3,000 Miles to Paradise

When we first contemplated a cruising lifestyle, our plan was to buy a sailboat in Seattle, sail down the West Coast to San Diego, and then join the Baha HaHa to Mexico. In reality, we bought a boat in Florida, explored the East Coast and then graduated to the Bahamas, Leeward, and Windward Caribbean Islands.

While in Grenada we had to make a major decision: Do we continue being a “yo-yo” boat going up and down the island chain between the BVIs and Grenada, or do we take the big step of crossing the Caribbean to the Panama Canal? It was very tempting to continue being a yo-yo boat:  safe, convenient, and easy access to parts and repairs. But our hearts said this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and we headed 400 miles west to Bonaire.

The next big decision was to continue to Cartegena, with a reputation as one of the more dangerous passages in the world. It was scary at times but we arrived safely — more or less. Fortunately the next leg was the relatively easy two-day passage to the San Blas and then to Colon, Panama.

After leaving Panama your next stop is the Galapagos, Then it's 3,000 miles of tradewind sailing to the Marquesas.

Once at Colon, you are at a major decision point. It’s not to late to head north up to Roatan, Belize, and Mexico and then back to the BVIs. This is what many boats do, and we respect their decision. After our experience off Columbia, Meryl had some doubts about our continuing to the Pacific. We had some long, soul searching talks about the pluses and minuses of continuing west. A wonderful email from Marce on Escape Velocity (which was dismasted 400 miles off the Galapagos) said: “This is your last chance to do something truly epic in your life. Go for it!”
Soon we were anchored off Panama City provisioning for our longest passage yet, 900 miles to the Galapagos. That turned out to be one of the easiest trips yet in very light winds and calm seas. We could actually walk around the boat without feeling we’d just been mugged. We thought:  This isn’t too bad, how hard can it be to cross the Pacific?

How do you contemplate a 3,000 mile voyage (one of the longest passages in worldwide sailing) across a vast expanse of ocean with no Coast Guard, no VHF radio contact, no nothing? In our hearts we knew the boat was bluewater capable — a well built hull with strong rigging — but what about us? At ages 66 and 67 we are no spring chickens. I guess you’d call it a leap of faith, along with the fact you’re already out in the middle of nowhere so you don’t have much choice in the matter.

I spent six months on and off living with Tryg and his wife Anni while we prepared Flying Cloud for bluewater sailing. Without their help this voyage would have never happened.

Delphine's made the best pizza in all of Atuona.

It was wonderful to be back on a French island where good quality food and delicious baguettes were available. Meryl couldn't get to the fresh fruit and veggie section quick enough after the 18-day passage.

We hedged our bet by inviting long term friend Trygve Johnson to join us for the trip to the Marquesas. Tryg helped us provision, get fuel, and load up 14 5-gal water bottles. As we got ready to leave, reports of rigging and rudder failures began filtering in from boats that left a week earlier. The next day everyone in Isabelle was up their mast checking their rigging.

On May 10 we pulled up a very dirty anchor chain and departed Isla Isabelle under a bright blue sky and steady 15 to 20 knot trade winds from the south east. We had a 30 gal. water bladder tied off under the overturned dingy on our foredeck and 45 extra gallons of water tucked away down below. We pointed the boat at 235 degrees magnetic, set the autopilot, and settled in for the long haul. We had reports from previous boats of very confused seas caused by a southeast swell countered by southeast winds with a northwest swell and soon felt the boat rolling in the big seas.

Our first challenge was wrestling the 265-pound water bladder from it's precarious perch on the leeward rail and getting the precious water stored in containers in the main cabin.

Within a hour, Meryl noticed our expensive bladder under the dingy had inched it’s way leeward and was about to go swimming. Given the size of the waves and the wind it was quite an effort for Tryg and I to go forward, run a hose from a portable water pump, and pump the water into our 5-gal cubes.

Meryl had pre-prepared a lot of meals, but having fresh baked bread underway was a real treat.

With that little drama over, Meryl went down below to make dinner. You develop very healthy appetites while at sea. She had pre-prepared about 10 days of meals, since cooking down below in raucous seas is a exercise in masochism. Meryl oversaw the galley but was pleased with all the assistance in preparing meals as well as clean-up by Tryg and Walter. It made such a difference when you consider (18x3=54) that is a lot of meals!  After a great BBQ chicken dinner, we settled into our 3-hour watch schedule, with me taking the first watch until 10:00 pm and Meryl and Tryg sleeping down below. We’re not set up for two people off watch so we had to experiment a little. It was too bumpy for Tryg to sleep in the guest berth so we took the cushion off and laid it on the leeward floor next to the settee seat that serves as our sea berth. With Meryl on the upper and Tryg on the lower it was a little like summer camp with the two of them with a “chatty good night”. At 10:00 pm Meryl relieved me and I crawled into the hot bunk she had just vacated; we just changed pillows. At 1:00 am Tryg came on watch, followed by me again at 4:00 am for the dog watch.

