After 33 days and more than 4,000 nautical miles, we dropped anchor early in the morning of April 9 in Taiohae Bay on the island of Nuku Hiva in the Marquesas. Exhaustion partially eclipsed any feeling of joy or accomplishment. Winds during the night before arrival changed frequently in speed and direction, never in compliance with the forecast. Changing winds required numerous sail changes, so neither of us got much off-watch sleep.
The exhaustion didn’t suppress our amazement at the spectacular beauty of the island. Herman Melville, arriving at Nuku Hiva on a whaling ship in 1842, had this to say:
Those who for the first time visit the South Sea, generally are surprised at the appearance of the islands when beheld from the sea. From the vague accounts we sometimes have of their beauty, many people are apt to picture to themselves enameled and softly swelling plains, shaded over with delicious groves, and watered by purling brooks, and the entire country but little elevated above the surrounding ocean.
The reality is very different; bold rock-bound coasts, with the surf beating high against the lofty cliffs, and broken here and there into deep inlets, which open to the view thickly-wooded valleys, separated by the spurs of mountains clothed with tufted grass, and sweeping down towards the sea from an elevated and furrowed interior, form the principal features of these islands.
Nuku Hiva wasn’t our first sighting of land. We had sailed within several miles of Ua Huka the previous afternoon. The outlines of its mountains were barely discernible under dense cloud cover. Ua Huka, known for its herds of wild horses, isn’t a port of entry, so we sailed past for now but hope to visit soon.
Checking In
The obligatory first order of business when arriving in a new country is to clear in with the authorities. In some countries the bureaucratic tangle requires onboard inspections by multiple officials and days of running from office to office, with fees to be paid at each stop. Not here! We had submitted all of the required paperwork online days before while still underway. After anchoring and securing the boat, we rowed the dinghy ashore. We walked on wobbly sea legs a short distance to the gendarmerie where a cordial officer stamped our passports and welcomed us to French Polynesia. There were no fees to pay. If only it were always this easy!
Did We Earn It, or Did We Just Get Lucky?
I’m going to say both for this crossing.
To say that we earned our magnificent landfall after a month at sea feels like an overstatement. It seems almost like cheating to have enjoyed such a long but easy passage. We could not have asked for better sailing conditions. It was an easy, comfortable downwind sail the entire way. The few squalls we encountered were mild and brief. This is normally a long but benign trade wind route, and we were lucky enough to catch conditions at their best the whole way.
We do take a little pride in having made it the whole way under sail. Most cruisers on this route motor at least a few hundred miles through the doldrums near the equator. Our hired weather router somewhat chastised us for indicating a preference not to motor if possible. Motoring at least 500 miles, he told us, would take a week or more off our passage time. But we were happy to drift sail ever so slowly through periods of little or no wind. Conditions were superb, so why be in a hurry and why ruin the joy of quiet sailing with the noise of engines? True, crossing the doldrums could have taken much longer, so again we were lucky.
Luck helped us with the weather, but luck didn’t get us a boat capable of crossing an ocean or crew capable of sailing her. In almost twenty years of sailing together, Joe and I have been dedicated to developing seamanship one hard step at a time. We have read everything we could find about sailing. We’ve pursued formal training where we felt the need. We’ve practiced each time we sail, gradually taking bigger steps as our skills and confidence grew.
It’s been a long, challenging process. Offshore sailing requires a huge range of skills and knowledge, and it requires a well found boat. This is the fourth boat we have sailed together. The first three gave us good practice. We spent more than three years in boatyard purgatory getting this boat prepared to cross an ocean. That was a lot of very hard work at huge expense. That wasn’t luck, this part we earned.
Lest we get too confident, four thousand miles is a huge distance to sail, but it’s only half way to New Zealand, our final destination for the year. Some of the passages ahead will be significantly more challenging. Our sail across the Pacific revealed some areas needing improvement in the boat and in ourselves. There is still work to do. More on that in future posts.
Much Needed Rest
For now, a few rainy days at anchor give us a good excuse to rest. We’ll see sun and adventure again soon.
Exhaustion aside, never have we so anticipated an arrival. Never have we been so excited to explore a destination. Stepping ashore for the first time yesterday, we felt that cruisers’ familiar feeling of unfamiliarity, this time compounded by landfall in a new ocean and a new hemisphere. It’s exactly here, in the unfamiliar, where we reap the rewards of the cruising lifestyle. Each anchorage gives us a new world to discover. Stay tuned!
Day 25: 138 miles
Winds ESE in low 20s. Seas building to three meters.
Day 26: 155 miles
Bright at night under full moon. Continued brisk sailing in ESE trades.
Day 27: 131 miles
Winds dropped below ten knots in the morning. Sailing very successfully dead downwind with twin headsails–genoa and code zero.
Day 28: 95 miles
Light but pleasant downwind sailing with gentle following seas and fair weather.
Day 29: 123 miles
Light rain and variable winds overnight.
Day 30: 118 miles
Sunny skies, light wind, easy seas.
Day 31: 123 miles
Light winds overnight with scattered rain showers giving way to brisk winds and sunny skies in morning.
Day 32: 89 miles
Winds briefly reached 20-25 knots. Changed to reefed main and genoa, then back to twin headsails.
Day 33: 109 miles
Frequent sail changes in highly variable winds. First sighting of land, Ua Huka, around 15:00 on April 8. Dropped anchor in Taiohae Bay, Nuku Hiva at 08:30 on April 9.
Total: 4,103 nautical miles
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