and for a change the boat is not swinging from left to right like a metronome. The dinghy dock, a concrete jetty, is a hazard to boats and people alike. Frequently somebody slips and falls, dinghies get scraped up on the concrete, and anchor lines are cut or anchors jam in the rocky bottom below murky, shark-infested water. We've lost two dinghy anchors in one week.

But despite all that we enjoyed our stay here very much. Rolling boats, wet bottoms, and lost anchors are just a part of the cruising live like icy winter roads are a part of northern Europe. A very positive thing about Atuona is that the people are incredibly friendly and cheerful, and the shopping is very good. We've refill our supplies of fruit and veggies and even have cheese and meat on board, something we haven't had in the last two months. Fantastic. Now if only the sun would stay out so that we can keep the fridge running. Saturday I went on a hike up with Richard from "Vulcan Spirit" and Michael from Barfly, and of the 10h it took us to go up and down 1270m high Mount Temetiu we walked 7h in pouring rain.

But it's time to move on anyway. Tomorrow we want to sail further north-west to the island of Ua Pou, where we'll meet E Capoe again. After that we'll head north to Nuku Hiva before leaving the Marquesas for the Tuamoto atolls on the way to Tahiti.

Here some impressions from Hiva Oa:


A common sight: Polynesier with outrigger canu


Another common sight: lines at the gas station, which is always short on diesel fuel


Taking a tour across the island


Saturday soccer match


Eating pampelmousse (pomelos)


A tiki site


View of the bay from half-way up Mt. Temetiu.

This is such a lovely place. It's so different from South America that you really feel you've crossed an ocean. The first big difference to South America when checking in: Super friendly, helpful, uncomplicated officials. The officer checked in three boats at the same time in 15 minutes. Unimagineable in South America! And it didn't cost anything. Also unimaginable . And only one form, too! Put your name here, your boat details here, and don't bring your firearms to shore. Why firearms I asked? Pour la chasse! For the hunt. lol, those French ...

Tonight we're only hunting for Pizza. Made a reservation at a lovely place for ten people - the crew of Gudrun, Venus, Moin, Vulcan Spirit, and another british boat. All arrived yesterday. Then tomorrow we'll clean the boat, Friday fix some things, and for Saturday we've booked a guided tour.


Tahauku Bay, Hiva Oa


Pointe Papaoa


Buying fruit


.... and baguette!

No doener though . Well, you can't have it all! Piiiiizzzaaaaaaaa

Arrived 14:30 local. At anchor at 09:48:422S, 139:01:952W

Day 24, Tuesday, 2012-05-08, 11:45 boat (17:45 UTC), 9:49S, 138:40W, COG
275, SOG 4.5kn, Wind 12kn NE, overcast

Only 20nm to go, in about 5 hours we'll arrive in the Baie des Traitres in
Hiva Oa. After 23 days and 9 hours at sea, the longest for me so far (2 days
more than across the Atlantic). From here to New Zealand the trips between
the islands are not longer than a week, a fact Liz is very happy about.
Yesterday I proposed to sail on to Tahiti straight away, but her comment was
only: "Another few days at sea and I'll jump overboard". So Hiva Oa it is.
Also we're running out of veggies and fruit. And I'm still getting my hopes
up for a doener kebap, although Liz keeps telling me I shouldn't. It's
French, not Turkish Polynesia.

Yesterday went very well, we had plenty of wind and made good speed until
the squalls came at night. Then a mix of too much and too little wind from
all directions, and rain. Almost the same thing every night for the whole
trip. I have to admit I won't miss it. Sleeping through a night without
having to stand in the rain and tend the sails every few hours is definitely
something that 'landlubbers' don't value high enough in their lifes. On the
other hand, the mosquitos will be back. For three weeks we were safe from
flies and mosquitos, but I've read that it's supposed to be quite bad in
French Polynesia. Zzzzzzzzzzzz, that horrible sound. So there you go, good
and bad, as usual. My advice: deal with the bad, but focus on the good. The
mosquito nets are ready near the hatch and companionway.

To my surprise there are still no boats on the horizon yet. In my mind I
imagined that there must be a steady stream of sailboats arriving. But of
course there are only a few dozen boats crossing at any time, spread out
over 3000nm. And no shipping lanes near either. No surprise we haven't seen
another vessel in two weeks. Only some birds, and the occasional flying or
jumping fish. I wonder what makes those big tunas jump. Maybe the same that
makes us sail across the ocean: curiosity, and because we can.

