THE MARQUESAS

 We marvelled at the extraordinary scenery before us tucked into the corner of the Bay of seven virgins. It was given this name in Tipee, the book written by Herman Melville about the Marquesas which Andrew had been avidly reading during the crossing. Sadly for him not one virgin canoed out to throw themselves at his feet but the scenery was just as he had imagined it to be. The jagged brown stone mountains looked like giant tikis nestled between the rich green foliage, neither of us had ever seen anything quite like it before.

Needless to say we celebrated our arrival with an alcoholic lunch and then, spotting Charles and Fung on Wilderness across the bay, we swam across to say hello, our first encounter with other humans in three weeks. That evening the prospect of an entire night in bed beckoned, the luxury of it seemed too much and so it proved to be. It took me at least ten days before I stopped waking in the middle of the night, convinced we were still at sea and baffled as to why neither of us were on watch!

We spent our first day on land in the water cleaning off the enormous goose barnacles that had hitched a ride across the Pacific. In fact we didn’t venture ashore until day three, maybe we were reluctant to leave our sanctuary. I later talked to others who had done the same thing, just being anchored and stationary being enough to start off with.

When we finally landed in the small harbour we discovered lots of youngsters mucking around blasting out music from boom boxes, not so different to the Western world. As we ventured inshore we found a very different scenario with small homes nestled into the hillside, beautifully colourful chickens, which we soon learnt are treated like pets, and very happy looking dogs  everywhere together with lots of friendly locals. The people are not well off but there is fruit everywhere and no one is undernourished, in fact we were surprised at how large some of them were. The Marquesas are only five million years old, so relatively young islands but the landscape is prehistoric, I wouldn’t have been at all surprised if a dinosaur had come lumbering along the dirt track. We were hopeful of a bar but no such luck so we retired back to the boat hurrying under the massive overhanging rock ledges, stepping over the fallen small rocks scattered on the ground, relieved that nothing had landed on our heads!

The next morning we got up early, after a breakfast of a local pamplemouse given to us by two  other sailors in the bay who had traded a piece of rope for a bag full. Our objective was to walk to  the waterfall which was supposed to be worth a visit, and it certainly was even though we got horribly lost and climbed three tracks before locating it. The swim in the cold dark water was very welcoming and we certainly saw a lot of the countryside and got some much needed exercise! We walked back past the church where earlier we had seen people arriving with palm leaves to celebrate Palm Sunday and where now they were congregating outside the small local shop buying sodas, the women in pretty dresses. Returning to the dinghy it was full of bits of rubbish which seemed strange, we later discovered some local kids had tried to take it for a joyride and had been stopped by another boat.

We would have liked to stay in Fata Hiva a little longer 7but as we were there illegally we felt it was time to set sail to the nearest port of entry in French Polynesia which was Hiva Oa. En route a large squirrel approached us rather rapidly and we discovered to our horror that our hydraulic system wasn’t working properly again. It took us quite a long time to reef our sails which was all rather frightening. Clearly more trouble at mill to be investigated. Arriving in the bay of Atuona we were horrified to see how choppy the conditions were in the outer harbour. For once I was glad of the Dallas family belief that the normal rules do not apply to them as Andrew muscled into the inner harbour and found us a spot in calmer waters. It was however necessary to set a stern anchor which we did and all seemed well.

On investing the Hydraulics we discovered that we had a burst pipe and looked at each other in horror. We had spotted a small yard as we came in and quickly went ashore to see if they could help us with this problem and our other challenges with the engine alternator and our failing generator. The proprietor’s wife seemed to think they could and we arranged in our rusty French to meet Vincent there at 8am the next morning. It was obvious that the yard would not be able to lift us or our mast if that was necessary. Also there is no marina in the Marquesas and therefore no means of plugging in and charging our batteries if our generator was to fail whilst we awaited a new alternator, which we had yet to source. We went to bed with everything crossed, not totally in love with our boat.

We went to see the lovely Vincent early the next morning as arranged, it took us about an hour to wrestle him from the many boaters in need of his help. We arrived back to the dingy dock to find our neighbours who informed us we had dragged our stern anchor and were heading fast in their direction, when we got back to the boat we had hit them! Quick relaying of the anchor and we set about showing Vincent our two problems. It was agreed the alternator was dead but that we would extract it and take it to his yard to see if he could find someone to rewind it. He told us he had a friend who could reclamp our hydraulic hose but seemed to think we would have to remove it from the mast. We started to see a light at the end of the tunnel.

We woke the next morning to find we had dragged our stern anchor across the harbour and so had to jump out of bed at five am and motor the boat by dinghy back to it’s original position. The day progressed with many such manoeuvres as we dragged our anchor around the harbour giving much entertainment to the other boats who no doubt thought we were a pair of numpties in our posh boat with little power and no Solar! At one point I lost the end of the anchor line, had to dive in and catch it before I lost it for good and then got back in the dinghy with my new trick of a backward summersault, at least I got a round of applause for that! Then we got the anchor stuck and couldn’t get it out, burning a winch out in the process, so had to reset  another boats anchor along side us. We were very grateful to be cooked dinner by Martin & Lydia that evening as we were exhausted and somewhat frazzled!

The next day we took our boom off, Andrew cleverly tying everything up so we didn’t lose it overboard into the sea as it swung off the gooseneck, it is quite a large bit of kit. Vincent came onboard and helped us extract the pipe from the mast and took it off to his mate. There was bad news on the alternator, there was no-one in Thaiti able to rewind it so we needed to source a new one from Europe, Vincent on the job as well as Oyster. The lack of internet making it very difficult to source ourselves, no worries about accidentally switching on roaming as there is no signal. We couldn’t even buy a local sim they had sold out. The pipe was returned the next day, after a trip around the island, and Vincent helped us reconnect it. We put the boom back on and finally got some more hydraulic oil in plastic water bottles from the yard, all with a lot of waiting around in the heat but the hydraulics were working so one problem down.

