Hello and Happy Sunday! Did you see our latest YouTube video? 

We’re back on the move! Sorry for the lack of posts lately. To be honest, crew morale has plummeted. Boat life has never been cheap or easy for us, but it has always been rewarding enough to make it worthwhile. Unfortunately, we have not had enough positive experiences in the past year to justify the financial, mental, and physical burden. Yet, when we discuss what an alternative life would look like, all options pale in comparison to our dream of sailing around the world. We just need a break. In the meantime, we’re focusing on the positives: we are safe, healthy, and together!

We figured an offshore passage and a change in scenery might cheer us up. With the World ARC heading toward the Marquesas, we decided to refuel, reprovision, and get the heck out of there before it got too crowded! We motored for the first two days with 1-7kn of wind, periodically using our main and jib when possible. A few squalls rolled through, bringing rain but no additional wind. It was hot. We struggled to sleep when not on watch.

One afternoon, I noticed something dark on the horizon, moving slowly. I grabbed the binoculars and quickly realized we were heading toward a pod of pilot whales! We altered course and watched in amazement as 5-10 black dorsal fins bobbed up and down. Seeing wildlife underway never gets old! Moments like this are magical. They were too far away for me to get a good photo, though… 

On day 3, I woke up to the sound of Ray bringing out the gennaker. With 10kn of wind, the mainsail, and our gennaker, we maintained 7kn SOG! Spinner dolphins leaped out of the water in the distance. I took a deep breath, listening to the water rushing by our hulls—a sound that had been masked for the past 48 hours by the dull drone of the engines. We were both grinning from ear to ear. 

Those dreamy conditions lasted through the afternoon before the wind dropped to 4kn and the clouds returned. We furled in the gennaker but kept the main up and started an engine. We brought out the jib to gain as much speed as possible, but it was largely ornamental in those conditions. As the sun began to set, we noticed two boobies trying to land on Sabado. They were resting at the top of the mainsail, coming close to our wind instruments during takeoff and landing. 

We’ve had birds damage our wind instruments before, and the last thing we wanted to do was have to source replacements here. So, we dropped the mainsail and turned on our fog horn to deter them. We stood on the bow shouting and waving our arms like hooligans as the sun fell below the horizon. The boobies circled us for a while longer before eventually giving up and moving on. 

We motored through the night, dodging a handful of fishing vessels without AIS. Around 3AM, we decided to bring out the gennaker. Typically, we don’t fly big headsails at night, but the sea state was calm, the wind was light and steady, and we really wanted to sail. Ray went to the bow, and I operated the aft winch, but we couldn’t get the top ~10 wraps to unfurl… we messed around with it for a while before giving up and motoring until sunrise. Good thing we refueled before we left!

We tried to unfurl the gennaker again around 7am with no luck. We tossed around a few theories: perhaps we have a back wrap, maybe it’s the torsion cable, or could the peeling UV strip have caused a problem? Eventually, we accepted defeat and hoisted the code zero instead. This allowed us to turn off the engine and enjoy a few hours of sailing before the wind disappeared again.

It was another hot and uncomfortable afternoon. The sea state picked up, and sitting at the helm began to resemble riding a mechanical bull. Conditions worsened for the remaining two days of our passage. We rolled around in 6-foot waves on the beam, periodically getting rained on. The creaks and groans inside were driving us crazy. We sailed/motor-sailed whenever we could. 

At one point in the middle of a squall, we noticed our first reefing line was chafed on both ends… Ray tied a safety line to one end, and we waited until conditions allowed us to replace it safely with a spare we had aboard. Then, we saw a kink in the top of our mainsail. It looked like a broken batten or leech line. 

We furled in the headsail, turned upwind, and dropped the main. The leech line had snapped, and we didn’t have a replacement handy, so we secured the broken line and re-hoisted it. With less than 24 hours left in this passage, we weren’t too concerned. We will replace the leech line before our next passage. 

The following day, not long after sunrise, we spotted land and dropped anchor in Tahiti. 

We wasted no time hauling the gennaker to a sail loft and purchasing a replacement leech line. The guys at Tahiti Sails got back to us a few days later: they had no problem unfurling the sail and didn’t see any reason we wouldn’t have been able to unfurl it underway. They also informed us that what we thought was the UV-resistant strip peeling away was actually burnt sailcloth. 

There is a velcro piece that prevents us from furling the sail the wrong way, so we’re not sure what could’ve caused this— perhaps this sail is just approaching the end of its lifespan? We purchased it at the end of 2021 and flew it for the first time in 2022. We’re pretty frustrated about this and are actively trying to get a new asymmetrical spinnaker to Tahiti before we head to New Zealand— an expensive undertaking that we’re hoping doesn’t impact our timeline too much… we’ll see how it goes! 

We’ve since moved to Moorea, our favorite of the Society Islands. We’re tucked into a beautiful anchorage, battling the sweltering heat, bugs, and shockingly little solar power. We’re enjoying the cleaner water, easy shore access, and even a few restaurants as we prepare to depart French Polynesia. Our insurance deadline is May 1st, and our visas expire soon after that, so let the countdown begin! We are keeping our chins up and looking forward to our next adventure. ❤️