Captain's Blog

Mauritius

2012-01-05T21:09:00.000-08:00

Mauritius is a small country with the population of 1.3 million people of mixed ethnicity. Considered part of Africa, the people are mostly Indian, Muslim and African. They have an interesting history. Although colonized by Britain, everyone speaks French and Creole. Their claim to fame is the Dodo bird. Driven to extinction by the Dutch and their introduction of domestic animals, this plump and awkward bird maintained the survival skills of a cow in a crocodile pit.

Broken Compass arrived in Mauritius at sunset on November 29th. Upon arrival, customs confiscated our arsenal of spear guns. The Marina in Port Louis is entertaining... we are located adjacent to a parking lot from the best shopping mall in Mauritius. Makai spends her time on deck and is by all accounts the only husky to ever set eyes on Mauritius. Mauritius has all the exotic African animals in a zoo... but no husky. More than once we considered charging for pictures as locals and tourists snapped hundreds of shots of the blue eyed wolf dog. In the marina we enjoyed simple luxuries such as hot showers and cold drinks (remember it is summer here in the southern hemisphere).

We moved up to Grand baie for a week of sun, beaches and water sports. Our favorite place in Grand baie was the yacht club. Everyday kids race dinghys across the bay and back. One day we were teaching kids how to play American football and I saw the most amazing sight. The wind formed a small water spout (mini tornado over the water) moving toward the young sailors. The kids screamed. Three boats were tossed and capsized. The event only lasted about a minute. Fortunately none of the kids were injured.

After 2 weeks in Mauritius our pre-departure inspection resulted in a “no-go” verdict. A keystone piece of stainless steel supporting the mast had failed. We procured material and a welder to fabricate a new piece. Killing time in Mauritius is an easy task. We split our time between boat work and entertainment with friends. We visited Flick en Flac in the South, the mountains inland and drove the coastline. With the holidays approaching, we decided to stay and leave with the new year. We met the director an orphanage called Terre De Paix and gifted school supplies and toothbrushes. The toothbrushes were provided by Global Grins, a non-profit improving smiles around the world including to our friends back in Tonga.

After a breathtaking New Year firework demonstration, we are ready to depart. There seem to be a steady string of tropical disturbances and cyclones in the area as we look towards South Africa. This is likely the most dangerous passage of our journey. Pray for moderate wind and calm seas.

Cocos Keeling Islands

2011-12-04T01:29:00.000-08:00

Cocos Islands consist of two atolls in the middle of the Indian Ocean. Coconut trees, white sand beaches, clear blue water, and prospects of fish made the decision to stop an easy one. As a territory of Austrailia, the atoll is protected, resulting in an environment rich in wildlife. Spinner dolphins escorted us into the lagoon and several manta rays joined the welcome party.

We quickly made friends with the crew of Lady Amber, the other yacht who stopped for a diesel top-off during cyclone season. They collect deep ocean current data for the UN. We spent a couple days off the uninhabited Direction Island with crew and the captain, Peter Flannigan. Peter is one of the most wild men I ever encountered. His life story, including death row and lion attacks would humble the most imaginative adventure novels.

When our friends departed, we scoured the other islands for cold drinks and good company. The population of 600 is split 5:1 between the Malay and Aussies. The Malay inhabitants on “Home Island” are strict Muslims and generally kept to themselves. We found what we were looking for on “West Island.” We stumbled upon the Austrailian minority at tailgate next to a shack on the beach known as North Park. Bon fire on the beach and a rapidly declining cooler of beer, every story I heard in North Park involved at least one shark, a trophy fish, or a near death experience (occassionally all three). We were generously welcomed and even made an cameo appearance on the local radio station during our short stay. The area and locals has a rich history, orated at the bar by a descendant of the original Clunies Ross dynasty. The Clunies owned the islands from 1834 until Australia purchased the land in 1978.

Our stop in Cocos quenched our craving for an island fix. Activities included harvesting coconut trees, and exploring underwater via spearfishing. We like to consider ourselves top of the food chain, but find ourselves corrected after a large shark looks up from the depths. They maintain an unnatural ability to hover outside the border of visibility. For our week of spearfishing, we enjoyed the treasures of the reef and shot our share of fish. As a sign of gratitude (mostly curiosity) we tossed the carcasses overboard and emulating the shark divers in Fiji, dove after the fish entrails. Waiting under the boat with scuba gear, up to a dozen reef sharks approached. Reef sharks feature timid personalities, and several simply circled for a couple minutes before the first took a investigative bite. Each shark subsequentially consumed the carcass tearing off a small portion.

After a week of living off the land and a boatload of coconuts, it was time to move on. The trade winds summoned our sails with the promise of fair weather to Mauritius. We decided to sign the “island guest book” before our departure. On several uninhabited islands scattered around the globe, recreational yachtsmen keep various forms of records. On Direction Island, wooden signatures are nailed to coconut trees. Broken Compass left her mark a touch above the rest.

Bali

2011-11-07T23:25:00.000-08:00

Bali
It’s not difficult settling into a place like Bali. We rented motorbikes and explored the land. Makai loves the motorbike, riding up front with her paws on the handlebars. The locals can be creative in how they pack the little motorbikes. We witnessed 5 person families to the casual mobile kitchen. On one occasion we looked like locals sporting two people, surfboards, and backpacks with a dog on the handlebars. It worked fine until Makai apparently had enough. She hit the key to “Stop” with her paw, leaving us immobile on a busy highway.
About 90 minutes north of the anchorage is an area known as Ubud. It is an artist’s dream destination: laid back lifestyle with a variety of talented painters and sculptors. The main attraction is a sacred monkey sanctuary, where the Bandar-log leapt from trees to temples and climb onto visitors who trade the local currency: bananas.
Bali has more than just great surfing. The nightlife is crazy. Sky Garden, the main club, has fire dancing performances and multiple floors of bars and dancing. The down under equivalent to Cancun or Cabo San Lucas, drunken Australians inundate the streets and beaches of Kuta attempting to forget the better part of a short lived vacation.
Bribes in Indonesia are commonplace, especially with the police. During the two months I was stopped 4 times for virtually no reason and paid a ‘ticket’ anywhere from $1.50 to $10.00. Sometimes you have to know when to just pay the “fee” and stop negotiations. I was a couple days late in applying for a visa extension (an illegal immigrant). Accustom to flexible Island life, they were half-way through processing my deportation before I submitted by paying the $100 late fee.
A few days before our departure, a 6.0 earthquake rattled the city of Denpasar damaging several buildings. I talked to a couple locals about the earthquake. Even the elderly said that they have never felt anything like it. According to all our neighbor sailors we have missed the window to cross the Indian Ocean. No wind and Cyclone season is approaching. Just in time for our passage to Coco’s Keeling. Pray for wind.

The Arafura Sea

2011-10-12T03:33:00.000-07:00

The Arafura Sea. This stretch of water between Australia and Indonesia is 40 feet deep for hundreds of miles. Stereotypical of the nearby coast of Australia, the creatures are deadly. Shark sightings were common and appreciated until one decapitated a large tuna leaving only half the head on the hook. Once an old desert now covered in water, we witnessed about a dozen sea snakes over a hundred miles offshore.

Despite the dangers, we did have watchdogs in the air. The Australian sea patrol plane hailed us on the radio, presumably to verify we did not deter from our Bali destination. We did not relay our fishing report which was noteworthy. We caught tuna on request along with one large wahoo weighing 38lbs. Stripped and dried, wahoo yields some pretty tasty jerky.

Days are easily lost out at sea, however, one was celebrated. August 2nd, our (including Makai’s) birthday. We found Makai in California the first week of October; she was eight weeks old at the time. She did not come with a birth certificate so naturally, we fabricated one. She celebrated with the jerky and we ate a chocolate cake. The attendance was lean this year with family and friends to be desire. The wind and sun were guests gifting sail and solar power respectively. The generosity ended with the Arafura Sea.

Entering the Timor Sea, the wind ceased to exist for 5 days. A surprising number of people ask us what we do out at sea when there is no wind. Well… we wait. Most sailors go crazy not moving, we see it a vacation from sailing. Reading books, laying in the sun, watching movies, casting for fish, isn’t a bad way to spend a few days. No wind or swell, the sunsets, sunrises, and stars all seem better. One of the world greatest destinations is the middle of the ocean with no wind, waves, clouds or moon. The stars are so bright they reflect off the water. It is nearly impossible to tell where the reflection ends and sky begins. I imagine is similar to being in space void the view of the earth. It is also quiet... so quiet it takes a little while to get used to it, like being underwater. These rare moments never last forever. The wind revived and whisked us off to Bali.

Pacific to Torres Straight

2011-10-12T02:32:00.000-07:00

It took just over a month to sail from Fiji to Bali. We ghosted by the Vanuatu’s Makura and Mataso Island on a rainy morning and, unfortunately, continued West. Consistent wind and moderate seas, we averaged 135 mile days for the last leg of the Pacific Ocean.

We were looking forward to the Torres Straight after rumors of scattered coral islands, strong current, and congested shipping lanes. With a fair SSE wind, we decided pave our own way. Minding the easterly current kept us out of the shipping lanes we kept our distance from the shipping lanes. We were making great time and life was good until a gale forced us to drop sail a few hours after sunset. Lacking a working jib as a result of an incident in Fiji, we hove to with a reefed mizzen. We drifted slowly towards the shipping lane eight miles away, we felt pretty uncomfortable tuning into the VHF radio for cargo traffic and popping our heads into the gale every five minutes. I took a nap as Chad was on watch knowing it would be a long night. I’m not sure when exactly I woke up. It could have been the noise, but I would like to think I awoke while flying. Either way, my flight crashed landed after only 8 feet. I hit the starboard cabinets while shielding my head from airborne books, laptops, and Chad’s throwing club from Africa (I have to find a new storage place for that). A wave broke over the beam and mizzen sail. I was sure our mizzen mast was gifted to Poseidon. Chad and I looked at each other thinking “Where the hell did that come from?”

Throughout the night, the wind continued to build accompanied by rain as the current graced into the danger shipping zone. Visibility dropped significantly rendering watches all but worthless. Around 3am Chad came down below for a few minutes from his shift and disappeared again out into rain and darkness. “Hit all the lights! Get on the radio! Three hundred foot cargo ship is going to run us over!” is all I heard. Every light we own was on within seconds. I grabbed the radio following protocol by announcing our location off the ship’s port bow, stuttering through rough coordinates and desperately seeking a response. The ship immediately veered to starboard missing us by “a football throw” as Chad so described. 4am I made coffee and blueberry pancakes to shake off the night and start the day off right before the sun lit the sky. By 5am the wind had settled to 30 knots, so we rose a double reefed main slowly pinching upwind.

Late morning we caught the tidal current and favorable wind. We paid our respects to Twin Island as we cruised on past. Records were broken as we hit 12.5 knots through the Prince Wales Channel. I have to attribute at least 5 knots to the current. It felt like sailing down a river as we were swept into the milky green waters of the Arafura Sea. Goodbye Pacific, hello Indian Ocean.

Last Days in Fiji

2011-07-11T12:37:00.000-07:00

The west side of Fiji is beautiful. We grabbed a mooring ball in port Denerau and scheduled to haul out Broken Compass (This is the first time we have taken her out of the water since purchasing her). As waves of tourists and honeymooners passed through the marina in transit to the outer islands, we shifted to work mode. The bottom was caked with a half-inch layer of algae and barnacles... No wonder we have been sailing slow. Our rudder had her own issues. Unbeknownst to us, she was harboring a worm, who had eaten its way through the wood. With a piece of wire, we traced and ended the path of the worm. The list of repairs grew with every nut inspected. BC turned into a chemistry lab with mixtures of epoxy, paint, hardeners, thinners, cleaners and resin. Potential hazards and breakdowns were eliminated one by one until Broken Compass splashed 2 weeks later with a new colors.

Joining the ranks of cruising yachts, we motor/sailed to Musket Cove. They call Musket Cove “The vortex” due to the world class surf and island comforts that can trap sailors for years. We hooked up with our friend Mark, captain of Northfork, and hit the reefs. Spending over a year in the islands, dinner by spear was like picking from the menu of a seafood restaurant. After a couple days we sailed to Lautoka, pulling ourselves from our friends and the vortex. All aspects of our sea trial seemed perfect until the new clutch on our recently rebuilt starter made a grinding noise and snapped. Replaced once again and Fiji astern, we are off for Bali. Estimated trip time is 36 days crossing the Coral Sea, Torres Strait, Arafura Sea, and Timor Sea.

Pray for wind!

Sail to Nadi

2011-06-30T02:29:00.000-07:00

Continuing to rely solely on the wind, all of our sails take longer than expected. The first few hours down the southern coast were pleasant with following wind and seas. We decided to take a short cut through Beqa passage close to where we went shark diving the previous month. Short cuts typically increase risk. Well, the wind switched then died, leaving us in the middle of the passage. It returned heavy on the nose with rain. Due to our limited navigation equipment coupled with Fiji's reputation for shipwrecks, it was a little unsettling sailing along the coast on a moonless night. The abundance of reef patches and strong currents running through the passage gave the night some flavor.

