Get Lost On Purpose

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  • Accidently Swimming with the Whales

    We received word that the boat thought lost on that reef in Fiji has been pulled off the reef and is sitting (with a few leaks) on a mooring at Mago Island. Nice. Even nicer is that Mago Island belongs to Mel Gibson and the guy who hit the reef is holed up on the island with Mel’s chef catering to him. On to other news…

    We’re in the out islands of Vava’u again after a short overnight break in town last weekend. We went back to renew our visas and pick up some things at the store. Then we realized Aquarium Cafe was giving out cruiser crack (the internet) for free and it started raining so we figured “what the hell” and stayed the night. I pulled an all-nighter working on the Dosia-for-Sale page and on Saturday afternoon we headed back out again, first to Port Murelle and then onto Anchorage #16 on Sunday. Monday, we joined a few other boats on the beach and headed across the reef to do some snorkeling on what we heard was one of the best reefs in Vava’u. Tom from Zen and I spent some time spearfishing with no luck while Marge, looking spiffy in my wetsuit, and several others snorkeled the reef. The colors were better than anything we’ve seen in the South Pacific SO FAR. It was nice to see a healthy reef again; one unaffected by El Nino or the Crown of Thorn starfish. The water temp is still cool so after an hour or so, everyone meandered back to their boats. I hadn’t had enough so Tom let me borrow his big speargun and I headed back over.
    Marge wet suited up for some reef exploring
    I took a shot on a nice parrot fish and nailed it with a perfect kill-shot. Problem was the spear tip was loose. It popped off and my beautiful fish took a bloody nose dive into a deep hole in the reef. First things first, where did that brand new tip land? Is it in the hole? In the fish? On the reef? After a few minutes of searching the area I sensed I wasn’t alone. A large white tip shark had joined me in the search, only he wasn’t so interested in the expensive new spear tip. I backed off and let him circle the blood cloud rising from the reef. A school of large snapper and grouper joined him for the feast and all I could do was sit there and drool. Finally, one of the snapper starts picking at a piece of flesh sitting on the reef and BINGO…there’s the tip. Now I had everything I needed, an intact speargun and a beefy dead fish, only I couldn’t get to either because of the shark. And then there was the plethora of other fish who’d shown up. How frustrating! After a couple of minutes I could tell the shark wasn’t leaving anytime soon so I’d have to bully my way underneath him and get the tip back. I loaded the gun with the blunt tip (just in case) and went in for it. No problem. It must have been my manly aura. Yeah right. More likely it was my combination of jerry rigged weight belt and mismatched gloves. He figured I was more desperate than he was, but he still wasn’t going to give up that fish.

    So off I went, gun in hand, loaded and ready for a second chance. That’s when I heard it. When you hear a whale underwater, there is no mistaking it. The sound of a whale song must be engrained in the human mind. Maybe you’ve heard it on your relaxing sleep CD, or “Planet Earth”, or from Dory in “Finding Nemo.” You’ve surely heard it somewhere. What I heard was a mother and a calf. I took a look across the surface and sure enough, there they were, about 75 yards away over the deep water flipping and playing. After watching them for a while I figure what the hell and start off toward them. About 25 yards out, I look up to gather my bearings and they were gone. Flipping my fins, I periscoped out of the water as high as possible and looked around. Nothing. Oh well, it was a long shot anyways. I dropped back beneath the surface and was about to swim back toward the reef when out of the darkness, two massive shadows came right at me. Holy shit. I’m not going to swim with the whales, they’re coming to swim with me.

    The calf seemed to be leading its mother right up into the shallows of the reef. And by her constant chatter, I got the idea she wasn’t all that thrilled with the idea. At this point I’m literally backpedaling away from them. Common sense dictates that you never get between a whale mom and its calf. I’d guessimate they were 35 feet away and coming fast. I backed over the reef as far as I figured they’d come and hung there, staring in complete awe at this wildlife moment. People pay ridiculous amounts of money to do what I was doing for free. As they passed close by, singing at the top of their lungs, all I could think was “man, I wish Marge was here.” I knew she’d be so upset to miss it. After they moved off to the deeper water, I turned and headed back to the spot on the reef where I’d lost my fish. The shark was gone but a five foot barracuda had moved in. I couldn’t see the fish in the reef anywhere. Several grouper and snapper were still hanging out though and I couldn’t resist. I dove down, took a long distance shot at a decent size grouper, and hit him dead on. It was a kill shot but the spear hadn’t gone all the way through so as I swam back to the shallows, he popped off the tip. Luckily I was able to reach out and grab him with my mismatched ghetto glove. Just as I did I saw the flash. That damn white tip had popped out of a ravine in reef and was coming at me fast. Oh no, I don’t think so. I held the fish out of the water and literally beat the white tip back with the gun all the way to the exit point. I climbed up on the rocks and tossed the fish as far back from the waterline as possible. All I could do was lay there, laughing, adrenaline pumping from all I had seen in the last 15 minutes. That was one hell of an afternoon.
    Drew fought a white tip hard for this lil' guy!
    Later that night, we gathered on the big ship Karma for a huge feast including my hard fought catch. Zen had actually witness my encounter with the whales from afar and Tom couldn’t believe he’d decided to sit the afternoon out. I was beat and after a huge meal and a glass of scotch I was done for the night. The next morning we moved down to anchorage #31, Maninita Island, the southern most anchorage in the Vava’u group (photo below). And here we sit again, tucked in next to Zen in yet another tiny, blue, South Pacific lagoon. Man, I’m gonna miss this life.
    Dosia in anchorage #31 in Tonga

