Embedded Files
SAILING THE BIG BLUE is a short film compiled from the videos I took during the voyage.
Somehow I came across “Karaka”, a 52ft steel ketch with a remarkable story. Ten years ago she was a rusty old tub on her way to a scrap yard, but a chance encounter with a young, resourceful and perhaps foolhardy adventurer had saved her from that premature demise. She was rebuilt, refitted, repainted, re-many-things… and for the past decade has been plying some of the most remote waters on this planet.
Somehow I came across “Karaka”, a 52ft steel ketch with a remarkable story. Ten years ago she was a rusty old tub on her way to a scrap yard, but a chance encounter with a young, resourceful and perhaps foolhardy adventurer had saved her from that premature demise. She was rebuilt, refitted, repainted, re-many-things… and for the past decade has been plying some of the most remote waters on this planet.
I joined as crew at a tiny atoll of Raroia in French Polynesia and spent 3 months sailing from the Tuamotus Archipelago to the Marquesas Islands and to the island of Tahiti. French Polynesia comprises of specks of islands and atolls dispersed over an area of 2000 kilometers smack in the middle of the vast South Pacific, somewhere between South America and Australia. By the time Rome was already an empire, these places were just being settled by humans. In the modern times, two out 118 islands – Tahiti and Bora Bora – became de facto representatives for the entire country and popular adornments for computer screen backgrounds. Yet the real gems lie far beyond the highways of Tahiti and glitzy resorts of Bora Bora.
I joined as crew at a tiny atoll of Raroia in French Polynesia and spent 3 months sailing from the Tuamotus Archipelago to the Marquesas Islands and to the island of Tahiti. French Polynesia comprises of specks of islands and atolls dispersed over an area of 2000 kilometers smack in the middle of the vast South Pacific, somewhere between South America and Australia. By the time Rome was already an empire, these places were just being settled by humans. In the modern times, two out 118 islands – Tahiti and Bora Bora – became de facto representatives for the entire country and popular adornments for computer screen backgrounds. Yet the real gems lie far beyond the highways of Tahiti and glitzy resorts of Bora Bora.
There is a tiny air-strip on Raroia atoll, population 100, used mainly by the booming black pearl industry. Seeing the atoll from the air gives one an appreciation of its true remoteness – a yellow ribbon of coral reef, sprinkled with coconut trees, encircling a blue lagoon and then nothing but the vastness of the ocean as far as one can see. And, until the very recent infiltration of Internet, it was completely cut off from the rest of the world. I’d have to evoke too many superlatives to describe the gin-clear water and the aquatic marvels of this place, but I hope the short film I put together would do it much better .
There is a tiny air-strip on Raroia atoll, population 100, used mainly by the booming black pearl industry. Seeing the atoll from the air gives one an appreciation of its true remoteness – a yellow ribbon of coral reef, sprinkled with coconut trees, encircling a blue lagoon and then nothing but the vastness of the ocean as far as one can see. And, until the very recent infiltration of Internet, it was completely cut off from the rest of the world. I’d have to evoke too many superlatives to describe the gin-clear water and the aquatic marvels of this place, but I hope the short film I put together would do it much better .
I had never really sailed before coming aboard of Karaka, so while bobbing on the placid lagoon I was apprehensively eyeing choppy waters of the open ocean, awaiting the 500 nautical mile crossing to the Marquesas Islands. When the anchor was up and the atoll became an indistinguishable dot on the horizon, I slowly began to understand the allure and the thrill of a sea-faring adventure. It’s just you and the elements: the wind, the sun, the water. The romanticism of sailing, however, quickly dissipated when the wind started to blow far too many knots over what was “promised” by the forecast. There was no poetry in huge swells crashing into the ship, no particular pleasure in trying to move around the boat when it is heeling at a 45 degree angle. Five days of beating into the wind, whipped by waves and sustained with days-old pasta was sufficient for a hint of tribulations experienced by those brave souls who dared to venture into the search of the unknown. Strong was the yearning for ‘terra firma’ and oh so sweet the feeling of sighting land.
I had never really sailed before coming aboard of Karaka, so while bobbing on the placid lagoon I was apprehensively eyeing choppy waters of the open ocean, awaiting the 500 nautical mile crossing to the Marquesas Islands. When the anchor was up and the atoll became an indistinguishable dot on the horizon, I slowly began to understand the allure and the thrill of a sea-faring adventure. It’s just you and the elements: the wind, the sun, the water. The romanticism of sailing, however, quickly dissipated when the wind started to blow far too many knots over what was “promised” by the forecast. There was no poetry in huge swells crashing into the ship, no particular pleasure in trying to move around the boat when it is heeling at a 45 degree angle. Five days of beating into the wind, whipped by waves and sustained with days-old pasta was sufficient for a hint of tribulations experienced by those brave souls who dared to venture into the search of the unknown. Strong was the yearning for ‘terra firma’ and oh so sweet the feeling of sighting land.
