SNAPSHOTS

Here you’ll find many photos from our travels. They include shots from our 5,000-mile cruise aboard Tamarac II as well as some photos of other travels. I apologize for the sparseness of the captions; I’m working on that. Also, I will be uploading more photos regularly. Check back.

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A Cruiser’s Life

In the spring of 2000, my wife Gayl and I set sail in our 32-foot Westsail cutter Tamarac II on a two-year journey. We explored Mexico’s Sea of Cortez and West Coast, then crossed 2,700 miles of Pacific (25 days at sea) to French Polynesia, where we visited the Marquesan Islands, the Tuamotu Atolls and the Society Islands (Tahiti). For more on this, read About Me, Still Shaking, or Chasing Leila.

Tamarac II is a 1976 Westsail cutter. She is 32-feet long (on deck) and displaces 19,500 pounds.

Mexico

One of the many equipment failures during this leg of our trip was that of our camera. So there are no shots of one of our favorite cruising grounds, the Sea of Cortez. Guess we’ll have to return someday…in a bigger boat.

Thirty minutes after this shot we severed the dock lines and tried for the South Pacific the first time. Read Still Shaking for the low-down on the following 13 day journey.	Tankers were a main reason for keeping a 24-hour watch. They can get from horizon to bow within 15 minutes when traveling wide open.
On day two, things started to mount against us.	Our engine went out on day two as well.
The calm after the storm.	Can you say divorce?
With no engine or charts of Mexico, we relied on friendly voices to talk us in.	And on the 13^th day, land was sighted. Cabo Falso, Baja, to be exact.
Mexican shrimpers. Just don’t anchor behind them in a blow.	Careyes, Mexico, known for its “castles” and polo.

The Crossing

In April of 2001, Gayl and I sailed out of Puerto Vallarta, Mexico, and made a 25-day, 2,700-mile crossing to Hiva Oa, Marquesas.

Gayl holds on through a 40-knot squall in the notorious ITCZ.	I’ve long suspected that CPAs might make the best open ocean sailors; everything from water used to watts left must be strictly accounted for.
Landfall, Hiva Oa, Marquesas Islands, on the 25^th day.	More than signifying an accomplishment, this sight foretold a good night’s sleep. Much needed after doing 25-days of three hours on watch, three hours off. No breaks.

The Marquesas

We visited three islands in the Marquesas over four weeks.

Doesn’t seem like much, but a fresh loaf of bread and fruit is a hell of a welcome gift after 25 days at sea. Hiva Oa.	Hanavave Bay, Fatu Hiva, Marquesas.
The Marquesans are big on religion.	Tattoos, too.
We ate a lot of sashimi…	…and saw a lot of rainbows. Hana Moe Noa Bay, Tahuata.
Hana Moe Noa Bay, Tahuata.	Hiva Oa, the weather side. Hence, no anchored boats.

The Tuamotus

It took three days to sail from the Marquesas to these atolls, which are both God’s gift and curse to sailors.

An atoll is formed when the island from which a barrier reef is growing sinks. The reef continues to grow, however, and forms a necklace of coral in mid-ocean with a crystal blue lagoon in its center. Anywhere from a few miles in diameter to over thirty, the 72 Tuamotu atolls are true marvels. Most are uninhabited, except for incredible sea life. Every time we went diving we swam with at least five sharks, ranging from harmless blacktips to seven-foot-long grays, silvertips and lemons.

Also present are big pelagic fish such as yellowfin tuna, wahoo and cool harmless fellows like the manta ray, with an eight-foot wingspans and radiator grills for mouths.

Not long ago most cruisers avoided the Tuamotus because they are considered so dangerous (collectively, they were once called the Dangerous Archipelago and were the graveyards of the South Pacific). Since they are made up of only reef, the highest land is no more than five- to ten-feet high, supporting only scrub brush and palm trees. In addition to their low profile, their multitude and proximity to one another creates strong and unpredictable currents throughout their waters. They are a navigator’s nightmare.

But with the de-scrambling of GPS by our government in 2000, making even the least expensive GPS incredibly accurate, and the recent resurveying of most of the territory by the French (in the past, even the best fix meant nothing without accurate charts), the Tuamotus are accessible, with care. Gayl and I spent seven weeks among the Tuamotus, far longer than most cruisers, and really hated to leave.

But we paid for the time. Thanks to the lack of population and dry climate (with no tall land to create convection, and therefore clouds and rain) food and water is hard to come by. In Puerto Vallarta I installed a $2,000 watermaker, which converts saltwater to fresh. We also stocked up heavily on as much fresh veggies and fruits as possible in the Marquesas.

In a way I feel we landed in just the right time historically for exploring the place. Ten years ago it would have been too dangerous; twenty years from now, there may be resorts on some of these places (the blasted show “Survivor” has already descended upon the Marquesas). For the time being, however, the Tuamotus are the wild west of the oceans.

They are also the Venus's-flytraps of the sea. Since they usually only have one or two narrow, shallow passes through the reef and into the lagoon, getting in and out is a once-a-day chance. This is because when the tide is changing currents through the narrow passes can reach six, seven, even nine knots —much faster than most cruising boats can power.

Also, transit must be taken through the passes and around the interior of the lagoon with the sun high overhead or just behind the navigator in order to see the multitude of coral heads. And since there is no land to block the build up of waves inside the massive lagoon (wind is not a problem for anchored boats as much as the jarring waves that it can form if given enough fetch, or distance to blow on water), a cruiser must stay on the leeward side of an atoll. All this means that at a certain time every day, you have to decide if the weather will hold for the next 24 hours. In other words, convince yourself that you are in the correct corner of the lagoon, because after a certain time you’re trapped. Basically, you’re saying “whatever comes through, I’m riding it out right here.” And no one is around to help if your wrong.

We got lucky for the most part. On one occasion we were pinned on the wrong side, for three days. A few bad things happened but nothing permanent.

Raroia, from the beach…	…and the top of the mast.
The south end of Fakarava.	A day sail in the dinghy on Raroia.
South Fakarava.
Gayl and our dinghy from minus 30 feet, Tahanea.	Our view on Raroia for a week.
A harmless blacktip in the lagoon at un-populated Tahanea.	About ten of these mantas would feed in one of Tahanea’s three passes with each tide. They allowed us within touching distance of their eight-foot wingspans.

I will never complain about getting gas on land again.

The Society Islands

From the Tuamotus, it was a mere two days and nights to Papeete, Tahiti. We re-provisioned there, then explored the five main Society Islands for four months.

Photos coming soon. Right now, I need a drink.

Gayl on the bow in Bora Bora.

Waves!