Ship's Log

Moorea: Cruising the Society Islands

lee.winters@sailingforsos.com — Mon, 26 Jul 2010 05:33:36 GMT

After almost two weeks in Tahiti the quiet and relative solitude of Moorea is a very welcome change. Once again I am anchored with friends from before on the boats African Innovation and Liquid Courage (yes, they drink). After getting the hook down and having a celebratory cold one after the spirited 20 mile run from Tahiti the crews rallied for an early morning dingy run. Just outside the lagoon the reef drops away and you can swim with black tip and lemon sharks. The black tips are very common, but it was my first time to swim just above an 8 foot lemon. Anyone who grew up watching jaws can’t help but feel some trepidation with such a large predator in the water.

Releasing the dingys from the mooring buoys we made the 25 minute run to Sting Ray City. Fisherman and tour boats have been chumming the water here for so long the rays are used to people and make their presence known when squid hits the water. Dozens of the gentle giants swam all around us and swam right into us looking for a free meal. The slimy round gliders began to seem more like family dogs who couldn’t help but jump on us from sheer excitement. Petting the soft grey skin was surreal as you looked eye to eye into something not human, but clearly looking back.

Out of squid and hurting from laughing so much we once again fired up the outboard motors and began the run back to our boats. Halfway there we stopped for one more snorkel to view the submerged tiki stones laying in about 12 feet of water. The ancient stones were removed from this island and sunken by missionaries years ago to prevent the islanders from worshipping false idols. I can’t say I approve of their actions, but it certainly made for an interesting snorkel. The crystal clear blue water was in direct contrast with the huge frozen faces carved in stone laying on the sea floor perpetually looking up to a world that cast them away.

We are hoping to do a hike on the mountains around us, but Tuesday/Wednesday are looking like a good weather window to make the 80 mile run to Huahine. It is one of the least visited islands of the Society chain and Lauren and I are both looking forward to some exploring.

Guest Post: Meet Lauren Doeren

lee.winters@sailingforsos.com — Thu, 22 Jul 2010 10:01:01 GMT

Anchored in the lee of Tahiti the GPS odometer reads 8057 nautical miles since I left Kemah, Texas 18 months ago. All but 200 of those miles have been singlehanded. Sometime in May of 2009 I took a German girl and an Irish guy on as crew from Belize to Honduras. Now, having spent weeks covering the 3000+ Pacific miles in watery isolation I am more than game to see how the other half live. Enter Lauren Doeren.

Lauren is a long time friend from Fort Worth, TX and is taking a sabbatical from her yoga studio for four weeks to join me on the 120 mile trek from Tahiti to Bora Bora. Lauren doesn’t exactly have a lot of offshore experience so this should be fun for the both of us. The plan is to leave tomorrow morning and slowly island hop from Tahiti to Moorea, Huahine, and Bora. Having maintained this blog and the blogger.com blog for over three years I am turning this post over to her. Lauren, it’s all yours….

My Journey in French Polynesia on board Jargo

I came to meet Lee with excitement and anxiousness knowing that I would be staying for 27 days with my dear friend who has lived alone, sailing for the last 18 months. My flight into Papeete was delayed 3 hours & my bag was left on the plane from DFW to LAX leaving me unsure as to how things would unravel. After a few days of adjusting, relaxing, provisioning & finally receiving my bag we began to explore the island with our couch surfer friend, Flo. Not knowing what to expect, this time in Tahiti has been full of delightful experiences.

Our first day out was spent with Flo and our other French friend Alexy, the local tomato farmer. We shared libations & waxed on about different cultural expressions & shared our native tongues into the wee hours of the night. What I noticed most then & still marvel at even today, 10 days into my trip is the pace of life here. Plans are made & always kept. Life moves a little bit slower. People are not so attached to their cell phones, e-mails & blogs. Most of us feel no need to be in a hurry, even when running late. Life here moves with the rise & fall of the sun. I’ve quietly observed while at a tire-fix-it shop or at the Carafoure (the Tahitian Target) that there’s no need to be in a hurry. I tell my friends & yoga students that everything happens when it’s supposed to happen. Here, life embodies this principle of experiencing life while it’s happening.