We quickly learned that Tryg's normal berth in the mid cabin wasn't going to work in the heavy seas so we moved his mattress to the lowest point on the boat. At time it was like summer camp with Meryl and Tryg chatting away into the late night hours.

We’ve written a lot about night watches. You basically have to watch the horizon for lights on ships, check our AIS system for any large ships, and hope the fishing boats (who don’t use AIS) have their lights on. You really can’t see any debris in the water at night so you try to not think about Robert Redford and half sunken containers, etc. Other than that you listen to audiobooks or podcasts and scan the horizon every 20 minutes when the timer on your iPhone goes off.  We had plenty of wind, usually around 12 to 18 knots, and you become used to the syncopated sounds of the boat and the roaring of the 5- to 10-foot waves as they rushed by the boat. Every once in a while a wave would hit the boat at a wrong angle and splash some water into the cockpit. Down below the noise was muted, but you could still feel the motion of the boat and become hyper aware if that motion suddenly changed.

In the morning we’d usually have breakfast together, usually Cheerios or corn flakes but sometimes scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast. I would do the early morning radio net, charting the positions of the four boats ahead of us and noting their wind speeds, directions and swell heights. You’d sometimes get a snippet gossip about a fish caught, a problem with the boat, or news of other boats further west.  We found it a nice way to keep in touch for safety reasons as well as companionship. When you see only three ships in 18 days it’s great to know others are out there with you just ahead or just behind if a problem should arise.

Every day at 10 am ( 24 hour period) Meryl would record our lat and long positions, boat speed, course over ground, and chart our position on our paper chart.  It was nice to see our progress each day and see the miles add up as we inched our way closer and closer to our destination. This helped us stay focused and delineate the seemingly endless repetitive days at sea.  We recorded over 170 miles a number of days and averaged around 155 miles a day over all.  Each evening during dinner in the cockpit we would toast to “Team Conner” and another  successful Day of good sailing and teamwork.  It always brought big smiles to our faces before we started another night of watches.

Having a third person aboard for this long passage made life much easier for Meryl and I. We could finally get enough sleep that we weren't wiped out all the time.

During the day we would try to read, but it was usually too windy, so we’d just talk. We talked about everything under the sun, some mundane, some repetitive, some personal, and some sensitive subjects. Two weeks 24 x 7 is a long time to spend with people, even if they are your spouse or a close friend. We learned a lot more about each other.

You also can get rather feral on a long passage, so every other day we would shower in the cockpit. Tryg would go first, then Meryl and I. The method was to get a half gallon of salt water and pour it over your head, soap up with a special salt water soap, shampoo your hair, then a rinse with salt water (which wasn’t that warm and sent a little yelp from your voice as it rushed down your body.) Then Meryl would take a little half gallon pressurized garden mister and spray fresh water on me and I’d return the favor. That way we would get get three showers using as little at one half gallon of our precious fresh water supply. It worked amazingly well and we all felt so good after our “showers.”

We didn't get a picture of our first fish, a mahi mahi, but we did capture this black fin tuna we caught several days later. This little guy feed three of us for about three days.

After about four days Tryg and I took a try at fishing. I had bought an ocean grade fishing pole loaded with 80 pound line and stainless steel leader. We’d let out about 100 yards of line and watch the lure, usually resembling a squid, dancing on the surface. We were going six to seven knots, which isn’t exactly trolling speed, but we’d heard fish would strike at those speeds. Our first few days were a bust, but on day three we suddenly heard the line zinging out with a loud whistling sound. I had to jump up, find my sandals, put on a safety tether, and work my way back along the pitching deck to the pole. Just getting it out of it’s holder was a challenge. Then I had to figure out how to set the drag and start reeling in the fish. At seven knots it’s a battle just getting the lure back in, but this first fish didn’t seem to be putting up a huge fight. As we got closer I could see it was a small mahi mahi. I was a little disappointed but once we got him on board we realized their was enough meat for several meals. Since neither Tryg or I was a fisherman, figuring out how to clean the fish on the pitching deck of the boat was a challenge. We eventually got several fillets cut and Meryl got them in plastic bags and into the freezer. We high-fived each other, knowing that real fisherman would laugh at our meager catch.

Every morning I would put on a safety harness and walk the decks checking the rigging and lines for chafe and other issues. Typically there would be five or six flying fish laying on the deck along with one or two squid.

Each morning I would put on a safety line and walk forward along the deck, throwing dead flying fish and squid overboard and carefully checking all our standing and running rigging. One morning I discovered that our roller fuller line was chafing (which had happened twice before), but now I could see exactly where it was chafing on the stanchion block just after the line exited the roller drum. The block was simply too small for the line and its metal edges chafed the line over time. I replaced it with a larger block, but had no way to anchor it in the exact position, so we improvised (we do that a lot) and got a somewhat fair lead. 

