Why were we in French Polynesia during cyclone season and an El Niño year? Well, our plan was to sail to New Zealand after six months of cruising in Tahiti, but we fell in love and stayed. So, we ran into cyclone season, which is from November through April in the South Pacific.

The behavior of cyclones changes during El Niño because of differences in sea surface temperatures and atmospheric conditions, influencing the frequency, intensity and paths of the storms. El Niño started in 2023 and continued into 2024, giving the central and eastern parts of the Pacific Ocean warmer sea surface. This can shift the cyclone formation zones eastward. Islands that are typically less affected by cyclones, such as the Southern Cook Islands and French Polynesia, have higher risk.

The Marquesas Islands are outside the typical cyclone belt; their only close call was Tropical Cyclone Nisha-Orama in February 1983. It developed north of the Marquesas during an El Niño year and had sustained winds of 115 mph in the Tuamotus. Areas more frequently affected by cyclones include Australia, New Zealand, Vanuatu, Fiji, Samoa and Tonga—but it is not impossible for cyclones to affect the Marquesas if conditions are right, such as during El Niño years.

Preparation in Tahiti

After a wonderful time diving with humpback whales in Mo’orea, we went to Tahiti to prepare the boat for the journey east to the Marquesas. Wanderlust, our Seawind 1600 catamaran, is equipped with daggerboards. It adeptly sails upwind. This feature, combined with the robust design and comfortable living space, has made it the ideal vessel for us in our long voyages across challenging waters.

In Tahiti, we inspected the rigging and systems, and unfortunately found cracked wires in the cap shrouds and the cross-beam cable (the martingale). The good news was that there are excellent riggers in Tahiti, but the bad news was that the cable had to come from Australia with a lead time of at least two weeks that turned out to be a month. By then, the easterly trade winds would be in full force and on our nose.

Meanwhile, we stocked up at the island’s markets, which are brimming with fresh produce. At every visit, we packed our bags, ensuring our boat was ready to face whatever the ocean had in store.

Papeete Marina

Papeete Marina is on the northwest side of Tahiti, which means it’s open to northern wind and swell. Large waves enter the basin, creating a significant commotion, chafing and breaking dock lines, ripping off docks or surging them over the pilings. In cyclone season, when the northern swells are more frequent, boats are often asked to seek shelter at anchor. As the inclement weather was approaching, we could already feel some of its effects. The monohulls started to behave like bucking broncos.

Finally, our cables for the repair arrived, and Wanderlust was ready.

Strategy

We tossed the lines on December 4 with a plan to sail to Fakarava, setting us up for a good angle to the Marquesas, but the next round of squalls was hot on our tail so we decided to pull into Tikehau, 150 nautical miles to the northwest. The atoll’s sparse population and natural beauty provided a serene backdrop and time to plan the journey ahead. We were held by the weather, but it wasn’t bad at all.

A couple days later, the weather changed, and we had a spectacular sail during the day. Wanderlust chugged miles quicker than expected, and we realized we would arrive in darkness—when it is unsafe to enter the atoll. We furled our screecher and set the jib to slow down a knot or two. A few hours later, the wind disappeared and was replaced by torrential rain. We had to motor and arrived at the atoll’s pass almost two hours after the desired slack tide. Not a real problem with two 80 hp engines, but it could have been with a smaller boat.

Fakarava greeted us with the rare convenience of a fuel dock. However, we did not make use of it, thinking we would be fine with the fuel we had. Rookie mistake. This amenity would have allowed us to bypass the cumbersome process of ferrying fuel in 5-gallon jerry cans, saving time, effort and my rotator cuffs, which I later destroyed in Hiva Oa by shlepping more than three dozen of them.

Fakarava hosts a vibrant underwater world and UNESCO-protected status, with unbelievable diving at the south pass, the famous wall of sharks, and the grouper spawning under a full moon in July. We were fortunate enough to enjoy that during our previous stay. This time around, the squally weather continued, and we did not even take a dip in the water.

Final Leg to Fatu Hiva

With a northwest wind, we sailed close-hauled for three days. Then the wind disappeared, and we motored in flat-calm waters that are unusual for that time of the year. The silver lining was that we were able to land a 143-pound yellowfin tuna that fed us and our friends delicious sushi and tuna tartar for months. And we learned another important lesson: While trying to lift the tuna using the main winch, I may have used the wrong size rope (I admit nothing). The winch stripper arm broke. It was a most expensive tuna, too.

On day four as the sun was starting to set, the southernmost island of the Marquesas, Fatu Hiva, presented its rugged landscape: the perfect gift on Christmas Eve. Giant clouds resting on jagged peaks, the sun’s evening light casting a golden hue on its face. A distant squall reminding us of what we’d been through. We had navigated Wanderlust about 1,000 nautical miles from Tahiti, upwind, to this Jurassic-like sanctuary for cyclone season. In the day’s final light, we anchored in the stunning Bay of Virgins, a spot already marked on the chart plotter from our previous visit.

Fatu Hiva

This land boasts a rich cultural heritage, friendly people and breathtaking landscapes. After spending some time on the island, we found ourselves reverently walking paths surrounded by raw beauty. Eventually, we stopped trying to articulate our awe, and we became part of the larger tapestry of life and nature. Gently running our fingers on the leaves of holy basil to release the magical scent, inhaling the pungent whiffs of drying copra, and bowing over gardenia flowers to take in their exhilarating aroma. Long-tail tropical birds circled above us in the backdrop of lush volcanic peaks.

Kahoha was the greeting we exchanged with the locals. Even Yoda, our dog, became a beloved figure on the island, responding joyously to calls from across the river. We made friends, bartered rope and other items for fruits, and for wild pig and goat meat. We felt a profound connection to this island.

Getting there was worth every bit of effort it took. We lived an unforgettable adventure that brought us closer to each other.

The post Dodging Storms, Chasing Thrills in French Polynesia appeared first on Cruising World.

My interest in the global movement of cruising boats goes back to 1987, when I published the results of my first survey on this subject. I have since conducted follow-up surveys every five years. The latest was done in 2016. During this time, the world experienced two major phenomena that seriously affected offshore cruising: the (hopefully short-term) Covid-19 pandemic, and the longer-term climate crisis, whose consequences are expected to get worse.

The pandemic had an immediate impact on the international cruising community and caused havoc among sailors on long voyages. As many popular cruising destinations closed their borders, sailors had to postpone their plans or leave their boats unattended and return home. Those who were allowed to stay had to remain at anchor. There were several reported cases of hostile, unsympathetic attitudes from authorities and local people, even in areas where visiting sailors were previously welcomed. 

In several cases, the planned voyages were abandoned. International cruising traffic came to a standstill, and my own plans for a follow-up survey in 2022 looked like they would suffer the same fate. Even if I managed to get figures from places that had supplied data in the past, in most cases, the figures would be meaningless. 

To get at least a rough idea of the real situation, in early 2022, I contacted some of the most-frequented hubs on the world cruising circuit, such as Panama, Bermuda, Las Palmas de Gran Canaria, Tahiti and Noumea (in New Caledonia, South Pacific). The figures I obtained showed that while some places had fared better, others had seen an unprecedented reduction in the number of visiting boats.

Las Palmas, in the Canary Islands, recorded its highest ever influx in 2021, with 1,256 visiting boats. As the starting point for the annual ARC trans-Atlantic rally, as well as being an important transit hub, this location proved its lasting popularity thanks to the tolerant attitude of the local authorities. A similar situation was experienced in the port of Horta in the Azores, a favorite landfall at the end of a trans-Atlantic passage from the Caribbean. Horta Marina recorded 1,102 arrivals in 2021, compared to 465 in 2020 and 1,132 in 2019. 

But the figures from these traditional Atlantic hubs were not indicative of the situation in other parts of the world. Panama Canal transits of pleasure craft decreased in 2021 to just 806, down from 1,122 in 2020. The drop-off was even more drastic in countries where pandemic restrictions continued into 2021, such as Tonga, New Caledonia, New Zealand and Australia—all of which recorded no arrivals. In Tahiti and South Africa, like at the Panama Canal, numbers were considerably lower than in previous years.

During 2022, as the pandemic appeared to be under control, most countries lifted their temporary restrictions. I resumed my survey by contacting officials in the most significant cruising hubs or transit points in every ocean. I requested the number of foreign-flagged yachts that had passed through those ports in 2022.  

These figures let me construct a picture of the current movement of cruising yachts.  

Atlantic Ocean

The port of Las Palmas in the Canary Islands has a larger concentration of boats preparing for ocean passages than any other place in the world, with the majority of sailors setting off toward the Caribbean. The port authority recorded a total of 1,237 visiting boats in 2022, flying the flags of 44 countries. The largest contingent was from France (266), followed by Germany (194), the United Kingdom (83), the Netherlands (49), Sweden (42), Switzerland (38), Denmark (27), Norway (24), the United States (19), Belgium (17), Poland (16), Finland (14), New Zealand (13), Spain (12), Australia (11), Italy (9), Russia (8), Czechia (7) and smaller numbers from other countries.

Approximately 75 percent of the boats that called at Las Palmas were bound for the Caribbean, either directly or via the Cape Verdes. An increasingly popular intermediate point for a trans-Atlantic passage is Mindelo Marina on São Vicente Island; it recorded a total of 1,120 arrivals in 2022. Located in the northeast trade wind belt, this is now considered to be a better starting point for an Atlantic passage to the Caribbean than the direct route from the Canaries, as the chance of consistent favorable winds is higher, and the distance is shorter. 

