“But I don’t want to go among mad people," Alice remarked.
"Oh, you can’t help that," said the Cat: "we’re all mad here. I’m mad. You’re mad."
"How do you know I’m mad?" said Alice.
"You must be," said the Cat, or you wouldn’t have come here.”
― Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland
"Oh, you can’t help that," said the Cat: "we’re all mad here. I’m mad. You’re mad."
"How do you know I’m mad?" said Alice.
"You must be," said the Cat, or you wouldn’t have come here.”
― Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland
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| A view from the rabbit hole.... |
A dingy engine buzzes in the distance,
I know, before I see it, that it's ours.
I know, before I see it, that it's ours.
(I've become the Jedi Master of recognizing harmonic variations in dingy outboards)
My finely tuned ear, was honed during endless hours, spent scanning a horizon with binoculars ,
while silently cursing, my well-meaning but daring, husband, under my breath...
"Jeepers, Jon, where the hell ARE YOU?"''
The rising anxiety, that had been carbonating my stomach for the past hour and a half, finally settles down as our dingy approaches.
Jon waves at me.
He's soaking wet, so I know whatever happened out there, was pretty hairy.
I hate it when I'm right...
Today was supposed to be mellow.
We had just survived our own near- emergency, when our engine failed, as we were about to enter a pass.
After a long night tacking outside the reef, we had limped in and tied to a mooring ball.
Dead in the water, Jon had removed our gearbox from the main engine block, tried to assess our damage and figure out just how screwed we actually are.
(pretty darn screwed, as it turns out).
Endless hassles rear up like many-headed beasts.
We make lists and try to handle things one ugly head at a time.
First up, was to arrange to stay here past our allowed visas (two week emergency extension and then a whole new process if we have to be here longer, which, we certainly will be).
Then, there's our engine issues;
the obviously, broken output shaft. What caused this requires further investigation, as does sleuthing out any additional wear and tear that might as yet be unidentified. This must wait until the Transmission is repaired, reassembled and remounted.
Find said replacement parts for our thirty year old engine, and then arrange payment and have them shipped, incurring penalties, import/export fees, taxes...
Dealing with all of this in a language we don't speak...
We won't lack for things to do.
Lucky for us, there has been a monumental outpouring of support from friends and fellow skippers.
Nakia, Manta, Papillion, Tortue, Marionette, Muktuk,
all came to our aid with tons of advice and support from stateside and here in French Polynesia.
We feel better knowing we are not alone.
On his way into town, Jon was picked up by a local guy, with no teeth, who's on his way to the dentist. He notices the Marquesasn tattoo of the paddler on Jon's arm. The guy speaks no English and Jon no French but nevertheless, they discover they share a common love of paddling. The guy was a champion in Tahiti and Jon once paddled to the arctic ocean...So there is no getting out of going to the guys house and seeing all the guys trophies, photos of him with the president of France and meeting the guys wife and piles of kids and grandkids.
After a short visit, the guy kindly drives my exhausted husband, to the airport, where Jon meets the agent handling the visa paperwork, fills out a pile of new forms and then hops the last bus back to Taravao -here- at the other end of the island.
Jon got back just as the sun was getting low in the sky, and exhausted by all we had been through, we called it a day.
While Captain, pulled his beard and mumbled about engine mounts, I contemplated what to make for dinner.
(it was shaping up to be a "kids eat crackers and cheese, while we drink a box of wine and try to drown the blues" meal plan)
Suddenly, a "PanPan" call (maritime code for vessel in distress) came over the radio.
No response... Jon jumped up to answer it.
"Oh my god. Here we go, again..." I think, listening to Jon talk to the distressed skipper.
The poor guy was out of diesel, trying to enter the pass, after a three week passage from Nuku Hiva! (Could probably swim it faster in good weather) Sailing through terrible gales, stuck outside, ruined/drowned chartplotter, night coming down and deteriorating sea conditions....And he doesn't know how to bleed his engine...And he has no tools.
Jon agreed to meet the vessel, bring him a jerry can of diesel, bleed his engine to get him started again and lead him through the pass.
"Honey, it's crazy out there..." I caution, while Jon writes down the boat's last position.
All day, had it been blowing like stink and even up here, a mile and a half away from the reef,
you could see gysers of spray shooting twenty feet in the air when the waves hit the coral.