In the midst of all this drama we managed to hitch a ride into town and check in with the gendarmerie, who seemed very uninterested in when we had arrived. He stamped a few papers and sent us of to the Post Office to buy a stamp so that we could send them on to Tahiti . We got several thousand local francs out at the bank, visited the local store and failed to get the owner to take us back to the boat as she had brought us in. Apparently there was no such thing as a taxi so we had to walk back which was a good few miles, and involved clambering down the hillside and wading across the beach at the top of bay.

Andrew managed to further entertain the anchorage with his laundry washing on the hard, using two buckets and water from the tap on the quayside he planted a foot in each and began energetically treading on  the washing. The locals kept calling him the lavage automatique, I thought he looked like a blue footed Boobie performing its mating dance! I managed to cause some amusement myself having dyed my hair one evening the next morning I donned a white shirt. It was a very hot morning and I started sweating profusely as we wandered around the yard, I clearly hadn’t rinsed my hair properly and the colour leached down my neck and around my shoulders. The lavage automatique had to hose me down on the dock, luckily it had a rinse cycle.

We were still awaiting news on our alternator but it was Easter that weekend and the world was shut for four days. So after struggling to retrieve our stern anchor we decided to head over to the island of Tahuata and the beautiful Hanamoena bay for some much needed RNR. There we found  a glorious sandy beach covered in Palm trees and we tucked into the corner by the rocks, not a bad place to spend the weekend and twitch every time we ran the generator....

Heading back to Hiva Oa in search of our part we muscled in to the harbour, anchor now set to mud setting and managed to anchor in one go, feeling very smug and ready to be entertained ourselves by the new kids on the block.  We spent the week hunting down the alternator, finally ordering it through Oyster as Vincent quoted us twice the price. To be fair he had to pay tax on it whereas we could avoid that as a yacht in transit.

I walked into town one morning to provision. Luckily we still had a lot of supplies left from Panama as the supply ship comes once every three weeks and produce is expensive and limited. There is no income tax in French Polynesia, tax is levied on goods. The locals sell their fresh produce from small stalls and you just have to buy what is on offer. There is a man in a van who sells some vegetables and if you are lucky bread and quiche. But nestled among the shelves you can find french cheeses and baguettes arrived every morning to the garage shop in the anchorage. The one thing that is really cheap is fresh tuna seven quid for a large fillet. I discovered it was cheaper to buy beer in returnable bottles and I managed to get a lift back with my three crates of beer and somewhat depleted bank account. We located the lovely Sandra and her yacht services at the Semaphore station at the top of the hill where we could go each morning for intermittent internet, coffee and a chin wag with other sailors, most of whom had equally large boat problems after the long Pacific crossing. It was great to put faces to the other Puddle jump boats that we had travelled across with.

Zig Zag pulled into the anchorage and we invited them to dinner, eager to catch up and hear all their news. Slight heart attack when the generator refused to start half an hour before they were due onboard but Andrew finally managed to get it to work and a jolly evening was had. Several of us were waiting for parts but we all headed back to Tahuata for the weekend, no point in staying in such an unpleasant anchorage/harbour when there is no hope of any developments. 

This time we anchored on our own in a pretty bay, stern anchor down in sand setting, had a swim and de frazzled. Whilst cleaning the waterline the next afternoon the wind picked up without us noticing and we found ourselves spending a sleepless night on a lee shore and were up at sunrise ready to move out. The Stress levels rose even more when the voltage on the generator started dropping out after twenty minutes charge but we had enough battery to get the anchor up and we headed back to Hanamoena bay.

We were hailed on the radio by Chris who had overheard a conversation about our generator problems. He very kindly offered to sell us a new spare generator that he had and we rushed over to see him once we were all anchored.  Hailing from the US the voltage of this generator was only 110, opposed to the 220 we need, but the instruction manual for our Mastervolt battery charger said it would work.  Zig zag helped us put together a connection plug and money changed hands. Sadly the Mastervolt itself wasn’t in agreement with its manual and we now had a redundant large black generator sitting on the back deck. It did however offer a little added security as Andrew thought he might be able to charge each battery separately with it in an emergency.

We took a few deep breaths and a few drams and contemplated our predicament. The part had supposedly left the UK and was supposed to take five days to reach our agent in Tahiti who would then put it on a flight to Hiva Oa. However we knew how unreliable the system is after our previous two bad experiences with couriers and we hadn’t yet received a tracking number. We decided to stay put in, what was soon to be renamed Frustration bay, conserving our energy. Andrew did want to strike out for Thaiti but sailing through the Tuamotu’s with potentially no navigation system frightened the life out of me!! The time difference is massive, so I had to ring Oyster at four in the morning to see what the situation was, I could just get a signal hanging off the back of the boat. It transpired the part hadn’t been sent, much wailing from me as I was in despair! Eventually we got a tracking number and we were told the part would arrive the following Monday. 

Imagine our horror when the next update from UPS told us that it was stuck in customs in the US. Then they misdirected it to Australia which apparently might cause some delay. No apology, no date and they hadn’t even had the decency to chuck it out the hold when it flew over! All in all we spent two weeks in Frustration bay and had a few of our worst days on the boat to date. We only dared to run the generator for twenty minutes at a time and the water maker for ten, and we definitely polluted our lungs with the increasing amount of filthy diesel smoke billowing out the back. We stared enviously at all the boats with solar and wind power, our elderly posh Oyster not looking so clever in this part of the world.