My feeling was that most of the rigging failures on the other boats were due to the very confused seas we were sailing in, causing the boat to pitch every which way and putting shock load on the rigging. Every morning I held my breath as I checked everything I was capable of checking. Meryl expressed a concern about our solar array, perched over the davits on the stern of the boat where you could see some movement so we went back and tensioned some line in an X pattern to add a little structural strength. We also had a problem with our solar panels not charging. I fixed it by replugging in the network cable, but it was an intermittent problem for about a week and forcing us to run the motor to charge the batteries.  With this kind of continuous preventive attention we hoped to avert small problems from becoming bigger problems

I had ordered a docking station for our sat phone so we could hook up an external antenna and not have to sit on the edge of the boat to use the phone. Unfortunately, they forgot to ship the power cable and the mounting bracket so we couldn’t take advantage of our new antenna (it won’t plug directly into the phone). I did manage to use the sat phone to upload/download emails which was much more convenient (and much more expensive) then using our SSB radio.  The problem with the SSB radio is you had to try and make a connection with a shore station, usually in Panama, Trinidad, or Corpus Christy (during the first part of the voyage). You’d have to call each one separately, and try over four different frequencies to see if it would connect. That was great when the first station connected but a pain when you had to try four or five different stations on various frequencies. With the sat phone you just dialed using the computer and it would connect with the satellite (most times). It only took a minute to download most stuff whereas the SSB/SailMail connection could take up to 20 minutes. But again, the SailMail connection time was free and the sat phone was not.

After 18 days at sea the mountains of Hiva Oa were a very welcome sight.

Early in morning of May 28 I could make out a mass of clouds ahead. I’d been somewhat cautious of landfalls every since the Galapagos when our electronic charting system showed us anchored on land. My fear approaching Hiva Oa was we’d hit it in the dark before actually seeing it, but luckily as the sunrise slowly illuminated the sky I could make out the outlines of the mountains peaks of Hiva Oa, located exactly where the chart said it would be. Tryg had gotten up early just to see the landfall; it was a amazing sight to know you’d made it after crossing 3,000 miles of desolate open ocean. 

Taahuku Bay is relatively small and typically packed with boats. A stern anchor is mandatory when you are anchored this close together.

Sailing into Taahuku Bay, located about one-half way down the south side of Hiva Oa, was a little like sailing into a short Norwegian fiord. The emerald green mountain peaks towered on all sides dwarfing the harbor in comparison. A large breakwater comes out from the right side and once you round the corner you realize what a small harbor it really is. A fellow cruiser described it as the “harbor from hell” given the fact you have to anchor very close to other boats, and therefore deploy a stern anchor to keep you from swinging in the confined space. Luckily our friends French Curve were just pulling up their anchor and we swung in behind them into the perfect anchoring location, far enough back in the bay to be out of the worst of the swell but far enough forward to not share the waves with the surfers.

Boxing Kangaroo, a Belgium boat with a young couple on board, was nice enough to come over and assist with our very heavy stern anchor, which we had never deployed. We handed him the huge Fortress anchor and began feeding out over 100 ft. of ⅜” chain as he tried to motor his small dingy backwards, but eventually the weight of the chain was stronger than his dingy could pull, so down went the anchor.

It felt ever so good to be finally in a safe harbor after 18 days at sea, it’s a feeling we only now can fully understand as long distance sailors.  Firstly, and most importantly, to have made it safe and sound, secondly, with no major equipment failures (kudos to our Auto Pilot that steered all 18 days without a hitch!), and thirdly, we were all still talking to each other!   

We tried contacting our agent, but found the Marquesas were on a weird +9 ½ hour time difference so our appointment with her was late. We dinghied Tryg ashore so he could try to reserve a flight from Hiva Oa to Tahiti, and we set out on the Herculean task of trying to get the boat back to rights after such a long passage. Just airing it out was the first priority.

On Friday we finally connected with Sandra, our agent, who collected our papers and drove us the 3 ½ miles into Atuona to the Gendarme. Check in was as simple as filling out a one page form and handing over our passports for the entry stamp. Following that Tryg went across the street to the Air Tahiti Nui office to try again and get a ticket, apparently the computer system had been down the day before.

Shopping for presents and essentials.

Atuona is a relatively small village with one main road that curves around and heads up into the mountains. There are a couple of small magasins (grocery stores) on the main road, but their hours seem variable at best. Meryl and I walked around the corner on the main road and about one block up on the left was the main grocery store which had an very good supply of French-based foods, and more important, fresh baguettes and and soft serve ice cream machine. We stocked up on French cheeses, yogurt, baguettes, fruits, and vegetables and began the long walk back to the boat at Taahuku Bay.

Meryl fixed a great dinner and we all had our first full night’s sleep (in 18 days) in our own berths. Wonderful!
 