The next evening we hooked into a tuna. We were a little out of practice. I saw the rod bend and per procedure, screamed, “Fish!!!” Chad flew on deck from a nap, realized it was dark, and bombed down below to retrieve a headlamp. I had left the helm to work the fish and the boat self tacked back over the line, causing it to tangle under the boat. Rigging, sails, solar panels, Firefox, and Makai all posed unique challenges to the procurement of this fish. I pulled it alongside before we remembered our gaffe deficiency. No problem, wire leader... just haul it up when the boat heels over. One... two... wait... three! The fish came aboard surprisingly well with the motion of the boat. A little too well. I stepped aside to watch Chad trip over the cooler while bear hugging a 45 pound yellow fin tuna. As they landed, one of the treble hooks caught Chad's calf, further connecting him to the fish.

I dove below to the tool box and after two unsuccessful attempts with wire cutters and pliers, grabbed the bolt cutters. In all my life, I have never seen a landed fish so calm. Chad sat quietly with him, knowing a crazed tuna would cause a few deep lacerations in his leg. The bolt cutters worked just before the fish began his final flipping fit.

The next morning we positioned ourselves to sail upwind through Navula Passage. We were sailing confidently through with plenty of wind, then a loud cracking noise followed by a splash. The jib sail along with the entire forestay/roller furling system ripped out of the mast and fell in the water. We lashed the sail and hardware alongside as we limped on the mizzen and a double reefed main. Threading breaking waves on either side of the pass added to the excitement. We anchored for the evening in Momi Bay to assess the damage in and devour some yellow fin. The next day, with fairer winds, we continued up to Port Denarau to haul the boat out of the water for some much needed repairs.

Suva

2011-06-30T01:50:00.000-07:00

It took us three (more) long weeks to realize Suva is the unlucky side of Fiji. It rained almost every day we were anchored, and if something on the boat wasn't broken, it happened there. Our outboard engine took another 2 week vacation after the starter coil burned out.

The toilet joined the outboard, leaving us scrambling to find specialized parts.

Our engine led us through the fuel system to the injectors to the timing back to the injectors to end ironically with the clutch of our brand new starter breaking due to a manufacturing defect. We discovered sending a new starter to Fiji is equivalent to purchasing a round trip ticket. We were left searching truck graveyards of Fiji.

Breakdowns are not uncommon in Suva. One not need look far to see wrecks and remains of boats around the harbor. The frequent sinking of boats and close calls discussed over Fiji Bitters at the Royal Suva Yacht Club were a strong omen to leave. One of our friends, Troutbridge, hit the reef coming in the Suva harbor. His boat was stuck on the reef for over two weeks. We departed shortly thereafter.

All mishaps aside, Suva is a fun city. The people stop you in the street just to talk to you, and there are a lot of great bars and clubs. We made many friends quickly and enjoyed the simplicity of the Fijian lifestyle. We were picked up by a couple cute Fijian girls at a bar and found ourselves playing squash at the university and learning local agricultural techniques for fish and prawn farming. Tired of the rain, we picked up the anchor to head over to the Western side for some sun.

Fiji

2011-06-27T22:03:00.000-07:00

The trip to Fiji provided a nice variety of wind, squalls and calm sunny days. We had a full crew including Mike Foley and our little Brother, Tyler. The absence of consistent wind delt a delayed arrival to Fiji unfortunately missing Tyler's flight back to LA. We landed in Suva, the capital of Fiji. The capital is not like the brochures. There are no beaches, blue water or tourists. We spent a couple days at the Royal Suva Yacht club fixing the Tahatsu from her swim a couple weeks prior. We searched for a better location to entertain Liz and Ann Marie who would fly in to meet us in a couple days. Pacific Harbor became an immediate appeal when it advertised the "Adventure Capital of Fiji." We do not typically find ourselves allured by guided tours, however Pacific Harbor became an exception. We geared up in scuba equipment and decended to 70 feet underwater where trained professionals fed giant sharks. The sharks and pelagic fish were incredible. The fish comprised of tuna, trevally, and red snapper frenzy over fish carcass scraps. The sharks on the other hand, are more coy. The larger sharks move slowly with grace and power, like kings of the ocean. They carefully selected their meals and inhaled tuna heads in a single bite. During the dive we saw up to 12 foot bull and lemon sharks. It was an unforgettable experience.

We took a side trip to an isolated beach where Makai could release some energy. Similar to the other islands we attempted sneak her to remote places. This plan never works. Taking Makai to land is like to taking Nemo through an elementary school. Exotic creatures never go unnoticed. She found her peer group quickly and ran around with the kids of a local police officer named Osea. Osea, like many other Fijians, looks and holds himself like a warrior. His interrogation was inquisitive more than threatening and we enjoyed lunch with his family. We quickly became good friends and spent the following day, sitting in a circle eating and drinking kava for hours.

After a couple days in Pacific Harbor we sailed to an island called Beqa. Beqa is known for walking on fire and their supernatural ability to heal burn wounds by touch. It is customary to take Kava to the chief for permission to stay in the village. Although we would sleep in the boat, Kava opens doors. After presenting the Kava, the village decided to throw Mike a birthday party. Mike's Birthday started early with wake boarding under the stars at 3am. Sleep was optional and we all joined the village at a nearby beach for game day. The men provided lunch via spear. The women thatched and made the fire. The kids played and climbed coconut trees. We were encouraged to join the kids and happily obliged, drowning ourselves in coconut water.

The sail back to Suva was difficult with no wind or head winds. Firefox took a detour half way to obtain extra petrol in order to connect Mike with his departure flight. In Suva the plan is to outfit Broken Compass for a successful 40 day trek over to Bali.

Snow Dog in Tonga

2011-05-04T17:08:00.000-07:00

We landed on another island. All these islands look the same in the south pacific. I was just happy to see land. Tonga is a little different. Christian missionaries abolished cannibalism among people but there were never missionaries for dogs. In Tonga, people eat dog and dogs eat everything. Tonga is one dangerous place! I have heard a couple jokes about being thrown in the umu (an underground oven) but no one made a move on me. The boys scored us a sweet island gig. I can now run, roam, swim, and sleep on the beach all I want. I have an island all to myself… well, almost all to myself.

Honyo. Honyo is a Tongan dog on the island. After miles at sea and always on the move, I was happy to have a friend to play with and settle down. She had other plans and was not very welcoming. Some days we could run and play together, but when dinner time arrived tempers stirred. We exchanged in a couple of scuffles, which were always quickly ended by the boys. Some fights went better than others. Although we did not end best friends, Honyo taught me a one valuable lesson: Never turn your back on a hungry dog.

Aside from the complicated relationship with the Honyo, we have had a couple adventures. An average day involves exploration and the procurement food. This includes wild coconuts, bread fruit and fish. The boys caught sardines in nets and went underwater for the bigger ones. I always worry a little when they disappear under the water and am equally excited when they return to the surface. One day we tried something new. The boys took me out to go pig hunting with a bow and arrow. I have no idea how to hunt pigs! We made it about 50 human paces into the forest when I heard a noise. I chased it listening to my wolf instincts and ignoring the boys' request to return. I found the source to be a wild chicken. This I can handle. I caught it and brought it home so the boys could cook it up. At least one of us caught dinner and it was delicious.

For want of a Snapper

2011-04-28T16:15:00.000-07:00

Fishing has become a large part of our daily activity in the past year and a half. On Eueiki island, we spear our food almost every evening. This evening we wanted a particular fish: the red snapper. These have been most difficult to shoot, as they are the predators preying on reef fish that wander into deeper water. We divided our strategy with Chad and Allistair fishing and myself and Tyler spearfishing. The ocean was rough that evening by our standards (we later found out it was the result of a cyclone a few hundred miles away). I considered the lee shore of the island, but Chad reminded me the snapper were more abundant on the south reef of Euakafa, the island two miles to the west. When there are fish, safety slips from the mind like the hazy memory of a budget after a few drinks at the bar.

Tyler and I donned our gear, and hopped off the dinghy (Firefox). After a few dives, Tyler surfaced with a small chub. Chad and Allistair stayed away from the reef in white-capped open water. Calming myself in the excited water, I took a deep breath and performed a quick duck dive. Descending to fifty feet I clutched a piece of dead coral to stabilize myself against the strong current. Five red snapper swam in my direction and stopped. After what seemed like a debate to continue, the brave one entered my range and I squeezed the trigger. The spear pierced through both gill plates and I surfaced calling for Chad to pull around the boat.

Conditions seemed to have worsened during the below water time. Chad approached and a wave pushed the boat over me. Thankfully, Chad had put the engine in neutral, preventing the propeller from blending my left abdomen. This act unfortunately caused the engine to stall as it drifted swiftly towards the reef. In between swells I saw a six foot breaking wave lift the back of Firefox and throw Chad and Allistair into the air. Paddles, fishing rods, fish, a bucket, masks, snorkels, and spear guns scattered across the ten foot deep reef as waves continued to crash over the boat. I quickly tied the fish (still in my hands attached to the gun) to a large piece of coral underwater. After a difficult time righting the boat Tyler and I became rescue divers scouring the reef for lost equipment an amazingly recovering all except for the paddles and a bucket.

Having been submerged, the engine became non-functioning. Tyler, Chad and I swam Firefox against the wind, waves, and current to a relatively sheltered area on the outside of the reef and weighed our options. The sun was down and the decision to stay anchored through the night quickly became our best option. The largest concern was our Mother and Mike still being on the island and not knowing our location or situation.

It was a long, cold, sleepless night out with 4 people crammed in a 14 foot inflatable boat. Every ten minutes a wave would crash over the bow drenching our shirtless bodies. When the frequent squalls blew through, we developed a shelter system with four fins acting as shields. We shot a spear out as a secondary anchor in the event our primary failed (fortunately it did not).

Early the next morning, Chad and Tyler put on our squall shields and swam the mile and a half to Eueiki across “Shark Alley,” known for having large sharks. Walking up the beach, then casually greeted Mike and our Mom. The time was around 6:30AM, right before a meeting took place in the main town to coordinate a search and rescue party. Some local friends came out to tow our boat back to the island through rough seas. After the rescue, Captain Ongo, a speaking chief and owner of the uninhabited island we spent the night off of just smiled as he watched me unload the last item on our boat. In my hands I held a 10 pound red snapper.

Taste of Tonga

2011-04-28T15:58:00.000-07:00

Our good friend Mike Foley just left the Broken Compass after visiting for over a month. When we have friends visit we make very few promises, except that their time on the boat will be “an experience.”

(Mike's first fish by spear)

One of the first nights on the island a dog fight broke out. Chad and I flew from the dinner table to break it as he grabbed Makai, and myself onto the island dog, Honyo. Teeth were in a shark like frenzy when I grabbed Honyo's cheeks to pull her off. I held Honyo from clamping down on Makai's neck, which freed Makai to take another bite at Honyo. Makai's white fangs disappeared into my wrist and slid out effortlessly. The fight stopped immediately and I slowly walked back to the kitchen to receive “Island doctoring” which consists of a medicine tree and Chad's suturing.

Life on the island settled down a bit and we watched a movie and went to bed early one night. Chad moved out to the dock. The dock is an ideal spot on hot nights with the cooling ocean breeze. Taking in the thousands of stars overhead keep you up for a few minutes, until the gentle sounds of waves on the coral beach induces sleep. Little did we know, halfway across the pacific the devastating tsunami hit Japan. A Tongan friend named Sione motored his little outboard boat 5 miles that night to warn us of the coming wave. We quickly gathered a few belongings, expecting the island to be submerged in the next couple hours. We sailed the remaining hours in the dark to a safer harbor, only able to hope for the best. Luckily, only a few boats in Tonga were damaged from abnormal tidal surges, marked by bouys to the harbor being torn out of the ground.

The following day we were invited by a Tongan friend to celebrate the harvesting of yams. We headed off to the rough village of Pangi. Removing yams from the earth is not an easy task. A spade is used to clear an area around the yam, which is vertically buried up to 4 feet deep. Each foot long yam took us about 20 minutes, while the larger expensive yams were reserved for the most experienced farmers. The afternoon was rounded with a beach party where we watched the water level rise and fall as a result of earthquake aftershocks.

Back to the village to finish the yam harvesting festival, we ate fish and yams. Kava, a drink mixture from a local root followed dinner. Accepting an invitation to sleep in the village, we were all sardined into position, and with my feet inches from the father's face. The following morning our surrogate mother dressed us in traditional church clothes in my first church attendance since arriving in the Pacific. The invitation continued into the afternoon as we ate pig along with more yams and a taro leaf dish. We lazily lounged on Ano beach after the feast, absorbing the sun and swatting at mosquitoes.