Friends came and went, Zig Zag returned triumphantly with their Martingale sent from South Africa, Cheglia received the wrong parcel for their generator part and gave up and headed to Tahiti. But we had some good evenings in between with them and Tim and Nancy from Larus.

Rosemary bought me eggs & fresh baguettes, Nancy gave me fresh ginger and bananas, Francois exchanged rum for engine oil. We hadn’t managed to barter with the locals but were doing a great job of it with our friends. Money seems to have little value here.

We settled into a daily routine making sure we either swam, kayaked or marched up and down the beach and the snorkelling was fantastic with some pretty tropical fish to see. However paradise is not quite so beautiful when you are stuck there. But there was a definite upside to our enforced stay. There lives on the beach a local who goes by the name in the guide books of Mr Stephens, although he won’t tell you his name for some reason. He lives a traditional life living off the land, farming Copra and walking to town cutting his way through the forest with it on his back. He looks exactly as you would imagine a young Polynesian warrior to look like, extremely easy on the eye. We had seen him in a rage chasing some boats out of the bay as they had taken some of his fruit without asking and I was a little uneasy about meeting him. However we had been fretting about this baby goat that looked like it had got stuck on a rock down the hill and Andrew decided we should tell him about it.

We found him salting a pig that he had caught that morning in a trap and told him about the goat. He informed us that it was usual for a mother to place her kid there as it would keep it safe from predators. We obviously amused him and got chatting, we left with some of his salted Pig and a promise to pick him and his visiting Canadian girlfriend Hannah up in our dinghy at four am the next morning and take them to the local village to pick up his bread order. Our payment would be a baguette and he wouldn’t have to kayak the four miles in the dark. We rose a little weary, having had Cheglia onboard for dinner the night before, and he guided us onto the beach by head torch and off we set.

Arriving in Vaitou at the quayside there was a massive swell running but our new friend guided us onto the dock judging the waves perfectly. I landed in a heap losing my shoes and it was decided that Andrew would stay on the boat and hang off a fishing boat. So we left him in the dark and I walked bare footed to the bakery with the other two. On arrival we discovered that they had forgotten to turn the oven on so we went to sit in Stephens friends restaurant, rousing him from his mattress on the floor. A kettle and some coffee was brought out and we settled down to await the bread. Chatting to Hannah I discovered that she had decided that life in Hanamoena bay was too basic for her and she was sadly heading home the next week, despite the obvious affection they had for each other.

Around daylight Stephens went to fetch Andrew to share in the breakfast we were being offered, apparently instructing him on the exact minute to jump through the waves and land on some rocks. The bread arrived and his friends gave us some cheese and butter, refusing to accept any payment as friends of Stephens were friends of their’s. We spent a fascinating couple of hours talking to them all with a mixture of French, Marquesan and English. We learnt about their ancestors and life before the missionaries arrived. How they killed their enemies and ate their brains for their intelligence and their hearts for their courage and then carried their skulls around with them hanging from their waist, as recently as their grandparents! How when the missionaries arrived they refused to let them tattoo themselves or speak their own languages, but now they learn French, Tahitian and Marquesan in school and proudly tattoo themselves again, each person depicting their life story. I have never been a fan of tattoos but on these proud people they are truly beautiful to behold. The children are educated on the larger islands and then go to Tahiti for their secondary education and university but fewer and fewer wish to return to the islands after tasting a more modern life.

Before we left I managed to repay our hosts hospitality by buying their young son some chocolate, this they were happy to accept. It took me longer to persuade Stephens to accept his bar. There was a wedding in the village that day so we stopped to see the bride and groom. On getting back to the dinghy the sea state was a little improved so Andrew, keen to maintain some male pride beside our rather heroic passenger, stripped to his shorts and gallantly swam out to the boat. Sadly he couldn’t get the anchor up and Stephens had to go to the rescue. He took a large breath and dove about twelve meters down to free it bringing it back up with him. Hannah and I were retrieved and the bread miraculously remained dry.

Arriving back in his bay he tried to give us half his bread, which I refused and so he showered the deck with mangos that his friend had given him. He also distributed some to other boats in the bay. Later that afternoon he arrived with two fishermen who wanted to barter a freshly caught tuna for two beers, we gave them three and they insisted on giving us another tuna. We were learning that the locals are extremely generous and also very proud so it is important that they give you us much in return.

I had offered to charge Hannah’s iPod for her and it was arranged they would come over for an early evening drink. They arrived and Stephens sat behind the wheel and wouldn’t move any further into the cockpit. They were not going to stay long but it seems rum is one thing that was accepted in abundance and we spent a few hours chatting some more, the Hakka getting louder and louder. We parted the best of buddies.

The next evening we were invited to dinner on his beach along with Cheglia and two other boats from the bay. After a passionate speech from our host imploring us to spread the word amongst other boaters that it is not okay to steal fruit from the land without asking dinner was served. We were given pig cooked in fresh coconut milk with rice and fresh basil all served in a leaf, eaten with our fingers sitting on Palm leaves around a fire under the stars, magic stuff! He wouldn’t let me take a photo of him, apparently we must carry our memories in our hearts..... we sang his Hakka loudly on the way back to the boats and Cheglia sang it leaving the bay on route to the Tuamotu’s,” Who ha who ha hey growl!”