Friendships

We lost two good friends this week due to a misplaced comment on our website. What seemed somewhat innocuous to me was taken very personally by them and the damage is done. They were good people — experienced cruisers, world travelers, highly competent, and willing to help other cruisers at any time. It is sad and we will miss their company, advice, laughter, and friendship.

When you make the decision to go cruising for an extended period, one of the most difficult things is saying goodbye to family and friends. Some family will see your decision as selfish at best; some friends may see it as risk taking and irresponsible. Others will applaud your sense of adventure and become vicarious armchair travelers through your blog. 

In the end you need to make your own decision and live by it. For me, cruising was a life long dream. That dream got me through lots of boring business meetings, hours and hours staring at a computer screen, and many sleepless nights. It wasn’t Meryl’s dream (it seems it’s rarely the wife’s desire) but she has an adventurous spirit and let me put the pieces in place.

Leaving our house and friends for the last time.

I remember our last night at our house (after we sold it in a terrible real estate market). We had to be out by 9:00 pm and we hustled to get last minute items into the car. Our faithful Acura was loaded to the brim, with Meryl buried underneath some houseplants. We just sat in the driveway looking at the empty garage and wondering what the hell we’d just done. Then I clicked the garage door and we drove away in the dark, both of us in quiet contemplation of the big leap we were taking.

Jim and Chris visit us on Flying Cloud at Newport, RI.

We had left bits and pieces of our lives at various friend’s houses content in the feeling that they would derive some use out of our stuff. Our good friends Jim and Chris Berry, let us stay with them and we “visit” Meryl’s comfortable leather chair and our bedroom set in the guest room (our home away from home). But more than anything we value having the opportunity to sit and talk with Jim and Chris at night, and share breakfast in the morning. Jim is our mail drop, our protector, our emergency contact for Search & Rescue; Chris is the person we talk to when we need to be centered.

Annie and Tryg helped us transit the Panama Canal.

We feel so inadequate when we try to say thanks to Anni and Trygve Johnson. I stayed at their house for almost six months on and off while working on my boat, which was stored at Tryg’s factory. Tryg and I would go to “work” together in the morning, he to his office, me to my boat. When we got home at night Anni would have hor ‘de ouvers out and a great dinner simmering on the stove. After dinner we’d curl up on the couch and watch one of the thousands of videos in Anni’s collection. How they put up with me I’ll never know, but that’s true friendship.

Paul and Irene, one of our longest term friendships.

Meryl and Mary Ann lounging at Beaver Lake. I didn't have a wide angle lens to get Jim, my longtime sailing buddy.

I could continue down the list: Paul and Irene Ballew’s welcoming smiles and great hospitality. We love just sitting up late at night and laughing with them. Jim and Mary Ann Sanders (whose last name I’ve misspelled my whole life) always have the door open at their beautiful lakefront house and amaze us with the stuff they do to make it a real home.  There are lots others (you know who you are) and we wish we could see you more.

I’m not including family in this blog. It’s so painful to leave your children and grandchildren it’s the reason many people never go on an extended cruise. Our children have been so generous and supportive that we’d never have been able to leave in the first place. Everyday we think about what our grandkids are doing, what new words they are learning, what new experiences they are having, and we’re sad that we’re not there to share it all with them. Thank you so much Christa and Brad for supporting us in this crazy adventure.

Fortunately we’re able to visit Christa in Hong Kong a couple of times a year and spend two months in Seattle visiting Brad and Christa when she comes over for the summer. 

One of the biggest mistakes I’ve made in my life is not truly understanding the value, and responsibilities, of friendships. There was lots time to nurture friendships when we were in our early twenties, but once the kids came it seemed that just managing our growing family was all we could handle. Once the kids got to a certain age we began yearly camping trips with the Berry’s, Johnson’s, McRae’s, and Larson’s. We all had an incredible time (including when the kids told us they had been feeding the Mormons (marmots). Lake Wenatchee, Peregrine Lake, Mt. Rainier, Mt. St. Helens:  we all miss those fantastic trips, even when it poured down rain.

Now that we’re cruising we’ve had to put our lifelong friends in a holding pattern, except for short yearly trips home or friends visiting us aboard Flying Cloud in far off exotic locales. For the past 4 years we have enjoyed developing many new friendships in the highly transient world of cruisers.

Cruising friendships are different in many respects. First, nearly everyone is retired (and with no kids to take care of) so we all have time to nurture friendships. We’re in exotic places doing exciting things so there’s always lots to talk about. We are all fixing this or that, fostering conversations at the docks or marine store. 

Some of our newest friends, Steve and Sandra, showing us the fort at Portobello.

While cruising, making a new friend is as simple as going up to the boat that just anchored and saying “hi”. Fairly quickly you’ll know if there’s a mix. That happened to us in Portobello when we saw our neighbors getting in their dingy and wave at us. They swung by to say hello and mentioned they were going on a hike and we sort of invited ourselves along. The fit was good and soon we became friends with Steven and Sandra on Yonder. 