Most of the European boats that sail to the Caribbean cross the Atlantic after the middle of November or early December, and complete their Atlantic circuit by sailing to the Azores the following April or May. Horta, on the island of Faial, Portugal, continues to be the preferred landfall at the end of an eastbound trans-Atlantic passage. Horta Marina has been keeping detailed records of visiting boats since 1985, and the latest data made it possible to extract a raft of interesting facts about the boats, their crews and their routes sailed. 

While the total number of boats (1,131) that cleared into Horta during 2022 has not changed significantly, the data confirmed that the majority of boats on passage from the Caribbean to Europe now sail directly to the Azores, rather than via a detour to Bermuda. While Horta has overtaken Bermuda in overall number of visiting yachts, Bermuda continues to be an important transit point for North American boats sailing between the mainland and the Caribbean or Europe, as well as for boats returning from the Caribbean to the United States or Canada. 

The number of boats that called at Bermuda in 2022 was 838, confirming a steady decline since 2000. This drop-off is mainly due to the large number of American boats that bypass Bermuda and sail directly to the Eastern Caribbean. The situation is reversed in May, when more boats returning to the US mainland call at Bermuda. 

More than half the boats that arrive in the Caribbean from Europe or America used to spend at least one full season in the islands, but in recent years, concerns about climate change creating bigger storms have led more sailors to limit themselves to a one-year circuit, be it from Europe or North America. Those who stay longer in the Caribbean usually have their boats stored on land in a secure place during the hurricane season. 

The island of Trinidad has set up several boatyards for this purpose, with 478 boats spending the summer there in 2022—a significant reduction from 2,664 in 2000 and 1,367 in 2010. According to Donald Stollmeyer, former president of the Yacht Services Association of Trinidad and Tobago, ‘The explanation is the gradual decline in the number of sailors who are prepared to keep their boats in the tropics during the hurricane season.” An even more significant reason is the fact that many insurance companies will no longer cover boats during the critical season in the tropics.

Overall, the total number of boats that spend the winter season cruising in the Caribbean has remained relatively stable in recent years. Cuba was expected to see an increase, with hopes that US restrictions on American boats would be lifted, but this has not happened. Even so, Cuba’s eight marinas recorded a total of 284 foreign-flagged yachts in 2022. According to Commodore José Miguel Diaz Escrich of the Hemingway International Yacht Club of Cuba, “We are always happy to welcome and offer our friendship to all those who love the sea.”

A good distance from Cuba, cold-water cruising is becoming more popular as sailors strike out for more challenging destinations. Two high-latitude destinations in the North Atlantic that cruising yachts regularly visit are Spitsbergen, Norway, and Greenland. The former has become the most popular high-latitude destination in the Atlantic, with 52 visiting boats recorded in 2022. Greenland is poised to become more frequented—as an attractive cruising destination in its own right, and as a base for Northwest Passage preparations. In 2022, 14 yachts called at Nuuk, the capital of Greenland, with most of them limiting their cruising to the spectacular west coast. The more intrepid sailors struck out west to brave the Northwest Passage, which has become more accessible in recent years as a result of climate change and ice melt. Four boats completed a westbound transit to the Pacific, while another four boats made a successful eastbound transit. The total of eight successful transits in 2022 compared to zero in 2021 and only one in 2020. 

This newfound success may not last, though, with concerns about pollution from additional cargo and cruise ships, and the impact of cruise-ship passengers on local communities. Small boats may also be affected, as in recent years, there have been a few cases when the authorities have had to assist sailors. All those factors may result in restrictions being imposed on any vessel planning to use this waterway. 

Such restrictions are already imposed at the other extreme of the Atlantic Ocean, where voyages to Antarctica on private yachts are only possible with permission from the national authorities, and the boats must abide by strict environmental protocols. The Argentinian port of Ushuaia, at the tip of South America, is where boats planning to sail south to Antarctica or north to the Chilean canals prepare and provision. The 38 arrivals in 2022 were down from 64 in 2015, and down from the peak figure of 105 in 2000.

Across the Beagle Channel from Ushuaia is Puerto Williams, a Chilean military outpost and the southernmost settlement in the world. The small port is only a short distance from Cape Horn. The Chilean authorities have jurisdiction over the Antarctic Peninsula and parts of Tierra del Fuego, so any boat planning to sail that way must complete formalities here. The movements of all vessels are monitored by the Chilean Navy, which reports that the total of 77 yacht movements in 2022 was well below the 143 recorded in 2015. There was also a significant reduction in the number of private yachts that sailed to Antarctica, from 43 in 2019 to 12 in 2022.

From Puerto Williams and Ushuaia, most cruising yachts heading for the South Atlantic call at Port Stanley in the Falklands, which saw 12 yachts in 2022 compared with 29 in 2015. From there, the routes diverge and either follow the contour of the South American mainland or continue nonstop to the island of Saint Helena or to Cape Town, South Africa. Both of these have seen an increase in the number of visiting yachts, initially because of piracy in the North Indian Ocean, and then because of safety concerns caused by political uncertainty around the Red Sea. 

 The majority of yachts on a world voyage are sailing the Cape of Good Hope route, with 126 yachts calling at Cape Town in 2022. This was a considerable decline from 2010, when 358 yachts stopped there. With the exception of a few boats that sailed directly from Cape Town to Argentina or Brazil, most boats headed north and stopped at Saint Helena, which was visited by 95 yachts in 2022.

Pacific Ocean

The Panama Canal is the most valuable indicator of yacht movement between the Atlantic and Pacific oceans, and on a global level. The latest figures show that the steady increase in pleasure-craft transits peaked in 2010, when 1,177 yachts transited the Panama Canal compared to 919 in 2022. Some 725 were Pacific-bound, and 354 were Atlantic-bound. What has remained unchanged are the Pacific destinations after the transit, with one-third of the boats turning north toward the west coast of Central and North America, and the rest heading for the South Pacific.

The Galapagos Islands used to be a favorite stopover en route to French Polynesia, but restrictions on visiting yachts, complex formalities and associated expenses now deter most sailors from stopping there. There was a record high of 395 in 2010, but the figure for 2022 dropped to 66. 

For those who decide to bypass Galapagos while on route to French Polynesia, the logical option is to sail directly from Panama to the Marquesas. A somewhat longer but potentially more attractive alternative is a detour to Easter Island and, from there, the Pitcairn Islands to French Polynesia. Easter Island, one of the most remote sailing destinations in the world, recorded the steepest decline highlighted by this latest survey. According to the port captain of Hanga Roa, the main settlement and port, “Compared to a record of 79 yachts that called in 2015, only seven stopped here in 2022.” Most of them continued west to the Pitcairns, once the hideaway of the Bounty mutineers, whose descendants live on this remote speck of land and welcome visitors. One descendant, Brenda Christian, emailed me to say: “In 2022, we were pleased to welcome 122 yachts.”

The majority of boats bound for the South Seas, whether from Panama or North America, make their first landfall in the Marquesas. Arriving at those spectacular islands after weeks spent at sea is an awe-inspiring and unforgettable experience. Some 264 boats arrived there in 2022, the majority at Atuona on the island of Hiva Oa. Total arrivals for all of French Polynesia were 404, a significant drop from the record 826 reported in 2010. 

Sailing west from Tahiti, several detours can be made from the main trunk route, such as to Suwarrow, an uninhabited atoll in the Northern Cook Islands where a caretaker is based during the peak arrivals time. Only 16 boats stopped there in 2022 compared with 69 boats in 2015. Another popular place, also in the Cook Islands, is Palmerston Atoll, which was visited by only three boats in 2022, with none in the previous year. This was also the case in neighboring Tonga, which didn’t lift its pandemic restrictions until early 2022. The northern island group of Vava’u, a longtime favorite among sailors, welcomed only 14 arrivals compared to an all-time peak 424 in the previous survey.  

The above places are close enough to the main trans-Pacific route not to entail much of a detour, which may explain why only four boats called at Tuvalu. This small Polynesian community is threatened by rising sea levels from climate change.

Fiji is an important cruising hub in the South Pacific, and its capital, Suva, welcomed 83 yachts in 2022. From there, most cruising boats leave the tropics before the start of the cyclone season and sail to New Zealand or Australia. Both those countries closed their borders at the start of the pandemic, causing mayhem among sailors. The restrictions were only lifted in 2022, when 324 boats were welcomed in New Zealand and 330 in Australia. After no arrivals in 2021, New Caledonia was visited by 241 boats in 2022, a hopeful indication that the situation is gradually returning to normal.

There has also been a considerable decline in the number of visiting boats in the western North Pacific, where weather conditions are noticeably affected by ocean warming. The Philippines now endure tropical cyclones every month of the year, but continue to attract visiting boats, most of them in less-affected areas. On the Asian mainland, the expected boom in visiting cruising boats has failed to materialize, and the figures from Hong Kong show a considerable decline compared to previous surveys. The few foreign yachts that visit Hong King are participants in races organized by the Royal Hong Kong Yacht Club. There has not been much more movement in China, either, since formalities for visiting yachts continue to be complicated and expensive. 

A small number of cruising boats make it as far as Japan every year, with an estimated 12 foreign yachts passing through Osaka in 2022. Most of them continued east, with some stopping at Alaska’s Dutch Harbor on their way to Canada or the US West Coast. Dutch Harbor is a busy fishing port at the eastern edge of Alaska’s Aleutian Islands, and nine yachts visited there in 2022. Provisioning and repair facilities in Dutch Harbor are excellent, making it a good base for an eastbound transit of the Northwest Passage.

