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February – March 2012 Cruising Expenses

Perhaps our expense accountings for these two months should be called “the ridiculous amount we spent to get ready to sail to the South Pacific.” For sure, if we had decided to spend another year in Mexico and Central America we could have kept well within our budget of $1500-2000 per month. But the reality is there are just things we were not comfortable heading out into the middle of the Pacific without purchasing and things that we knew would be difficult to impossible to find until we reach New Zealand so we packed them onboard.

In late February we made a quick trip up to San Diego to bring down a number of things we did not trust to Mexican shipping (and it was also a nice break from the boat as well). Some of the things we stuffed in our luggage: a new Simrad autopilot (our older Simrad will be our backup unit), diabetes supplies for me, guidebooks, charts and courtesy flags, a second Kindle (since all of us fight over the one we have), a spare HAM radio and our repaired IC-7000 we shipped back to ICOM from La Paz earlier in the month, a new portlight to improve airflow at the end of our double bunk, kids’ workbooks, more quick-dry clothing, and of course chocolate from Trader Joes.

Back in La Paz I spent days purchasing and stowing provisions and supplies onboard, with the goal of having enough staples for 3-4 months, both because little is available where we will be sailing and what is available is much more expensive than in Mexico. Indeed, now having been in the Marquesas for nearly a month we still have plenty of stores left (even Pacifico!) and have only needed to purchase fresh food (except for all the exciting local and Asian products available here which we are enjoying trying out).

S/V Wondertime’s February-March 2012 Cruising Expenses

airfare – $915
autopilot – $2,777
boat bits – $1,063
books – $16
bus/taxi/trolley – $69
car rental (San Diego and Cabo) – $248
clothing – $435
camera/computer/kindle – $472
courtesy flags – $62
dentist (3 cleanings, 4 fillings, 1 crown) – $498
diesel – $154
dinghy dock – $5
dive tank fill – $5
DVD – $17
eating out – $795
entertainment – $53
French Polynesia agent – $280
gasoline – dinghy – $32
gasoline – rental car – $17
groceries – $2,456
guidebooks/charts – $573
HAM radios – $1,048
internet – $42
kids’ books – $67
laundry – $73
medical – $46
medical supplies – $2,543
moorage – $528
personal care – $176
postage/shipping – $86
propane – $18
showers – $6
souvenirs – $14
supplies – $690
toys – $71
Zarpe fees – $150

total: $16,500

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Tahuata and Fatu Hiva in Photos

If a photo is worth a thousand words here are 39,000 of them for you. We are currently in the metropolis of Taiohae on Nuku Hiva and enjoying the WIFI available here as well as precious fresh veggies (as long as you get up at 3:30 am for the early morning — late night? — market). Tomorrow we’re off to explore the more remote anchorages on this lovely island and will be back to HAM radio postings for a bit… stories from Ua Pou and Nuku Hiva coming soon I promise.

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A Marquesan Memento

Even before we set off on this South Pacific sojourn, I knew that I wanted to get a tattoo to mark the journey. Somehow, it just seems right to celebrate the passage of a lifetime with a beautiful, permanent piece of artwork stamped into the skin like thousands of other sailors have done before me. Like millions of native South Pacific residents have done before to celebrate families, events, stories in their lives.

I thought, and thought and thought and thought about what tattoo I wanted to get to celebrate my own passage through Polynesia for months beforehand. It wasn’t until days before we were set to sail to Vaitahu on the island of Tahuata where we’d heard the best tattooist in the Marquesas lives that the image came to me one night as I was drifting off to sleep. I woke up the next morning and sketched it out on paper and tucked it away.

A few days later, along with the crew of Convivia, we were walking up the road to Fati’s tattoo shack in Vaitahu. It doesn’t have a sign and he no longer lives in the house next to it – you have to find someone in the village to phone him and he’ll drive down from his new house up on the hill to meet you. Everyone seems to know his number. Felix Fii — or Fati as he’s usually called – speaks only a handful of English but we suspect he understands a whole lot more than he lets on. But maybe not; like most people with the gift of an artist’s hand he looks at you and sees you, and there is no language barrier there.

Fati tattoos, I stare at the bugs on the ceiling

Tucker and Victoria sat with Fati in his shack first, each in turn discussing their tattoos. They both were not sure what they wanted when they each walked into the small, plain, paint-peeled building but by the time they walked out some time later Fati knew. As our four kids ran around in the yard chasing chickens and running through the banana trees I walked up the couple of steps, sat down in front of Fati and showed him my drawing. “No problem,” he said as he looked at me. “Very simple.” He pointed at the drawing, then his head then at me and smiled hugely. “Your spirit is here. Very unique. Beautiful tattoo!” Then in French he told me to come back in two days, on Monday at 7 am sharp.

Two days later I am laying on his tattoo table, watching flies and bees travel in and out of the open door to the shack. I listen to the modern Polynesian reggae music playing on the stereo with the accompanying buzz of the tattoo gun. I listen to the rain pound on the metal roof. I watch a mother hen and two chicks stroll past the door, tiptoeing in the mud. I study the breadfruit tree outside in the small yard.  For hours. And hours and hours as Fati fills in the design he’d drawn around my arm early that morning. It stings, it burns, it tickles, sometimes it hurts like he’s searing my arm with a hot iron. Fati is in the zone and works without stopping the entire day. Michael sits nearby, so patient. He’s chosen to get his tattoo later, if at all, and is happy watching me for now and handing me my water bottle to sip from.