  • Update from the 2009 Regatta Vava’u Cornhole Champs : )

    The passport prizes have been rewarded, the free internet available during the regatta is long gone, and the harbor here in Vava’u is slowly beginning to empty. This morning we said farewell and wished safe seas to our dear friends, Geoff & Julie, on s/v Flashback. I knew it was going to be hard to say adios to them but it was especially hard to hug Julie goodbye. For me, having Julie around was like having one of my greatest friends, Courtney, right here by my side. Their advice, their ability to listen, and this incredible sarcasm that they both possess is like one in the same and I have told Julie so many, many times. I will greatly miss talking, laughing, sharing glasses of wine, and just being girly for a bit with her. They’re both just amazing, amazing people and whether it be New Zealand to ring in the New Year or another year further down the road, I know we will see them again and I am already looking forward to that reunion…
    Jules' favorite pic of us : ) Geoff, Drew, and Richard at Monique's Bday bash Jules and Marge
    For those of you who have not heard the news yet, by the grace of the sea gods watching over us, our dinghy has been found! A local fisherman found our beloved water craft off the coast of Niue, an island we had sailed away from just a few days before. The dinghy was upside down and we assume it flipped over the reef leaving Beveridge, making the entire journey to Niue’s coast with the outboard underwater. For roughly 15 days it traveled approximately 140 miles and luckily for us, right into the hands of a very honest, local fisherman. (added by Drew…here he is! The hero! His name is Ape (pronounced Ah Pay) and he is from the village of Vaiea on Niue.)
    tender2 tender1
    Once turned over to the Niue police, our dinghy was impounded and placed in its own jail cell. Literally locked up for misbehavior. The good news reached us via Marc & Jane, s/v Imagine, who heard about the dinghy while they themselves were in Niue. Drew and I have learned in our time here on the water not to ever get your hopes up about anything so until we made contact with the commodore of the Yacht Club in Niue and exchanged serial numbers, we weren’t believing it. Low and behold, turns out it was ours, in good shape, and the local fisherman was even able to get the outboard engine up and running again! A reward was sent via Western Union here in Tonga, obviously to be handed over to the guy who found the dinghy, and a ceremony took place to officially release the dinghy from the Niue Police Department into the care of the Yacht Club. Drew and I have bailed out the dinghy before but we’ve never had to bail it out in this way! Now we sit and wait in hopes that a sailing vessel will come through Niue large enough to throw our dinghy up on board and bring it the 250 miles to us here in Tonga. Jokes were even made that they could throw it off the wharf in Niue and it’d find it’s way back to us here and of course now we can laugh at that. Need be, we’ll return to pick it up but chances are in our favor that someone will be able to bring it with them. Drew and I would like to extend our sincerest thanks and gratitude to the fisherman, the Niue police, the “Imaginary” family, and especially Keith Vial, the commodore of the Yacht Club who spent a lot of time going back and forth with us via email to get this all straightened out. We cannot begin to tell you the relief you have brought us and we are so incredibly appreciative!

    So for now Drew and I will sit patiently in Tonga awaiting news that the dinghy is on its way. As I write I sit and watch as Drew slowly picks through cabinets and cubby holes taking pictures of all that will be sold both separately and with the boat. I have to admit his last post about the boat going on the market drew mixed feelings for me. As I read it for the first time, alongside all of you, it brought tears to my eyes. There has never been a single moment in our relationship, even when we weren’t living aboard, that I was unaware of Drew’s love and passion for this particular vessel. I will never be able to comprehend the amount of time and energy that went into making her what she is. I do, however, live in the results of his labor and can physically see the details of the love that went into each inch of Dosia. In even my most frustrated moments aboard, I try so hard to think about the future, when I’m sitting behind a desk or on a couch, and would trade anything for my butt to be on a beach instead, and do all I can to use that as a reminder to live in this moment, relish in it, and take all from it that I possibly can. As the final months of our trip begin to unfold, I am torn on how I feel about the journey coming to an end. I know that Drew and I have an incredible life with great adventures ahead of us and I definitely see another boat, more islands, and more sunsets in our future. Something tells me Drew’s going to make sure of that!