Tonga II

2011-03-16T14:21:00.000-07:00

Tonga has been treating us well. Since arriving, we found a job that we had no idea actually existed: Island sitting. Back in the cubical days, I used to set up a desktop background of island views with white sand beaches and turquoise waters. Now I just look up past the screen:

A good life is one that’s shared, so we arranged a steady stream of visitors from all over the world to come visit us on our private island. If we didn’t have the goal of sailing around the world, a career as a Tongan tour guide would be right up our alley. Kayaking, fishing, spearfishing, wakeboarding, snorkeling, scuba diving, cave exploring, island hikes, beach bon fires, fire dancing, coconut opening, and pig hunting with friends have kept us busy.

It is difficult to blog when life moves entirely too fast, so I’ll just post a couple pictures with captions…

Showing Christina how to scale a snapper.

Christin carving on the wakeboard in front of Eueiki.

Exploring the outer island of Lau ui vaha after a long canoe paddle.

Getting PADI Open Water Certification with Sejal at Port Maurelle.

Throwing a party for some friends who are teaching at the local schools through Peace Corp.

Chad fishing on Euakafa, the island Survivor was considering for their next season.

We've been eating pretty well on a fish diet.

2011-03-04T11:10:00.000-08:00

We had a boat full (13 large boxes) of Christmas presents for the kids here in Tonga. So yes... we were Santa Claus. A little background. Thrifty Americans living abroad send packages to American Samoa and find yachts to sail them to Tonga to avoid hefty shipping charges. So we were postal carriers arriving 2 days before Christmas. Since everyone loves Santa, we made friends quickly and were invited to a Christmas party hosted by the owners of a local resturant.

Tonga created their own time zone which puts them first in the world to celebrate the coming of the New Year. We celebrated at a local bar called “The Mermaid.” The scene at a bar is more similar to a high school dance where bootlegged booze is consumed and boys and girls stand on opposite ends of the dance floor. We were lucky enough to not only enjoy Tongan and American New Year traditions but also a Norwegian leg of dried lamb called Fenalar which was snuck past airport officials by a Norwegian girl with one heck of a smile.

Enter Elisabeth. We met Elisabeth several months ago in French Polynesia. She is an amazing free-diver and cook. Two good assets on a sailboat in the south pacific. During Elisabeth's three week visit we sailed to some of the pristine beaches in Vavau island group, anchoring off several reefs and successfully spearing fish for dinner each evening. We also visited one of Vavau two popular caves, mariners cave, which has an underwater entrance into a misty cave perfect for a aquaman hideout. All good things must come to an end and Elisabeth flew home to her Architecture firm in Norway.

With the low season in full swing the entire island group is open for our exploration. Threat of cyclones keep people away and us here until late March. Until then, we'll hone our inter-island sailing and diving skills checking out what the Vavau group has to offer. Visitors from all over the states are lined up over the next couple weeks before Bret and I raise our sails and continue the journey west.

Tonga Sail

2011-01-29T13:39:00.000-08:00

We rode down to Tonga on a string of squalls. Each dark grouping of clouds came with mixed feelings. Without them we made almost no headway due to lack of wind. Unfortunately wind's buddy, Rain, always tagged along for the ride. Beyond the constant adjustments of the sails, it is typically not bad sailing three days with wet weather. The challenge came when there was a noxious leak below the cabin. We quickly became nauseous and couldn't figure whether it was a propane leak, fuel leak, or a punctured can of paint, epoxy, or resin in the v-berth. Concerned about propane, Chad closed the valves. Unable to ventilate the cabin due to the continuous rain, we didn't have hot food for two days. Cold, wet, and sleepless, the cabin became an attractive alternative until 15 minutes later we retreated to the rain with pounding headaches. Once I came back out and vomited over the railing ranting that I was not seasick (for record's sake) and cursed our toxic cabin.

We had no natural concept of time for three days as the dark clouds covered both moon and sun. On day four, the rain resided, the sun emerged, and the wind died. We were able to open the hatches and found our three day nemesis, a half-gallon sized can of acetone lay empty under scores of ropes, tools and sails in the v-berth. It never felt so good with no wind at sea. 20 miles north of Vavau island, wearing dry clothes, eating hot food, and playing backgammon in the sun was bliss.

The next day we were hit head on with a 40+ knot squall as we tacked up into the island group. Entering the Neiafu harbor, our friend, Elisabeth, who had flown from Norway called on the radio. After her three days of flights to Tonga traveling half way across the world, somehow the South Pacific winds brought us to the same place within 15 minutes of each other. Talk about timing!

Farewell to Pago Pago

2011-01-19T18:44:00.000-08:00

Bret headed back on a whirlwind US and Mexico tour as Makai and I manned the boat. The "rainy season" is aptly named, but did not deter several excursions and island tours. Two palangi teine's (white girls) named Christin and Alice were companions and tour guides for the island. We went kayaking in Pala Lagoon, a marshland that looks as though it was transplanted from the Florida everglades. There is a beautiful hike and protected area called Palangi beach on the west side with a good break for surfing. “Sliding Rocks” has tidal pools where we lounged for hours drinking Vailima (local beer) until sunset.

We caught barracuda, trevally, tuna, and a native worm called Pololo. Pololo is the caviar of Samoa. They emerge one night every year from the coral to be caught by eager fishermen. I took a couple trips on a local samoan boat. The harvest was poor this year, but it didn't slow down the laughter and drinking, which continues well into the morning.

There is a bar/dance club called Oceans which opened across the street from the Marina. The managers, E and Vanessa, are the kindest samoans I met “on island.” I spent several nights exchanging stories and learning Samoan traditions, business, and political practices on the island. Another friend and qualified mechanic helped install the engine we shipped from Minnesota. The engine was damaged in transit and we ended up building the current one from scratch (or just the short block). As we leave Samoa for Tonga the engine still does not work (we just shipped a new starter). We are pressed for time to meet a friend from Norway who is flying to Tonga to for Christmas. So we will leave for Tonga in typical Broken Compass fashion... 325 miles, No engine, no wind, no autopilot and one week until Christmas. Pray for wind!

Brief visit home

2011-01-12T20:34:00.000-08:00

With the Broken Compass safely docked in Pago Pago, I booked a flight to Mexico. The plan: Cousin's wedding in Mexico, fly home to Pennsylvania to visit family/friends, and source supplies back to the boat.

I stopped in Phoenix for a 3 days layover only to experience slight culture shock out at the Scottsdale bars. Dressed in nothing but board shorts while sharing $5 bottles of rum for the past year, flashy outfits and dozens of people pushing each other for $10 drinks was a bit of a change. Fortunately, the wedding was held in Puerto Vallarta, providing a more subtle transition as I was able to revisit places we sailed almost a year prior. Sitting on the beach viewing the vastness of the Pacific ocean, I thought of our 34 day crossing and all the islands thousands of miles westward.

Albeit a home warming welcome, Pennsylvania in November is incomparable to the tropical sun of the south pacific. I visited friends, family, and began preparations to head back to the boat when Chad informed me the replacement of our engine was a more practical alternative than fixing the old one. Purchasing a new engine and shipping it on a freighter took another 5 weeks and I found myself staying in Pennsylvania through Thanksgiving and spending time in an office in the interim.

Having returned to the States, it gives our journey perspective. Running around with a car, phone, iPad and the ubiquitous “virtual connectivity” to everyone is vastly different than life at sea. It leads me to question: Which is “the real world?” Emails, facebook, texts, and phone calls begin to be a lot to manage.

On my flight back to Pago Pago, I spent a few days in Portland Oregon visiting friends and stopping by my old office. Although it was great to see former co-workers, the old cube confirmed my decision to sail. The endless opportunities of the sea and excitement of the next island seem to polarize the spacial confines of a cubical. A two day layover to see a best friend from high school and watch the Pipeline surfing competition and I am on my way back. There is one thing I know for certain: The Broken Compass, clear blue waters and Makai eagerly await my return.

-Bret

Snow Dog in Samoa

2011-01-12T19:51:00.000-08:00

Samoa is like the wild west for dogs. Unlike my overprotective owners, dogs run free and patrol their territory in packs. We had several encounters during our morning runs, however I was on a leash and I just watched as Chad defended us with rocks. One day I was determined to meet these dogs who lived without rules or leashes. I untied my rope and jumped off the boat to the dock. I was free! I did not run far before I found my friend, Nancy. She is a female about my size and she comes by each evening to tease me at the end of my leash. Now it was my turn. I was batting her around outside the Marina when suddenly I was grabbed and thrown in a pickup truck. I did not know the owner of the truck, nor where we were going, but I was on an adventure! A little over a mile later, the Samoan started to creep me out, so I jumped out to explore downtown Pago.

Then I saw them: a pack of stray dogs whom I wanted to befriend. To my surprise, they were not as excited to see me. The group of 8 ran towards me barking, angry, and with bad intention. I retreated. Fortunately they are all much slower, so I would run, wait, then run again. I finally took refuge in a white pickup truck with an open door. Exhausted, I laid in the back hoping he would just take me home. He didn't. First he tried to poke me with a stick. I ignored him because I was to tired to play games. He said his name was James and he would take me home. Perfect, I thought. On hour later we arrived at a house in the middle of the woods. This is not good. I couldn't sleep or eat. I was scared and whined all night. The next morning I was back in the pick-up truck with a little boy. Kids seem to understand me much better than older people. I licked him, he laughed and smiled. A short ride later I was back on the Broken Compass. I thanked the boy and went to catch up on some much needed sleep.

In the following weeks. We went on hikes, kayak tours, boat rides, swims and car rides. I love car rides.

I met some of the nicer dogs on the island and found that one on one, I have not found my match. Speaking of matches though, I met a couple boys when Chad left the boat one day. I jumped off to play. They seemed to want something else. I went along with what they called mating. I waited for them to come back the next day, but Chad took me on a car ride instead. I love car rides. We stopped and all I remember is a man came in the car, poked me in the butt with a needle. I woke up with a purple belly, 8 stitches and unable to walk. I think I was drugged and cut open. Either way, I don't want to try that mating thing anymore.

So American Samoa was exciting. Living next to land was bliss and playing with all the stray dogs was definately a highlight. I hear we are headed to Tonga next. The other dogs told me to watch out because people eat dogs in Tonga. I simply told them I am Makai, a siberian husky traveling the world and not even dog eating Tongans will stop me from completing my journey.

-Makai

Magic Hour

2011-01-09T17:10:00.000-08:00

Typically the hour between sunset and darkness is filled with treasures. The views are beautiful with an assortment of colors painted across the horizon. It is also a time to squeeze in everything you forgot to do during the day. Today was no different and spearfishing was the neglected activity. Let me start by saying spearfishing is a dangerous sport. There are many ways to be killed, led by the possibility of drowning. We were solicited by a cute British girl named Alice to catch dinner off a reef close to her house. She played our ego. There were red flags everywhere. I heard a coastguard mention it was the roughest seas he has ever seen off the coast, It was high tide, we were in unfamiliar waters, there was no rescue boat, I was wearing my back-up fins (shorter and torn), but we went anyway. Swimming a quarter mile to the breakwater, I remember thinking... “damn this is far... even if I did shoot a fish, it is a long swim back and the sharks would more than likely take my dinner.” We had heard stories of 12-14 foot hammerheads in the area and over 10ft tiger sharks. Either way, I figured we may see some good fish and it's always worth checking out. We approached the edge of the reef and the rip seemed strong. I turned to Bret who was following Alice. “Rip is pretty strong,” I said. “Yup” was his response with a slight smirk. We figured this Alice girl might want to turn around but she started looking at us as if we should have already shot a fish. I thought... Damn, Ok, big fish are in deep water. I took a dive and scanned for a trough. Nothing. This sucks... Alright, where did those two go? I thought I could hunt right on the edge of reef where it dropped off into deep water. The strong current would also attract big fish. I creaped to the edge and dove. The current was 6-7 knots screaming out to sea (surfers call it a riptide) I went down and was sucked into the deep water. I held onto a big chunk of reef on the bottom and it broke off with the pressure. I was flying out to sea underwater. Kicking hard, one of my cheap fins purchased in Mexico ripped at the foot. Alright, this is bad. One fin, being pulled out to sea... what are my options. There are many reactions when a person faces a life threatening situation. Panic and immobility are the most popular. I must have been blessed with a lower IQ than normal, because I seem to process slowly in these situations. Drop the gun and swim for it was my first thought. No, darkness is quickly approaching and this gun is my only protection. It can also act as an anchor with 200ft of nylon rode. Keep the gun. I was already 200 yards from the chunk of reef that ripped off and disoriented. Which way do I swim? Hmm... Ok, we swam out the channel... that's the deepest water, rips take swimmers straight out, swim toward shallow water and less current, but parallel to land to escape the rip. I swam hard but paced myself. The last thing I wanted was to be exhausted and floating out to sea, see an opportunity and not have the energy to go for it. The opportunity did arise. A finger of reef stuck out and I found bottom again. With a shot fin, I could not swim fast. I dove and held onto the bottom and as the tide surged I made my way forward. First by only a couple feet after each dive and re-surface but the distance improved as the depth reduced. Back on the reef, I saw Bret and Alice. They chose not to explore the riptide and were content swimming in the breakers. Alice looked worried but Bret appeared undaunted as he swam closer. "Nice current" he greeted between sets as we were still being pummeled by waves. "Yup", I replied.