'There's no-one else, I gotta go" said Jon, already on deck.
'Bring the VHF and promise you wont go out the pass if its too awful"
"Okay" Jon lies.
I know perfectly well, it will have to be biblical-bad out there for him not to go help the guy.
I was worried because our little 6 hp isn't always reliable and we had just put it though quite a beating, towing in our own boat.
I grabbed the handheld VHF and discovered the batteries are dead.
There was nothing to do but wave helplessly and watch Jon and our dingy, round the dogleg of the channel and disappear.
It was shaping up to be another ringer of an evening.
I give myself a time limit in these situations, estimating how long any given scenario will take;
spearfishing, freediving, running 15 miles through a desert or an abandoned atoll... undertaking a rescue mission with no radio)...
If Jon's not home by my estimated time, inevitable disaster scenarios will start popping into my head.
I don't admit fear, that would be too overwhelming...
Instead, I get really, really irritated.
Which is exactly, how I'm feeling as the sun is setting and the clock says its an hour and fifteen minutes past the hour I thought it would take for Jon to help this guy.
I peer though binoculars at an empty horizon, curse and mutter under my breath, about how inconsiderate it would be if Jon were to be tangled in a fishing line, or swept out to sea, or any other nightmare that would leave me stranded in the middle of nowhere, on a broken boat, with two kids...
This is entirely unfair, of course.
Jon's a careful guy, he's smart and at the moment he's just out there trying to help some poor soul, but I've found making up stuff to be pissed off about is an excellent way to control panic.
The key to a happy marriage, on the other hand, is dropping that malarky when you see them.
(which is exactly what I do the minute I hear our outboard's peculiar little buzz, coming down the channel)
A moment later, Jon rounds the corner, soaking wet ( the swell had been even bigger out there than I feared ) and following him is a very beaten-up, very small sailboat, with two disheveled crew standing on her deck looking at land with weary relief.
Jon climbs aboard and I hand him a coffee. We sit on deck discussing the assist.
The little sailboat was tacking back and forth a ways outside the pass entrance. The swell was huge and the wind was blowing off-shore but Jon figured the guy needed the diesel bad enough to chase him down even if the dingy engine konked out. As he got closer, he started thinking this might have been a big mistake. The boat was in very raggedy shape and so were the crew.
(I think a faint whiff of crazy may have drifted towards him)
He tied up alongside and marveled at the state of things while the skipper hove to and began rummaging around looking for a funnel. Halfway through the process of trying to get the ancient old two cylinder going again, Jon looked up and saw that they were perilously close to the monster breakers. "Uh... Hey Cap'n, think we oughta maybe spin her around and head back out a ways?..."
(I think a faint whiff of crazy may have drifted towards him)
He tied up alongside and marveled at the state of things while the skipper hove to and began rummaging around looking for a funnel. Halfway through the process of trying to get the ancient old two cylinder going again, Jon looked up and saw that they were perilously close to the monster breakers. "Uh... Hey Cap'n, think we oughta maybe spin her around and head back out a ways?..."
Somewhere in there I want to say something about all this scaring the crap out of me- but I bite my tongue.
He's here. He's safe and so is the other guy.
I'm just grateful everyones okay.
In the end, he managed to fill their tank in the crazy swell with our jerry cans of spare diesel, bleed the air out of their engine to get them started, and lead them safely through the (very narrow) pass.
Phew!....
Phew!....
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| Muktuk! |
"It's Muktuk!" cry the kids , coming on deck.
We all wave like maniacs.
We had not seen Mutuk, since the Tuamotos.
They had just checked into Papeete and were on their way to Tonga when I sent Ali an email,
mentioning we were broken down in Port Phaeton.
Our friends Karl ad Ali and their two kids, are the most excellent kind of people and our whole family just adores them.
It also doesn't hurt that they have been cruising forever, are total experts at everything, Karl is a professional mechanic and Ali is basically the most talented brilliant person in the world. They had apparently decided to reroute their trip to come give us advice, lend us a hand and share a few more smiles (and glasses of wine!).
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| Hunter and the boys |
Needless, to say, we were thrilled to see them.
Jon and Karl looked over ol' Perkie while Ali and I got caught up on kids and family, laughing and joking and swapping stories of what we've all been up to since we parted ways.