So after a few days of our dearest Flo e-mailing & connecting with (in French – mind you neither Lee nor I are fluent in) the director of the SOS Children’s Village here in Tahiti we were finally able to set up a rendez vous. We were greeted at the secure gate with traditional Tahitian big smiles by the security guard, a sixteen year old resident & “nanny.” After visitng for thirty minutes or so we learned a lot about how the village functions & what the facility offers to the children in need.

There are currently 48 children residing in the Tahiti village. Each house provides shelter for up to five children from no more than two different families. Most children have been placed in the custody of SOS by a local judge and/or local child protective services. Within the twelve homes in the village a “mother” or mamere (Flo please feel free to correct my French in a response to the posting) that resides with the children for five weeks at a time. They then have a one week holiday during which the “aunt” or mother’s assistant takes on the role & responsibility of the mother.

Much like in the United States during the summer, SOS Children in Tahiti are now on holiday for six weeks. For SOS children in Tahiti this means they’re at summer camp or rather winter camp. Only the newest residents & the children less than six years of age were at the village during our visit. We were very happy to play and share dinner with the residing Aunt’s, five little boys & one sixteen year old young man who remain on campus during the winter break.

Being a mother of two young girls & knowing how excitable children can be, I must say these kids were beyond thrilled to have us in their company. Lee & his camera were the hit of the evening. Lee literally became a human jungle gym. The boy’s attached themselves playfully with invisible glue to him, eager to win his attention even though Lee (despite his grand efforts, cannot speak a lick of French without sounding Spanish) & the children do not share the same language. We ate dinner, the boys (not the older one of course) were so sweetly saying “thank you very much” in high pitched French accents while trying to flick noodles at Lee while the Aunts were looking the other way. Of course, Lee was eager to play along. J All playing aside, I must say these children, while being kids, were very well behaved and respectful. The beautiful thing to me is that they were being kids. One would never know that they came from broken homes or horrible situations from their demeanor. The village, the homes, the dinner table all felt like a home.... A place where the kids could be kids, learn & grow into healthy wonderful people.

Ok. Notice, just now from Lee. The generator is going to die before too long. That means the laptop is going to die. There are many more wonderful experiences to share from buying black pearls to swimming in the beautiful water on a black sandy beach & my experience with “land sickness” that would surely entertain you the reader. But we’ll save that for another day. J As the French would say, “a tout a l’heure” or “a bientot” – till next time, best wishes. LD.

Quick Tahiti Update

lee.winters@sailingforsos.com — Sun, 18 Jul 2010 06:00:27 GMT

Sunday morning found me up early drinking coffee with Florence, a new friend from couchsurfing. We were amped up on caffeine and the promise of the Earth, moon, and sun lining up to create a total solar eclipse. Donning solar glasses, the equivalent of 3D movie glasses for welders, we stared at the sun and watched as it slowly disappeared behind the moon. The light was amazing and although we were just North of the zone of totality there was nothing but the smallest sliver of sun showing at the height of the eclipse.

A day later I was at the Tahiti airport waiting on Lauren, a longtime friend to arrive on the island. Lauren is taking a month off from her yoga studio to explore the 120 mile stretch of water that makes up the Society Islands. We’ll sail soon enough, but the past week has been full of activity. Wednesday, Flo picked us up and we spent the day relaxing on a black sand beach and enjoying a few drinks with friends. Before the sun set

we jumped back in the car to drive the 80 some odd kilometers around the island taking in some of the more beautiful land and seascapes along the way. That evening we arrived at another friends, Alexy, and spent the night making dinner with his half French, half Polynesian daughters, drinking, and talking into the wee hours of the morning. Yesterday had us sitting on the grass in the cool night air watching the local Polynesians dance. It was a strange mix of traditional dance combined with a few well known hits like the cotton eyed joe and Ice Ice Baby.

Tomorrow we wake before dawn to catch yet another ride with flow to the trailhead of the Orange Mountain hike. It’ll be an all day affair climbing to the height of the Tahitian mountains, collecting all the oranges we can carry, and swimming in the mountain streams along the way. As beautiful as Tahiti has been I am itching to get moving again. Monday will be a day of boat prep and I hope to be sailing by Wednesday. I’ve reached

out to the SOS Children’s Village here, but during the school break the kids don’t seem to be living in the village. I am still hoping for a chance to visit, but it may not be in the cards this time.