American Samoa

2010-11-23T17:42:00.001-08:00

We have developed a reputation for cruising the pacific under sail without assistance, and Pago Pago (hopefully) was our final challenge. Our entrance into the harbor was text book. The lee shore anchorage boasted 25 knots of breeze, intermittent squalls and poor holding. We rounded a moored fishing trawler gracefully maneuvering the boat upwind to deploy the anchor. Anchor down and sails under control, we drifted back to set the anchor. Executed beautifully, there was only one catch (or lack thereof): the boat kept drifting.

We re-engaged the jib, sailing on a backwards drift and tactfully dodged 3 other boats. 230 ft of chain on anchor #1 and 180ft of chain/1" nylon rode on anchor #2 finally settled us into 20 feet of water as the hook caught an unmarked mooring line. We ended up dragging ¾ of the way across the anchorage. All of the other sailors are still unsure of whether the Broken Compass is crewed by luck or skill (sometimes we are not quite sure ourselves). Whichever the case, they presented us with a coconut award for surviving yet again. The boat is now berthed safely in the Pago Pago marina as shown:

Pago Pago harbor is in American Samoa, which is a territory of United States. What this means is they have the same government set-up and congressional representation (although they do not vote in Washington DC). The government here is extremely corrupt. They receive over $300 million annually in subsidies from the US government which is disappears amongst the various organizations. The island is far from paradise. Besides offshore tuna, reef, and the occational friendly turtle, American Samoa traded clear water and marine life for industry and plastic. Trash and pollution are just a way of life.

The NFL linebacker breeding ground reputation has been confirmed: they are HUGE! The people here have coined a phrase, "Eat like a Samoan." McDonalds even packs on extra beef patties to the double quarter pounder because supersizing is not enough. Corruption, pollution and size aside; Samoans are generally a carefree and welcoming people.

The 11 mile island offers mountainous terrain surrounded by coral reefs. There are a few good hikes which we explored in the first two weeks. Makai particularly enjoys chasing mice, geckos and the invasive king toads on the shaded paths. The majority of the land is privately held by villages which limits exploration of the island. We were deterred from one path by two men with shotguns who not so politely informed us we were trespassing.

We have spent a lot of time mingling and saying farewell to friends we accumulated throughout the pacific. Our main project here is to fix the engine which hasn't worked for 8 months now. Bret is flying to Mexico for a cousin's wedding. He will continue to Pennsylvania to visit family and friends. I will work on the boat with Makai to overhaul our rusted diesel engine (wish me luck!).

Suwarrow

2010-10-18T12:48:00.000-07:00

After leaving from Bora Bora we decided to stop at an island along the way. We had heard of an isolated atoll called Suwarrow. Famously described in Tom Neale's book "An Island to Oneself," the atoll appealed to the secluded live off the land lifestyle we had been seeking. Currently two rangers manage the area, which is now a territory of New Zealand. We pulled into the anchorage to see several familiar yachts, friends, and two big men placed to oversee the island. Apii and James are not your typical park rangers. They were placed 6 months prior for a 9 month contract to survive, prevent poaching, and collect dues from visiting yachts. They take people out spearfishing and organize potlucks for all of the visiting yachts.

With plans of a two day visit, we ended up spending two weeks. Survival on an island like Suwarrow is not difficult. There are coconuts, coconut crabs, lobster and every type of fish imaginable. We took group coconut crab and lobster hunting trips. Thick brush, swarms of wasps, and big claws protect the delicious coconut crabs. The lucky few returned with hunting souvenirs from the wasps...
At least the hunters were able to eat an incredible meal...

Apii taught many survival skills and we taught him a little something about spearfishing. He knew the same man, Fernando Faura whom we had spent three weeks with in Manihi (nearly 1500 miles away) learning how to spearfish. In Fernando's prime, he was one of the best divers and spearfisherman renowned throughout French Polynesia. Life in Suwarrow is simple but rewarding. With a friend from a boat called Nikita, we established a bridge club on the island to pass by squally afternoons. We went spearfishing when we needed food. Similar to a seafood menu, we had our choice of any fish we cared for but never took more than we could eat. The visibily of the water ranged from 60-100 feet and we reached new depths diving. The only threat were the sharks who always attacked the opportunity for a free meal or wounded fish on a spear. Sharks including white and black tip reef sharks along with greys generally ranging from 3-6 feet long. I counted 12 sharks surrounding our boat one afternoon after catching a trevally on rod and reel. Afternoons and evenings were typically spend trading stories and thoughts about sailing and life. One evening while planning a potluck, Apii decided we should go for lobster on the other side of the reef (4 miles away). We had to time the tide correctly, so the best time to hunt would be midnight. We set up camp including a tarp to sleep on and a pot spread on two rocks over a firepit. We watched the stars under a clear sky and waited until the tide went out, leaving the boat up on the rocks. We hunted tide pools armed with headlights, gloves and one machette. The gloves were for the spiny lobster and the machette was used for fish sleeping in the pools. Our take for the night was 25 lobster (3 nearly 2 feet long), 4 parrotfish, 3 grouper, 3 squirel fish, and 1 red snapper. We cooked 5 lobster for the two of us back at the campsite at 2am and contributed the remaining take for a party the following night. Suwarrow is a magical island, but one can't stay in paradise forever. We are off to give Broken Compass a little love in Pago Pago, American Samoa and see if she can ride out the cyclone season.

Bora Bora

2010-09-20T20:28:00.000-07:00

We were welcomed into Bora Bora by 20 knot head winds supplimented with 3 knots of current through the pass. Darkness falling quickly, Bret and I tested our sailing skills tacking up through the pass to find safe anchorage in 80 feet of water. Bora Bora is geographically superior to the other islands we have visited. The main island has two peaks with the largest called Mt. Otemanu reaching 727 meters or 2,399 feet . There are dozens of smaller islands called Motu's scattered within the circular reef surrounding Bora Bora. The clear blue lagoon is calm with several resort vacation bungaloos clustered along the coastline. Tourism is the main source of revenue for the island and the locals are not as easily approachable as in other places in French Polynesia. As a result, we have spent a majority of our time socializing with other cruisers. We celebrated our joint birthday by snorkling, spearfishing, and enjoying a freshly speared octupus coupled with sunset drinks on a catamaran called African Innovation. Spearfishing various reefs on the island is a daily activity. The underwater life is lush and we swam with numerous lemon sharks patroling the outer reef (the largest exceeding 10 feet). Another day we circumnavigated the island with two other dingy's to dive with manta rays, snorkle various reefs with pit stops at distinguished bars along the waterfront. We hiked the second highest peak called Mt. Pahia with a group of friends (the highest peak requires rock climbing gear with no identifiable trail). Makai joined us for the hike and gave us a real scare when she catapolted off a 12 foot cliff. She miscalculated her trajectory and the landing left her clinging for her life on the edge of the trail. One long pull-up later with her two front paws and she was sitting looking at us wondering why we were taking so long. Bret and I are enjoying our time in Bora Bora and plan on spending another 10 days here to explore the north side of the island. After our stay here, we plan on island hopping the 1,100 mile jump to Samoa where we plan on catching up on boat work and perhaps installing a few luxuries such as an engine.

Moorea to Bora Bora

2010-08-12T16:02:00.000-07:00

It is a short sail from Tahiti to Moorea with an easy entrance through the pass into Opunohu Bay. Boat bound in Tahiti, Makai had the chance to run and explore land. She met a few local children who enjoyed showing her how to dig holes. Our newly functioning outboard was perfect for bombing around the lagoon in search of fish. Despite local lessons, we continue to eat lightly on spearfishing days. When hungry, we make sure to carry the fishing tackle in which we were raised. We took a few of the speared reef fish to a sandbar known as "Stingray world." In most social circumstances it is a bad idea to fragrance yourself with fish guts (especially when visiting stingrays and sharks). One rare exception is stingray world, where the rays glide all over your body attracted to the smell. The reef sharks are less gregarious and circle from a close distance. On the dinghy ride back from the sandbar we stopped to dive with tikis (an activity we heard down the cruising grapevine). In the 1800's, European missionaries took great effort to abolish ancient Tahitian relics and statues which were not consistent with Christianity. Some locals in Moorea secretly carried huge stone statues and threw them into the lagoon waters about half a mile from shore. The tiki statues continue to lay at the bottom of the lagoon and the dive is a powerful experience.

We left Moorea with expectations of a blow strong enough to leave most yachts in safe waters on the hook (anchor). Pulling anchor before sunset we made it out of the lagoon in time to see the dark clouds make their approach. The wet and rocking nightshifts were all worth it when we simultaneously hooked into two mahi mahi the next morning. Chad reeled in and self gaffed the female while I battled with the much larger bull. Chad then gaffed the male and 'landed' him in the boat. Somehow the monster flipped out of the boat to swim away with his other waiting mistresses. The struggle ended with blood on the sails and a red splatter faced Makai wrestling with the 4 foot female in the cockpit.

Tahiti

2010-07-30T20:26:00.000-07:00

We arrived in Tahiti after breaking sailing records on the Broken Compass. We traveled 280 miles in 45 hours. We kept up with a far superior catamaran called Hasta la Vista for the passage and they generously towed us into the harbor in return for freediving 65 feet to save their anchor in Manihi. Tahiti truly is a paradise. Despite the boat traffic and booming industry, the harbor boasts clear water and 50 foot visibility. We dove two boat wrecks and a plane crash site blanketed by small reef fish. We have been enjoying the luxuries of a real city and spending time with the crew on Mega Yachts has expanded our repertoire of toys. There is a shoal with 3 feet of water where boats gather on a daily basis to play music, games and enjoy sunsets called the sand bar. Makai is quarantined from stepping on land, but the sand bar is her oyster. She is the most popular dog on the reef and she introduced us to dozens of new people. Included in these introductions were professional Heiva dancers. Tahiti demonstrates strong customs and traditions. One of the more noticeable customs is that the local girls do not wear the same amount of clothing that we have become accustom to on the beaches in the United States. So combine topless girls, professional dancers, music on the water and you have a party. Besides dancing with half naked girls and hanging out on mega yachts, Tahiti is a nice town with good restaurants and friendly people. Typical fashion: Girls wear pearls and guys wear tattoos. Walking around, we are surrounded by friends from other yachts exploring the same tourist attractions and chandleries. After the arrival of another new propeller and parts, and with a little love our outboard engine is running smoothly again. We have seen the sun set over the island of Moorea for almost two weeks now and we are headed there next.

Casual Heros

2010-07-09T16:06:00.000-07:00

Our image of paradise was balanced when we noticed a formation of dark clouds looming over the horizon the second afternoon in the atoll. The wind gradually picked up to 25 knots by the evening of the second day. All three sailboats in the atoll took firm hold to coral heads scattered in the anchorage. One catamaran named Troutbridge did not weather the storm like the rest. At 8pm they popped their anchor. With the captain enjoying drinks the other boat, an able Kiwi crew member fired up the engine and motored off the reef. Returning promptly, Captain Pete re-anchored and started bailing the rising water from his boat. After a bilge pump failure he needed help. We arrived with a spare electric bilge pump to a terrified crew furiously bailing with buckets. I set up the bilge pump while Bret found the leak and kept the water level manageable. We left the boat that night outsourcing the remaining bailing to the bilge. Several large holes were identified the following morning. The leak had been isolated to the starboard hull which breached through a faulty containment hatch. We were recruited by the local talent to complete the job spending hours underwater re-shaping and mending the dilapidated vessel. During this process, another boat named Imagine could not release their anchor from the coral. Despite enjoying the spectacle (keep in mind, salty old captains do not accept help quickly), Bret and I offered assistance by diving 50ft and untangling a mess of chain to set them free. After the repairs our friends are currently headed to Tahiti to survey the damage.

(Makai also helped out by marking the coral heads for Troutbridge on their way out of the atoll.)

We wish them good luck and safe travels.