Thanks to everybody who followed us across the Pacific on the blog, and who
sent the occasional email. I hope it was a little entertaining, though I can
imagine everyday the same reports about wind and sea must be getting a
little boring. Just like it got a little boring for us on the boat. So hey,
it's almost as if you've been on board

Day 23, Monday, 2012-05-07, 11:30 boat (17:30 UTC), 9:35S, 136:13W, COG 265,
SOG 7, Wind 15-18kn E, sunny, 167nm to go

Hey, almost there now. Yesterday was quite nice. Good speed, not too rolly,
only one squall. I'm pleasantly surprised that we didn't have any breakage
so far. Only the starboard spinnaker hailyard seems to chafe somewhere up
top, and I cut 20cm off the end of it. Have to climb up and check where it
chafes when we get to port. But it can't be very bad, considering that I've
used that hailyard most of the time all the way from the Canary Islands.

There's a lot more things to check over on the boat when we arrive, and to
clean too! But I hope that we can get it done quickly and that there won't
be any nasty surprises. I'm very much looking forward to some diving and
photography trips, and Liz can't wait to find a nice cafe where she can sit
for hours, writing and watching people.

We keep our fingers crossed that the wind holds up so that we make it
tomorrow before nightfall. Otherwise we have to sail in circles until the
sun comes up again

Day 22, Sunday, 2012-05-06, 11:45 boat (17:45 UTC), 9:19S, 133:47W, COG 260,
SOG 5, Wind 10kn E, sunny but leaning towards muggy

Three weeks (and four hours) ago we left Isla Santa Cruz. As is customary we
had a very fast start, with up to 196nm per day, and now a very slow finish
(slowest was just under 60nm). We've gotten used to that, it was the same on
all passages so far. Now it's only 310nm to go. Usually a trip of two days,
but in this wind more likely three, so we're planning with landfall on
Wednesday. We're very excited about what it will be like in French
Polynesia!

Yesterday I've learned that two friends of mine, Joachim and Rosi, are going
on a cruise around French Polynesia this month. I very much hope to meet
them, and from there itinerary it looks like Nuku Hiva might be possible.
Last time we met on the Kilimanjaro, wouldn't it be just awesome to meet on
one of the remotest islands?

It looks like it's going to be another very hot day today, fortunately with
a little more wind. Yesterday it was so calm that we had to start the
engine. But then it got so hot that we quickly turned it off again after a
few hours. The heat from both the sun and the engine was unbearable.
Fortunately the wind had picked up again just enough to fly the Parasailor,
and we sailed with around 3kn most of the day.

The positive side of going so slow is that it's very comfortable. Not much
movement on the boat, almost like at anchor. So you get more out of the day,
instead of just holding on or lying down. Then in the evening we experienced
the most spectacular sunset ever. Deep blue sea, dramatic clouds, the sky in
all shades from deep purple above to a bright red on the horizon. And at the
same time the full moon rose just behind us, not as dramatic, but very
majestetic. We stood in the cockpit for almost two hours, and turned from
west to east and back to west and couldn't get enough of it.

Day 21, Saturday, 2012-05-05, 12:00 boat (18:00 UTC), 9:32S, 132:03W, COG
280, SOG 5.5kn, Wind 7kn E, overcast

Sunset is our special time. During the day both of us are busy with boaty
things or our interests, or sleep alternatively and don't get to talk a lot.
But before sunset we cook dinner and, weather permitting, have it together
in the cockpit. Then we watch the sun set, and the stars come up, and
talk.about our thoughts. Very special. When Liz asks me, what we get out of
this trip, I often think that this time together is one of the most
important things, and that I will remember those evenings in the cockpit as
the best part of the trip. Sure, exotic islands and a little taste of
adventure is nice, too. But having time for each other is real special.

