The bow lifts to the pacific swells,  Cape Flattery is left astern.  I feel the exhilaration of being free from the cares and rules of civilization and in awe of knowing that for the next 3,500 nautical miles we need to take full responsibility for our lives.  It is a rare gift to be able to do this in a world that is designed to offload responsibility to government, police, landlords, car mechanics, and anyone else who will take it.  We will not be coddled by a stable dry house with a comfortable bed at night.     We will stand watch in turn 24 hours a day, adapting to changing weather patterns and sea states.

We had too much wind at times coming down the coast with 30 to 35 knots of wind,  then the  Pacific High bulged out to the south and we were becalmed just when we thought we would get to the tradewinds.   Patience is  required to wait  for the wind to come back since fuel is limited.   Even here, well south of the Pacific gyre, we saw lots of plastic and snagged this bit of fish net on the propeller. 

Vastness,

Each day we move relentlessly forward on a course for Nuku Hiva, but each morning the sea is still empty.  The stunning scale of the ocean sinks into our bones until we become so imbedded in the moment that the thought of actually reaching land seems like an illusion.  We are moving across an endless palate of beauty and will continue forever.

landfall on Nuku Hiva, the Marquesas after 28 days

Crossing through the ITCZ  (otherwise known as the Doldroms) was almost imperceptible.   The northeast and southeast trades had already merged into a strong easterly flow.  In fact we had trouble slowing down enough to get the autopilot to steer and the boat stable enough to get some sleep and cook.  We spent 10 days sailing with a double reefed main and a small jib. .   One of the reasons for making the trip was to have the pleasure of sailing in tradewinds instead of the calms we have  at home in the Salish Sea, but I did not expect quite so much wind.   Whatever expectations I have when I head out to sea, the ocean goddesses make sure to invalidate them and remind me to surrender to the conditions as they change from moment to moment.

We arrived after dark and the next morning found ourselves in a beautiful bay surrounded by intensely green mountains.   There were over 35 boats at anchor in the harbor, some of them apparently were there for a long time judging by the luxurious growth of sea grass and barnacles on the hulls.  The harbor is exposed to the swells coming in from the south which made it quite rolly.  

We signed up for a tour of the island to get a sense of where we were.  We rode in a pickup truck with a canopy over the bed to keep off the rain, as it did rain a lot.  Our companions came off a catamaran that had just arrived from Panama with a crew of Danish girls taking their sabbatical between high school and college.  What a great tradition, to have an adventure before getting caught up in a career and family.

I was fascinated by the stories of the old culture and spent time in this site where the energy of the old ones seemed particularly strong.    What can the old ones tell us?   To live in harmony with the land where space and resources are limited takes more than a set of rules imposed by a leader.  It is the result of a culture that from birth lives with the attitude that nothing more is needed than what is here.   A relaxed lifestyle full of laughter and generosity still prevails.  

What conversations and wisdom can this old grinding stone tell us?   Simplicity -  the kitchen counter with its built in mortars, a short walk from the creek and at the heart of the village plaza so all could use it to prepare a village feast or a simple snack.   Houses were also simple,  just enough to keep the rain off and allow the air to flow through freely.    The surrounding forest was planted with food-bearing trees like breadfruit and the lowlands with taro and cassava.

The Tuamotus consist of 80 atolls formed when the central volcanic islands subsided while the surrounding coral reefs continued to grow.  the result is a lagoon surrounded by a coral reef and a thin band of coral rubble and sand only a few feet above sea level.

We anchored off the village, but the wind was still blowing and it was not as calm as I wanted.  I found this marina, available and free,.  It had been built by the French navy during the time they were testing nuclear weapons on a nearby island.  We happily moved in next to a French boat that had been there for months.

We found a friendly community with streets that were swept every morning, a store well stocked with white rice, cookies and some frozen meats and veggies.  It was a pleasant surprise to find that bicycles were the principal means of transportation and the streets were safe for the kids to play in.  Water comes from rain caught on roof tops so is in short supply.  The soil is coral sand allowing water to seep through.  No fruits or vegetables.  The only real crop is coconuts.  

A father and son return down the pier from an afternoon fishing.  Do they have any fish?  I have watched for a week and have seen only 3 small fish in the buckets.  There were fish here and a thriving cultured pearl industry that grew up when the navy pulled out.  It helped keep the local economy going, but an El Niño killed all the oysters and bleached the coral.  With  loss of the coral, the lagoon was easily overfished by the locals.  I did not find any meal sized fish in my explorations.  

On the island of Makimo, most of the coral was dead from the warming ocean, but there were patches of healthy coral which was hopeful.  Often these were in very shallow areas like this.  

The main industry in the Tuamotus is copra, harvesting the meat of the coconut, drying it and shipping it off to be pressed to extract the oil.   Each farmer has his plot of land.  Most are relatively small, say 15 to 30 acres, and are often located away from the populated part of the island.  The farmer has a little shack on his land where he spends about 4 months of the year collecting and drying the coconuts.