Jargo needs a bit of sail patching, diesel, water, gasoline, fresh meat and produce, and a handful of other random repairs. Just as soon as those or done, or I throw in the towel, we’ll be off to Moorea. Cheers from the islands. Blogs may be a bit slow to come. Sometimes its nice to log off for awhile!

Tahiti

lee.winters@sailingforsos.com — Wed, 07 Jul 2010 19:58:47 GMT

Wrecked. Jargo was fine, but the 200 mile run from Rangiroa to Papeete left me physically drained. With three other boats in close proximity sleep was an elusive mate. Luck was with me and I easily coasted up to a heavy mooring ball at the infamous Tahiti Yacht Club and secured the massive line to Jargo’s fore cleat. With the boat secure I headed to shore for my first shower with both fresh & hot water since Panama. Words can’t describe the pleasure I took standing under an unlimited supply of water raining down with force on my head and shoulders. A simple pleasure so easily taken for granted in the western world.

Feeling like a new man I made a phone call to a CouchSurfer who’d told me of a party that was to begin in just a few hours. My body, though refreshed from the shower, was screaming for sleep, but I couldn’t resist a cold beer and a party with some locals. Oddly, when I dialed the six digits I heard a phone ring just next to me. My French host was right outside the door waiting for me. With no time to spare I ran my shower things back to the boat, donned my cleanest dirty shirt, and ran the dingy back to shore.

Within a few hours I was surrounded by a couple dozen Frenchmen all swilling beer, wine, and rum. With no French at my command I was reliant on their graciousness and they were quick to switch the many conversations to English. So many people in the States have such horrible opinions of the French, but these people have never shown me anything but the utmost courtesy and respect.

We stayed up late into the night making music with beats from around the world and dancing to dueling djs until the sun crested in the Eastern sky. In between naps and running people to the airport we swam in the sea ringed by Tahiti’s black sand beaches and sang along to a guitar. When sleep finally came that evening it was the sailors sleep of death. I’d held it at bay for another 24 hours and woke the next day unmoved from the position in which I’d lain down.

It’s a good feeling to have a crew on an island where I’ve only just arrived. Jargo will be something of a tour boat this month as I am making plans to sail South for the total solar ecplise on the 11th with Tahitian friends. After that I have company coming in for almost four weeks to help me explore the Society Islands between Tahiti and Bora Bora. After sailing solo more than half way across the Pacific I am making up for the time alone by surrounding myself now with people. It’s a welcome change.

Photo and Video Updates for www.sailingforsos.com

lee.winters@sailingforsos.com — Mon, 28 Jun 2010 15:54:45 GMT

Deep in the recesses of my sleeping mind the sound begins to register. Wind. The wind is building and ripping through Jargo’s rigging, the stainless steel cables that support the main and mizzen masts. As the masts and cables cut the wind a resonate chord is achieved and it rings like a tuning fork held to my ear. The chord pierces my dream and I wake knowing that outside I’ve got 30 knots blowing. Not dangerous, but I seldom sleep when that resonate chord is singing in my rigging.

The GPS shows 4:30 a.m. as the first aromatic steam from the Italian coffee percolator hits my nose. A quick round on deck shows that everything is in place. My anchor, a 60 lb Manson Supreme, is well dug into the good holding sand 45 feet below. 200 feet of 3/8 inch BBB chain run from the Manson to a 20 foot 1/2 inch three strand snubber cleated on deck. Most racers talk of sailing skill. Put two cruisers together and much more often you’ll find a conversation about ground tackle. You might be the most skilled sailor in the world, but if you don’t keep your boat off the hull wrecking coral reefs around these Pacific anchorages you will not be sailing long.

The 580 mile run from the Marquesas to Rangiroa was challenging not for conditions like I have now, but for a complete lack of wind. Averaging less than 90 miles a day the wind could not keep the sails full against Jargo’s rolling in the Pacific swell. Imagine a shotgun blast next to your ear every 30 seconds as the main sail backfills on a roll to starboard only to fill again violently with a bang on the port roll. To date, it is by far the most maddening experience to be had aboard a sailboat.