2010-07-09T15:25:00.000-07:00

Manihi

2010-07-02T15:26:00.000-07:00

Manihi (written 6-28-2010)
The 500 mile jump from Nuku Hiva to the Tuamotu islands went smoothly, highlighted by pods of melon-headed whales, a surprise 50 knot squall one night, and a 22 lb yellowfin tuna. On the 5th morning, we reached the atoll of Manihi. Knowing the dangers of entering a coral atoll under sail, we hailed others on the radio for current and tidal information. After realizing we were without a motor, they advised we do not enter the narrow pass due to the strong currents. On a different channel we heard other yachtsmen refer to us as “Foolhardy.” Undeterred, we did a drive by to scope out the obstacle keeping us for our destined paradise. By this time, two captains from the anchorage arrived in a dinghy to help save the fools trying to enter the pass under sail. With two undergraduate degrees in finance on board and well aware of the concept of risk management (or so we think) we tacked towards the 130 foot wide pass. We hugged the starboard side of the channel, and with the boost of a short weather system coming through, threaded the pass into the turquoise waters within.Manihi is more than we could have dreamed. Coral heads with tropical fish are scattered throughout the lagoon. The 400 residents are friendly, welcoming, and overly generous. Our first morning, we received two loaves of bread. Armed with the concept that guests should not pay for food, the locals send boats out to deliver meals of fish, coconuts, rice, and dishes I cannot identify. They invite us to picnics on the beach and children’s dance shows where 5-year-olds shake their hips and they all wear ornaments made from real flowers. A local farmer took us oyster diving and walked us through the black pearl cultivation process. He then took us fishing and we learned Manihi fishing practices catching two grouper and letting a reef shark off the line. Their ability to spearfish is impressive to say the least. Leaving Chad and I feeling like air breathers, the Polynesians dive over 100ft in one breath to wait patiently for fish to swim past their hungry spears.Our neighboring sailboats are off to Tahiti today, but we plan to stay for another week or so to learn more about life on the atoll. It is difficult to pull ourselves away from the wonderful people, clear water, and fish not yet caught. Oh yeah... I forgot to mention: French Polynesia was the best place in the world to see the eclipse. Broken Compass luck? Or great planning?

The Hunt

2010-06-24T21:01:00.000-07:00

Our plan was to re-stock on fresh water from a nearby bay and head out. At the freshwater spikit, we were welcomed by two “real” Marquesians. Dressed tattoos with decorated pig tooth necklaces, these hunters became quick friends.
Bret and I joined the warriors on a goat hunt. The roles seemed reversed when they took out their 12 gauge shotgun and we furnished our bow and arrows. Hunting together we were too large a group for the skittish goats. We split up, Marquesians vs. Americans. We stalked a small group, I tactically herded them in Bret’s direction and he took a tough shot at the largest ram. A couple inches high left us dinnerless. Luckily, the Marquesians who were hunting on home turf were more successful and we feasted like kings.
We had beach barbeques for 2 days and nights to celebrate the kill and our newfound friendships.
We learned our hunting buddies where princes of the king who owned nearly half the land. They do not own cars and ride horses all over the island. They are true naturalists and even control resources; exemplified by only killing male goats and leaving females to reproduce. We hiked to a waterfall with Makai, played games, but mostly spent 4 days listening to stories over coffee and campfire.
The Marquesian warriors humorously reminisced how the survivor episode participants nearly starved with so much food in abundance.
We have learned many lessons from our friends and after an exchange of gifts we decided to continue west. Next stop will be challenging, as we anticipate narrow passes with moderate current under sail (the engine needs to be overhauled) and dangerous reefs in the Tumotu atoll of Manihi.
We also finished designing real soft Peruvian cotton T-shirts. So check them out! Purchases can be made through the website at http://www.sailbrokencompass.com/ (because we really need a new engine)

Nuku Hiva Part 2

2010-06-14T13:45:00.000-07:00

We entered into the bay and felt like sailors when a rugged old salt from New Zealand deemed us heroes for anchoring under sail. We immediately broke out the fishing gear and took some albacore tuna to share with fellow sailors. Hammerhead sharks have provided quality fishing competition. On one occasion, an eight footer circled in between a tuna and our inflatable boat, hoping to catch an easy dinner off the end of our line. Going head to head, we hooked up with two five footers, which both won effortlessly taking our hooks, 40lb test line, and sinkers. On shore we’ve been playing tennis, volleyball, and soccer. There are two other boats with younger crews, and friendly international challenges happen daily. The locals comprised of 1700 making up the second largest town in French Polynesia are also extremely friendly and athletic. Two days ago, the outboard started acting up. First the fuel injector hose clamp slipped off pumping fuel into the engine head and water. On the third pull, we had ignition. Fire exploded from every orifice extending to surrounding water. Quick moves turned a barbeque into another lesson. Clamped and loaded, we took off for a hike 2 miles ride with a couple of Norwegian friends. Apparently the engine had second thoughts because 1.75 miles off, she kicked off her new propeller. Paddling back, our buddy Topie was stung in the heel by a jellyfish. Stopping to complete the hike, an allergic reaction set in leaving him nearly paralyzed and struggling to speak. We accepted a tow from a nearby Catamaran. Shade, water and rest promoted a rapid recovery. We chalked the day up to one for the books in Captain Murphy’s Law and ended another day in paradise among good friends toasting rum and cokes.
Tomorrow we depart for a 5 day voyage to the island of Manihi in the Tumotus. It is a little off the grid with no internet, but world class surfing, diving and fishing. We plan to arrive in Tahiti for the American independence day.

Nuku Hiva

2010-06-14T13:39:00.000-07:00

We just made landfall in Nuku Hiva after crossing the largest body of water on Earth, the Pacific Ocean. The 34 day, 3600 nautical mile voyage seemed but a blink of an eye. We caught a moderate amount of fish with Makai leading the hunting party. She captured countless flying fish, feasting on the delicacy and leaving a pile of heads as trophies in the cockpit. We discovered the value of light on a dark evening. A flashlight is like crack for flying fish and I was hit three times when initiating my headlight one night. During the day we were frequented by light squalls and the Northwest raingear came in handy. Each evening we dined (usually on fish and rice) and enjoyed cocktails to watch the sunset as if nature was playing a movie. It became practice to say, “See you tomorrow” as the sun disappeared beneath the swells. Before night shifts, discussions consisted of politics, economics, personal enlightenment, and the best new trick to teach Makai. Night shifts (we need an autopilot) are a pleasure few have the opportunity to enjoy. The moon and stars quickly become companions and guides. Miles from the ocean floor, thousands from land, and millions from the moon and stars, there is a feeling of remoteness and insignificance. In the 34 days at sea, we saw only 3 fishing boats. Approaching sunrise on June 2nd, Makai rustled and stuck her nose high in the air as if something had changed. The mountains of Nuku Hiva (which gained popularity from the 2002 survivor series) emerged in the distance. After several “Land Ho” announcements we smiled… Paradise.
Nuku Hiva

Eyes of Makai

2010-04-28T19:21:00.000-07:00

Salinas, Ecuador

As a welcome home present, I decided to round out all of the wooden corners so my owners wouldn’t hurt themselves on the sharp edges. After acquiring a taste for teak, I expanded my mission to other items such as wooden cleats and railings. Returning from Peru, they were so happy to see me they never even thanked me for my hard work.

I have really enjoyed Ecuador. Everyday paddle boats and jet skis come by to see me. I feel like a celebrity. I have entertained myself onboard by playing fetch with the locals. When they come close I drop a tennis ball or toy in the water and they pick it up and give it back to me. In playing the game I discovered a valuable lesson: some toys float, and others sink. I found this out one night when I tried to play the game with Bret. For some reason, he was throwing my toy and expecting me to chase it, so I showed him how to play and threw my Kong bone in the water. He dove in after my favorite toy and fumbled around underwater for a while before throwing it back on the boat. He did not look pleased and we have not played again since.

My favorite days are when we swim to the beach for walks and runs. My owners seem to be getting slower by the day, and now I have to run with everyone before I get tired. Not only am I bigger and faster, but everyone keeps talking about how I am changing. I don’t think anything is wrong, but Bret and Chad say they want to fix me. Previously, all of my friends on the beach used to be content just wanting to play. Now they keep saying they love me and follow me for miles. Although they are different, I do not mind because I am much faster than the boys from the street.

I overheard talk of a place called the Marqueses islands, where I believe we will be headed next. We have been waiting for a GPS in the mail for over a week, and everyone seems anxious to leave. After our third farewell party, I can’t wait to go sailing and start eating fish and rice again. The dog food here is good, but nothing compares to fresh sushi.

-Makai

Machu Picchu is Closed

2010-04-08T12:47:00.000-07:00

Two months ago, Peru sustained massive mudslides that carried entire villages and sections of roads into the Rio Urubamba. As a result, many Peruvians along the river were displaced and tourism came to a halt. On April 1, the government planned to re-open Machu Picchu, the architectural world wonder and a major source of income for the city of Cuzco. There was only one catch: Machu Picchu was not ready.

We arrived in Cuzco to book our tour to Machu Picchu. The 4 day Adventure tour including mountain biking, rafting, and trekking immediately caught our eye. We would wait two days until my mother and little brother could join planning our arrival to Machu Picchu on opening day.

Day 1: Mountain Biking. We took a small bus with a group of 20 up through the clouds to the top of Abra Malaga. At 7am we began 3100M decent to Santa Maria. The decent was fast with a touch of mist on the roads from the morning dew. During one of off road shortcuts to a switchback we had a couple of casualties. An Argentine clenching the handlebars and forgetting about his breaks hit the rocks. My mother, who was in slightly over her head bailed before an oncoming mound of dirt. Down the road, an Australian girl faced an oncoming car in her lane and crashed into the gutter. We continued through small creeks and rocky dirt roads to the lowlands. At the end of the day, we lost the Australian and Argentine to a knee injury and strained shoulder ligaments respectively.

Day 2: Trekking. One look at the river and we understood the guide’s decision to abandon river rafting. Due to extensive rainfall the river transformed from class 2-3 to class 4-5 rapids. In other words one or all of us would have perished. We hiked 13 miles through the rainforest harvesting various fruits and flora along the ancient Incan trail. The rainforest was lush with fruit including avocado, tomato, coca leaves, passion fruit, bananas, oranges, chocolate and coffee beans.

Day 3: Falling Rocks and Politics. The rain continued through the previous night into the morning. The guides warned of political turmoil between the tourism agencies and the government but we had to get to the checkpoint first. On a dangerous part of the road, we traversed one by one. Bret saw the danger first and screamed “Rock!” the guide leaped forward and a giant boulder crashed right in front of a tourist looking down worrying about how much mud she was getting on her hiking boots. They guide grabbed her and ran through the dangerous section as subsequent rocks poured down from the land above. Opting for the modestly safer and longer hike, we crossed the river in a small cable to the checkpoint. As the rain ceased, we waited for more groups to push past 5 armed police officers that were heart bent on deterring our trip. But they wouldn’t shoot a tourist right? We all made it.

Day 4: Machu Picchu. Dressed in our damp clothes, we headed holy city of Machu Picchu. The cold air and rain provided one last obstacle. The first hour of the city was blanketed by rain and clouds before the heavens opened up and granted us access the beauty Machu Picchu. The time, effort and dedication that went into the production of this city is magnificent. The Incans were a strong and proud people who cherished their relationship with the gods. We saw and felt the stone that the Incans sacrificed virgins to the heavens during the height of the empire. It was a powerful experience.

After a couple more days of exploring Cuzco, we are back in Salinas, Ecuador to The Broken Compass and Makai.

Ecuador

2010-03-26T09:54:00.000-07:00

Entering the Southern Hemisphere was like being welcomed into Heaven after a couple weeks in purgatory. The wind picked up and a succession of 9 big-eye tuna hit as we drifted across the imaginary line of the Ecuador. We entered Salinas, Ecuador on March 4th. Salinas is a ritzy beach town considered a weekend escape for the wealthy sect of Ecuador´s largest city, Quayaquil. After obtaining much needed provisions we hit the town. Salinas harbors the most divine ceviche along with oceanfront clubs which blast music all night long. We document this on a nightly basis as the water provides a clean passage directly to our anchorage. The culture is pure ¨South American.¨ The people are friendly, family oriented, and emotional. We lost our little brother Tyler shortly after our arrival. He flew back to the States realizing he could not bear to be separated from his girlfriend Natasha in San Francisco. Bret and I traveled to a nearby surfers paradise called Montañita for a couple of days. We befriended four local girls whom we exchanged dancing and spanish tips for surfing lessons.

Back in Salinas, we are fortunate to anchor next to a classic 1928 70ft schooner, Niña. The mother and son, Rosemary and David have proivided good company and sailing advise for 2 twins still picking up the ropes of cruising. Aboard the Broken Compass, the repairs and provisions for the pacific puddle jump are moving smoothly. We are stuck on our diesel engine repair, but are confident we will crack the challenge before our departure. Makai is teething and it is a full time job keeping her from chewing all the teak on the boat. We are now in the Quayaquil airport on our way to Peru to follow an ancient Incan trail.

Transit to Ecuador

2010-03-09T11:46:00.000-08:00

I always liked the Hamlet quote ¨When sorrows come they come not single spies, but in battalions¨…

The depth sounder stopped working as we sailed out of the tricky Pedregal River in Panama. Coupled with the theft of our GPS navigation, it made for a difficult exit.