Last night, a few hours after dinner, Liz went back to her writing, and I
took my laptop into the cockpit and coded underneath the 90% full moon. Then
the wind started to drop below 10kn and shift, and I was busy with the lines
trying the keep the boat speed at around 5kn. In the morning we heard a call
on the VHF radio: "Sailing Yacht that just crossed my port side.", repeated
a number of times, but no answer. Apparently the captain of a commercial
vessel wanted to have a chat with a sailor, but the sailor wasn't listening.
I know a few cruisers who, went night falls, close the hatch and sleep until
the morning, trusting in god, good luck, and the vigilance of others to see
them through. Maybe this was one of them. Well, the sea is big, traffic is
scarce, and a sailboat is small and slow, so chance is on their side. But
still ...

Out on the ocean and away from shipping lines we also sleep for up to an
hour without looking around. But at least we have all our electronic eyes
and ears turned on, and we get warned half an hour before a possible
collision above the water. The aluminum hull is also a very good resonator,
and a number of times I've heard the noise of another vessel below decks
before I've seen it on the horizon. But now that we're approaching the
islands and there is more traffic to be expected, we look around at least
every half hour. And no sleeping within 50nm to 100nm of land, depending on
the approach.

This morning the wind dropped below to 6kn, and we were barely making 2kn
through the water. No surprise, given the thick forest of growth on our
hull. I took the sail down and started the engine, we've only run it for 10h
so far on the trip. Then I tied a big scraper to an aluminium pole and
started working on the side of the boat from the deck down, to get at least
the waterline clean. You have to wait until the side comes out of the water
as the boat rolls, but it works quite well. Now we're moving with 5 to 6kn,
and the desalinator is running. Unless the wind comes up to over 10kn we're
going to go like this all day, filling up the water tanks. We used about 30l
a day, but only made 60l every third day, so we have some catching up to do.
Better do it out on the ocean than close to land.

Day 20, Friday, 2012-05-04, 12:00 boat (18:00 UTC), 9:37S, 129:58W, COG 265,
SOG 7.3, Wind 20kn E, sunny

Not much to report, really. Days go round in circles. Yesterday we did some
more washing while the sun was out. Then some rain came, followed by sun
again and the laundry dried. The sun went down and the moon up. With almost
a full moon it was very bright all through the night. No need for a lamp to
work the sails. What a difference to the first week of the trip! With no
moon, and the clouds, it was so dark that we often couldn't even see the big
white sail a few meters in front of us without a light. Or the horizon, or
anything else for that matter. Much better this way, and I had timed the
departure from the Galapagos so that we would arrive in the Marquesas with
plenty of moonlight. The worst is to approach a new landfall and not seeing
anything. Not that we're ever going near a coast in the dark. But just
knowing it is not far ahead (compared to several 100 miles), and not being
able to see anything, makes you very nervous.

17:30 UTC today I heard a call on the VHF for the boat "Happy Bird", but I
didn't understand the caller. Means there is another boat within sth like
60nm of us, nice. We haven't seen a boat in a long time. Also nice to hear
another voice. Not that I don't like Liz' voice! I'm just saying it's nice
to hear more voices (as long as they are not in your own head, that is).

Only 530nm to go!

Day 19, Thursday, 2012-05-03, 12:10 boat (18:10 UTC), 9:21S, 127:34W, COG
290, SOG 6kn, Wind 14kn E, partial clouds

It's great to be moving again. But yesterday was especially nice. Sunny,
light but steady winds, calm seas. We sailed alng with 4 to 5kn, ran the
watermaker and filled the tanks, cooked, wrote, and coded. In the afternoon
Liz baked Pumpkin-Ginger-Muffins and we had tea. Then we danced in the
cockpit to music we got from Cuba. In the evening we showered and dressed up
for dinner (just pasta) - which means we actually put more on than our
underwear. We toasted the sunset with Vodka and Cranberryjuice, then lay in
the cockpit for hours, talking and listening to music.

Today there is a little more wind, around 15kn, and we're making good speed.
The boat moves more - don't leave stuff lying around and watch our for those
mugs of tea!

Day 18, Wednesday, 2012-05-02, 12:10 boat, 9:13S, 125:37W, COG 280, SOG 6kn,
Wind 10-15kn E, sunny

Yesterday afternoon we were lying unmoving (again), n 2kn of wind, but at
least with a little sun. The sea was a deep blue, not a fish or fin in
sight. I went into the water to have a look at rudder and keel, and see how
the anti-fouling is doing. Rudder and keel are still there, unchanged.
Antifouling is probably also there, but it's hard to say because the hull is
completely covered in growth, some kind of mollusc, an inch long. There's so
much I didn't even start scraping them off, it would take half a day, and
the boat was still moving and rolling.