Our two new young friends came onboard for a farewell coffee the next morning before we left to head back to Hiva Oa. Catching sight of our unwanted generator on the back deck we asked Stephens if it would be of any use to him. He was at first reluctant, as he didn’t have anything to give us in return, but was easily persuaded as he has no power source at all in his home. Saying farewell, having dropped them and it on the beach, the goodbye hug I got standing waist deep in the serf was believe me payment enough!

The alternator was rumoured to be In Thaiti and our agent was going to put it on a flight to Hiva Oa. Moored stern to the dock this time we busied ourselves refuelling which had to be done with Jerry cans and was back breaking work in the heat. We went into town, restocked and managed to borrow a hose and fill the water tanks from the dock. The great day dawned and I managed to find a cab of sorts to take me to the airport to fetch the alternator due on that days flight. My cab driver, and her extended family and friends, drove me to the tiny airport and I went indoors to wait for the plane to arrive. I watched the air steward like a hawk unload all the parcels, my heart banging in my chest. I was third in the queue once all the passengers had left, determined that no one would take my parcel by mistake but when it was my turn they couldn’t find it! I was close to tears at this point and everyone was looking very concerned. I seemed to have acquired a different lady taxi driver and she phoned her friend in the Air Thaiti office and informed me that it would probably arrive the next day. Leaving the building head down feeling very unhappy there was suddenly a lot of shouting and waving, it had been found ally bloody Lulia!

I clutched it all the way back to the boat and we laid it on the table and unwrapped it, fingers tightly crossed and there is a god it was the right part. Andrew fitted it and we were back in the power game! Huge sighs all round. We left atuona harbour behind without a backward glance and headed to Nuka Hiva to restart the Marquesas experience, spending a last night in Hiva Oa in Hana Maneau bay which was the Rocky Mountains on sea, huge cliffs surrounding the anchorage.

Rising at 04.30 we sailed across to Nuka Hiva and dropped the hook in Hakahaa Bay the home of the Typee tribe and the valley that Herman Melville had lived in with the cannibals in about 1840. Luckily there was no sign of any locals hunting the long pig. We tried to land in our Kayak but had to abandon the mission as we almost ended upside down in the surf. The next day we Motored round to Taiohae bay charging our batteries, what a great feeling! We found A Capella of Belfast in the anchorage and arranged to go out for pizza with them the next night, our first meal ashore in two months! It was all too much when we found a snack bar ashore the next morning and we indulged ourselves in steak and chips for lunch, what pigs two meals out in one day, famine or feast! Still no sight of a bar though, the locals tend to gather on the beach with some beers and blast music from their cars for all to enjoy.

We felt that with all our boat problems we hadn’t seen the inside of the Islands so at vast expense booked a tour with a local Polynesian who went by the name of Jimmy, and it proved to be worth every penny. He was a wealth of information, not only showing us the sights but frequently stopping to show us all the local fruits and vegetation. He explained their various traditional medicinal properties and how they had been used to make ropes and building materials, no part of the plants going to waste. The most interesting fruit was the pistachios, the locals eat the outside fruit which is delicious and rather like a grape, then throw away the nut or sell it to westerners for a small fortune. We saw many signs of Copra farming which is a big business in the Marquesas, the coconut shells drying on racks. Apparently it fetches US$1,500 per ton as the popularity of coconut oil has grown in the West. We marvelled at the landscape, all the beautiful trees my favourite the Falcacca exported from Africa and now considered to be a pest. The jagged rocks standing tall and proud with the shimmering blue waters beyond.

He took us to Tipee bay where there was a replica of an old village and we purchased a small Tiki to take home. He explained how the tribe who used to live there numbered at least 80,000 before the white man arrived with his diseases which killed most of them and the neighbouring tribes over time. Now there are only about 3,000 locals on the whole island. He explained the love hate relationship the locals have with the French, feeling the subsidies paid to them were deserved for the loss of much of their culture and the nuclear testing in the Tuamotu’s. Then we drove to the other side of the island stopping for lunch in a hotel owned by a beautiful eighty year old Polynesian lady serving delicious fish dishes.

Our last stop was the best though, an old archeological site where an ancient village had been sited. Walking in to the middle in the woods it took my breath away, you could feel that it was a very special place and we were asked to reflect for a few moments in honour of their ancestors. There was the chiefs house at one end and the tattooists down one side, round holes in the rock where the inks would have been mixed. Some old tikis remained, believed to House the spirits of the ancestors and he told several stories of mishaps that had befallen people who had moved them from their original locations. The only other place in the world that has taken my breath away to such an extent was St. Marks Square in Venice. It didn’t even register that the place was alive with Mosquitoes and the spray was in the car.

Fully provisioned for the Tuamotu’s we made one last stop in Daniels bay, the site of the US  tv programme Survival and what a beautiful anchorage it is. Once inside the entrance you are completely surrounded by the hills. The down side to this was as there was little breeze in the bay and on starting our very smoky generator the next morning we were beset by several concerned boat owners who all thought that we were on fire! We joined Patrica and Julian and their friends Bill and Moira on a hike to the famous waterfall. By the time we had located the path we had made friends with Isabel and Mark from Jolly Dogs and we all set off up the track having booked lunch with the friendly lady at the first house on the left and paid 1,000 francs each to the couple in the second house on the left as a entrance fee. We waded through two rivers, chatting as we went. Shoes on and off, the water at some points quite high. The waterfall is the third highest in the world and would have been spectacular if there had been any water, but it was still pretty special anyway. 

Our lunch was delicious, all sourced from their land and our hostess was very proud to tell us many times that it was all organic. We purchased some pamplemouse to take as gifts to the Tuamotu’s, where there is little local produce, and were gifted some fresh basil which felt like we had been given gold dust, I couldn’t remember the last time I had had any fresh herbs.