We stayed in Isla Parrida for a day to clean the bottom of the boat. The wind came and we sailed south planning on stopping at Isla Cobia. Unfortunately, the 50 hp Perkins engine made a horrible knocking noise and stopped working as we were scouting out an anchorage, so we continued to sail. As a result, we did not have the opportunity to raise Firefox onto the boat. The wind and seas picked up, towing rings and grommets started popping like a handful of blackcats on July 4th. Around 2am, I jumped in the dinghy to build a makeshift bridle. 3 grommets burst as I finished the tangle of bowline knots and tie offs to the inflatable. Luckily, the last one held and we (me and Firefox) stayed connected to the Broken Compass and there was no manoverboard drill. At least so I thought before trying to get back into the BC with the swells crashing against the hull. I slipped and fell into what I can only describe as black silence. Falling in the water at night in rough seas was not really my cup of tea, so I hauled myself back into Firefox and returned to the safety of the Broken Compass.

Our solar panel purchase in Panama paid off. The generator shut down (later to find out it was a fuel line leak) and we somehow fried our inverter. This left us with no AC power (chargers for satellite phone, power tools, ipod, computers, fans, etc.), and only solar to charge the batteries.

The proceeding windless days made for some lousy fishing, and our beloved ´fish and rice´ diet turned into just rice with seasonings. Now destined for Ecuador to resupply and lick our wounds, offshore fishermen became plentiful as we approached Ecuador. Many of them stopped by the boat to talk, and were helpful in pointing us towards Esmeralda. The port captain was not there, so a naval officer instructed we head another 200 miles south to La Liberdad.

On the way, Tyler (Chief Communications Officer) was adamant that we charge the satellite phone and call let someone know where we were. Since the outboard engine on Firefox joined the rest of the engines in the apparent ´motor labor strike´ I was not very comfortable taking her into shore when she was crippling along at about 30%. We did it regardless. Chad stayed on the BC while Tyler and I left to complete the mission. As the shoreline swell rose up behind us, we were a sitting duck. (I had always wondered how other boats struggled to land their dinghy, but it seemed pretty obvious when your motor only gives you 9hp when you are acclaimated to 30.) The wave crested, tossed Tyler and myself in the ocean, and barrel-rolled Firefox onto the beach.

After charging the phone, we limped back to the BC looking like bedraggled strays. We raised anchor and set sail south hoping the tides would change when we crossed the Equator and entered the Southern Hemisphere as shellbacks.

Pedegral, Panama

2010-02-14T08:44:00.000-08:00

We arrived at the small marina of Pedegral after navigating up a narrow river about 6 miles. Panama is amazing. The cost of living is about 1/3 the price of the states. An average meal costs $1.5-$3 at a local restaurant with a beer running about $0.60. Broken Compass is anchored in the center of an estuary with mangroves for protection at 50 feet on either side. There is an abundance of wildlife including monkeys playing in the nearby trees. Tyler and I are leaving Bret and Nicky to tend to the boat as we take a 7 hour bus ride to the city.
Panama City is fragmented. There are areas with extreme violence where military personel stand on each block corner with automatic weapons. There are also nice areas including a large mall which appears to be imported from the United States. We explored the city, picked up solar panels and won some money at the casino before we returned to find Bret and Nicky had a difficult time as security guards. Bret´s Decription:
¨Nicky and I took Makai to experience Panamanian soil and go for a morning walk. After three hours ashore, we found out the true value of our faithful puppy. She had been deterring the theives that patrol the Pedregal river all day. I returned to see our companionway door ripped open and the boat ransacked. Every drawer was open with clothes and valuables strewn on the floor. The VHF radio was ripped from its mount and in a "to go bag" with bilge pumps and riffe speargun sitting next to the accumulated valuables. Apparently, they left in a hurry because after hours of evaluating damage/theft, we found out the only missing items were our two handheld GPSs and $200 Nicky had in her passport.¨
We were lucky. Bret and Nicky took off for Panama City the following morning and Tyler and I took our shift. While preparing the boat for the long leg to Peru, we almost destroyed our boat and a dock after refueling. While refueling and topping off the water tanks, the tide went out leaving us stuck in the mud. I realized the weight of our craft when one tractor, 2 winches, and three boats carrying 30hp, twin 150hp, and 75hp engines respectively could not pull Broken Compass from the mud. We tied 4 lines from the top of the masts to trees and docks to prevent the boat from leaning. Fighting a rising tide using bumpers, 2X4´s and ply wood, we fended a floating steel dock off all night until BC started floating again.
Bret just returned today with a christmas list of boat supplies from the city. We are sail ready with two new 63 watt solar panels mounted, water, food and diesel. The trip to Peru should take about 20 days with intermediate stops at islands and perhaps Equador along the way. Pray for wind.

Pamama Islands

2010-02-05T15:39:00.000-08:00

The 130 mile sail from Bahia Drake to Panama provided light wind in the afternoons and calm seas at night. After hours of carving and painting, Tyler’s creativity paid off and his plug named “Mexican-American” lured a whopping 47 inch Dorado into the boat. The Mexican-American also hooked a Wahoo for breakfast under a full moon.

We completed the last sail repairs underway. We flew the mended Genniker off the port bow until Isla Parida came into view. There are dozens of islands scattered around the gulf, Isla Gamez is just one sample provided below.

Out of fish and in need of food, we grabbed the spears in search of lunch. After two areas with shallow water and small fish, we anchored Firefox next to an exposed rock and three large coral heads. Chad dove the coral heads with a sling and quickly resurfaced to grab the high powered Riffe speargun. I swam over about 15 minute at the end of a battle to see Chad wrestling a mammoth sized fish and Tyler repeatedly stabbing it in the head with his dive knife. Chad’s Pargo (Red Snapper) kill:

Scanning the area, we motored to the only what looked like civilization to find a fisherman with his family of 18. The father skillfully worked the fish as his wife, Rosa, reluctantly prepared a meal for us. Their hospitality far exceeded any expectations. The grandfather took us on a nature walk, the children shared local fruit and played dominoes, and the father talked of fishing and diving. We ate the cooked Pargo for lunch before departing, leaving the rest of the fish to feed their family.

Fish, oysters, and coconut milk make great meals. After meeting an American couple on one of the islands, we traded these delicacies for an exquisite homemade meal, drinks and good company.

Bahia Drake

2010-02-05T15:31:00.000-08:00

Applying our finance degrees, we evaluated the price of diesel in Costa Rica at just over $5 we decided we could save $145 by filling up in Panama at $2.76. We only picked about 20 gallons which forced us to sail the entire way. The shifts were easy with 4 people, a nice change from the 2 man crew down to Costa Rica. With minimal wind, downtime was spend improving neglected areas of the boat, reading, and relaxing.

Bahia Drake boasts good surfing, diving and monkeys. Excited about the new surf boards purchased from a shaper in Jaco, we tested Firefox’s 30hp engine as she pulled each of us up with ease.

Makai even took a turn and she stood up first try (with a little help). Day 2 in Bahia Drake we procured food. We dove off a nearby reef and took 5 decent parrot fish and about a dozen oysters. Tyler concocted a sautéed oyster and pasta dish which has become a staple in our diet. We shared the extra fish with a couple we met the previous evening and concluded the evening with drinks and foosball at a bar overlooking the bay. Makai found her own entertainment as she sited her first monkey. She climbed half way up the tree to get a closer look. The monkeys didn’t take to kindly to this invader and threw branches at the playful puppy as she clung nearly 6 feet off the ground. The wind picked up and we are off to Isla Parida in Panama.

Gulfo de Nicoya

2010-01-23T06:36:00.000-08:00

We departed Puntarenas the afternoon of January 11th for a nice break from boat work. On the way out of the marina, fish were breaking water and Tyler hooked into his first pescado. Excited about the early catch, Chad and Tyler deployed Firefox (our 14 foot dinghy) to chase after the fish. Firefox returned with a skipjack about an hour later as the Broken Compass was cruising in 25 knot winds. We never quite made it to our planned destination, but it was a great shakedown for Tyler and Nicky on the boat as we scurried to a familiar anchorage (Punta Leona) to avoid the swells. It was a rocky night chalk full of lessons on how to (and how not to) anchor in heavy weather. The wind shifted during the night, putting us in a precarious situation. Seeing a small fishing boat anchored next to us was reassuring until they were towed away by our buddies, the Costa Rican Coast Guard, early the following morning.

We subsequently hauled up our fouled anchors and pushed across the bay to a calmer anchorage, ironically named Playa de Muertos (beach of the dead), which we renamed ‘Paradise.’
The beach displayed coconut trees and the 30 year old ruins of a catamaran originally from Coos Bay, Oregon. We dove and collected dozens of oysters and conch. We learned the best way to remove conch is to boil them after nearly 2 hours of pounding and breaking drill bits on their shells. Unfamiliar with island life, we attempted to several techniques to procure coconuts. Tyler had a crack shot at a coconut with the compound bow, and it narrowly missed him as he tried to pull the coconut back down (we retired this method).

We subsequently broke out the climbing gear and attempt #2 yielded coconut milk for our beach bonfire. Makai had a close call with a fellow predator during the fire, which sent Tyler on scorpion watch for the rest of the night.

The weather normalized and we headed back up the gulf to Puntarenas and spend the past few days finishing overdue boat maintenance, re-working our itinerary, and hanging out with the local fishermen. A local charter fishing captain, Marcial, has made it tough to leave Puntarenas due to his hospitality. Off to southern Costa Rica and Panama this morning for some island hopping and to knock off a few hundred more miles.

New Years 2010!!!

2010-01-23T02:04:00.000-08:00

New Years

Still illegal immigrants of Costa Rica we decided to hit land at Hermosa and Jaco. We celebrated New Years on the beach in Jaco surrounded a bonfire and hundreds of locals as an array of fireworks lit the sky. The light show consisted of high grade professional fireworks being set off by amateurs, some being successful, others no so much. We counted down to the New Year at least 10 times as no one seemed to have the ‘real’ time. Guided by our new Tica (Costa Rican girl) friend, Roxy, and accompanied by an amazing group of people including our mother who i swear is a saint, a great friend from home Liz Rapp who is the smartest person i know (and i know a lot of people), Nicky our new sailing strategist to Panama, and our little brother Tyler who brings a lot to the table.

Following New Years we decided to prove ourselves in the ocean and get barreled. We got hammered at Hermosa beach with over head high waves which tested our breath holding ability. The following day, we decided to hike to a waterfall in search of monkeys. Our hunt for monkeys proved unsuccessful but we were rewarded with 3 tiered waterfall which consecutivley leaped down after a nature walk through the jungle. Tempted to see more wildlife, we procured chicken legs and headed to the river.

We tempted dozens of crocidlies by dangling chicken legs on a string until inevitably the seasoned preditor stole our bait. The last couple days were spend surfing and exploring before we parted with our friends and family to concentrate our efforts on curing the wounds from the Papagyos. Work efficiency increased dramaticially with a beefed up crew including two new additions including the little brother and model (Tyler) and Bret's girlfriend Nikki whom we met in Mexico weeks prior. Repairing sails and fine-tuning the old diesel engine have consumed the last couple of days and we will depart for islas de tortugas tomorrow morning. As if Jaco and Hermosa were not vacation enough we look forward to more wildlife and adventure the gulfo de Nicoyo has to offer.

Christmas

2010-01-10T13:29:00.001-08:00

After arriving in Costa Rica on Christmas Eve we could not officially check into the country due to the holidays. Avoiding officials, we hid out in an isolated cove about 6 miles North of Jaco beach. My father, his beautiful wife Maureen, and my little brother Tyler flew down and joined us for Christmas. Christmas Day was perfect. We had a great breakfast before heading out to catch dinner. The boys dove unsuccessfully off a nearby point with poor visibility while my father, the seasoned angler, caught a decent Sierra. Sierra are great for sushi and so it was. About 2pm we saw a large vessel cruise by towing a small boat. Further scrutiny yielded their identity,

The Costa Rican Coast Guard.

All our faces turned sheet white. We calculated our international criminal acts as the Coast Guard pulled past us in our dive boat and anchored 50 yards from the Broken Compass. Half a mile away, we darted to a sheltered cove to hide our rods and spearguns. They launched a patrol boat and cruised toward us. Amid the Chaos, Maureen saw a couple of monkeys and almost fell off the boat with excitement. Our plan: we are not criminals, we are now tourists. We threw on our masks and pretended to snorkel and Maureen snapped pictures of the monkeys. The patrol boat cruised right past us to a nearby beach and completed their patrol. We were never boarded or questioned on Christmas day, however we did attract a horn of approval following our Christmas light display up the main mast that evening. The coast guard stayed anchored with us all night and continued up the coast the following morning.