  • Dosia, Bluewater Cruising Sailboat For Sale

    The Vava'u Yacht Club Dosia coming into the Vava'u Harbor in Tonga

    I put off writing this blog post for the past several months but alas, it is time. The need to admit the facts not only to the readers and fans but to myself has finally come. At some point next year, we will return to the states for what I like to call “a nice, long while.” In the next couple of weeks, Dosia will enter the international yacht market; for sale to anyone, anywhere. She is my finest work of art; a modest American production boat turned world cruising yacht. November will mark my 7th year of ownership, a fair amount of time to get to know and fall in love with a boat. She’s carried me halfway around the world in safety and comfort and for that, she will always remain a part of me.

    My choice to leave the cruising lifestyle is a mixed bag of wants and needs and obligations. I want a family and a career. I need money (for a bigger boat one day). And I feel obligated to my parents and my grandmother, who deserve to see that the time and money spent on my rearing was not wasted, and to Margie, who without hestitation left behind her huge circle of family and friends to join me on this adventure. It is not a sad time at all. I’m 31. I will have spent four years off and on traveling the world. I crossed the Pacific Ocean and saw places and things most people only dream about. I have no doubt I will return to do it again, most likely more than once in the years to come. My hope is that by returning now and starting to build a life at home I can make it back out here sooner, rather than later. And that when I come, I have with me my family, my new big-ass boat with room for visitors, and the same spirit of adventure I live with now.

    And there it is. The plan. En famille to the next stage of my life. As for now, we’re still heading to NZ. We have no intention of stopping this adventure early! New Zealand and Australia are both on the list of places to see before we return to the states. If the boat sells before then, as it will be priced to do, we’ll move onto land and continue our travels till it is time to head home.

    Got an opinion on this? Please, please, please leave a comment on this post. I’d love to know what others have to say.

  • Neiafu Harbor, Vava’u, Kingdom of Tonga

    What a cool place. We cruised in early yesterday morning after probably the best sail we’ve ever had. We flew the spinnaker right up until dark the day we left Niue ghosting along at 7 knots. The next morning I flew it again for a couple of hours till I started seeing 9.5 knots. I figured maybe it was a good idea to keep the mast standing upright and I took it down. We stopped briefly at an anchorage right around the corner from the main harbor (Lotuma Bay #5) to take showers, clean up the boat, and give a couple of other guys the chance to check in and get off the wharf before we made our triumphant entrance. We could already hear our friends from Zen and Honeymoon on the radio so we gave a call and announced our presence. It’s was like entering a reunion. All the boats we’ve met along the way and all the people whose voices we’ve heard and never met all seem to be here. Even Jeff and Julie from Flashback who we affectionately call Ma and Pa after someone mistaked us for being their children! Check in was relatively simple. The Quarantine and Health officials were standing at the dock when we tied up so they came aboard first. I handed over the papers they needed with a couple of candy bars and some diet coke hoping to speed up the process. Twenty minutes later, paperwork done, we couldn’t figure out why these guy were still sitting on the boat. They were thumbing through some of Margie’s magazines, hanging out like they were right at home. I guess they needed a few minutes to study up on the latest Cosmo and Vogue before they decided it was time to go and finally they dawdled off the boat. Next came Customs. Simple. Then I took a walk to the bank and Immigration while Margie, sitting on the boat at the city dock, somehow ended up with some fresh bread after a local paddled by and made her a deal. Ten minutes later we were tied to a mooring owned by the Aquarium Cafe with three dinghies and all our friends hanging off the side of Dosia. Nice.

    Then came our first Friday night in Neiafu. Picture it. A georgeous harbor surrounded by hills and mangroves. A hundred plus sailboats, some charter, but mostly cruising yachts from all over the globe. Huge multimillion dollars catamarans with paid captains all the way down to 27′ single handers. Converted race boats, sleek lined Italian yachts, refurbished classics, and junkers. It doesn’t matter. On Friday night, everyone gathers at the Mermaid, home of the Vava’u Yacht Club for drinks. Right on the water with its own dinghy dock. T-shirts, burgees, and flags hanging from the ceiling. Happy hour prices on a selection of beers from Oz land, NZ, the local Ikale and Maka brews. Heaven on earth. After losing hope in French Polynesia and the Cooks, here it is. The perfect image of a south seas sailor bar in its truest form. It still exists. Where else can you find a 70 year old single-hander with a white beard in crocs and a tie-dye shirt arguing with a pressed linen German couple off a sleek 60 footer about the finer aspects of rum distillation? Classic.

    When you wake up in the morning and can’t remember what you had for dinner or if you even ate dinner or where you might have tried if you were so inclined, you had a good night. If it weren’t for the missing cash, I might have thought we missed my favorite meal of the day. I know it was pasta and I’m positive it had bacon in it because that’s something I rarely forget. Each bacon experience should be cherished. I haven’t a clue what Margie ordered but that’s alright…neither does she. We haven’t had a night like that in a long, long time and even though I felt like a million bucks this morning when I woke, I would have preferred to not wake up belching vanilla infused rum. In order to not take responsibility for the over-indulgence, I need to blame someone else. So Flashback, you’re it. It’s all your fault. 🙂