Months later I was in the water cleaning the boat when I heard someone yelling our names and saw a Galapagos tour boat speeding towards us. It was Steven and Sandra who were just finishing their South America tour. We hugged like long lost friends, which we were. What a wonderful feeling.

Outside of just the interesting conversation and having sundowners together, the other thing that distinguishes cruising friendships is co-dependancy. You quickly realize (especially on long passages) that there’s no Coast Guard to come to your rescue, only other cruisers. When we did our seven-day passage from Las Perlas to the Galapagos it was nice to know there were some other boats in the vicinity in case something went wrong. 

One of the most poignant sailing stories is that of Pete Goss, a British sailor racing around the world who risked his life and did the impossible by turning around in 40 to 50 knot winds and sailing back in the dark to rescue a French competitor. I’d like to think someone would do that for me or I for them.

We’re participants in a radio net with roughly twenty other boats who talk with each other twice a day via high frequency SSB radio. Right now, on a 3,000 mile passage from the Galapagos to the Marquesas, three to four boats are having rigging problems and in various states of need. The Net talks with each boat, offers technical help, and in one case helped divert a boat to provide extra fuel to a boat slowed by rigging problems. Another boat had to be abandoned and a Net boat arrived to take the crew on to the Marquesas. Again, we hope to never have to call for help on the Net, but we’re so glad to know they are out there if the need should arise.

We have a stack of over 150 boat cards of cruisers whom we’ve met in the last four years. Some we’ve buddy boated with, many we’ve had drinks with, and a few will be lifelong friends long after we’ve hung up our safety harnesses.

Our first buddy boat was Derek and Heather on Parallax. What a fun time we had with them. After a long discussion  about stars one night I made the comment “What are you guys, rocket scientists?” Yes they were.

Our second buddy boat was Sharon and Kevin on Timaru. They had a lot more experience than us and Sharon was the consummate planner. Really enjoyed their company. Next was Field Trip, a gorgeous Antares 44 ft cat. After sailing hundreds of miles with Mark and Sara and their two kids  down the Windward/Leeward Chain, we had to say goodbye. It was nice having two such neat kids around to fill the void of our grandchildren. We hope to run into them again in the Pacific.

The point is, with a buddy boat you are together almost 24/7 (when have you ever been together that much back home?). You tend to develop fairly close friendships under those circumstances. You are also sharing fun and sometimes challenging experiences which tend to bond the friendship. And then one day they are gone, maybe forever, in your life. It’s tough.

This recent incident of losing a friendship has taught us about the fragility of relationships, the importance of nurturing friendships, and value of those relationships that turn into lifelong friends.

Long after the cruising is over we’ll have memories, not of white sand beaches or sundowners under the palm trees, but of the friendships we’ve made and the experiences we have shared with others. 

The Snorkel Trip of All Snorkel Trips

Our intrepid traveler on the tour boat dock.

Our tour guide started out with "Well, can you swim?"

 On Monday April 20th we became full fledged tourists, sans the safari shirts and $5,000 Nikons, and joined a tour to the famous Las Tunneles. Eight tourists and two full-fledged cruisers all boarded a glorified panga with twin 125 hp outboards and began the 25-minute ride south along Isabella’s coast, cruising along at a steady 30 knots.

Forlorn home to the red-footed boobies.

Along the way we stopped at an oddball rock out in the middle of nowhere to see and learn about blue-footed and red-footed boobies. The red-footed boobie spends most of their time at sea while the blue-footed are a more terrestrial bird. Oh, and one has red feet and the other blue feet.

This is the entrance to Les Tunnels. There are rocks everywhere, with the added extra that it's very shallow.

White mangrove tree growing on the lava outcropping.

After another 10 minutes of bouncing around in the offshore swells, the boat did an abrupt right-hand turn into a swirling surf line. He wove the boat right and left like a conga dancer following some unseen underwater channel through the surf and then came to a calmer area, but one with rocks protruding from the water everywhere. I would never, ever take a boat into such a place. But these boat drivers were the original fisherman who used to enter this labyrinth while fishing for lobster. We passed through areas with rocks almost scraping the hull on both sides at once. Further and further in we wove, passing lava arches and pristine aqua pools resembling an enchanted fairyland.

Our guide (you don’t go anywhere in the Galapagos without a guide) explained this was once a molten lava field that entered the ocean, and at some point the lava tubes collapsed leaving a bay-like area littered with lava rocks. Absolutely amazing.

Love is in the air, the beginning of the famous "boobie love dance."