Papagayos

2009-12-30T09:42:00.000-08:00

We had 300 miles between us and Costa Rica when we waved goodbye to our pilot after steering us through the labyrinth of deltas to exit El Salvador the morning of December 19th. We cruised with steady wind the first day logging 110 miles and catching a couple Dorado. On the trip down to El Salvador, I had carved a wooden lure after a marlin took my only other surface plug. I colored the new plug red white and blue, and named it “The American.” The Result:

The evening after a strong day, we entered the Gulfo de Papagayos. We had no idea what Mother Nature had planned for us the next two days. In an age of modern technology, man can still not accurately predict the weather or the winds the locals call Papagayos. The first night, we hit 3.5 knots of current pushing us out to sea. Day 2: The waves. Swells picked up to about 10-15 feet with very short intervals. With every inch forward, we slammed into waves pushing us miles away from Costa Rica and straight out to sea. The second night and 3rd day were a blur. Walls of waves crashed over the boat. We surely would have been swept overboard without tethers. Determined to see our family for Christmas, we clawed forward as Mother Nature displayed her power. There are moments in time that stand out:

-The rigging on the port side holding the mast up broke in heavy winds. Angels must be looking over us, because the mast bent at what I can only guess to be 35 degrees and did not break. Running on no sleep for 30 hours, Bret had a brilliant idea to ratchet it down. Two 900lb break load ratchets later gave way simultaneously under the strained conditions and the backup rope attachment salvaged our mast once again.

-The night we were repairing the rigging and nearly immobilized, we had a close call with a tanker. Turning on all lights and in high swells, Bret ran down to hail the “Large vessel close to 11.10 N Lat, 87.31 W Long” on the VHF radio. The captain radioed back and informed Bret that we were not on his radar, but after the call, had seen our lights off his starboard bow.” Assured we would not be plowed over by the tanker, Bret came back up to continue the fight against the papagayos.

-Our jib sheet lines became tangled against our rigging (again jeopardizing the mast). In 30 knot winds a battle ensued to free the lines. The wind tossed the first knife over my left shoulder into the sea. Remembering my knife fighting lessons, (Thanks Mark Bradley) The second attempt was successful.

-The wind ripped through two sails and we turned to our engine for salvation. The engine immediately overheated after requesting more than 1500 RPM’s. (We would later find out monofilament fishing line had tangled around the propeller). We sailed on a ripped mainsheet as wind, waves, and current pushed us away from our destination for hours.

We limped the last two days on a strained engine, ripped sails, and wrecked sailboat. All said and done, we were blown 100 miles off-course. With our wind gauge, we recorded up to 50 knots of wind with a consistent blow of 30-35 knots. We took on thousands of gallons of water and everything not ratcheted down on deck was washed overboard. December 24th we have safely arrived in Costa Rica and look forward to spending Christmas with family.

El Salvador

2009-12-30T09:39:00.000-08:00

El Salvador welcomed us with open arms. Clearing the boat through customs and immigration was cake, and we had an entire resort to ourselves for a few days at almost no cost since we were hooked onto a mooring. A little further inland, the landscape boasted thousands of acres of sugar cane fields as we headed into the town of Usulutan. A bustling mercado de national was in progress as locals scrambled to complete their Christmas shopping lists. The only grocery store looked like a club in LA, as people waited in a long line and security only let people in while others came out. Items in established appliance stores had Christmas present bows on them, as guards with shotguns stood at the entrances. The people were friendly, and little girls kept grabbing Chad and I by the arm to drag us into their stores. There were a disproportionate amount of sun aged men missing one arm, presumably caused by the harvesting of sugar cane.

The place we stayed in looked like the Amazon, and included swarms of mosquitoes and crocodiles. We took a short hike through the jungle in search of monkeys with no luck. Makai felt at home in the wilderness and learned to howl in the jungle, breaking the dead silence the night before we left.

Long Leg to El Salvador

2009-12-17T15:59:00.000-08:00

We left La Cruz the morning of December 2nd and were blessed with strong easterly winds out of the Bay of Banderas. The next few days were painfully slow as we averaged about 35 miles a day. I felt like strapping on a harness and towing the 18 ton vessel to gain some extra mileage on the windless days. A race proposal for one person to run on land to Costa Rica while the other person sailed was made, but never materialized. As if the sea chose to answer our calling for wind, we were hit by a squall on day 4. With no other structure on the water, lightning is attracted to a boat at sea like birds flocking to a fishing trawler. The winds gave us a few quick lessons on how to handle the Broken Compass in rough weather, and we all came out unscathed. With built up confidence, and falling behind our scheduled arrival to Costa Rica, we decided to roll the dice with the tehuantepeckers. The Gulf of Tehuantepec is infamous for heavy weather and with average weather conditions at Force 6 on the Beaufort scale, tehuantepeckers are known to push cruisers out to sea some 500 miles. Avoiding all advice from books and other cruisers was the best thing we could have done.

We saw more wildlife, caught more fish, and had more wind than we had at any other place in Mexico. Dolphins, flying fish, squid, turtles, and whales frequented the boat as the big eye tuna kept the reels screaming and provided for some of the best sashimi we have ever had. A 100+ lb sea monster tested our fishing tackle. It was an epic battle before we realized we had snagged a turtle, and quickly released her from the line. At night, entertainment was found surfing down waves as 30 knot winds allowed us to make some good headway.

The night after crossing the gulf (Day 11), we had our usual cocktail for sunset and polished off the rest of a slender tuna caught that morning. Keeping a distance of around 25 miles offshore, a low flying plane with no lights flew directly overhead. Heading northwest, it was more than likely on its way to deliver drugs to Mexico.

We just pulled into the small town of Jiquilisco on the coast of El Salvador. The area is rich with fisherman and tropical plants and animals. Sandwiched between the ocean and a mountain range, the isolated area is the type of place you could see yourself staying for a few years. A pilot helped navigate the sandbars and currents through the mouth of the bay. We thought we were making decent speed until we realized 4 knots of it was the current coming in the other direction. I’m sure it is quite common, but watching the pilot (in a speedy panga) slow down for us as we chugged along at 1 knot for 4 hours was kind of humorous.

Some pics of tuna and subsequent meal below:

The Lost Week in La Cruz

2009-12-01T17:33:00.000-08:00

Similar to the shipwrecked inhabitants that populate the small town of La Cruz Mexico, Bret and I found ourselves stuck for a couple more days than planned. After barely making it through Thanksgiving we decided that we should obtain the proper paperwork before leaving the country. This entails: finding the port captain of an international city, paying your taxes, getting an international Zarpe with signatures and stamps at every checkpoint. Adopting the Mexican work schedule, we successfully cleared customs, immigration, and the port captain in just under a week. Friday was killed working on the boat which included welding our ongoing leak, engine maintenance, cleaning the bilge, and obtaining the final vaccinations for Makai.. Saturday was a day in Buscerias which is a quaint town a couple miles south of La Cruz with fresh fruit stands, open markets and a nice stretch of restaurants on the beach. We attended an open patio restaurant that evening where we struggled to keep up with far more experienced salsa dancers. We have met some great people here including a cute girl from Seattle named Nicky. On Sunday Nicky joined us as we trekked 13 miles across the bay in our “Dingy” for some snorkeling at Los Arcos which is a couple of miles south of Puerta Vallerta. Bret and Niki enjoyed the tropical views and colorful fish topside as I headed deeper water to score some dinner.

The venture proved rewarding boating three decent game fish I mistakenly branded as rooster fish. They have yet to be identified, but they were pretty good. We stayed in port yesterday as a thunderstorm rolled through and obtained the final piece of documentation for departure just two hours ago on Tudesday December 1st. Bret needs to pick up one more Mexican burrito before we say goodbye to our friends here in La Cruz. We set sail at sunset for on our estimated week long voyage to El Salvador.

Thanksgiving Day

2009-12-01T17:29:00.000-08:00

It is 3:20 AM on Thanksgiving as I stare upon the countless stars above the rocking Broken Compass. I click the stop button on my watch and smirk to myself. As Chad is still sleeping at his battle station, I thought I would share our most recent humorous story.

It began yesterday morning with typical high spirits and optimism about a super productive day including boat work, refueling, filling the water tanks, internet, getting Mexican departure papers, and a sailors charity event in the evening before pulling anchor and leaving La Cruz. A cup of coffee each were drunk to provide caffeine aided energy. The water for the coffee came from the dock in Cabo San Lucas, where I specifically remember a Mexican saying, “Agua no drink.” The coffee was consumed with confidence in our immune systems’ abilities to cope with bacteria. Unknowingly, the water was the last of the tank. Our theory is that most of the toxic bacteria live on the surface of the water, leaving last of the water tank supply carrying a potent dosage (not sure if this is accurate at all).

Chad immediately fell ill as I drug him ashore to grab lunch and internet. He left early and picked me up with the dinghy at 6pm. With my stomach already disagreeing with my lunch, and seeing my sweaty pale faced brother pick me up wearing nothing but a towel, I realized it would be a rough night. I motored us back the boat, tied her up, and joined Chad’s call to vomit over the port side of the Broken Compass. Knowing persistence and endurance is the greatest weapon against these bacterial beasts, I pressed the start button on my watch.

It was a beautiful scene: As the sun burst with color across the sky taking its last breath of the day, Chad and I disrupted all the surrounding boat occupants perfect evening with noises only made when one sounds as though they are dying.

For the better part of the night we split up on deck with Chad taking starboard, myself port and Makai uncharacteristically quiet in the back. Ignoring our beefed up medical cabinet out of pride, we both devised separate strategies. Chad downed vinegar with water and overused antibacterial soap to speed up the recovery. I focused on moderating convulsive bouts, kept an eye on my watch, and occasionally sipped water. I enjoyed the company of the Broken Compass every 30 minutes or so as the bilge reminded me of our yet to be repaired leak, emptying herself out into the same waters as I did myself.

Chad just woke up and seems almost fully recovered. Thanksgiving will be spent here in La Cruz for a cruisers potluck and turkey provided by a local restaurant owner named Philo.

Isla Isabella and La Cruz

2009-11-26T13:17:00.000-08:00

On our way to Puerta Vallerta we took a detour to a small uninhabited island called Isla Isabella about half way between Mazatlan and Puerta Vallerta. Accompanied by three other sailboats there were flocks of predatory waterfowl circling this bird sanctuary. Exploring the island, we discovered iguana and myriads of large birds protecting ripening eggs and newly hatched offspring. Upon reaching the bluff of the island, we recognized blue footed boobies. As the only explorers on this small island for the day, we noted parallels to Charles Darwin’s expedition in the Galapagos.

We sailed to and anchored in La Cruz (about 20 miles north of Puerta Vallerta) to avoid the traffic of the big city. In transit, we encountered a challenge: A weld on a pipe taking saltwater through to cool the engine cracked and continues to dump an increasing amount of saltwater into the bottom of the boat. Gorilla tape and a rubber hose with clamps provided a quick fix but we hope to find some welding equipment here in La Cruz.
The first night in La Cruz, we befriended a father (Dave) and daughter (Annette) living here who graciously guided us through the area. La Cruz is a very small community designed to accommodate yachtsman and cruisers alike with lots of promise. A Californian investment group recently built a beautiful and overpriced marina last year with ambitions for new hotel. The town inhabits an older crowd of boatman and fisherman, several of which lost boats in hurricanes and have never left.
Makai is growing quickly and is still looking for her place in the hierarchy of the world. She challenged every dog who thought they had territorial rights and avoided four attacks with her increasing speed and coordination. Bret and I look forward to stepping behind our blue eyed princess the Mexicans call “El Lobo” instead of in-between the aggressive strays.
We traveled in a bus yesterday about 25 miles north up through the rainforests to a surfing town called Sayulita. We met up with friends from our Baja Haha race for a day at the beach. Sayulita is a cool little town with trendy bars and surf shops lining a small beach. There was a small break about 100 yards off the beach where dozens of tourists taking a shot at surfing for the day. There are a couple of fishing boats run by an avid hunter and fisherman from Portland, OR named Paul. We swapped some fishing stories and learned how to catch some local fish. Two for two pongas returned successfully that day each boasting a couple of Rooster fish and Dorado. We spent the majority of the day body surfing and swimming. Makai enjoyed a long run on the beach and the popularity that an exotic Alaskan dog deserves in 100 degree heat.
Bret and I are gathering provisions, working on the boat, and attending a charity for young sailors today before embarking on our 8-10 day voyage down to El Salvador.

Mazatlan

2009-11-16T12:16:00.000-08:00

Landing on shore of the Mazatlan anchorage at night, we were met by an unwelcome host: the guard dog for the dinghy dock. We took a few steps forward while scanning for potential weapons in the event the dog attacked. Shirtless and shoeless, it would have been a decent fight, but I’m sure we would have come up on top. We slid through the fence of what seemed like a military compound, escaping the dog and entering into our new port. I felt like a Mexican coming into the US, as we had no money or passports on our bodies while we searched for our Mom and her boyfriend Jimmy.