The rainy season was starting and It was time to leave the beautiful Marquesas, we were sorry to go. Its remoteness and lack of communications had proved difficult when we had boat issues to solve but of course is what makes it so special . The people are so friendly the moment you smile or wave to them, they have little by western standards but are by no means poor. There is plentiful food in the trees, and each plant has an owner who is happy to share as long as you ask. But the thing that struck me the most was that this is a people that are fiercely proud of their culture and heritage and that is what puts it apart from the islands of the Caribbean. From a cruising point of view it is unique as there are only live aboards like ourselves and it creates a wonderful boating community, and there are no charterers!

We set sail for the Tuamotu’s , passing the island of Ua Pou, with its vertical mountain peaks forming a virtual castle in the distance it seemed a fitting last sight of such a beautiful and memorable group of islands. And we still had so much more to explore in French Polynesia....

THREE THOUSAND MILES TO THE FRENCH MARQUESAS

With three thousand miles ahead of us to the French Marquesas Islands we set off in fair winds and started to settle into our tried and tested routine at sea. After dinner I take the first watch as Andrew finds it difficult to sleep in the day and I can sleep in broad daylight. He then takes the late evening, I relieve him around two am and I do until about 5 or 6 am and after breakfast together I turn in for my second sleep and then sleep until I wake up, which feels like I am having a lie in. Sometimes we nap in the day but as and when one of us feels the need, so we are both up together for most of the daylight hours. Then sundowners and cards, weather permitting, before dinner and into the watch system. Routine is important at sea to help pass the day, almost as important as interesting and tasty meals, just not too spicy whilst we get our sea legs!

We had left Santa Cruz just behind Cheglia so we were in radio contact with them for the first couple of days as we both headed South to 10 degrees to cross the ITCZ in search of better winds. We posted each day on the cruisers net for the Pacific Puddle Jump our position and conditions and really enjoyed reading all the other boats posts. It became part of our routine to read them with mid morning coffee when I woke up and it was really nice to know there were other boats out there and to hear their news each day. One boat reported that due to a mispronunciation of a non English speaking crew member that the new word for squalls on their boat was squirrels and soon the whole fleet were reporting encounters with these hairy creatures.

There was also a SSB net that we were part of but although we could hear them there were only a few occasions when we managed to communicate, as we were a few days and several hundred miles ahead. Andrew’s father became the editor of the South Pacific Times keeping us up to date on the news from home. In particular the Brexit fiasco which we passed on to other Brits on the Ocean.  We were all keen to know if we would still be Europeans when we checked into the French Marquesas with the right to stay as long as we wished, or were going be limited to three months and subjected to a lot of hassle posting bonds etc. , as the non-Europeans were.

We sailed for most of the trip wing on wing with our Yankee poled out and managed to achieve two hundred mile days. Once we were accustomed to riding the bucking bronco we included exercises into our daily routine in the form of squats and using the BBBR bands, the moveable floor all adding to our core strength! The skipper incorporated this into his morning schedule whilst I was having my lie in and in addition took it upon himself to hoover every day. He got quite stressed one morning over coffee suddenly jumping up and proclaiming that he had forgotten to hoover whilst I rolled about laughing, what is it about boats that make men so domesticated!

Our night watches were well lit by the moonlight and the amazing stars which I could stare at for hours. They were all in the wrong place, the North Star was no longer visible but we could now see the Southern Cross and Venus made an appearance towards day break lighting up the sky like a street lamp. We couldn’t quite make ourselves go to bed together for the night and not keep a watch, even though we only ever saw two fishing boats, but it was easy to snooze on deck. One evening I was feeling particularly sleepy in my rather cozy day bed that I had made up in the cockpit and concerned I wouldn’t wake up periodically I set the alarm on my iPhone to go off every twenty minutes. Unfortunately I wasn’t woken by the phone nestled into my ear but by the skipper who had been asleep below in our cabin and been woken by a load buzzing, whoops!

We were relatively lucky with the weather having to only motor on a couple of occasions and we only had one really bad squally night. The rest of the time the winds were very friendly and we even managed to hoist our kite on a few occasions. We gave it the nickname The Monster though as it is really rather large and can only be flown in up to fifteen knots, in truth we are both rather scared of it!

We put our fishing rods out on several occasions but never managed to land a fish. We had one fly into the pilots berth through the window one evening and even better one that landed in Andrew’s bunk. There was an almighty screech as he got into bed with it.  Apparently it was wet, cold and slippery and it made quite a mess of the sheets.

Every few days we had to change our clocks as we passed through different time zones, each time taking us further away from GMT. The time passed surprisingly quickly with the help of our new addiction to the American version of House of Cards and the many books we had downloaded. In the middle of one chick flick I will admit to an overwhelming desire to go to a large departmental store and purchase a vast array of goodies like my heroine. I also had two occasions both at night when the cabin got very stuffy and I was convinced that I couldn’t breathe and had to rush on deck, which may have been a panic attack. But in general I loved the vastness of the Ocean which is lucky as there is a lot of blue sea out there and not a lot else.

On the negative side we had a lot of breakages throughout the trip. It started with our starboard primary winch that failed to work, push button said no! It turned out to be a blown fuse which we were able to replace once we had taken the head lining down. Then the generator overheated and failed to work. It turned out to be a broken impeller and we have three of those so we managed to get it working again. Despite this it became somewhat temperamental and we started to notice that the voltage would just drop out if we used it for more than twenty five minutes at a time. But it hung in there and we managed to keep making water and charge our batteries even if we polluted our lungs with all the black diesel smoke creeping back into the boat.