 As the boat wove in and out of the passages it would slow and we’d be looking eye-to-eye with a blue-footed boobie or two (I’m not much of a bird expert but the blue feet do give them away.) The animals in the Galapagos, for whatever reason, have no fear of man. You can approach them very closely in most cases (be careful of the sea lions) and get some incredible pictures. At each stop the naturalist explained the traits and habits of the various seabirds and mammals.

Not much grows out on the lava flows except cactus.

At one point, so far into the labyrinth that I would never have found my way out, we came upon several other tourist boats tied up to a lava wall. We disembarked for a short tour of the lava field where the guide showed us a nesting site for the blue-footed boobie (even you, with no ornithology experience, can identify this bird). Nearby several female blue-footed boobies sat solitary on rocks, until they heard the shrill whistle of the male bird who landed close to one of the forlorn females. The male began lifting one foot, then the other in the famous boobie mating dance (seriously, people come from all over the world to witness this). It was kind of cute to watch, with the female doing her version of the same.

We then boarded the boat and headed further into a large pool-like area, where we suited up for our snorkeling trip. Normally this would be fun but we had about 8 totally novice snorkelers, and the guide wanted everyone up close and personal. Trying to avoid having your mask kicked off was a challenge. Some really couldn’t even swim that well and had life jackets on. I was patiently videoing some yellow-fined damsel fish when all of a sudden a GoPro on an extension stick come in over my head, soon followed by its owner. I tended to hang to the back of the group, but that was a disadvantage as the guide “discovered new surprises,” like a free swimming sea horse that I never got to see. Also a stone fish that disappeared back into the camouflage.

A green sea turtle, up close and personal. (The photos with date stamps where taken by the tour operator.)

Schools of beautiful yellow-tailed surgeonfish.

 I was amazed by the green sea turtles. I have never seen so many or so close up. One poor fellow was surrounded by about six snorkelers; luckily he was pretty laid back about the whole thing. I got some great footage (that I’ll upload as soon as I find some bandwidth) swimming within two feet of these prehistoric monsters. I sat and watched them nibble on the algae lining the rocks, then slowly surface for a gulp of air, then back to the rocks for more algae.

A lonely Galapagos penguin.

A lonely Galapagos penguin with his new friend.

As we swam by a rock the guide popped up to show us a solitary Galapagos penguin, quietly sitting on a rock outcropping about two feet above us. Everyone circled around to have their picture taken with the penguin. Gotta wonder what he was thinking.

After awhile you are totally overwhelmed by the sheer richness of the environment, it’s like a primordial stew from which all life emerged. This is caused by the upwelling of the colder Humboldt Current by the warmer Counter Equatorial (or Cromwell Current) pushing all the deeper-dwelling nutrients to the surface creating a Disneyland for sea life. According to Darwin, “. . . about 25% of the known algae, invertebrates, and shore fishes [of the Galapagos] occur nowhere else on earth.”

I couldn't pick out this sea horse from the mangrove root from two feet away.

 

Our guide led us in a single file line with our bellies barely clearing the rocks (some of our bellies scraped more than others) in places further into the labyrinth to a final secluded pool, where one by one he had us swim over to his location deep in the mangroves. There, about two feet below the surface was something I’d waited years to see:  a sea horse. It was so well camouflaged that even at one foot away I didn’t see it until he pointed it out. It exactly resemble the mangrove root it’s tail was attached to. Again, amazing.

White-tipped reef sharks who are hopefully sleeping.

The guide saved the best for last. We entered another secluded pool and he had us swim over to a semi submerged lava arch. Underwater we could barely make out the shapes of three white-tipped sharks resting near the back of the cave. White-tips are nocturnal hunters and sleep in caves and under ledges during the day. The water was so full of nutrients that you had to dive down a bit to more clearly make them out. But getting deeper in the cave with them didn’t seem like a great idea at the time.

He swam over to say good-bye.

Swimming back to the boat I got another drive-by by a huge green sea turtle while the rest of the group was boarding the boat and oblivious to what was swimming right beneath them. We got hosed off with fresh water as we boarded the boat and passed around juice and sandwiches for a late lunch. Most of the participants on our boat were Spanish speakers so we couldn’t participate in the normal animated post dive banter, but after all that exercise we almost nodded off during the long ride back to the anchorage.

What a great day!

Isabela's Upland Farm Harvest and Lunch with the Hauser's

Word spreads quickly when something different and appetizing comes along.  We had spent the morning bicycling with some new friends on S/V Full Circle and were talking during lunch about taking an excursion to a local upland farm and having a buffet lunch at “The Hauser’s” restuarant following.  This is a popular activity and many cruisers are usually interested.  We were five, and needed at least 10 for the buffet.  Word spread quickly and we were soon 17 ready to meet up the next day for a trip into the hills.

Perfect air-conditioned truck

We were a mixed group of Americans, French, Dutch, South African's, and Kiwi’s.  Conversations could be heard in English, French, Dutch and a little Spanish.  We hired a great truck with 4 rows of outdoor seats and headed first to the farm to do some fresh vegetable and fruit provisioning. Since everyone at some point was heading for French Polynesia we all had fresh food in mind.