Although rarely affected by tropical storms, Hawaii still sees relatively few foreign-flagged yachts. The authorities do not keep a record, and the best guess is that about 20 foreign yachts called at the islands in 2022. Hawaii does attract many mainland boats for cruising and racing. Some sail from there to French Polynesia, and a few continue west toward Micronesia and the Asian mainland. Some of them were among the 14 arrivals recorded in the Marshall Islands, which is a fair estimate of the number of boats visiting the Micronesian islands.

Indian Ocean

The number of foreign-flagged boats has shown a steady decrease in the North Indian Ocean, with most boats on a world voyage sailing the Cape of Good Hope route to reach the Atlantic Ocean, rather than the Red Sea and Suez Canal alternative. By contrast, there continues to be significant coastal traffic, with more local and regional boats racing, cruising and joining the rallies and regattas during the winter season in Western Malaysia and Thailand.

For sailors undeterred by the Red Sea who continue west across the North Indian Ocean, a convenient port is Galle, on the south coast of Sri Lanka, where 23 arrivals were recorded in 2022. Some further detoured to Cochin in southern India, which welcomed 11 boats last year. Djibouti continues to be the only safe haven to prepare for the arduous transit of the Red Sea, and 29 boats stopped here before heading north. All of them made it safely to Suez, Egypt, which recorded 36 arrivals in 2022 compared to 2010, when 171 yachts transited the Suez Canal.

Approximately 250 yachts transit the Torres Strait between Australia and New Guinea every year, and half of them continue west into the South Indian Ocean. The others explore the Indonesian archipelago, where formalities have eased in an attempt to attract more visitors. Even so, in 2022, only 46 foreign vessels obtained the required cruising permit issued by the Indonesian Ministry of Foreign Affairs, compared to 236 in 2016.

Significantly fewer boats stopped at Darwin in Northern Australia, which saw 23 arrivals in 2022 compared to 72 in the previous survey. The Australian outpost of Cocos/Keeling, a popular stop on the world sailing circuit, was also affected by the pandemic, with only 31 arrivals in 2022 compared to 99 in 2015. From Cocos/Keeling, the westbound route splits into a southern branch to Rodrigues in Mauritius, and a northern branch bound for Chagos in the British Indian Ocean Territory. The latter recorded six visitors, a significant drop from the 23 boats six years earlier, as the British authorities now limit permits to those who can justify the need for a stop. The most popular stop along the southern route is Port Louis in Mauritius, with 242 arrivals recorded in 2022, a definite proof of the predominance of the Cape of Good Hope route among boats on a world voyage. 

When discovered as a cruising destination, Madagascar was expected to become the major cruising attraction in the South Indian Ocean, but the lack of facilities and cumbersome bureaucracy dashed those hopes. Nosy Be, an island on Madagascar’s northwest coast, has established itself as a modest base, but few world voyagers bother to make the lengthy detour from Mauritius or La Reunion. Only eight visiting boats were recorded in the Nosy Be area in 2022.

On the eve of the cyclone season, all boats make their way south. In 2022, Richards Bay was the favorite South African landfall, with a total of 103 arrivals. The number of boats that called at Cape Town was 126, of which 123 were bound for the South Atlantic and three for the Indian Ocean. Thanks to the Ocean Sailing Association of Southern Africa, this was one of the few countries that didn’t close its borders to visiting sailboats during the pandemic. 

Sailing Hubs

In addition to highlighting the drastic reduction in the number of cruising boats on world voyages, I noted three other trends: the small size of crew on long voyages, with many couples sailing on their own; the number of couples with young children setting off on a shorter or longer sabbatical leave; and the steadily increasing proportion of catamarans among cruising yachts.

These trends may be related, so I widened the scope of this survey to find out more about the type of boats undertaking long voyages, such average length, crew size, whether they were monohulls or catamarans, as well as the predominant nationalities on board. 

Figures obtained from Panama and Las Palmas de Gran Canaria made it possible to calculate the average length of the boats. To arrive at a realistic figure, only boats under 60 feet were included. The average length of monohulls in Las Palmas was 12.97 meters (42.6 feet), and multihulls were 13.80 meters (45.2 feet). In Panama, the average for monohulls was 15.20 meters (49.8 feet), and for multihulls it was 15 meters (49.1 feet). The average length of boats over 60 feet (18 meters) in Panama was 34 meters (111 feet). 

In Las Palmas, multihulls made up 10.1 percent of the total number of boats, whereas in Panama it was 17.2 percent. The proportion of multihulls was even higher during the ARC 2022 from Las Palmas from Gran Canaria to St. Lucia. Among the 140 boats that sailed this classic route, more than a quarter (36) were multihulls, with 33 catamarans and three trimarans, equivalent to 25.7 percent. The average length for monohulls was 15.7 meters (51.4 feet) and 14.1 meters (46.3 feet) for multihulls. The size of boats taking part in the ARC has been steadily increasing over the years, and in this latest edition, 31 monohulls were bigger than 50 feet, with 22 multihulls more than 60 feet long.

More-efficient and better-equipped boats with reliable autopilots, electric winches, furling gears and other accessories have resulted in fewer crew. This was evident from the crews of the boats that called at Cape Town, having an average of 2.9 crew, while in Saint Helena it was 3.2. In Cocos/Keeling it was 2.5, and in Tahiti, the figure was 2.8. In the latter two cases, more than half the boats were crewed by just a couple.

Another interesting trend is the change in the predominant flags of the boats on a world voyage. Statistics obtained from Gran Canaria, the Azores, Tahiti, Cape Town, Saint Helena and the Suez Canal show that US-flagged yachts have lost the top spot to French-flagged boats, with British and German boats competing for third place. 

Conclusions

Since my first global survey in 1987, the cruising scene has seen important changes. This survey found that in a few places, there has been an increase in the number of visiting yachts, but overall, the figures from Las Palmas, Bermuda, Panama, Tahiti, Cape Town, New Zealand and Australia indicate that the popularity of long-distance voyages peaked in 2010.

The reasons all seem related to safety concerns. Climate change, for instance, is affecting offshore weather conditions. In my latest survey among 65 experienced sailors, I asked how they would plan a world voyage today. Without exception, each one stressed that they would take changing weather into account, but would still leave on a long voyage. They all agreed that proper voyage planning was now even more important, and they were confident that a safe voyage could still be accomplished. 

This global survey also confirmed that since 2010 in some of the most popular cruising destinations, there has been a steady reduction in the number of boats undertaking world voyages. The pandemic had a significant negative impact, so it will be interesting to see whether that changes. After all, boatbuilders are reporting full order books with waiting times as long as three years, and the brokerage market is enjoying an unprecedented boom. Carpe diem!

Described as the bible of cruising sailors, Jimmy Cornell’s book World Cruising Routes is the definitive reference book for long-distance navigators. The latest completely revised and updated edition has drawn on the latest weather information and other recent developments to provide the most comprehensive aid to planning a safe voyage to any part of the world. Get it HERE.

Visit cornellsailing.com for information on Cornell’s Ocean Atlas and Jimmy Cornell.

The post Global Movement of Cruising Boats appeared first on Cruising World.

Part of the preparations for any cruise to the South Pacific is considering what to bring for gifting and trading. We’re expecting to visit two countries in the South Pacific this year—French Polynesia and Fiji—so we are going to tailor our trading plans for those two distinct cultures.

In the Society Islands of French Polynesia, there’s access to “stuff.” As a result, local people want cruisers to deal in cash, not goods. The kind of trading romanticized in the pages of decades-old cruising memoirs mostly doesn’t exist anymore. The Society Islands are well-connected to the population hub of Tahiti. If you can’t find a product in Papeete , it can be shipped or flown in, and then shuttled out in a mail boat.

Now, if we were heading to Fatu-Hiva in the Marquesas Islands, our plan for trading would be different. Fatu-Hiva is 125 nautical miles upwind from Nuku Hiva, and the locals prefer to trade goods instead of cash. Cameron Vawter, visiting there aboard the 43-foot Ta Shing Banyan, recalls how a boat in the anchorage that could trade received copious amounts of fruit for days on end. “It just kept showing up,” he said. He was happy to accept the trickle-down extras.

And no matter the location, there’s a difference between gifting and trading. Gifts from visiting cruisers show appreciation and build bridges, while other goods that cruisers keep on board are for bartering. 

A model for understanding the idea of gifting as a cruiser can be found in one of my favorite memories from our month in the Marquesas in 2010. Anchored inside Baie du Contrôleur, we followed the sound of church bells into Taipivai with our bungee boat, Capaz. After the service, a family invited us to their nearby home. We broke out a deck of Uno cards, and we played a game with the Marquesan kids. Then, we gifted them the deck. Small stowage required, priceless memories, good feelings all around.

Aboard the Allied 39 Jacaranda, Chuck Houlihan says, “we quickly came to realize that we wanted to have nicer gifts for folks that invited us home for dinner, took us fishing and just befriended us.” He and his wife, Linda Edeiken, recommend trading practical items, such as Luci lights, jiggle-hose fuel transfer devices and carving tools such as Dremels and sandpaper. 

Greg Bridges aboard the Gulfstar 50 Beach Flea has also learned that carving tools, as well as multihead screwdrivers, pliers and hammers, are local favorites. He finds that 90- and 60-degree V-gouges and small skews are the most useful.

Our favorite gift to trade

Our favorite icebreaker gift (and occasional trade item) is a soccer ball. We started engaging in Soccer Ball Diplomacy—trademark pending—after leaving Australia in 2012. From Papua New Guinea to Madagascar, the soccer balls we brought to shore replaced carved, ball-sized fishing floats. Our gift amped up many a dirt field game. I cannot emphasize enough the joy these brought.