There were lots of little breakages as you would expect and poor Andrew spent a lot of time mending things. The sink pump breaking was a bother and I spent one evening washing up in a bucket until we discovered we could hit the pump with a hammer and it would work for a little while. However three days from land we had two rather more serious malfunctions.

We noticed that the hydraulics were slow and at first thought it was due to our batteries which were not keeping as much power as they should have due to the short bursts of charging they  were getting from the generator. On inspection of the system we discovered that the hydraulic oil level was very low so dug around in the lazarette and found some oil in a container left by the previous owner, god bless him. We filled up the tank and the sails whizzed happily in and out again.

However in the midst of all this we had turned on the engine and our service alternator had failed. This had two consequences some rather irritating mood lighting one evening when we had to motor for awhile and rather more worryingly our only way of generating power was now our rather unpredictable and failing generator. Our lovely boat is very easy to double hand but the consequence of that is that everything requires power to work. Our Yankee and mainsail and our powered winches, then obviously all our instruments, our heads and of course our fridge, freezer and oven. And heaven forbid if we had to actually helm the boat!

We both took ourselves off to contemplate the consequences of no power on the good ship Hullabaloo three days out from land. I decided there was enough cooked food in the freezer and plenty of tins to keep us going, although the thought of losing the contents of said freezer wasn’t great. The water tank was pretty full, we had plenty of bottled water, several torches and a hand held GPS, a small staysail which we could unfurl by hand and of course The Monster.  We had a working engine and the alternator that charged it (but not the service batteries) was fine and maybe the mood lighting would help light the way. We decided we would be fine although we were concerned about the lack of facilities in the Marquesas when we arrived and very twitchy every time we fired up the generator, breathing a huge sigh of relief when we completed our twenty minute charge and got to live for another few hours.

On day nineteen we spotted land. We were somewhat tired and a little grumpy at this stage and our faces lit up.  We had decided to stop at the island of Fatu Hiva rather than go to Hiva Oa where we were supposed to check in, as it would be an upwind sail to return and the anchorage was supposed to be spectacular. As we rounded the end of the island the ruggedness of the Jurassic Park coastline took our breath away. As we put our anchor down amidst the spectacular rock formations and were greeted by a local from the hillside chanting a Hakka in welcome as he hunted a pig for his dinner we knew we had arrived somewhere special. And the feeling of achievement was fantastic!!

THE GALAPAGOS

Finally it was time to begin our crossing of the Pacific. We checked the weather and were happy to see that the wind was starting to fill in, we would have to motor a little but that is to be expected crossing the ITCZ  (Doldrums). As we pulled away from the Panamanian coastline in flat seas enjoying our breakfast we were waved off by a school of jumping spotted dolphins, literally leaping several feet out of the water around us. The wildlife in the Pacific already much more diverse and lots more to experience along the way. Happy Days!

Now we had begun our crossing we both instantly felt more relaxed. We were fully fuelled, watered and provisioned. We had a good access to weather information with our new Iridium Go and everything was working on the boat, for now. We knew there would be failures along the way but we would just have to deal with them as they happened. The main thing was we were finally on our way! Neither of us were worried about the long sails ahead and we were happy it was just the two of us, no deadlines to meet just adventures to be had at our own pace.

Which is lucky as the wind was flukey and we spent our time putting the sails in and out trying to motor as little as possible to preserve our diesel supplies. We started posting on the cruiser net with the aid of our new Iridium Go and discovered that our friends on Zigzag were not far away. It was fun to be able to speak on the old VHF or email on the brand spanks new iridium to find out what weather conditions they had in their part of the Ocean. We stuck our rod in the water and were surprised to find a small quivering Bonito tuna on the end of it when we went to reel it in for the night. Goodness knows how long it had been on the line trailing behind us but it was still alive and just enough for a fish supper. Marvellous!

On day four we crossed the equator. Tradition has it that the first time you cross the line you must make a sacrifice to Neptune and anyone who has crossed it before dresses up as him to oversee the proceedings. It was a first for us both so we took it in turns to wear the crown and trident that the skipper had spent the morning making. I shaved off all of Andrew’s hair and he dyed mine red. Then we each poured a shot of our best rum into the sea, a huge sacrifice, before drinking some of it ourselves. All very silly but hopefully enough to ensure us fair winds and a safe crossing. Even if I was now married to a thug who looked like an extra from Coronation Street!

We arrived in the islands in the early hours and the skipper took the opportunity of heaving to for the first time. He was certainly very pleased with himself when I awoke from my off watch and we then motored into Wreck Bay on the island of Saint Cristobal. The Galápagos Islands are very careful of their eco system and therefore there are quite a few hoops one has to jump through in order to be allowed to stay, and quite a lot of expense involved. A couple of hours after our arrival we were boarded by eleven officials and a diver was sent down to check that the scrub we had had in Panama City had been effective and we were not bringing any foreign crustaceans into their waters. We had been told that if we did not pass the test we would be sent back to sea, luckily we did. We had had to obtain a dubious fumigation certificate in Panama and our agent in the islands had obtained our cruising permits. They checked our holding tanks, the food we had brought and made sure we had the necessary recycling bins onboard and notices pinned up to warn anyone not to throw rubbish etc into the sea.  Lots of money changed hands amongst much smiling and nodding and we were pronounced fit to stay. Again the cost of an agent was well worth it and I am sure greatly facilitated our entry.

