This section encompasses a collection of stories and
passage notes written while underway during the first leg of Voyage
Two of Pacific Bliss, the 3252 nautical mile passage from San
Diego, California to Atuona Harbor in the island of Hiva Oa, Marquesas,
French Polynesia.
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March 28, 2001, 0400
24º42.7N, 119º 32.2W
The Slow Boat to the Marquesas
The slow boat-that's Pacific Bliss, crawling now on stealthy
cat's paws, inching along under an almost-full moon and starry skies
at a mere 1.8 knots in a 2-knot wind. Oh, now the wind has increased
to 7, and she is crawling along at 4. Big deal.
This is my first experience with slow speeds on Pacific Bliss,
depending only on the wind. During Voyage 1, we sailed in the trades
all the way from France to Panama. From the Canal up to San Diego, we
slogged and beat our way north, but since diesel was easily available
for our two tanks, each with 200 gallon capacity, we turned on the iron
spinnaker when whenever we slowed to 3.5 knots. This passage to the
Marquesas is different: we need to sail.
Somehow, I had expected to have days and nights like this near the
equator, in the doldrums-the horse latitudes where they threw the horses
off the ships in desperation and frustration-but not here, only 560
miles into our passage, and the chart showing us not even far enough
southwest to be past the tip of Baja!
Yesterday, the light winds were a reprieve, an oasis of retreat from
the hectic weeks leading to our departure and the first two boisterous
days at sea. Today, we are wondering how long this will last.
We lounged on the net for the first time during the passage; we sat
at the pulpit seat at the bow and watched a school of dolphins swim
from hull to hull, occasionally turning to make sure that they still
had their audience. Earlier, we had seen an entire school of dolphins
attack a fish, most likely a tuna, en masse, jumping and splashing,
surrounding their prey. Perhaps it had been this same school, now out
to play.
We read while Pacific Bliss lazily loafed along, always under
5 knots, and in the late afternoon, set up our new B-B-Q grill and enjoyed
New York Cuts with Garden Salad. Life is good.
Today, rested and alert, and on watch, I read the following descriptive
sections from Melville's Typee and long to be there:
On June 23, 1o842 Melville and the Acushnet anchored… "at
Taiohae, the island's larger and more friendly village. The bay is a
magestic horseshoe formed by a towering basaltic ridge to the north
that stretches its shoulders and arms of descending ridges down to an
almost complete embrace of the harbor. To the west along the coast are
smaller bays, including Taioa…(Melville's Glen of Tier). To the
east is the village of the Happas, and further east is Taipivai, or
Typee."
(From the introduction, by Penguin Classics)
My timer goes off as I write this; I step out into the cockpit. The
moon has created a shimmering path on the sea from the western sky right
to the starboard helm seat, so bright that it dims the stars. But on
to Melville's description:
"You approach it from the sea by a narrow entrance, flanked on
either side by two small islets which soar conically to the height of
some five hundred feet. From there, the shore recedes on both hands,
and describes a deep semicircle."
"From the verge of the water the land rises uniformly on all sides,
with green and sloping acclivities, until from gently rolling hillsides
and moderate elevations, it insensibly swells into lofty and majestic
heights, whose blue outlines, ranged all around, close in the view.
The beautiful aspect of the shore is heightened by the deep and romantic
glens; which come down to it at almost equal distances, all apparently
radiating from a common centre, and the upper extremities of which are
lost to the eye beneath the shadow of the mountains. Down each of these
little valleys flows a clear stream; here and there assuming the form
of a slender cascade, then stealing invisibly along until it bursts
upon the sight again in larger and more noisy waterfalls, and at last
demurely wanders along to the sea."
How can I not be impatient to get there, reading these words?
Of course, my reader, I will enjoy the path. I must. But the destination…Ah,
that is the dream!
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March 28, 0600
Sunrise and Moonset, Synchronized Over the Sea
On the day of a full moon, the moon sets as the sun rises directly
opposite. When one is on land, it hardly makes a difference. But at
sea, the effect is dramatic. This morning, the sun is now rising east
of the port helm as we head south. And a moonbeam leads right to the
starboard helm as the moon sets. What a wonderful Nature Show over the
sea! The western sky has turned a blue-mauve, while in the east, the
sky is just now turning to orange-gold as a yellow orb peeks above the
horizon.
As another day begins at sea, and Pacific Bliss is in the center,
alone in our own domed world. The sea and sky envelop us as we continue
to ghost through the water smoothly, almost imperceptibly. What a lovely
morning it is!
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