Something else I am excited to stash for literally brightening lives is headlamp-style utility lights (they snap onto a solar charging block and turn into a flashlight). Yes, the same folks who make those awesome Luci lights make these. In more remote communities in the North Pacific, lights like this can have a meaningful, positive impact on everyday life for a family.

What’s a trade item worth?

One of the big questions a new-to-trading cruiser in the South Pacific has is: How do you establish relative value? 

Back in the intensive trading culture of Papua New Guinea, I came up with a way to think about establishing a fair trade. Some thoughts adapted from our 2012 post: 

Think about what you’d pay to buy something if you could, and what it cost you to get what you’re offering. Is that pineapple, which might be $5, a fair trade for the 1 kg bag of sugar that might have cost you $1.50? You can think about it in terms of the value of the items, but think of it this way, too: When the only way for you to get a fresh pineapple, and the only way for them to get a bag of sugar, is to trade, that’s a way to estimate how close or far you are from what’s reasonable. I remember giving a guy in Kavieng, Papua New Guinea, a 2-kg bag of rice for a couple of lobsters one day. He was thrilled and insisted it was too much, then showed up the next day to give us three huge, beautiful papayas from his garden. Wow!

Trade items to bring

For the list-makers (cough “me” cough), here’s a summary of what to stow: Dremels, diamond bits and other carving tools; commonly used hand tools; rope that still has life in it (just maybe for a horse instead of a halyard); headlamps and solar-powered lights; fishing gear, such as big hooks for tuna, little ones for reef jigging; small-woven line for fishing (not fishing nylon); snorkeling masks and fins; soccer balls (and pumps with spare needles); perfumed lotions, nail polish and lipstick (these can add value to a trade for pearls in the Tuamotus); and fuel and jerry cans.

More on trading

If you’ve liked reading about trading in the South Pacific, where actually there’s not so much trading going on (sales for cash are vastly preferred), you might enjoy reading these other posts about the trading we did in Papua New Guinea. In those islands, trading with the latest dugout to tie off your transom is part of everyday cruising life.

What to bring to Papua New Guinea. This list that diverges a bunch from other South Pacific gifting and trading lists. It’s based on real need and lack of access to what we consider basics, such as flour, sugar and yeast.

What you’ll be trading for in Papua New Guinea: Sometimes, the ability to trade what islanders need is what matters most. It can also be the only way to get fresh produce in islands without stores.

Alternative trading: When a new friend wanted flour and yeast, we had to trade, but with nothing to exchange, I traded for a cooking lesson on how to cook coconut-steeped yams. This strategy would work great anywhere.

The post Sailing Totem: A Cruiser’s Guide to Trading in the South Pacific appeared first on Cruising World.

Sun rays beamed down into the deep blue ­water, illuminating the faded rope that ended in a small weight, hanging just barely in sight in the clear Fijian sea. I held onto the buoy the rope was tied to, floating at the surface and staring at the weight 20 ­meters below me. I was familiar with this depth as a concept; I’d scuba-dived around it and Cayuse could ­anchor in it, but I’d never thought about sending my body down there unaided, willfully.

I’d been sailing with my parents on Cayuse, an Outremer 51, for a year at this point; we were circumnavigating with the World ARC. After graduating college I had joined them, and while sailing itself took up most of our time, I needed a new hobby to give myself a sense of purpose. Matt, my boyfriend and our other ­crewmember, and I had signed up for an SSI Freediving course at Mantaray Bay; I wanted a challenge, and Matt saw it as fun and a useful skill for cruising.

A siren wailed from shore after we dropped ­anchor in deep water off the Mantaray Island Resort, an eclectic hostel and hotel next to a narrow cut between two islands in the Yasawas. It was the manta ray alarm, which went off daily when manta rays were spotted swimming through the channel. The strong currents whipping through made it an ideal feeding ground for the gentle giants, and the namesake of the resort. We dinghied ashore as guests frantically gathered rented ­snorkel gear and rushed to fiberglass runabouts manned by locals to take them out to glimpse the graceful rays.

RELATED: Freediving in Tonga

We walked over to the dive shack and were greeted by a tall, suntanned Australian man in a tank top and mirrored sunnies. A little weathered around the edges, he had long hair that was blond-streaked and shoulder-length; he could have been 35 or 50.

“Bula! Are you guys the yachties here for freediving?” he asked, staggering a little.

“Yeah, we’re here for a few days, so we thought we’d try it out,” I said.

“Well good on ya! My name’s Ryan, and I’ll be your instructor. Here are a couple of workbooks, and let’s get started!” he said, tossing us two worn Scuba Schools International textbooks.

We soon learned that he was the co-owner of the resort, which he had built from the ground up in 2002 with his then-girlfriend.

Ryan instructed us to lie down on the sand so we could practice “breathing up.” Breathing up is a one- to two-minute period of breathing before a dive that focuses on relaxing the body and mind in order to spend a period of time without breath underwater. I breathed in and out for several minutes with my eyes closed; lying under the palm trees on a beach in Fiji, I immediately felt pretty Zen. Then Ryan told us to breathe in deeply and hold it, starting a timer once we stopped breathing. I gasped for breath after a measly 45 seconds, while Matt held his for one minute, 15 seconds. He told us how if we focused on breathing every day, we’d increase our lung capacity and ability to hold our breath for longer; Ryan was up to five minutes.

Over the next two days, we did more breathing exercises and swimming challenges, and studied the science of freediving. We learned about the mammalian dive reflex, which happens when the human body submerges underwater; the body responds by slowing down the heart rate, redirecting blood to vital organs to preserve oxygen, and releasing red blood cells from the spleen. Humans were built to swim underwater.

All of our studying and exercises were leading up to the final dive, in which we had to freedive down to 20 meters. Ryan reiterated that the key to successful freediving was being utterly calm, making slow movements with elongated fins, and not rushing. Overexerting yourself underwater could lead to losing oxygen and having to surface sooner, or even blacking out. It was hard to imagine not freaking out while swimming slowly into the deep, away from fresh air and sunlight.

Floating next to the buoy, I timed ­myself for a two-minute breathe up, breathing normally until taking three final deep breaths before I duck-dived down.

I kicked my legs slowly, trying to ­maintain a leisurely pace following the rope down, seemingly into oblivion. I couldn’t see the bottom. My thoughts drifted to how I could check the anchor at new depths, rescue lost items overboard, or swim next to sea creatures without spooking them with oxygen bubbles.

Within seconds, I reached the weight and looked down at the seafloor, now within sight. What if I kept going? I looked all around me, blissfully surrounded by pure blue. Time slowed down as I undulated with the ocean, neither sinking nor floating. I felt the first urge to breathe and turned around, taking deliberate strokes toward brighter water, Matt and Ryan floating above me. I slipped through the water to the surface, elated, gasping for breath and squinting in the bright equatorial sun. I felt my need for a new purpose slipping away, down into the deep blue depths.

The post Cruising and Freediving appeared first on Cruising World.

Verdant mountains plunging into a blue sea, dark basalt spires piercing the clouds, jungle vines growing over stone ruins: the Marquesas Islands of French Polynesia have an almost mystical aura about them. At the far eastern end of the South Pacific islands, only 9 to 10 degrees south of the equator, they are remote, hot and humid. They are high islands, volcanoes that have eroded into deep valleys and vertiginous ridges. In some ways, they are the ultimate South Seas idyll: secluded, tropical and ruggedly beautiful. But in other ways, they are far from the postcard picture. Because of their geological newness and because they are on the outer edges of the cold Humboldt Current, the islands have not developed extensive barrier reefs. So they don’t have the lagoons and consequent calm, protected bays that many other Pacific islands boast.

For sailors, this means anchorages exposed to the rolling ocean swell. Even though one finds protection from the strong southeasterly trade winds on the leeward sides of these islands, the swell inevitably rolls its way in. Most sailors don’t consider this a problem. After all, to reach the Marquesas, most voyagers have spent three weeks to a month sailing across the open ocean, in swells much bigger than what one encounters in the islands’ leeward anchorages; we’re acclimated to the motion and hardly notice it. But the fact remains that there is nothing so peaceful as a flat-calm anchorage, sheltered on all sides—especially after a long ocean passage.

Enter Anaho Bay. On the north (leeward) coast of Nuku Hiva lies this beautiful, calm bay, encircled by hills and headed by a bare basalt peak. In all but a north wind, it is perfectly protected. The necklace of beach ashore is soft, white sand, and there’s even a coral reef (a rarity in these islands) that’s built itself along the edges of the bay, home to the colorful and often unique reef fish of the Marquesas.

Read More: Lessons from the Sixth Circumnavigation

There are no roads into Anaho Bay. One can reach the place only by boat, or on foot or horseback along the trail that leads across a little mountain pass to the neighboring village of Hatiheu. The only sounds in the bay are the quiet lapping of water on the beach, the rustle of wind in the trees, the splash of a fish, and the thunk-thunk of the locals cutting copra. A few people do live in Anaho Bay, fishing, farming, and even running a small restaurant for sailors and any other tourists who hike over from Hatiheu. At the time of the lockdown, when the Nuku Hiva government was ordering cruisers to sail to the main town of Taiohae (where the police could more easily keep them under surveillance), the locals in Anaho Bay refused to let their cruisers be taken away. Those at anchor there at the time had been helping the locals with all kinds of projects on their houses and fishing boats. So the lucky sailors stayed in Anaho for the whole lockdown. While I wasn’t among them, I was thrilled to hear the story after the fact, a wonderful instance of the mutual generosity of visiting cruisers and their local hosts. That, even more than the stunning scenery, is what makes the South Seas such a special place.