We tell them about the rescue mission and point at the little boat resting quietly in the corner of the harbor. All her lights are out-the crew apparantly down for some much needed sleep after their long ordeal.
Night falls around us, and we pour wine and sit around, talking.
Karl and Ali tell us of their amazing adventures sailing in far flung corners of the globe...
The stars come out one by one.
We light little tin candles that we bought before leaving Mexico.
Ten bucks for twenty candles in little holders all with different religious figures and prayers in Spanish on them.
The cockpit looks like a shrine to Santeria.
We notice a Kayak, cruising silently in the dark water.
Jon stands up to look.
'Did you find any beer?" he yells to the darkness.
"Non!" comes the reply, in a thick French accent.
(this was Sunday and you can't buy alcohol on religious days in French Polynesia)
"Join us! We have wine!" calls Jon to the mystery man.
"I ran into this guy, earlier today.." Jon tells us as the guy paddles towards our boat.
"He sailed here from Ecuador, navigating only by the stars, using a block of wood and a piece of string..."
Everyone gapes.
Raphael, is a computer programmer from France.
He is a single hander and on a bet with a friend, he sealed his GPS and his compass (!) in bags before leaving Ecuador...
and used no sextant and no almanac (reduction tables)... only the stars, and an ancient method of deciphering Azimuths and using string and the chunk of wood and a lot of very accurate and capable mathematical skills-he made it all the way across the pacific and to the Marquesas!
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| Ain't that something? |
The next day, Jon is contemplating our engine,
and sending emails all over the globe looking for parts.
I dingy over to Mukutk to take all the kids skurfing
and our outboard engine stalls.
I cannot get her restarted. Neither can Karl.
I have to get towed me to our boat.
Jon stands on deck, hands on his hips, shaking his head and looking at his feet.
"When it rains, it pours..." I say, feeling badly that all this stuff is on him to fix.
Our carburetor is completely clogged.
Jon takes it off, dismantles it, cleans it , reassembles it and 45 minutes later, the engine purrs back to life.
If this had happened the other day, outside the pass,
Jon could have been in a truly life threatening situation-
exactly what I had been afraid of!
Once again, we narrowly escaped a much worse situation.
We are reaching deep into our big back of luck and pulling out blessings.
I say a silent prayer of thanks-I think Jon does, too.
The next day, Jon hitchhikes back to Papeete to search the marine stores, haul out yards, workshops and rubbish heaps hope-hope-hoping to find an old tranny that matches ours... There are none.
Ali and I hitchhike with the kids to a nearby botanical garden.
We meet a two hundred year old Galapagos tortoise who was abandoned here by a whaling ship in the 1800's.
Kai and Jan find a baby Tuamotan crested tern who's fallen from his nest 100 feet in the tree canopy and miraculously survived but will die if left on his own.
In English and German, four kids beg and plea, four sets of blue eyes implore the Muktuk and Pura Vida Mom's...
we are helpless to resist.
We caution the kids that the bird may not survive the night.
Muktuk takes the little thing aboard and it adapts perfectly,
eating Ali's home canned Bonita and relishing all the attention. Three days and counting and he is growing like a weed.
Meanwhile Jon has managed to find a used output shaft assembly in upstate NY, new seals and gaskets from a shop in Washington state and has had all sent to a freight forwarding company in California. This info provided by a local guy to help avoid some whopping Customs fees. All we have to do now is wait for the Bits... And then put our old boat back together.
Meanwhile Jon has managed to find a used output shaft assembly in upstate NY, new seals and gaskets from a shop in Washington state and has had all sent to a freight forwarding company in California. This info provided by a local guy to help avoid some whopping Customs fees. All we have to do now is wait for the Bits... And then put our old boat back together.
Tomorrow Muktuk will leave to sail for Tonga and beyond.
We are grateful for their experience, advice and friendship...
Looks like we have a new crew member...
We are grateful for their experience, advice and friendship...
and we'll keep our fingers crossed that we will meet again,
perhaps in higher latitudes.
They will not be taking the bird, much to Jon's dismay.Looks like we have a new crew member...
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| Hunter named her "Pippy" (for her little cousin). |
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| Hitchin' |
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| A Kai sized flower |
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| the kids make a VERY old, new friend |
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| I'm too old for this s**t |
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| waiting hours for a city bus...with no bench. Our joke was that some cruiser must have found the perfect piece of wood to fix his boom! |