Zigzag had arrived a couple of hours before us and had also successfully completed the checking in process so we all decided to go ashore and celebrate our arrival on these glorious islands with a local lunch. The town is pretty run down with lots of unfinished buildings and therefore a lot of bare concrete on show, but the locals are very friendly and lunch was cheap and tasty. We loved the hundreds of sea lions that seemed to be everywhere we looked, some were sleeping on the rocks, some in the middle of the street. The babies were playing with each other in the shallows whilst daddy looked on barking at any creature that got too near his little darlings. Returning to the boat for an early night we had to shoo one sea lion off the back of Hullabaloo, waking the next morning we discovered we had been sleeping with two onboard and they were very indignant when politely asked to leave. Time for Sea lion defences, all fenders tied on the aft platform in a variety of ways to ensure no further invasions, they are very cute but also very smelly and they bark a lot.

There isn’t anywhere to leave a dingy in town but the water taxis are frequent and only cost US$1 per person each way. On our second day we went ashore for an explore walking through the town and then along the sea front passing some newer and more attractive hotels and restaurants. We followed a path and eventually found ourselves on Punta Carola, a beautiful sandy beach covered in Sea lions many having a snooze whilst the locals played around them. They are very tactile creatures and love cuddling each other which is very sweet to watch. Continuing down the beach we came across black marine iguanas amongst the fray and the by now common pelican, these with brown feathers. 

We also found a circle of University students who had landed a turtle and were conducting experiments on its body temperature by sticking thermometers into any orifice they could find whilst covering its head with a towel. The poor thing did not look very happy. Reaching the end of the beach we came upon a small light house on the rocks. Andrew proceeded to climb the steps and on reaching the summit was very taken aback to find a large sea lion barking in his ear. So surprised that he fell back down the steps and even now is quite twitchy at the sound of a bark, I may use this to my advantage! Some local street food and a cocktail on the way back to the boat helped restore his equilibrium.

On day three we had arranged to go on a tour of the island with Francois and Rosemary. Our taxi driver, Alberto,  picked us up and drove us into the Highlands stopping first at El Junco Lagoon at the summit of the now extinct volcano. Here there is a huge fresh water lake with lots of frigate birds and spectacular views of the island. It reminded me of a sunny Sussex downs.

We then visited a sanctuary for Giant Tortoises, what beautiful grand creatures. From the eighteenth  century their numbers on the islands have been greatly depleted as they had been thrown into the hold of naval and Pirate vessels alike as a good source of living protein that could be killed to order. Our guide told us how they incubated their eggs and could determine the sex of the young tortoise by the temperature applied, 27 degrees for a boy and 29 degrees for a girl. The youngsters then live in cages for the first couple of years of their lives, then in an enclosure until being set free onto the island between the ages of three and five. They live to one hundred and fifty, not a bad innings and an awful lot of leaves to consume in that time.

Next we went to a beach for a well earned swim and whilst walking down through the trees Alberto pointed out the local flora as well as some Mocking birds and Darwin’s eponymous finches. A nice lunch in town and back to the boat for some R&R. The next morning Rosemary and I went to the vegetable market to replenish supplies and were pleasantly surprised with the variety and quality of the produce. Most items cost one dollar and our shopping bags were soon full. 

In the afternoon Andrew and I went to visit the Interpretation Centre, a free museum which was surprisingly informative about the history of the Islands. Over the years there have been many settlers and it is in fact only over the last few decades that Ecuador has been trying to preserve the ecological integrity of the natural habit and its wildlife.

We got  back to the boat to find a steady breeze and decided to up anchor and over night it down to Isabella as there were no winds forecast for the next few days and we did not want to use up seventy miles worth of diesel. Arriving early in the morning we were thrilled to find that the anchorage was much more scenic than Wreck bay, which was full of commercial boats and where the water was actually rather dirty. Here we found blue waters and only two other yachts, one Into the Blue we had met in Shelter Bay and we were drinking coffee onboard within the hour and hearing all about the tours we should take.

There were the usual sea lions but also some very curious Puffer fish, the most adorable tiny penguins swimming around the boat resembling incoming missiles and the odd baby black tip shark swimming by to add a little frisson to the proceedings. Our agent Stephen arrived in the afternoon with the necessary Zarpe and we were now checked into Isabella the second of the three anchorages we were allowed to stay in. We had the crew of Into the Blue onboard for drinks which became a very jolly affair and then retired to bed ready for a full nights sleep.

Venturing ashore the next day by water taxi, US$2 per person here, we wandered into town where the roads are covered in sand, a much sleepier place than St. Cristobal. I had read that there was a Flamingo pond by the main Square so was a little disappointed to find it inhabited by a solitary Flamingo and an Oyster catcher. Returning to the boat we discovered a supply ship had arrived which remained in the bay for several days whilst it unloaded its cargo with the use of a small barge. With no dock to tie up to at any of the islands the unloading of freight is a lengthy business.

We had booked a tour to see the Lava tunnels for the next morning and duly boarded MY Cactus with about ten other passengers and our guide for the day. We set off at speed down the coast, stopping at a solitary rock in the middle of the Ocean to see some Boobies. Approaching our destination there was a big sea running and our driver had to pick his moment to pass through the reefs, it was quite a ride and very lucky that he knew just what he was doing! We were then served an excellent rice and chicken salad before motoring through the lava tunnels. They were formed about five thousand years ago from a volcanic eruption as the hot lava met the cooler sea and are extraordinarily beautiful. Some of them formed bridges and they are set among crystal blue waters and interspersed with the mandatory wild life. We saw a fur seal, a fluffy version of our new shipmates, some Penguins and a very magnificent Great Hawk, and of course there were lots of Pelicans and Frigates, but we are getting a bit blasé about them. 