The post Cruising Anaho Bay, Marquesas appeared first on Cruising World.

Fiji set a glowing example for other Pacific countries this past sailing season by successfully opening its borders to cruisers. The country consequently welcomed over 90 foreign boats, over 300 crew and an estimated $10 million to its shores.

The Blue Lane initiative, launched in June, set strict guidelines for pleasure craft to follow in order to enter Fiji. This protocol involved sailors having to activate their AIS for their entire trip so that the Fijian navy could confirm uninterrupted sailing, along with quarantining crew on board their vessels for a total of 14 days, including passage time. Additionally, all crew had to take a COVID-19 test and obtain a negative result within 72 hours of leaving their original country and again two days before their 14-day quarantine was up.

While Port Denarau is currently the only port of clearance in Fiji, once finished with their quarantine, boats are free to cruise the different island groups as usual.

Though small in number compared with the usual 750 boats that visit Fiji every year, the cruisers that arrived have helped contribute toward Fiji’s suffering tourism industry. They’ve provided the sailmakers, mechanics, electricians, taxi drivers and dive operators with a much-needed income, without which they might not have been able to survive the past few months. Due to a lack of onward destinations, the majority of these boats remained in Fiji during the 2020-21 cyclone season, providing further income for the industry.

United States Ambassador to Fiji, Joseph Cella, invited cruisers who’d participated in this initiative to a buffet brunch to celebrate its success, and there he highly commended the Fijian government for the way it has contained COVID-19. With only 35 cases in total, and no community cases for nearly 6 months, Fiji has handled this pandemic extremely well, with its Blue Lane initiative being a testament to its success. Let’s hope more countries follow suit next season.

The post Fiji’s Blue Lane Initiative appeared first on Cruising World.

This story originally appeared on Sailing Totem.

Route planning is something we geek out on a little. During the last year, it gave me an outlet for escapism during the pandemic. Improbable routing across the North Pacific? Great daydreaming while isolating on Totem, not even swimming off the boat while in view of closed beaches on shore.

What were the distances we could voyage between destinations (open to us during the pandemic) in the Pacific? What seasonality did they introduce? We might not be going anywhere, but I could ponder the possibilities! Getting smarter on route planning is something that’s readily researched ahead of cruising, too.

There are three levels of routing: first, the most zoomed-out big picture view, second, pre-passage plan, then finally, routing once underway. Each one has different dynamics.

Many sailors are dreamers, so dreamscaping destinations comes easily. Covid reduced the options for Pacific stops; an imagined route was challenging, but not impossible, for this dreamer. Hawaii? Family in Hilo to visit! (~2,600nm) Guam? Friends landing there and found a welcoming safe harbor. (~3,300nm) From there, on to Okinawa, southern port of entry for Japan. (a mere ~1,200nm) It’s open to American nationals; perhaps we’d be lucky enough that Taiwan – which I dearly love, thanks to finishing high school and spending time in college there – would open by the time we made it that far. In three big passages, we’d be back in the western Pacific: it is a goal for the years ahead.

Big picture routing might start with a wide-open imagining. Making it into a real plan starts with seasonal constraints. What are the best times for these passages? Does the full distance allow a reasonable pace, and time to enjoy stops along the way? When would it be better to hold off for a month? Where would you want to meander slowly for a season? From there, the planner considers other features of the journey and destination to create a sensible trip framework. Seasonal weather, security, legal, and practical considerations.

Planning For Weather

Weather defines life on boat. Trip up the inside passage sounds fine! In July, that is, but not January. Or to Caribbean islands in search of the last bottle of rum – best outside of hurricane season. The deterrent factors of cold and hurricanes are plain, but there are other weather seasons to consider, based on location: gales (higher latitudes), lightning (Central America and Southeast Asia), squalls (tropics), and monsoon seasons. Monsoonal regions bring seasonally changing winds that blow in the right or wrong direction depending on your timing. Plan weather patterns that makes sailing easier on the boat and crew. My dreamscape is complicated by seasonal conditions layered over distance. Arrive in Guam before cyclone season in the western Pacific: that means leaving for Hawaii… now-ish, and without time for more than a break on the way.

Researching Safety Issues

Security during the journey and at the destination requires research. Skimming along the coast of North America doesn’t carry much threat to personal safety, but still good to learn if your outboard could sprout legs in a given anchorage. When we sailed north from Australia to Papua New Guinea, we were given dire warnings about the dangers that awaited. And like many countries, while it can be painted as dangerous – it is not reflective of the entire nation. I mapped a route based on first hand reports, and it remains among our favorite places. I’ve written in more detail about how to research both regions and destinations for safety issues in “Is Cruising Dangerous?”.

Learning Legal Requirements

Legal procedures for traveling to and from countries can be surprising, and limiting if not prepared. Last year we planned to get a 90 day visa on arrival in French Polynesia; there was also a long-stay visa available through application at French embassies overseas (currently, these are not being issued). We looked further out in 2020 and discovered we’d need proof of measles vaccinations to legally arrive in Samoa. Jamie and I don’t have our childhood vaccination records, and were looking into titer tests and re-vaccination options… and then covid happened.

Making Practical Plans

Practical route planning is a common pitfall of the new cruiser: to dream a big picture route spanning an unrealistic range of places. It’s hard to know until you live underway at sea level, one nautical mile at a time, what those distances really mean. Passage making can be a joy (I’m craving it right now: a glorious respite!) but constantly being on the move to meet an unnecessary objective (Trinidad to Halifax and back this year!) is exhausting. For folks planning from the fast lane of modern life, it’s hard to imagine life at six knots.

Stopping short of an overzealous objective might leave a disappointment in failing to achieve. But achieve what, exactly? We’re here for the experiences, and not the notches in a logbook. Making a plan helps that dreamscape evolve into an achievable future.

Let’s Talk!

TOTEM TALKS: what makes a bluewater boat? This Sunday, Feb 28, at 3pm PT / 6pm ET we’re hosting another open forum on Zoom. There’s a lot of conflicting information and misinformation about features of a bluewater boat. Let’s talk about it! Register to attend.

Clubhouse. Join us for a chat sometime on this newish platform! We came on this week thanks to the other Jamie (from Follow the Boat), finding it fun to engage on this new platform to talk about cruising and help the enthusiastic on their way. Find me lurking around Salty Vagabonds and Sailing Club. The app is iOS only but that should change soon.

Coho Hoho kickoff. March 16. The Best Awaits: Southbound on the West Coast. Sharing information for safe planning and fully enjoying their voyages south for the rally runners! Register at Coho Hoho / events.

Cruising sails seminar. March 25, 4pm Eastern. Sail fundamentals, part of Salty Dawg Sailign Association’s winter webinar series. Jamie’s covering materials, terms, and loads; sail repair basics and common causes of problems; self-inspection before going offshore; observations to make while underway. Fee paid for non-members of SDSA; register on their site.

The post Sailing Totem: Route Planning—The Big Picture appeared first on Cruising World.

What are they thinking?

That’s my first reaction, anyway. To be clear, there are some scenarios that make sense. I’ll get to that: more generally, it does not make sense for most boats at this time. But it seems that the hope of vaccine availability, and perhaps unbridled or uninformed hope, has prompted many plans to head that way regardless.

Stepping back: right now, there are exactly two countries conditionally open to foreign yacht arrivals in the South Pacific. Both require advance permission, which is not assured. Let’s review.

First: some context. The Pacific Ocean is ^%#*ing HUGE. When people get to French Polynesia and crow “we’ve crossed the Pacific!” – no. They are about one third of the way. There’s a lot of ocean not yet “crossed.” Ballpark, in very round numbers: it’s about 9,000 nautical miles across, and Panama (or Mexico) to the Marquesas is about 3,000 nautical miles.

Second: let’s look at those two countries that offer the possibility of arrival: French Polynesia and Fiji.

French Polynesia’s maritime borders remain officially closed. Permission to enter is by application to DPAM (a department for maritime affairs; not related to the consulate). Many have been allowed, but plenty boats from a range of flags have been declined. (It does seem that local yacht agents may have better luck with the process. We had a great experience with an agent in 2010, and had contacted Tahiti Crew for services last year before COVID blew up. Kevin Ellis at Yacht Services Nuku Hiva has assisted others.)

For crews who obtain permission to arrive in French Polynesia, the duration of stay allowed is based on nationality. 90-day visas are granted; French Polynesia stopped issuing Long-Stay Visas (LSVs) last year. EU nationals are able to stay longer. In our experience those 90 days will fly by, although that’s not unreasonable for a boat planning to get all the way across to Australia in one non-cyclone season.

Fiji’s Blue Lane initiative has, like French Polynesia, provided for conditional access to cruising boats. You must apply and have approval before embarking for Fiji. Application is made through one of few approved yacht agents. Crews must provide an advance COVID test (and another after arrival) and meet other requirements such as insurance, visa, and biosecurity. At least sea time is counted towards the 14-day quarantine! It adds up: for our crew, I priced the cost to enter at $2,140 (not including the additional required marina stay).

SO we’ve got French Poly, and Fiji. That means some big @$$ passages. It skips Tonga and the Cook Islands, Samoa and Niue too, on the way to Fiji; it means no stopping at Vanuatu and New Caledonia. All shuttered for arrivals. And then… where do you go from there? This leads us to…

Third: hurricane season options.