The next day, after three weeks in Mexico, we took the liberty to officially declare ourselves as guests in the country. In true van Roden fashion, we had about half of the required paperwork necessary to clear the Broken Compass and passengers. Ten people (three health officials, four immigration officers, two harbor clearance officers, and our trusty local agent) met with us to clear us into the country. The health inspector laughed when he boarded the boat and saw our lack of provisions, which we thought were more than adequate. The immigration officer was unconvinced when we threw the ignorance card at the paperwork needed to clear port (after he saw our passports were full of stamps). Our agent was happy we hid Makai before clearing the boat, as he had already spent half the day creating documents and pulling strings. A few smiles later, we were legal tourists.

After almost a week here, I would give Mazatlan 2 stars out of 5. The old town and new town are spread out over approximately 10 miles, necessitating taxi or bus service to any destination of choice. Taking an afternoon sail to an offshore island, our diving expedition yielded 4 foot visibility in the murky waters filled with sediment. Much different than the clear blue waters one would expect in a vacation spot. Points were scored for the bar Gus Gus, supped up golf cart taxis, friendly people, and a downtown market with fresh fruit and meat cut straight from a hanging cow.

Today we are provisioning and repairing the boat before continuing to Puerto Vallerta this evening. Thanks for all the comments and posts to the guestbook. We’ll be online in a few days upon arrival at our next port.

The night of the Dorado

2009-11-11T16:45:00.000-08:00

We have experienced smooth sailing, blue skies, and great company in the ports of Turtle Bay, Bahia Santa Maria, and Cabo San Lucas. The Baja Haha sailing community is a great group of people and we have made many friends thus far. Heidi, a crew member on the boat Hoya, decided to hop on the Broken Compass as a guest for the last two legs ending here in Cabo San Lucas.
After hearing of the multitudes of fish caught by other sailors down to Turtle Bay, our fishing egos were humbled. Chad and I made the decision that the Baja Haha was no longer a sailing race. I thought to myself, “We might not be the best sailors in the fleet, but we should at least be able to catch more fish than these hand liners.” In Bahia Santa Maria, we began to execute our strategy. As everyone else left at dawn to begin the third leg, we hung back in the bay and slipped on our spearfishing gear.

We had a ponga set up (through drinking games on the Broken Compass with Mexicans the night before) to pick us up and take us to some local spots. No fish, but an assortment of abalone, lobster, conch, and sea urchin provided for a good departure meal. We stopped sailing a few times to chase schools of fish and drift for grouper, but ended the first day with only one nice sized Sierra for shashimi. Night fell and the water lit up under a full moon and clear skies as our trolling rigs were set (two rods with feathers, and a plug on a hand line) when the first fish sent the reel screaming. We ended up catching 7 dorado on Thursday night, with hits almost like clockwork every hour. Satisfied that we can actually catch food for ourselves out at sea, we sailed the rest of the way to Cabo.

We spent two days and one night in Cabo which fulfilled all of our expectations of the town. Baja Haha had a beach party in the day which extended into the night. We parted with a group of survivors to hit the town. Attending Squid Row and Cabo Wabo one party member consumed enough Mexican tequila and needed to relieve himself on the streets of the city. In the back of a paddy wagon for his intoxicated act, some stellar negotiating from two local Cabo girls and a $50 bribe aided in his evasion of prison. In an effort to pursue the path less traveled, we are off again to cross the sea of Cortez and looking forward to meeting up with family in Mazatlan.

... I had to add a pic of Makai enjoying the fish:

First Storm

2009-10-31T10:40:00.001-07:00

All the Baja-Haha sailors were warned of a storm 2 days away with large swells and up to 25 knots of wind. The majority of the race planned to take refuge in the many harbors along the coast and that only the hardiest of sailors were advised by the Baja Haha committee to continue. Bret turned to me and asked, “How rugged can sailors possibly be?” I responded, “Let’s find out.” as we headed out to sea leaving the majority of the fleet to cruise the coastline. The first day was bliss with smooth sailing and our first fish caught while trolling. A beautiful 5 pound Mahi Mahi from a blue feather provided some sushi and good protein dinner. The storm kicked up around 3pm the following day with winds and swells lifting. We would later find out later our fisherman friends at home in San Pedro did not leave the harbor under these conditions. A little nervous at testing our skills in our first storm, Bret and I decided to stick together. Without the luxury of an autopilot, one person had to man the helm while the other attempted to get some sleep. In a storm with 20ft swells and up to 30 knots of wind, we could not afford to leave the helm for even a few seconds to awake the other down in the cabin. The result, on person captained 1 hour shifts while the other lay tethered to a cleat attempting to sleep with the occasional wave crashing over the gunnels. Makai was stationed in the cabin surrounded by pile of blankets pillows trying unsuccessfully to dodge books and other parcels flying around. During the climax of the storm and over the roaring winds, I heard clawing and whimpering in the cabin. Makai had climbed the three large steps to the kitchen counter and was perched at the door come outside. As Bret granted her this wish, she took off for the bow to her “poop mat.” Luckily, Bret caught up to with a rope to keep her on the boat. We experienced an accidental jibe which ripped the bracket holding the boom to the boat. I kicked Bret awake and I proceeded to lasso the wiping boom and take down the mainsail in 20+ and knots of wind. We rode out the storm with minimal damage and arrived safely in Turtle bay on the Thursday evening October 30^th. Tuning into the radio, we discovered others had not been as fortunate. One sailboat was struck by a whale during the storm and sank as their wet and cold crew was saved by the coastguard. Another boat issued a distress call after running into a crab pot that entangled the prop and rudder. Close to the harbor, they managed to limp their way in. It is now Friday morning. Makai is desperately seeking firm ground to step on and we have a beach party with the other boats to attend. We will depart for Santa Bajia on Saturday afternoon. It is a shorter leg we are all looking forward to.

Baja-Haha

2009-10-26T12:57:00.000-07:00

Our adventure began before we left the US. On our way down to San Diego from San Pedro, we experienced thick fog through the night with visibility at about 200ft at times. We slowly sailed along unaware of what lie ahead except for the GPS map showing where land is present. Escaping the fog the next morning, we encountered another trial. On the phone distracted and in between a helmsman transition, the Broken Compass kissed a shoal and came to an abrupt hault in the San Diego Bay. Ingenuity and our oversized 'rescue' dighy named Firefox heeled us back to the safety of the channel. Luckily, the bottom was sand and it was merely a practice in problem solving. One port harbor down, lots to go!

We are setting sail out of the bay this morning as I write this. Chad is washing down the deck to 'pretty her up' for the departure parade. Makai seems anxious, apparently sensing something new is on the horizon... or she may just be waiting for breakfast. Either way, we are all excited and feel ready for the rough seas and 350 nm initial leg of the Baja-Haha.

Two steps forward...

2009-10-17T20:36:00.000-07:00

Currently surrounded by an inverter, batt monitor, alternator, 3 disconnected batteries, and half a pot of Idahoan mashed potatoes, we have been tying up loose ends in the last week before we head off to San Diego. Waiting for updated passports to come back in the mail, vaccinations/drugs, saying goodbyes, putting junk in storage, testing equipment, and adding final touches to the boat has taken up most of our time. Makai just got her puppy vaccination pack #1, but will have to wait till Mexico to get #2 and rabies shots. 'Broken Compass' name was sealed on the back of the boat yesterday, and we started the tedious process of tying cones to our braided line for our 'save me' Jordan Series Drogue.

Today Chad went up the mast to attach a new wind vane onto the VHF antenna. Hanging 60 ft in the air, he demanded I send a camera up on the halyard since it was a "beautiful sunset view." Having climbing experience, we know the value of checking all harness buckles and knots. We forewent the same scrutiny with the knot holding the bucket to Chad's harness, which took the long fall from the mast top to the dock and into the drink.

Lost items: our last digital camera, VHF antenna, and our brand new wind vane.

Tomorrow's projects: buy new camera, VHF antenna, wind vane, and send myself up the mast to reattempt installation.

Compliments of the iPhone, here's a picture of Makai hard at work on the battery bank

California Sunset

2009-10-13T20:06:00.000-07:00

To articulate the past weekend in a few paragraphs will be difficult.

On Thursday we sailed down to Mission Bay with Chris Pike and Troy Grasinger, two guys Chad worked with at Union Bank of California. The 19 hour sail went well, and early morning porpoises and pilot whales made for some good sightseeing.

We met up with friends in Pacific Beach to relax, hang out on the beach, and watch an upcoming band Inside Switch (www.myspace.com/insideswitch) record their first album. We left San Diego Saturday evening with a crew of 7: Myself, Chad, Patrick Tell, Christina Damiano, Sejal Patel, Tony Crowell, and Nate Barnard. Sejal and Christina whipped up some amazing chicken stirfry, Nate and Tony kept watch like nighthawks, and Patrick crewed like a seasoned sailor. We arrived in Emerald Bay at 8am for breakfast on the boat and dighy assembly.

Todd Miller telescoped the crew's arrival from his castle overlooking Emerald Bay. We breached the shoreline at noon. In true Miller form, the beach was lined with activities and beverages. Joselyn Miller introduced Makai to her new best friend, a 3 month old english bull dog named Twiggy. The two battled tit for tat the entire afternoon as we reunited with old fishing friends from an Annual Sea of Cortez trip that Joselyn's father had chartered for almost two decades. A short sail partially convinced the elite athletes and adventures of Southern Californina we are ready for our voyage. The evening continued with a feast and toasts of farewell and blessings up at the castle. Armed with platnum patron and a dighy of 7 (including Makai) we shoved off for the Broken compass at 9pm. The darkness cloaked a small breaker on the way out which nearly swamped the tender and crew. Wet, cold and exhausted the crew pulled anchor and endured the 6 hour trip back to San Pedro.

We couldn't have imagined a better weekend.

Towards the Sea

2009-10-06T08:41:00.000-07:00

Preparations have been going well. Jimmy, owner of Jimmy G patios in Lancaster, Pennsylvania, has helped reinforce the foredeck and is now working with Chad to build out an icebox. All major changes will be complete by the end of the week for our final practice sail down to San Diego and back.

More importantly, Chad and I made a big decision this week. Against all local sailor advice forbidding the presence of a female as part of the crew, we decided some estrogen on board would probably be a good idea. Last night we went out and interviewed 5 females. Characteristically, we administered tests of strength, agility, intelligence, and personality. The girl meeting the rigorous trials is hypercompetitive, blue eyed and carries herself with confidence. Her name is Makai, Hawaiian for ‘towards the sea’.

Here’s a picture of our new crew member after her first night on the Broken Compass:

Back from the Island

2009-09-29T08:45:00.000-07:00

We just returned from another practice sail out to Catalina and received to green light to move forward from our honorary guest. Our Dad (not a sailor, but a fisherman) critiqued the outstanding safety issues and caught a few small kelp bass in the process. Notably, these were the first fish by rod and reel caught on the Broken Compass. It was a beautiful weekend on the island, and we spent time walking around the gift shops, looking for fish, and cleaning the bottom of the boat (which was long overdue).

Getting back, we sold Chad's truck last night. Since the Kawasaki ninja decided on it's own accord to take a breather, we are down to the Jeep. With less than one month before we depart, we are leaning our mainland toys and beefing up on supplies. We now have 55 cans of chili on the boat... everyone at the grocery store gives you weird looks when you have a cart full of one item.

The spreadsheet of "action items" is calling my name, so till next time...

Judgement Day

2009-09-23T12:26:00.000-07:00

Cool new gear! We received a great package in the mail with embroidered sailing shirts, "The best" socks for cold weather and a celestial navigation book. Thanks Liz! We look professional, however we have one final test to pass. There is one person Bret and I decided to give unconditional authority over our sailing departure date. Our Father. He understands our motives and abilities better than anyone else on this planet. After 2 months of research, modifications, practice and construction; we are a little behind schedule which leaves us at a slight disadvantage. Our father arrives tomorrow afternoon to sail out to Catalina on the Broken Compass. He will test our knowledge, skills, and safety. Our pass/fail verdict will be presented Sunday upon our return from Catalina of whether we are ready to sail. Wish us well and pray for wind.

Less than 40 days

2009-09-17T11:35:00.000-07:00

Well, we are less than 40 days away from our scheduled departure (October 25th), and the list of things to do is mounting as our time seems to be flying by. Regardless, a departure date is a departure date, ready or not. It would take something pretty serious to stop our plans. We have been researching, working, and purchasing needed equipment tirelessly. The boat is 'under construction,' meaning we put full cover over it so we can leave tools on the deck without other people in the marina complaining.

We also took down the jibsheet, ripped up some of the decking, half hazardly (or more hazardly!) taken apart the electrical system, as we are waiting on replacement parts/materials. I scraped and sanded off the old name from the transom.

Basically, we are currently unsailable, nameless, and without power. Can't wait to pull the pieces together and make this happen! I've always liked a challenge, and the timeclock is always a good competitor, so here we go....