We ventured over the lava on foot to find some blue footed Boobies and very quickly came upon a courting couple. They have the most wonderful blue feet which are a product of the herrings and sardines that they eat and the darker the blue in the males the more likely they are to score, as this shows that they are excellent fishermen. Once they have pulled their bird they prance around lifting there feet in a bizarre manner and flapping their wings behind them whilst cooing, quite a sight to behold. I have it all on video complete with the guides commentary and as he is telling us that the females make nests out of guano up pops her tail, David Attenborough eat your heart out! 

Leaving the tunnels on the same fairground ride to get back out to sea we then motored back down the shore until we reached our snorkelling destination. We followed our guide and he took us to several lava tunnels under which we could see lots of white tipped sharks of various sizes. I was a little hesitant about this to begin with but they were all too busy snoozing in the shade to be bothered about us. One of our party found two fully grown sharks the largest about six feet long which were a sight to behold, for the few seconds I dared look at them! Andrew was slightly taken aback when the smaller of the two swam past him within a couple of feet. He looked even less sure when he cut his head on one of the tunnels while looking at some other sharks and was then bleeding into the water. But it didn’t stop us enjoying the awesome experience of swimming with several giant turtles on the way back to the boat. They didn’t seem at all fazed by our presence and we could dive down and swim alongside them, a truly memorable experience.

The next evening there was a fiesta in the main square. We had dinner with Martin, Lydia and Nico off Cheglia whist we waited for the festivities to begin. The whole town seemed to be out for the evening and in true Spanish style the whole family were there from the oldest members to the youngest. The first band on stage were five girls who were more suitably dressed for a seedy night club but the main attraction, a thirty piece Salsa band, were phenomenal! The town danced their socks off and we gave the Salsa a good go but I fear looked somewhat amateur. We called it a night at one am when a dreadful Sasha Distelle copy took to the stage but the party went on until six am.

Our next tour was to see the Super volcano Sierra Niegra with our charming and informative guide the pirate. We drove to the bottom of the volcano and then set off on foot to the rim of the crater which took us about fifty minutes to reach the first view point. The crater is the second largest in the world with a circumference of 45 km. The view was spectacular and the landscape in the centre a mixture of different lava from different eruptions over the years. These happen every ten to fifteen years. We set off to view the latest eruption from June last year which had flowed down the back of the crater and added an additional 1.5 km of land to the Island.The landscape is extremely bleak and I felt like I was on the moon as we crunched through the ash and fine pumice, the minerals sparkling in the sunlight. We were very lucky to be allowed to visit the new Lava field but not allowed to damage in anyway nature’s latest work of art. It was definitely worth the round trip of sixteen kilometres and my only complaint was that our guide may have addressed us all as his beautiful friends one too many times by the end of the day, or maybe I was just tired!

Our final stop in the Islands was in Santa Cruz which we duly set sail for. A pleasant sail but a poor wild life day as I only saw two large Manta rays performing a synchronised double back flip.  Arriving in the bay we snuck into the corner with the commercial boats as advised and put out a stern anchor and were happy as Larry in what is otherwise a very rolly anchorage. We went ashore for dinner finding a very nice fish restaurant having had a stroll around what is by far the busiest of the three towns we visited in the islands.

We found several old friends in the bay and had a very sociable few days. Zigzag invited us to visit the underground lava tunnels with them and Rosemary’s niece Alison who was visiting.  We hired motorised electric scooters setting off rather precariously to begin with balanced on the tiny saddles. However I soon got the hang of it and quickly worked out you could go downhill much quicker if you just freewheeled. Unfortunately Rosemary’s scooter was faulty and quickly ran out of power, we eventually managed to raise the owner on the phone who suggested we plug it into a power socket. I had to point out there weren’t very many of those on our country road and he agreed to bring us another bike. It took him awhile to find us as we had got rather carried away on our speed machines and overshot the tunnels by quite a distance. New bike delivered we retraced our steps and found the entrance with the help of our rescuer who was waiting for us outside. 

The tunnels were made by boiling lava forcing its way through the rock. This then cooled and the lava eventually crumbled away leaving huge underground tunnels. This one was 3.5km long and about 10m in circumference. It was lovely and cool below ground and very dark with he odd light bulb to light the way. Reunited with our steads we returned to town and were then royally entertained on Zigzag for dinner.

A weather window was opening up for our Pacific crossing so we readied ourselves for sea. Laundry dropped of and the hull cleaned for the third time since our arrival, Andrew particularly proud of his underwater antics, The water is so rich in algae and a brown sludge quickly builds up which is unattractive and not good for boat speed and we had three thousand miles to go to our next landfall. We took on fuel which was delivered to the boat by one of the local taxis in canisters. We lucked out as he had a fuel pump and we didn’t have to decant it ourselves which everyone who had ordered it in advance in St Cristobal had had to do. We had a final provision in the Saturday morning farmer’s vegetable market which was quite an experience and himself actually enjoyed the shopping experience for once. A last minute beer hunt proved unfruitful as it was election weekend and the shops were not licensed to sell beer for the duration. Perhaps we should ban the sale of alcohol in Westminster until they sort out Brexit!

Drinks on Cheglier then drinks on Hullabaloo we made the most of our last nights attached to the land.

Sunday morning dawned and we waited for our agent to arrive with our final papers. Apparently delayed by the election, perhaps the custom officials had the dt’s, he finally arrived with the necessary official and we were free to go. We loved our time in the Galapagos and were glad to have been despite the expense. However we all decided that the best way to see them would be on one of the local cruise ships which are allowed to visit many more place than us yachties. 

As we motored out of the harbour a shark jumped out of the water on our starboard bow which seemed a very fitting finale to our time in the Galápagos Islands. Now just three thousand miles to the Marquesas.....