Since the pace of vaccine distribution suggests that 2021 will not reach levels allowing other countries in the Pacific to open their borders 2021, destinations for hurricane season are limited. But let’s focus on typical off-season cruising destinations for the South Pacific: Australia and New Zealand. Both offer distant possibilities, neither can be counted on unless you are a repatriating national. For the non-nationals:

• Hope that Australia provides “emergency” access again. After the scare of a big cyclone tearing through Fiji this season, some boats did go on to Oz. They were required to quarantine in a hotel room selected (and serviced: here’s breakfast!) by the government, at the yachties’ expense, while the boat is (also at their expense) in a marina. Expensive.
  
• Pony up for a New Zealand refit. Commit to spending $50,000 NZD (about US$35,000) in New Zealand on vessel refitting and maintenance work, and you can apply for entry. It is not a guaranteed pay-to-arrive, boats have been turned down; but it is one gating factor that opens it as a possibility for non-NZ crews. Damn, this is actually near the level of our annual budget!

Why are people going?

I mentioned at the beginning that there are a few circumstances where it makes sense to set off. Below are the scenarios, but the crews I read about looking to cross … mostly don’t fit into the criteria for following through on them. Basically: the options aren’t horror shows, but they are either quite expensive (fine if you’ve got it), quite inconvenient, or quite significant passages.

• Exit and return to French Polynesia. Leave the boat at a marina French Polynesia and fly out. After 90 days outside the country, your visa clock is reset and you are granted another 90 days. This may be a hardship for many ‘typical’ cruisers who don’t have a land base waiting for them, but it is an option.
  
• Route to Hawaii (if immigration status permits) and from there, back to the North American mainland – or back south to French Polynesia again after spending the requisite 90 days outside of the country. Must have immigration status that allows entry to the USA and love long passages. And once you’re there, anchoring permits cost more than a marina in Mexico and marina waiting lists are real. So not many choose this path because, well, it’s harder.

• Make a North Pacific loop to Japan. Friends on the Leopard 384, Maple, have made plans to sail from French Polynesia to Japan (then, onward home to Canada), which frankly sounds pretty sweet although it may be thwarted by a leaky fuel tank. We’re rooting for them!
  
• Nationals repatriating as is the option available to Aussies and Kiwis – who are still subject to quarantine. (That’s over $6k per person in New Zealand!)

Since the rest of the South Pacific (and most of the North Pacific) is closed, and offers NO indication of opening anytime soon (regardless of protocol, regardless of vaccines – in fact, Vanuatu and New Caledonia just doubled down to be 100% clear on their we’re-not-open status), it is baffling to me that there’s so much murmuring about plans for the Pacific.

I suppose that’s a little like wondering why back in our home country so many activities are opening up despite transmission risks being pretty much worse than ever. Pandemic fatigue is real! If one were to believe that vaccination distribution will occur widely and quickly (despite all evidence to the contrary), it might be possible to have this hope. But it’s not happening quickly, and vulnerable countries have no more incentive to take the risk now than they did in 2020. I really don’t know what most people making plans are thinking.

Here on Totem, we just keep on keepin’ on. You bet we want to be back in the South Pacific, and into the North Pacific, but… oh well!

Our 2021 plans? Safe to say… they don’t include any big Pacific passages. Even if it weren’t for my view on the probabilities of countries opening up, we’re staring down big engine work.

Meanwhile, this week the memory care home where my mother is a resident had a COVID outbreak. Seventeen cases, hopefully no more, but it remains to be seen. Every single one of the residents who tested positive for COVID already had their first vaccination shot. There is plenty of reason to remain more cautious now than ever. And four known COVID variants… We hope every day to see this through without the pain in our family, as we have seen in our friends and their families, to suffer from the disease’s direct impact.

So much going on!

Join us this coming week at the Seattle Boat Show! You can register for as little as $5; Jamie and I are offering several seminars and joining the salty crews from Mahina and Kaiquest for our annual offshore panel.

Diesel engines – coming to TOTEM TALKS: Register here for Sunday, Jan 31st at 3pm Pacific / 6pm Eastern. What does a dumb sailmaker know about marine diesels? Come find out! The truth is that after 13 years of full-time cruising, it’s a surprising amount – and that’s out of necessity. A reliable engine is part of safe cruising, so cruisers should all know about engine care and maintenance. This session will start with a zoomed-out view of component parts, then discuss DIY maintenance including priority and commonly overlooked procedures.

Thanks to everyone who joined us for the Toronto Boat Show this past week! If you registered for seminars, ours can be replayed at leisure.

The post Sailing Totem: South Pacific Cruising in 2021 appeared first on Cruising World.

At a time of year when cruisers might point their bows south to escape winter in North America, or head to cyclone-free regions across the Pacific, instead they are contending with a wide array of restrictions brought on by the COVID-19 pandemic as a new normal has emerged over the summer. § Looking ahead, top health officials expect the pandemic to increase this winter—and that in 2021, the threat of coronavirus will remain. We hope for a vaccine and yet expect that any success will take time to reach far-flung corners of the world. For the cruiser, or hopeful cruiser, is it possible to plan a safe watery adventure?

Despite a world shrunk by globalization, regional and national responses to coronavirus continue to vary dramatically. There is no crystal ball, of course, so to form a view of what cruising might look like in the year ahead, we reached out to sailors around the world to see what might be possible.

North America

If the mainstream traveler rediscovered staycations, American cruisers are reminded that from Penobscot Bay to the Dry Tortugas in the east, and Puget Sound to San Diego in the west—the United States coastline offers extensive cruising for all seasons. The US border never closed to maritime entry, but a number of states had lockdown periods, and several continue to require different degrees of testing or self-quarantine. A pandemic flare-up could limit movement or require isolating. Other cruisers are placing their bets on a new period of slower-paced Caribbean cruising.

Allan and Lavonne Shelton were bound for Panama after several leisurely months in the Bahamas when borders started snapping shut in March. Making a rest stop in Jamaica en route, the crew learned that Panama had closed. They rerouted back to their home waters in Chesapeake Bay. “We were concerned about the possibility of being stranded somewhere with fewer cruising options than we would have by returning to the US, and we didn’t want to be a burden on another country’s health system.” Lavonne says.

Like many, the added risk of the virus put a damper on their 2021 plans. “We want to be able to socialize freely while cruising. We love hosting visitors aboard Vinyasa, and enjoy visiting others too. Realistically for us, cruising freely means waiting until a reliable vaccine is widely available and we’ve both received it.” The Vinyasa crew plans to sail between seasonal bases in Florida and Maryland until they feel safe to voyage abroad again.

Vivian Vuong and her husband, Nathan Zahrt, call the Compass 47 Ultima home. And 2020 was meant to be their breakout year, leading offshore training passages with John Kretschmer Sailing, but closures in the Bahamas and Florida Keys put a pall on plans. “By July we were finally able to do a training passage from Solomons, Maryland, to Newport, Rhode Island, and had an epic sail in nice weather, full of wildlife sightings. We saw whales, sharks, and pods of hundreds of dolphins feeding on schools of fish,” Vivian says. But they postponed further training passages, and instead shifted to working on superyachts to afford planned upgrades for Ultima. Vivian speaks for ­many cruisers when she says, “The ­hardest part of this pandemic is the uncertainty that it causes,” and in their case, it’s not just where this ocean-girdling couple can go, but the future of their work as well. Looking ahead, they anticipate this winter that Caribbean islands will offer opportunities for their own cruising and, hopefully, voyages they can share with others seeking a life afloat.

Mediterranean

At peak uncertainty when borders closed throughout the region, boats transited the breadth of the Mediterranean without options for landfall. The region later swung hard in the other direction, with uncomplicated movement between most European Union countries with just a few extra steps for clearance. But crews from nations outside the Schengen Area have more to juggle than just the stay limits in member states. If cases surged, how might countries respond? Uncertainty around the answer to this has encouraged many cruisers to focus on a safe harbor where they can make longer-term plans, saving active cruising for a post-pandemic environment.

“Most folks we talk to have a sense of being in a surreal film,” Shannon Morrelli reports from the catamaran Sweetie. They were spending their second winter in Tunisia when cases of COVID-19 surged, and the Monastir Marina ­provided a friendly haven. “It was treated as a single-family residence; cruisers could walk the docks and the marina’s headland during lockdown.” The lockdown started days after Monastir denizens, the American crew of the catamaran Grateful, flew back to the US for a brief visit in March; they weren’t able to get back to Tunisia until September. “Our circuitous return depended on the fact that Turkey (a non-EU country) was happy to have us and our tourism dollars,” Niki Elenbaas says.

When European countries began to reopen borders to their citizens, EU-based sailors left Tunisia for summertime cruising grounds closer to home. It was about another month before non-EU crews were able to sail north. To mitigate uncertainty ahead, Shannon and her husband, Tony, purchased a yearlong marina contract for Sweetie in Monastir; Niki and Jamie Elenbaas have done the same for Grateful. For 2021, they plan to cruise between Tunisia and other Mediterranean countries as restrictions (and Schengen rules) allow— and they expect ongoing changes.

Complexity’s crew, Barbara and Jim Cole, hail from Puget Sound. They have similarly doubled down to reduce their risk from instability in the Mediterranean with a long-term contract at a Cyprus marina. Barbara recalled the stressful passages they made across the Indian Ocean and up the Red Sea in the first months of the year. Although overdue for a trip home, they don’t think a flight to the States is viable given the risks of virus exposure coupled with the possibility of being barred from returning to their Hallberg Rassy 36. “Our resources and health could be taken away by careless exposure; it would be terrible to suffer a devastating illness so far from loved ones,” Barbara says. Meanwhile, the couple purchased a car to better travel the island. These experienced cruisers are upbeat; they don’t talk about being stuck but rather about the historic ruins and local delicacies: “As cruisers do, we are all making the best of our situation.”