That said, I can see the sand and coral below me in 45 feet of flowing crystal clear blue water. The islanders are happy and friendly and the village is well stocked. I’ve been making use of the wifi here in the anchorage for the last few days. The going rate is 20 hours for 50 Euro or around $65 USD. Internet speeds run at 12 Kbps max which means the little video in this blog took 5 hours to upload. Regardless, I am happy to report several additions.

First, since the videos may be more than a one off occurrence I’ve made them their own page on the navigation bar up top. Only two so far, but I still need to edit and cut footage from the Gulf of Mexico crossing as well as the big 21 day Pacific run. Is it just me or do people really seem to like video?

In addition to the videos page three new photo sets have been uploaded to Flickr accessible via the Photo Gallery link above. More to come there as well, but I’ve still got some work to do before I upload.

Given I am still well below the average age of most cruisers by more than two decades I just fall into the young sailor category out here. Because there are so few of us in our 20’s and 30’s we tend to gravitate towards each other when we pitch up in the same anchorage. It isn’t always the same with crew, but for those who’ve purchased, refit, and gone sailing there is usually a well defined drive that goes beyond the desire to cruise. Almost all of us are working out what endeavor we will throw our efforts into when the cruise is over. It is too early to call it yet, but I may have found another project. For now, two words. Jack. Tar.

Gone Sailing: The Tuamotus – a.k.a. The Dangerous Archipelago

lee.winters@sailingforsos.com — Fri, 18 Jun 2010 16:30:47 GMT

Before I crossed the Gulf of Mexico I sweated details and prepared for months in anticipation of the 650 mile trip to Mexico. In contrast, today I am setting sail for Rangiroa some 580 miles to the Southwest and I’ll prep for about four hours before weighing anchor. The scale of South Pacific sailing certainly changes your perspective on what constitutes a long passage.

The Tuamotu Archipelago is made of hundreds of small coral atolls and tiny islands. Many of the atolls have large, protected lagoons inside providing safe anchorage if you can thread your way between the small passes in the barrier reefs. Singlehanding, it may be difficult to thread my way between the coral heads meaning I’ll be sticking to one island with well defined channels, Rangiroa. It is the second largest atoll in the world and I’ll easily be able to spend a week there exploring the clear blue waters of the lagoon.

Yesterday I woke up in a funk and couldn’t put my finger on what was bothering me. In the end, I sorted through it by putting a rough outline together that would take me home again. I’ve never made a plan that came off as expected, but here is the general idea. New Zealand by Dec. 2010. March/April 2011 depart for SE Asia working through the Northern Indian Ocean. Arrive Aden/Red Sea by Dec. 2011. Organize or participate in Super Convoy through the Suez into the Mediterranean in February/March 2012. Cruise Mediterranean/North Africa/Southern Europe arriving Gibraltar December 2012. Atlantic Crossing January/February 2013 arriving somewhere in Caribbean or USA. I’d like to close the circumnavigation loop in Isla Mujeres in March 2013 if time allows, but who knows.

Clearly, I have a few years to go yet, but it feels good to have sorted out just how long it will take to get back home. I left the States January 10, 2009 at the age of 32 and will return a little over four years later just in time for my 37th birthday. Well, that’s one possible outcome anyway…

Now, let’s go sailing.

Sailing South Soon.

lee.winters@sailingforsos.com — Tue, 15 Jun 2010 14:08:06 GMT

“Abby dismasted and safe. She is still a better sailor than you. She is probably more mature as well. You are too quick to judge her and her parents. Good Luck.” Anonymous Iridium Message

I got a good chuckle out of that message. First and most importantly I was ecstatic to learn Abby was safe in her boat. I understand she has since been picked up by a French vessel and will not continue her challenge for the record books. Does anyone know what happened to her boat? Often the Coast Guard will scuttle such boats as hazards to shipping, but it may be far enough South to be left alone for a potential salvage operation.

It doesn’t take much to be a better sailor than me. I am slow and conservative, but so far I’ve managed to arrive at my destination. I think the message must be from a friend otherwise they couldn’t imagine just how immature I really am. Despite these admonishing words and others I’ve received, I stand by my last post.