Back on the boat I pulled the main-sail up to let it dry. Liz thought I had
turned on the hose, so much water came splashing out of it. And then ...
wind! 4kn. 6kn. We're moving! I quickly unfurled the genoa and we sailed for
a bit. And just as the mainsail was dry a raincloud came. So ... dry sail or
more speed? Stupid question. Half an hour later the wind was gone again, and
the sail wet again. Ah well, something to do.

Fortunately as night fell the wind came for real. A nice steady 10-15kn from
the east. We sailed through the night with the Genoa, and first light I
pulled up the Parasailor. Now we're moving ahead at 6kn, what a joy!

And just in time, too! Our friends Gisela and Uwe on SY Venus
(syvenus.wordpress.com), who left two days after us, had almost caught up
with us. At one point we were 500nm apart, yesterday only 90nm! The lucky
two had steady 20kn of wind all the way from the Galapagos, incredible. I'm
very happy for them, and it's a joy to read their happy emails. I hope the
wind stays with them (and us, too), the rest of the way. Only 790nm to go.

Day 17, Tuesday, 2012-05-01, 12:00 boat (18:00 UTC), 08:54S, 123:50W, COG
280, SOG 0.9kn, Wind 3kn N, muggy with patches of sunlight

Wow, we came 58nm yesterday! 27nm sailing, the rest drifting. A new record -
lowest distance in 24h ever! But at least it's a little sunny today, not
like the last two days. We spent most of the time below deck because it was
raining so much, and at one point I counted 9 individual squalls at the same
time on the horizon. They are already encrouching heavily on the last
patches of sunlight. Let's hope the forces of light manage to fend the evil
dark clouds off for a little while longer, at least until we had lunch!

Liz is cooking pumpkin soup with our last pumpkin (half of it). There's
still onions, potatoes, tomatoes, kiwi, limes, apples, pears, oranges and
garlic left. So we're still some way from opening cans.

Day 17, Tuesday, 2012-05-01, 12:00 boat (18:00 UTC), 08:54S, 123:50W, COG
280, SOG 0.9kn, Wind 3kn N, muggy with patches of sunlight

Wow, we came 58nm yesterday! 27nm sailing, the rest drifting. A new record -
lowest distance in 24h ever! But at least it's a little sunny today, not
like the last two days. We spent most of the time below deck because it was
raining so much, and at one point I counted 9 individual squalls at the same
time on the horizon. They are already encrouching heavily on the last
patches of sunlight. Let's hope the forces of light manage to fend the evil
dark clouds off for a little while longer, at least until we had lunch!

Liz is cooking pumpkin soup with our last pumpkin (half of it). There's
still onions, potatoes, tomatoes, kiwi, limes, apples, pears, oranges and
garlic left. So we're still some way from opening cans.

Day 16, Monday, 2012-04-30, 11:50boat (17:50UTC), 8:32.6S, 122:56.2W, COG
230, SOG 5kn, Wind 15kn NW, rainy

Last night I fell out of my bunk. No kidding. There had been no wind for
hours, we were just drifting along, lying in our bunks waiting, and suddenly
I find myself lying on the floor. Liz head pops up from behind the table on
the other side of the boat. "Are you ok?". "Uhm yes, sure. Everything ok.".

Another squall had come along and rocked the boat. They've been doing that
all afternoon. No wind, then suddenly a gust and some waves from some crazy
direction. SE, NW, N, S. For 30minutes or an hour, then nothing again. A
wonderful exercise in setting and shifting sails. From 3am to 5am boat time
(sth like 1am to 3am local) I could make out a small solitary light bopping
up and down over the horizon. At first green, but when tried to get closer
it turned white and ran away. Must have been another sailboat. Unfortunately
it was too dark to see anything but the light, and in the morning it was
gone again. I had hoped for a photo of a sailboat in the morning light.
Photographic opportunities have ben very scarse so far, not counting clouds
and waves.

Today will not enter the records as the most beautiful day in Pacific
history. Overcast, drizzling on and off. But at least there is a little wind
now and we're moving. The weather forecast predicst no real wind until
Wednesday. But it's wrong all the time anyway, nice weather and steady winds
might be just an hour away! Also Liz is baking bread, which is another thing
I'm really looking forward to.