We soon arrived and were welcomed by some friendly dogs at the gate.  Our host soon showed up and began showing us his farm.  We had a little language difficulty initially but were able to communicate what we were looking for.  I think some of us were thinking we would find all the produce picked and on tables ready to put in our bags.  Harvesting our own food was much more fun as we walked along a path toward the lime trees and then to the tomato field which had many varieties.  The cherry tomatoes were incredible and we couldn’t stop sampling along the way.   Green tomatoes seemed to be the most sought after as they would last longest on a passage.  We next gathered up some guava’s and oranges before the rainfall started soaking us.  We were all still interested in harvesting some melons and squash but ran out of time before our lunch time drew near.

Not far from the farm we arrived at the Hauser’s Restaurant owned and run by an Austrian chef, Bert and his Ecuadorian wife, Yvette. We had a marvelous four-course meal for $22.  We had a garden fresh salad, delicious tomato soup with homemade rolls, followed by a buffet of roast chicken, wahoo fish, beef with mushroom sauce, along with sides of Austrian potatoes, mixed vegetables, and pasta.  Dessert was also included and was delicious. 

Los Hauser's Restaurant

Yvette showing us a large Guaybana or Soursop

Yvette was a charming hostess and made us all feel so welcome.  Everyone was appreciative to have such a nicely prepared and presented meal on the small isolated island of Isabela.

Passage to Isabelle

On April 15th we departed San Cristobal at 3:30 pm for the overnight 80-mile sail to Isabelle. I was very concerned about the inaccuracies of the charts, and knowing their was a strong current pushing us along we opted to motor sail to avoid hitting several islands along our course. With no moon it was pitch black and we couldn’t see a thing.

I also had a lot of consternation about entering Puerto Villamil after seeing aerial photos with pounding surf all around the entrance. Our friend David on Full Circle had left the day before and emailed me his GPS coordinates for entering the harbor, and even though the electronic chart was off the GPS numbers were spot on as we carefully wound our way around markers into the tiny harbor protected by lava outcroppings. The harbor, while seemingly big, only has one small area deep enough for yachts to anchor, and it was chock full. Luckily one boat had left that morning and we squeezed into his space (only having to re-anchor a day later when we swung too close to a boat).

Walking from the dingy dock to the road you run a gauntlet of marine iguanas and big seals.

Little did I know this little beauty had a jealous boyfriend right behind me.

 On the 17th we reconnected with David, Cindy, and Larry off the 50 ft. catamaran Full Circle, with whom we had toured San Cristobal, and arranged a to rent some bicycles for a ride out along the coast. Arriving at the dingy dock, we were amazed by the number of sea lions lazing on the docks and covering all the bench seats in the waiting area. Sensing a photo op, I carefully approached a female laying on a seat and carefully focused the camera. No sooner had I taken the picture then I felt a searing pain in my left calf. I spun around and came eye-to-eye with a large male, who had just bit me and was barking furiously. Discretion being 9/10s of valor, I slowly backed away, trying to avoid the other sea lions who seeming had me surrounded.

Yes, it hurt.

Meryl, having had enough medical emergencies with me over the last two weeks, just shook her head. While the males have four 1 ½ inch long incisors, I brushed it off the incident while Meryl rinsed the blood off with her water bottle. It hurt a lot, but I figured I’d survive. I later learned the males get highly protective of their females during mating season and I shouldn’t have positioned myself in such tight quarters with the seals.

We walked (I limped) about two miles into town and waited while David checked in with the the Port Captain. Fortunately our agent, JC Desoto, was there and we completed our check-in with him. Meryl told him of the sea lion incident and JC recommended I go to the clinic so a doctor could have a look. Luckily it was just around the corner and the doctor saw me immediately. He prescribed some antibiotics and sent me down the hall to a nurse who carefully cleaned and irrigated the wound and put some anti bacterial cream on, along with a big mother-honking bandage. The one positive:  health care in Ecuador is totally free, even the antibiotics. Gotta love that.

The road to Muro de las Lagrimas.

As the tide got higher the waves started breaking over the road, making for a little more challenging riding.

So what do you do after being bitten by a 200 lb. sea lion? We went on a 7-mile bike ride along the seashore to an area called Muro de las Lagrimas  (The Wall of Tears). The bike ride was pleasant, first on a sandy road that paralleled the shore line, then into the desert-like backcountry covered with thorny bushes and cactus plants. Unfortunately David got a flat tire (how do you ever know if the rear tire of a mountain bike is low on air?), so we alternated walking with David and riding.

A wall with no purpose except pain and suffering.

