On Final Approach

We’re now less than one hundred miles from Hiva Oa.

In some ways, it doesn’t seem like we’ve been at sea for three full weeks. The boat and her crew have settled into a pretty comfortable routine.  Somewhat surprisingly, neither are showing much evidence of wear and tear.

There are, however, telltale signs of the long passage, beyond having recently clicked past the 3,000-mile mark. For example, the last mango, great fruit and orange were served up for this morning’s breakfast. The search for fresh clothing increasing yields rarely worn items, and the sheets definitely need good washing.  And, our Canadian flag is looking decidedly shabby.

Instead of marking time by how many days we’ve been out, over the past week, we inevitably slid into talking about the number of days, and more recently the hours, remaining. More time is being devoted to looking at books and maps of the island – sussing out where to anchor, check-in, and pick up groceries.

With a population of slightly more that 2,000, aside from sailors crossing the Pacific, Hiva Oa is a pretty out of the way part of the world, and the amenities are likewise limited. It’s main claim fame is an association with two famous artists. The French impressionist painter Paul Gauguin arrived on the island in 1901, and died there two years later. His paintings of south-seas people and landscapes helped define the South Pacific in our western consciousness.

In 1975, Jacques Brel, the incredibly prolific, Francophone super-star singer, writer and actor, sailed to, and settled on, Hiva Oa. Anglos would recognize several of his songs, translations of which became hits in English for other artists. If you’ve never seen him perform, do yourself a favour and google a YouTube performance of his classic song Ne Me Quitte Pas.  Most of the songs on his final, million-selling, album Les Marquises were written on the island. Brel and Gauguin are buried metres apart in the local cemetery.  

We began slowing the boat down yesterday, in order not to arrive in the dark. As luck would have it, the winds have been perfect for fast sailing – 15-20 knots right on the beam. To arrive at daybreak, we’ve had to seriously reduce sail, by putting three reefs in the mainsail and furling in the genoa to about one-quarter of its full area.  So, now Turtlbones is loafing through lumpy seas at a leisurely 6 knots, rather than crashing along at ten knots.    

Shawn will be on watch as the sun rises to reveal the sight of land.  Sharon and I will, no doubt, eagerly pop out of our bunks at his first call of ‘land-ho’. 

After three weeks at sea, the sight and smell of land, and the prospect of exploring a new destination and culture, is exhilarating to contemplate.

Just one more sleep…

Bill