If I didn’t understand the thrill of long distance voyaging I wouldn’t now be floating in my own boat in the South Pacific. I also draw no arbitrary restrictions for who may or may not be able to complete a solo circumnavigation. Each combination of sailor and vessel should be evaluated on a case by case basis. That said, I still think it beyond stupidity to encourage increasingly younger children to head to sea alone. What good can come of it? How young a circumnavigator do you want to see?

On another note, I am sitting in paradise, but unable to look at it all. Two days ago I went hiking up a dry river bed to explore the island of Tahuata. Breaking off the main trail I started working my way up the valley wall when a small tree branch managed to poke me in the eye. It was tiny, but sharp and put a good laceration across my iris. A Doctor on another boat examined the eye and said it was nothing to worry about as long as I wrapped it up and didn’t use it for at least 2 – 3 days.

The eye is an incredibly painful place to get hurt and I am only now able to move it without being really bothered. I think after a good sleep tonight I’ll be able to move South a bay or two and take on a few provisions. I am hoping to make way soon to the Tuamotu Island Chain. Rangiroa is about 500 miles away and Tahiti still lies another 400 miles beyond Rangiroa. My time in the beautiful Marquesas is coming to an end.

A Solo Sailors Perspective on the Disappearance of Abby Sunderland

lee.winters@sailingforsos.com — Thu, 10 Jun 2010 18:26:52 GMT

A corpse, weighted, might take hours to reach the bottom at 2,000 fathoms (12,000 feet) assuming it was not attacked and dismembered on the way down. At this depth, equivalent to the weight of 20 fully laden locomotives, any compressible tissue would be reduced to a mere fraction of its bulk. At some point the body parts containing air would rupture, principally those of the face, chest, and abdomen.

The head would not burst because the cranium contains no air, but the delicate bone honeycombs of the sinuses will probably collapse before water intrudes to equalize the pressure. Sooner or later the chest would implode, the broken ends of the ribs coming through the skin. Any air in the gut would probably rupture the abdomen; compressed gasses in the colon create a vacuum violently undoing the bowls. Finely divided bone including the pelvic crest is most likely fractured. Compressible fat is a fraction of its surface size.

Seabed creatures make short work of the corpse entering through the holes in the flesh created by the fractured rib cage. The skeleton softens as the salts are leached from the bone and the body crumbles under the sea.

Paraphrased from James Hamilton-Paterson’s Seven Tenths.

Can anyone who has not sailed alone on passage fathom the consequences of catastrophe at sea? Via my Iridium sat phone I heard today that Abby Sunderland was feared lost. While my heart wept for her, I was also filled with rage at the parents and sailing community who have allowed the charade of sending children to sea to continue for so long.

I believe that most singlehanded sailors set sail knowing that on ocean passage there is no real help to be found. As a type, we mostly go to sea knowing that we must deal with each and every situation as it arises. The responsibility is ours to fix every problem, to find a solution, no matter the circumstance. To activate an EPIRB is to acknowledge that all our efforts have failed and to send two prayers; Mayday, mayday, mayday; Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee; S/V Jargo holed and foundering; Holy Mary, mother of God pray for us sinners; will sink, abandoning ship; now and at the hour of our death; please, please send help.

From Slocum’s first singlehanded voyage in the 1890’s the sailing community has looked desperately for new records to set and to break. Somehow, with the full force of the media backing their efforts, our community fully engaged as our young “heroes” tested themselves against their age, the seas, and each other. The final result would be clear, increasingly younger sailors would be setting sail, solo, until catastrophe struck and a brave young soul was lost at sea. I’ve always contemplated the possibility of my own drowning as an intimately personal thing for never truly are you more alone. With the experience and fears I’ve gained from 15 months at sea, I cannot help but think of Abby in what may have been her last few moments aboard a foundering ship.

It is my greatest hope that Abby is found safe inside a raft, unhurt, and waiting for rescue. Given that outcome or any other I hope this episode gives all sailors, especially young record seekers and their families, pause. No doubt, the drive of these young sailors has sparked a renewed interest in the sport. To be blunt, I find it nothing short of criminal parental neglect to send a child, barely legal to drive a car, to sea alone. They are gambling nothing short of their lives for nothing more than bragging rights.