Friends aboard the Ovni 41 Xamala empathize. “We have not moved much since our arrival in Crete [via the Red Sea] because of the uncertainty with infection clusters and lockdowns,” Anita Farine writes. Fortunately, as holders of Schengen Area passports, they’re able to extend their stay in Greece. “We feel for our international friends who don’t have many places to go to after the three months in Schengen.”

The Griswold family had just returned to Trifecta in Turkey. “From April through June we lived at anchor with very few boats, cruising the Turquoise coast,” Matt says. Family intentions were to continue west in the Med, then cross the Atlantic as the American family’s sabbatical cruise winds down. Then Turkey closed the border with Greece, and they gained empathy for cruisers who had felt trapped by the pandemic. Malta’s decision to open a corridor for EU access was a welcome relief. “In Malta, we filled out an extra check-in paper on arrival for the health department; otherwise no questions were asked. Life returned to ‘cruiser normal’ in an instant.” They’ve since sailed to Italy, Monaco and France, and are organizing an informal rally of boats bound for the Caribbean for the winter.

South Pacific

Island nations and protectorates in the South Pacific were among the first to lock down borders, and most remain closed. With dispersed populations and limited healthcare facilities, they remain conservative about reopening: To date, only Fiji and French Polynesia have a process for yachts to apply for permission to enter. Most cruisers responded by remaining in place; a minority made a move to Fiji when their Blue Lane Initiative—a program offering cruising boats easier entries, although with strict protocols—to enter a country commenced, and a few are choosing extensive passages to more-distant safe havens.

Like many cruisers, the crew of Maple intended to sail west from French Polynesia in 2020 after enjoying over a year in the islands with a long-term visa. With about two years left in their cruising kitty, they planned a winding path of island hops to reach Southeast Asia before wrapping up to go home to Canada. When the coronavirus stymied this plan, they evaluated how best to make the use of their family time left. Given the closed borders (or unpredictable restrictions) in their original plan, they’ve determined that it will be best to sail a loop through the north Pacific back to Canada. They’ll begin in January with a 5,400-nautical-mile passage from Tahiti to Okinawa, Japan.

“This will be our longest single passage, probably will be for the duration of our cruising lives, but we are oddly looking forward to it,” Darryl Lapaire says. The route will carry them close to islands of closed countries: Tuvalu, Kiribati, Federal States of Micronesia, and Guam. “Some of the islands are quite small, so we will need to be watchful and ensure we are zoomed in on our electronic navigation devices for this segment. Cyclonic storms in the equatorial North Pacific breed in the waters around the Marshall Islands and Micronesia, so from this area to Japan will form the area of greatest risk for us.”

Fiji and French Polynesia have created extensive permissions processes to request entry, making those countries possible options for those crossing the Pacific. Kris Adams and David Frost are longtime cruisers aboard the Kaufman 49 Taipan. Moored in Huahine, their attitude models that of many cruisers in French Polynesia: “We are very content here. We were hoping to be home after 19 years,” Kris says, but “the east coast of Australia is still nearly 3,000 nautical miles and then still a Southern Ocean passage away from our hometown in Albany, Western Australia.” This crew has the chops; they’re just choosing, as are most, to appreciate where they are instead. They can migrate to eastern island groups in French Polynesia for relative safety during cyclone season.

These are the difficult options facing cruisers in this region: Either remain in a hurricane zone for the storm season, or sail significant distances like the Maple crew, or hope for the continued generosity of a host country, or go against prevailing conditions to find an open border—all options fraught with uncertainty of future closures.

Southeast Asia and the Indian Ocean

Although most countries in Southeast Asia aren’t welcoming arrivals, those within borders already are largely accommodated. The lack of options for landfall halted Indian Ocean transits early on; these are now easing, allowing cruisers already there a path from the region. But cruisers are challenged by bureaucracy here, as well as a lack of understanding for their situation, in countries that feel particularly far from home. Cruisers sheltering in place must juggle this uncertainty; many who can are sailing on.

The family aboard Dafne has cruised from North America across the Pacific and through Southeast Asia. As cases of COVID-19 surged, they sequestered for months in Indonesia’s Mentawai Islands. But with a teen heading to college and other family tugs to the US, they made plans to cross the Indian Ocean as soon as there were signs of South Africa opening up. “We would have stayed in Asia if we felt positive about being able to move between countries, but that seemed unlikely and now looks even worse,” Lani Bevaqua says. If a family emergency called them home, they’d be stuck: Interisland travel halted, making it impossible to reach a marina where they could safely leave their boat and access an airport, except by sailing Dafne out of the country. “We felt uncomfortable being caught somewhere that we literally couldn’t leave,” she says from their anchorage in Seychelles. They expect to arrive in the Caribbean next spring, and cruise North America in 2021.

In Indonesia, Adamastor’s crew were ­relieved that the state of emergency allowed continued visa extensions in this notoriously bureaucratic destination. But Jess Lloyd-Mostyn was troubled that “once the emergency stay permit amnesty was over, the first thing we were asked was, ‘Why have you not sailed back to England?’ It’s very hard to explain calmly how impossible such a thing (a journey of 13,000 odd miles) would be right now, with three young children, and not feel frustrated.”

Jess, husband James and their little ones intended to leave Indonesia earlier this year to avoid exceeding the three-year cruising permit; with no borders open nearby, they might face a hefty bill to import the boat. Yet Jess remains optimistic as they progress toward a clearance port to demonstrate their intentions to depart when it’s reasonable, and appreciates their relative security. “I think that things are harder for cruisers in Thailand because the immigration laws want foreigners to leave, but the Customs laws state that boats can’t be left unattended. Couple that with all the surrounding borders being closed, and what can you do?”

Interim Models for Cruising

While the options vary by region, there are clear themes. Even under the assumption that 2021 will continue with many countries inaccessible, there will be fluctuating regulations in those that are accessible, and added hurdles for clearance into nearly all locales. Two basic approaches stand out: first, taking longer passages to fewer destinations; second, cruising within a country or region where clearances are easier. More-experienced cruisers are better-prepared for the first, and any can choose the latter.

For most cruisers, the patience born of our adage that plans are made in the sand at low tide is playing out in new approaches. Some are reducing range, or keeping potential passage distances to reach backup-plan harbors in mind when making destination decisions. Others are slowing down, whether forced by quarantine or to enjoy fewer places for longer. And nearly all anticipate more hurdles—for more paperwork, more communications ­requirements and more fees.

What’s gone until the world has a widely available, reliable vaccine is the model for visiting a string of countries in a season or even a year. Bucket listers in search of a circumnavigation can’t count on the access to ports (regulations might change while underway) or access to goods or repairs in a typical fast-track loop.

Starting Under Pandemic

Should those with a long-held dream to go cruising hold off on a 2021 departure? This decision is based on individual circumstances and risk tolerance, just as in any other year. The stakes are just higher now, and the well of patience, perseverance, and skills needed for safe and comfortable cruising tapped further.

On the west coast, the reduced size of a casual rally that annually progresses down the US West Coast highlights this decision. The Coho Ho-Ho is an informal fleet where crews head south from Puget Sound on their own timetable, sharing information and camaraderie along the way. In a typical summer, the fleet is comprised of a few dozen boats; this year, all but two canceled southbound plans. Cruising in Mexico on his Lord Nelson 35 Jean Anne, Steve Olson says: “I was a bit shocked and saddened when I heard that cruisers were opting not to sail down to Mexico due to COVID. Knowing what I now know about Mexico and Mexican cruising, I feel much safer and less at risk of contracting COVID down here than I would in the US.”

Yet for many, the pandemic is motivation to set sail despite the challenges. Yacht brokers report that boat sales are booming. Subscribers to the coaching ­service my husband, Jamie, and I have to help cruisers and potential cruisers ­succeed is running at double pre-­coronavirus levels. One family we’re working with recently flew to Grenada (via a couple of other island hops because there are no direct US flights); they waited out a 14-day quarantine in a beachfront cottage there before moving onto their new-to-them catamaran. Another family flew from the US to Latvia for a 14-day “country cleaning” before heading back across the pond to Martinique to a boat waiting for them. Still others are ­beginning on the US coast, where no international clearance is needed to spread their cruising wings.

While 2021 might not be a good year for new cruisers to strike out across oceans, ranging from a point of ­departure is reasonable. The slower pace and necessity to watch regulations might even facilitate softer landings into the lifestyle, and open experiences missed on a faster track.

Looking Forward

As this issue goes to press, COVID-19 ­cases are rising again in many regions. Lessons from 2020 suggest that advance planning will continue to be difficult, and travel corridors might not emerge. Many common cruising routes—such as exploring the Caribbean chain, sailing coastwise through Latin America, or winding across the South Pacific—include migrations through countries that are more vulnerable to outbreaks, with healthcare systems that sailors might not wish to test. While it is still possible to cruise, it is more complicated.

Cruising now leans on deeper skills and resourcefulness. It requires patience and research, and costs more. But a focus on experiences rather than route schedules can bring fresh perspective into the joys of voyaging. More than ever, cruising will be about sensitivity to the locales hosting our vessels. It will be about taking the time to find empathy for the outlook of the local communities we anchor near.