Finally it is done: my story spiraling down permanently on my right arm. The spirit dolphin leads the way as they often do at the bow of our little ship. Michael’s tiki, our boat(s), our two daughters also in tiki form (the feeling one and the thinking one), the turtle representing not only our travels south but living a slow, meaningful life, the flower of Polynesia, and the sun setting over the western sea.

It’s not exactly the same as I had originally sketched out but I’ve come to love it even more. Fati knew.

Fati and Me. I'm beaming mostly because the pain is over. But I love my new tattoo too.

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Our week on Tahuata

After a few days at Atuona all our shoreside chores were done; we were all checked into French Polynesia, so we said good-bye to our wonderful crew member Matt who roamed around on shore for another week to explore on his own before flying out to Tahiti and back to San Francisco. We paid the most we’d ever paid (about $90 US) to have our laundry done (but there was no way I was washing six loads of clothes, sheets and blankets by hand!). Our veggie bins had a meager supply of produce that we’d purchased but the cockpit was chock full of fruit that had been simply given to us: pamplemousse, bananas, avocadoes, mangoes, papayas, limes. We very much enjoyed the full nights of restful sleep, despite the bit of rolliness in the Atuona anchorage (but with all the boats being stuffed in like sardines we all had stern anchors out which kept us into the bit of swell coming in).

We only have a month to explore this beautiful and wild island group (since we have three months total in French Polynesia) so it was time to move on. Our original plan had been to head next to Fatu Hiva, the southernmost island about 45 miles away. But it took us nearly two hours to retrieve our stern anchor (stuck a little too well in the mud) and our bow anchor (stuck underneath the boat anchored in front of us). With a little help from new sailing friends we got them both onboard and were off.

By that time however it was too late in the day to be able to make Fatu Hiva before dark so we put up our spinnaker and scooted downwind through the Bordelais Channel between Hiva Oa and the island of Tahuata and made landfall 10 miles later at Hanamoenoa Bay. After we dropped our hook in 30 feet of the brightest, clearest aqua water we’d ever seen and gazed about us at the stunning bay we were sure glad our anchors had been a bit difficult after all. It was a large bay with very little swell and plenty of room for a number of boats, although there were only two other boats in the bay when we arrived. In front of us was a scene like you’d see in a stock photo: brilliant aqua water that you could see through nearly 100 feet, bright tropical fish darting under the boat, a nearly white sand beach backed by gently waving coconut palms and behind it lush green valleys and hills that rose up up and up into the island. It was stunning.

Here, we enjoyed several lovely quiet days of just being a family together again. We explored the beach, played in the 85-degree F waves, swam around the boat, snorkeled on the nearby reefs. The tradewinds blew down from the valley in front of us everyday and kept us cooled down nicely.

A few days later we went around the corner to the village of Vaitahu where our friends on Convivia (who had made it to Fatu Hiva) were meeting us. The kids were all glad to see their friends again (as were we of course). As seems to be the trend around here, this bay was even more gorgeous than the last two; the colorful small village was nestled in a towering lush green valley. Even from the boat we could see the tidy homes, flowers growing everywhere, the beautiful church made of local woods and stained glass.

I will always remember Vaitahu as the village where we collected things: the sight of nearly-naked local kids curiously surrounding ours as they waded in the surf with lifejackets, huge sun hats, long-sleeved sunshirts and bright plastic shoes. The hands that appeared from out of nowhere — even in the dark — to grab our dinghy painter and help a child each and every time we exited or boarded our dinghy on the slippery, sea-washed cement quay. The delirious scent of flowers which lined every street, surrounded every house and was worn behind the ear of nearly every smiling woman we passed. The sweet sweet Polynesian harmonies sung in the open air Catholic church on Sunday morning. The taste of one of the fresh bananas handed to us by a man as we strolled past his house one afternoon. The laughter and camaraderie we shared with Convivia each night as our kids played and we took turns making dinner for each other. The sound of the heavy warm rain that pounded down on our boat several times each day and filled our rain buckets to overflowing. The burn of the tattoo as my story came alive on my arm in the smoky, music-filled shack.

When we did finally point our bow south for Fatu Hiva yesterday, we felt a little homesick for this sweet, kind village. But our treasures will always remind us of our visit here.

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First days in the Marquesas

Our last few days at sea the girls would tell us how they couldn't wait to run free on a beach again. Wish granted.

We have been in a sort of dream state here on Hiva Oa for the past five days. Most of the time we still can’t believe we are really here and have to pinch ourselves to make sure we are truly awake. It’s so beautiful here, so exotic. It’s everything you think of when you picture “French Polynesia” and even more. All new sights, smells, tastes, sounds. All delightful. The best part is we are home, floating in an amazing whole new world.

Our check-in process in Atuona took 10 minutes total, thanks to our wonderful agent Sandra, the friendly Gendarmerie and the amazing efficiency of the French Polynesian government.

Celebrating our arrival with the local brew.

Leah is enjoying her thoroughly Marquesan breakfast: pamplemousse (the most heavenly grapefruit ever) and a fresh baguette.

It doesn't take much to arrange a playdate on an island in the middle of the ocean; all you need are a couple of coordinates. Here, the young crews of Wondertime and Convivia are delighted to be reunited after we last saw them in La Cruz - 3,000 miles ago.

This one is for you Stephie.

Neither of us speaks a lick of French, which makes it even more interesting in this French-speaking country. We are slowing learning though, and the fresh baguettes, French cheeses, French chocolates and the sing-songy way every says “bonjour!” makes our language struggles wholly worthwhile.

The best produce deal is right from the grower....meeting up with the Monday produce truck in Atuona.

What $50 will buy in the Marquesas. We will savor those cabbages!

Sweet.

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