Abby, hang on…

Lee Winters www.sailingforsos.com

North, West, or South?

lee.winters@sailingforsos.com — Tue, 08 Jun 2010 22:24:29 GMT

I think I got lost somehow. I have my latitude and longitude, charts, visual bearings, but I still can't figure out which direction to point my bow. When the entire world is open to you how can anyone find their way?

Still anchored at HIva Oa I stare at a rocky mountain spire that shape shifts as the clouds dance along its shadowy peak. As the cool pacific air hits this massive obstruction it is forced upwards where it cools and the air condenses its moisture into the small light diffusing droplets making the clouds that keep the mountain semi veiled in mystery.

I was ready to leave today, physically at least. An hour before I was to hoist anchor a strong Northerly breeze filled in stretching my stern anchor rode tight. With a French boat anchored too close for comfort on my starboard bow I wasn't comfortable trying to hoist my anchors and go. If I had taken the dingy out to get the stern anchor Jargo would have been pushed forward over her bow anchor and come too close to the stern of those boats in front of me. If I retrieved the bow anchor first I would have swung to the stern anchor and potentially made contact with the French boat before I could have pulled in the stern anchor by hand. That would have left little time to get the dingy on deck.

Truth be told, I could have made either work, but given my indecisiveness it was a semi legitimate excuse to wait until dawn tomorrow when there is usually a flat calm to retrieve my stern anchor, hoist the dingy on deck, then pull my bow anchor and make way, somewhere.

I am still content, but it is an interesting feeling being here, now, with the largest passage I'll most likely ever make behind me. With the strain of that passage off I am remembering how to sit still again.

Cruisers Online in the South Pacific

lee.winters@sailingforsos.com — Sat, 05 Jun 2010 23:36:58 GMT

The day before yesterday I upped anchor from Fatu Hiva and made the 50 mile day sail to Hiva Oa, the administrative center of the Southern Marquesas. This bay faces the swell and the water is every bit as brown as the water I left 7000 miles behind in Galveston Bay, Texas. I am up early today so I can be one of the first to the fruit truck which brings down fresh produce from small farms in the hills. With that and a few other small items Jargo will be ready to sail again.

Plans can always change, but I think my next jump is a small 10 mile downwind run to the island of Tahuata and Hanamoenoa Bay. It is said to be one of the prettiest in all of Polynesia so I don't feel I should skip it.

Upon arrival here at HIva Oa I discovered that for $5 USD an hour I could get online again. I've never paid so much, but watching the hundreds of emails pour, albeit very, very slowly, into my inbox I was touched. I've always written the blog without much thought about who may be reading it. I write mostly for myself which is why I am still amazed how many of you take time to read along. The encouragement received via Facebook, blog comments, and direct emails is priceless to me. So, thank you for taking the time to follow along and for taking the time to let me know what you think.

I may be doing the sailing single handed, but it turns out there are many people on this voyage with me. Forgive me those of you to whom I've not yet been able to respond.

Flipping back through the blog comments someone asked if I was driven more by the sailing itself or by the destinations at which I arrive? To be sure, I do love the sailing. My first motivation however was to see the world, all of it. I came into sailing because it seemed the only way to me to see the world on a budget short of donning a backpack. Like the turtles of Galapagos I take my little home with me wherever I go. No hostels, hotels, or expensive air fares. Sure, I have to upgrade the boat, but who doesn't have home improvement projects?

That said, sailing makes up the words of the paragraph and the destinations are the punctuation. One lends emphasis to the other. I've no desire to run the world non-stop in a sailboat. To me that defeats the purpose of breaking away in the first place. On the other hand, I wouldn't trade my solo pacific passage for the world. Who needs psychoanalyses with three solo weeks at sea on your hands?

Kind of a disjointed blog today, but plugging back into the interwebs has done that to me. I won't lie, four weeks without internet made an impression. I didn't miss it towards the end and now that I have it, I don't seem to be able to log in and keep a single thought. I am just drawn to flashing icons and the black hole of Facebook. It is kind of scary, but I bet half my waking life was spent in front of a keyboard and computer screen.

On that note, its a beautiful day, I am logging off, and going for a walk. Cheers everyone.

Lee