The Marquesas Islands are as remote as it gets. The nearest continental land mass is the west coast of Mexico some 3000 miles away. The islands and their “savage” inhabitants were first revealed to the laymen by Herman Melville, the author of “Moby Dick”. Melville’s ascendance to stardom took place in his restless twenties when he absconded a whaling vessel and spent 3 months ensconced with a tribe on the island of Nuku Hiva. Barely escaping alive, he published a fantastically descriptive account of his exploits in the book “Typee”. Although much has changed since those days, the Marquesas nonetheless remain a rather exotic land. Its people are famed for their genuine hospitality, the ancient art of tattoo is making resurgence and geological splendor of these volcanic islands continue to awe its visitors.
The Marquesas Islands are as remote as it gets. The nearest continental land mass is the west coast of Mexico some 3000 miles away. The islands and their “savage” inhabitants were first revealed to the laymen by Herman Melville, the author of “Moby Dick”. Melville’s ascendance to stardom took place in his restless twenties when he absconded a whaling vessel and spent 3 months ensconced with a tribe on the island of Nuku Hiva. Barely escaping alive, he published a fantastically descriptive account of his exploits in the book “Typee”. Although much has changed since those days, the Marquesas nonetheless remain a rather exotic land. Its people are famed for their genuine hospitality, the ancient art of tattoo is making resurgence and geological splendor of these volcanic islands continue to awe its visitors.
We spent almost two months exploring the Marquesas, hiking the jungle in search of waterfalls, gorging on endless fruits generously gifted by the locals and ‘dancing’ with manta rays. And then, well stocked with bananas, papayas and pamplemousse, we set sail for Tahiti.
We spent almost two months exploring the Marquesas, hiking the jungle in search of waterfalls, gorging on endless fruits generously gifted by the locals and ‘dancing’ with manta rays. And then, well stocked with bananas, papayas and pamplemousse, we set sail for Tahiti.
I was not overly excited about this 800 mile crossing, with the memories of rough sailing still fresh in my mind. This time around however the passage proved much more pleasant and we reached our first stop, Tuao atoll in the Tuomotoes, in just 3 days. After a week of relaxing, diving and close encounters with manta rays and sharks we pushed on for the remaining 300 miles to Tahiti. It was turning out to be a perfectly uneventful crossing, but then a mere 70 miles away we encountered full wrath of Poseidon. It was around 3.30am, I was on watch bleary-eyed and tired when I noticed lightning on the horizon. I woke up the skipper to share my ominous discovery, but to my surprise he wasn’t too perturbed by this development and was, once again, slumbering away in captain’s quarters. Amazing how quickly things can change out at sea. No more than 20 minutes later he was at the helm, while myself and another crew member were putting on harnesses. Outside a storm was raging. Furious winds were heeling the boat so much that moving around was an act of acrobatic prowess. Driving rain. Lightning all around us. And just before we went to trim the sails the skipper admonished that “if you are to fall overboard now there is no way I would be able to fetch you, so hold on tight”. Four hours later, alive, but thoroughly soaked and emotionally drained we dropped anchor at point Venus on the northern side of Tahiti. It was here that, 245 years ago, Captain James Cook anchored his flotilla during explorations of the South Pacific. And it was where I spent the remaining 3 weeks of my trip, hiking the island's verdant mountains, and swimming with whales.
I was not overly excited about this 800 mile crossing, with the memories of rough sailing still fresh in my mind. This time around however the passage proved much more pleasant and we reached our first stop, Tuao atoll in the Tuomotoes, in just 3 days. After a week of relaxing, diving and close encounters with manta rays and sharks we pushed on for the remaining 300 miles to Tahiti. It was turning out to be a perfectly uneventful crossing, but then a mere 70 miles away we encountered full wrath of Poseidon. It was around 3.30am, I was on watch bleary-eyed and tired when I noticed lightning on the horizon. I woke up the skipper to share my ominous discovery, but to my surprise he wasn’t too perturbed by this development and was, once again, slumbering away in captain’s quarters. Amazing how quickly things can change out at sea. No more than 20 minutes later he was at the helm, while myself and another crew member were putting on harnesses. Outside a storm was raging. Furious winds were heeling the boat so much that moving around was an act of acrobatic prowess. Driving rain. Lightning all around us. And just before we went to trim the sails the skipper admonished that “if you are to fall overboard now there is no way I would be able to fetch you, so hold on tight”. Four hours later, alive, but thoroughly soaked and emotionally drained we dropped anchor at point Venus on the northern side of Tahiti. It was here that, 245 years ago, Captain James Cook anchored his flotilla during explorations of the South Pacific. And it was where I spent the remaining 3 weeks of my trip, hiking the island's verdant mountains, and swimming with whales.
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