Aboard Totem, our family’s cruising plans were upended in 2020. Instead of ­departing Mexico to sail to the South Pacific, we self-isolated for months in the Sea of Cortez. As much as we crave a return of passagemaking to faraway places, I expect that 2021 will continue to feature tacos instead of bringing back poisson cru. But for our crew, as for many cruisers, the joy of life afloat stems from experiences within the journey—not chalking up destinations. In the past week, wildlife encounters with a transient pod of orcas, filter-feeding whale sharks, and yipping coyote packs in the moonlight reminded us again that magic exists wherever you choose to seek it, and doesn’t know there’s a pandemic on.

Follow along with Behan Gifford and the rest of the Totem crew at cruisingworld.com/sailing-totem.

New Clearance Requirements

Arriving into a new country just got more complicated. Processes and paperwork vary; this list is based on a common range of requirements among Caribbean islands.

• Have arrival authorization issued prior to departure from a previous port.
• Take a pre-departure COVID-19 test, generally specified to be the RT-PCR (nasal swab).
• Carry proof of health insurance.
• Expect a health check on arrival, including additional COVID-19 testing.
• Expect quarantine days, depending on travel history; some islands credit sea time.
• Carry a supply of approved face masks and a thermometer.
• Use a contact-tracing app while in country.

The post The Outlook for Cruising 2021 appeared first on Cruising World.

A seasoned skipper and sailboat that has successfully anchored in the Caribbean might not have the gear or expertise to safely anchor in the Pacific. Why? Because the anchorages in the Bahamas and Lesser Antilles are generally benign, with shallow depth, white sand, no swell, few katabatic gusts and zero current. Not so, say, in French Polynesia.

I recently spent a month anchored in Huahine in the Society Islands and was surrounded by dragging sailboats. Anchoring here looks so easy on Google Earth, but it’s extremely challenging in this section of the actual planet Earth. Every single evening, the crews of large vessels (many high-windage single- and double-hulled chartered bareboats) return after a night at the waterfront bars of the main village of Fare to discover that their boat has gone on walkabout. This requires these bewildered crews (if lucky) to find their vessel in the dark, board it in possibly rough conditions, get it underway in treacherous, reef-strewn waters in the pitch-black of night, and then safely ­reanchor it in a crowded harbor—no easy task.

Why?

The reason is simple: They anchor for the conditions they are currently experiencing, not the conditions they will experience. I repeat: A seasoned sailor realizes that he must anchor to withstand the wind and sea conditions he might get, not the conditions he is currently in.

Conditions change. We know this. These changes must be anticipated.

Is it possible to anchor safely in Huahine? Absolutely! We’ve had no ­problem (other than people hitting us), and not one fully crewed charter boat manned by a Polynesian skipper (that we know of) has dragged. Does it require unusual or extraordinary gear? No, all that is needed is regular rode and hook—well, a generous amount of chain helps.

Most of the visiting boats arrive from Raiatea or Bora Bora in the afternoon. Afternoons are generally pleasant in July, the season most sailors pass through. Navigation is easy—the white sand jumps out from the deep blue water, and the hundreds of coral heads are easy to spot.

Basically, new arrivals tend to anchor in a millpond and immediately go ashore. This is one of the friendliest isles imaginable. They meet some locals, fall in love, and everyone retires to the Huahine Yacht Club for a wonderful night of local music and food, and laughter.

Alas, every single evening for days on end, we had katabatic wind gusts over 30 knots, and three evenings, the gusts reached 40 knots. Please understand, these are not the winds offshore, which are generally in the 18- to 22-knot range. They are the savage stop-and-go gusts from the high mountains and low ­valleys of the Haabai area. Of course, any cruising vessel properly anchored should be able to withstand a 30-knot gust. However, a 30-plus-knot gust is much easier to survive from a 20-knot steady breeze versus no wind and then howling. Why? Because your relaxed boat and its chain rode will build up a lot of speed and inertia before it suddenly comes up short. This can, and regularly does, snatch out anchors that have too little scope or too short a snubber.

And all of this takes place inside the lagoon, which, as a child, I thought would offer 360-degree protection; as an adult, I now realize it’s also a 360-degree dead lee shore. Basically, you can’t drag for long off the town anchorage of Fare without hitting another vessel, rock or reef.

But that’s not the whole of it. The moment the wind comes up, the seas build and slop over the windward (east) side of the reef. Each wave contains millions of gallons of water, and all this water has to exit the lagoon somehow and fast. Thus, one’s almost always anchored in some current, and occasionally in more than 4 knots of it.

This means that no vessel in the harbor is lying downwind of its anchor, and some deep-draft monohulls of traditional design can be tide-bound, transom facing into the wind. Centerboarders sometimes lie ahull sideways to the wind. And often catamarans scribe huge circles around their anchors at high rates of speed. (One night we saw a Catana smash into a steel boat, and the sound of the crash almost sickened me.)

Some of the local boats or experienced New Zealanders who regularly cruise these waters have small anti-hunt sails they hoist off their backstay to prevent their vessels from scribing circles when wind and current oppose. We are ketch-rigged on Ganesh, and hoisting our mizzen often either stops this completely or greatly exaggerates it. Given that, we never go ashore with our mizzen sail up in case conditions change.

And, oh, wait—we’re not done. While all the boats anchored off Fare appear to be in a group, they are actually anchored differently. About half are anchored in 8 feet of water, and the other half are anchored in 65 feet of water. Wow!

Now any sailor worth his salt knows the importance of scope: You have to have enough rope or chain deployed to anchor safely. I use a Rocna anchor with 7-to-1 scope when I can, and 5-to-1 when I must. This means that in 65 feet of water, I must deploy 350 feet of chain to safely anchor at the minimum 5-to-1 scope, or 490 feet of chain to anchor with a safety margin of 7-to-1 scope.

That’s a lot of chain. I carry only 225 feet of it, because otherwise my boat goes bow-down and begins to hobbyhorse excessively at sea. True, I have numerous nylon rodes I can add, but this makes retrieving the complicated mess in the middle of the night (say with a 30-foot-wide catamaran jammed on our bow) difficult.

Thus, I avoid anchoring in difficult conditions in 65 feet of water.

I also know that most (but maybe not all) recreational sailing craft anchoring ahead of me in 65 feet of water haven’t planned for 7-to-1 scope or 5-to-1 scope; more likely they’re at 3-to-1 or less, which is totally inadequate for the conditions they will soon face.

Now some Cruising World readers have very sharp pencils and are jumping up and down in protest because my scope numbers are wrong: 65 times 5 isn’t 350, but rather 325! Why am I being so sloppy with the numbers?

I’ll get to that in a second.

My ketch draws 6 feet, and in the ­lagoon, I was anchored in 8 feet of water, so I deployed 65 feet of chain plus my ­nylon snubber. Excessive? No, it’s minimal. I should have paid out 91 feet for 7-to-1 scope. Why? Because scope is calculated from the bow roller to the bottom, not by the depth of the water.

Think this doesn’t matter? Think again.

Anchored near us is a centerboard Skipjack-esque vessel (it looks like a Tarpon Springs sponge boat) with a large amount of sheer and a long bowsprit pointing skyward. It’s anchored in only 3 feet of water but requires about the same amount of scope as we do in 8 feet because its side-roller chock is so high above the water on its bowsprit.

There’s another factor: I was anchored on the edge of a sandy shelf, with my anchor well dug into the bottom, in 8 feet, as I said, and eventually with 7-to-1 scope out. So it was almost impossible to anchor ahead of me on this ledge because you couldn’t put out enough scope. Still, two boats anchored in 65 feet of water dragged back toward me until their anchors caught.

This “uphill” anchoring didn’t make me happy because the skippers of these boats couldn’t put out proper scope without hitting me, so they left their rodes as they were, though they were still in deeper water. If the wind reversed, they’d both drag back downhill and then go on walkabout.

In such a situation, what’s my ­responsibility as a cruiser? Tell them? Don’t tell them? Get in a fistfight or anchorment—er, I mean, argument?

I’ve found, from long experience, that the best thing to do is move. I ignore who is right or who is wrong and who anchored first; I just leave and reanchor my vessel safely. I have no right to tell others how or where to anchor, but I do, most certainly, have an obligation to anchor my boat safely. And that means moving when others anchor improperly around me.

Please don’t misunderstand. I’m not saying to not anchor in Huahine. I recommend you do, because this island is one of the nicest places in French Polynesia. And it is certainly possible because we never dragged, and none of the local skippers do either.

How do you do it?

You need a lot of chain because the Pacific is so much deeper than the Caribbean. I’m often forced to anchor in 80 feet of water in this ocean. Never have I considered such a thing in the Caribbean. (In northern Tonga, I managed to anchor in 105 feet for a month!)

And then you have to anchor far away from others. This usually isn’t a problem, but the fact of the matter is that someone without knowledge of any of the above might anchor right next to you and there’s nothing you can do (save move).

Example: My writer friend Dudley Pope of the Lord Ramage series wanted to finish his novel, so he purchased three spools of nylon line and anchored in more than 100 feet of water off Virgin Gorda. Just as he was tidying up, a Morgan Out Island 41 bareboat dropped its hook right next to him. With a smile, Dudley asked politely, “Do you realize you’re anchoring in over 100 feet of water?”

“No problem,” its not-yet-sunburnt skipper hollered back. “We only draw 4!”

Remember: Anchoring is the bedrock skill of sailors. Once mastered, the world is your oyster. But it can be tricky, especially at night, in Huahine, when the katabatic gusts blow.

Cap’n Fatty and Carolyn Goodlander are sitting out the pandemic aboard their ketch, Ganesh, in Singapore. You can read more about Fatty’s thoughts on dropping the hook in his book Creative Anchoring, available online.

The post Anchoring in Paradise appeared first on Cruising World.