A shaky start
“Alegría Marineros… My dream, your dream… heh, heh. This journey from Fakarava to the Gambier Islands is being tough, good training for what’s to come, as well as a valuable lesson or, rather, a reminder: controlling the sea and wind doesn’t give you much room for manoeuvre, especially on ocean crossings.”
Navigation and Challenges
“We have traveled almost 700 miles, supported by the engine and sails, sailing against the wind, inventing new maneuvers to tighten even more. The ratchet looks like a blade, its end almost in line with the bay. It goes inside the orza, how low. I had to secure the mast with a rope to prevent the hatch from touching it when sailing with a wind angle of 20 degrees. Even so, with so many short bow waves, moving forward is difficult.”
Overcoming Obstacles
“There are 80 miles left and it looks like it will take us around 24 hours to complete them. Not everything can be easy navigation. In any case, this is the result of compromises and haste. We met Mattia on the 19th in Gambier, so we are braving the sea, jumping and feeling each blow with devotion. You have to be very attentive to the weather on the next big journey.”
Learnings and Future Challenges
“It’s no small feat: 3600 miles dodging and looking for storms. We’ll see how it goes. On the other hand, I am very excited about this great journey. For me and the whole crew, it’s a big challenge. The crew consists of Paula, Mattia and a server. We’re going to arrive thin and tanned!”
Battles with Technology
“I’ve been a few days without telling you or sending you anything, since I ran out of technology. The computer died long ago, the ship’s cameras were deconfigured and my super phone died too, quite comically at first, although later it wasn’t so funny anymore. Oh, and the drone also flew away and I lost it! So you know, you don’t have to leave me anything technological, because it breaks, loses or disappears. Poor Peter…”
Anecdote in the Atoll
“Phone bathroom. It’s a shame that I tell you this, you never know, maybe we can recover the images of your accident. Paula and I were in the south of Fakarava, an atoll of the Tuamotu. In the course it said that it was not recommended for boats with a draft greater than 2.30 m.
We set 3.20, so we approached the outlet channel of the atoll to measure the actual depth with a scandal. We thought we were smarter than cards. I could not think of anything else but to record a video while measuring the chain and the cape to the bottom of the channel, in the middle of the rise of the tide (I recommend taking risks when there are doubts of draft before the tide is high, because if you get stranded, there is no way to get you out). But if you get stuck slowly as it climbs, you have some leeway to escape.
If not, you have to wait 12 hours stranded, with the risk that entails. Total, as Paula was recording me doing the funny and demonstrating my seafaring expertise, I could not think of anything else but to release the anchor of the chinchorro slowly to measure the depth in the most superficial area and, therefore, with more current. But as I was getting ready, suddenly, the anchor stuck.”
An unexpected ending
“The chinchorro had a ball under the water, you heard ‘we sank!’! Paula let go of the phone in the confusion, the current began to take hold. We tried to let go of the anchor, but we couldn’t. We put the engine towards the end of the anchor, the force of the current gives way a little, but suddenly, again the chinchorro turned, water re-entered almost up to the knees. Paula said she wanted to jump into the water to dive and drop anchor, thank goodness she didn’t (both me and she thought it was dangerous). We tried the engine maneuver again and released the anchor. Ugh, what a fright! So funny, but suddenly I said, ‘what about the phone?’ Pussy, the phone.
I have no idea. We searched and the poor man was submerged. We had no idea of the mess inside the chinchorro. The poor phone started to heat up and ended up dying. It is clear that I do not have the capacity to have and use technology. Poor Peter, heh, heh. As I write to you, we keep jumping. We seem to run a little more. I hope to arrive tomorrow day and not enter Gambier at night. I really enjoyed writing to you.”
See you soon!
“I hope to continue doing so and tell you about the great journey that awaits us, from the heat of Polynesia to the almost Antarctic cold of the south of the world in 20 days. Joy, sailors! How lucky I am to be able to share all this with you! I hope to see you soon.”