After about 3 ½ miles we parked the bikes and hiked the last ¼ mile to the wall. Between 1946 and 1959 the Isabella Penitentiary Colony was located nearby, home to some of the most incorrigible prisoners in Ecuador. Unfortunately, the guards were worse than the prisoners, many bordering on sadistic as they made the prisoners carry 20 to 40 pound lava rocks several miles in the 90-degree plus heat where they slowly built a towering wall. Many died during the effort and eventually the penal colony was shut down. The Wall, approximately 300 feet long, 50 feet wide, and about 30 feet high, had no purpose but to provide meaningless labor for the prisoners.

As we rode back into town we had to navigate several areas where the upcoming tide had washed onto the road creating a watery trail for some distance.  We had lunch at one of the numerous open air restaurants and plugged into the glacially slow Internet to catch up with mail from home.

Back at the dock, I had a new wariness as I navigated the pathway, first covered with up to twenty 1 to 3 ft. long menacing looking marine iguanas, then through another twenty basking seals. I swear one looked at me and gave that glaring “Don’t screw with me again” look.

The Legacy of Charles Darwin

Meryl's bounty from the weekly vegetable market.

 While Meryl went in on the water taxi to visit the Saturday morning vegetable market, I attacked the broken bow running lights. Since my blue-footed boobie had pooped on just about everything on the bow pulpit, it took a while to get things clean enough to work on it. After removing the light I tested it, but only the green LED would come on, which was very strange. I took out the new running light and tested it and found only it’s green LED would light. I then rearranged the source wiring I was using to test and found both lights were functional, but very sensitive to voltage (LEDs usually have a wide voltage range they accept). Even thought I was half laying over the bow pulpit I managed to get the wires soldered back on (the wires were too thin to crimp) and finally got everything working again. A simple job that would take 20 minutes in my shop at home took all morning on the boat.

Everywhere you go in the Galapagos there are sea lions. The seem to populate more of the waterfront than the people do.

This would be a great place to land your dingy, except for . . .

The main street of beautiful downtown San Cristobal.

In the afternoon we decided to walk west out of town to the Charles Darwin Interpretive Center. Spain had donated a ton of money to San Cristobal to have the center built, but over the years there had been little to no maintenance and things were beginning to fall apart. We did learn a lot about the formation of the islands and their history.

The Charles Darwin Interpretive Center.

Display in the Center showing the influence of the three ocean currents on the Galapagos.

Geographically the Galapagos Islands are uniquely situated in the Pacific Ocean 600 miles off the coast of Ecuador, with the warm Panama Current coming down from the northeast, and the Cromwell (Equatorial Counter Current) sweeping in from the west and meeting the cold waters of the Humboldt Current that comes northwards along the coast of South America. The warmer Cromwell current sweep under the cold Humboldt Current and bring the nutrient rich deeper waters to the surface in the area of the Galapagos, a perfect stew for propagation of wildlife and fauna. This provides a fertile feeding ground for the numerous species of seabirds, including the blue-footed boobie, the white-footed boobies, the frigate birds, flightless cormorants, pelicans and other species. Ashore are the famous finches on which Darwin based his monumental theory of evolution, including one who uses catus quills as a tool to get bugs out of holes. The waters around the Galapagos are rich in sea life, with green turtles, sea lions, penguins, eagle rays, white and black tipped sharks, hammerhead sharks, and the endemic Galapagos sharks.

The famous Galapagos finches that served to catalyze Darwin's theory of evolution.

Their are over 20 species found nowhere else in the world except the Galapagos, making it a wonderful research base for Charles Darwin who formulated his famous Origin of Species. Darwin surmised: “hence, both in space and time, we seem to be brought somewhat near to that great fact — that mystery of mysteries — the first appearance of new beings on this earth.”

The Interpretive Center also sheds a little light on the colonization of the island. First used by buccaneers and whalers, the islands were populated by a rough crowd set on exploiting the resources of the island, mainly tortoises, seals, and whales. As more criminals were sent to the island from the mainline, the decadence of the islands increased. A large penal colony was established on Isabella (home to the famous “Wall of Tears”) but the guards were so repressive that the prisoners revolted, stole a yacht owned by an American and sailed off to Hawaii, never to be heard from again. A well known Baroness from Europe showed up with her three lovers. Two turned up dead and the Baroness disappeared, leaving only one lover who knew the true story. A group of Norwegians tried to set up a altruistic colony to harvest cod only to be set back by the hardships of the place. While rich in resources, the islands turned out to be a difficult place to live in its isolated location in the Pacific Ocean.

Our daily toil, hauling 10 gallons of water back to the boat.

Back at the water taxi dock we asked one of the water taxi drivers about sources of drinking water for the boat. He took us up to the public bathrooms and using a coke bottle, carefully metered out 10 gallons into our two plastic cubes.  Over the next week we would always bring the two cubes in with us and stop by the bathrooms at the end of the day to refill our water supply on the boat. We’re one of the few boats without a water maker on board so we don’t have much choice in the matter.