Kaimana Pacific Crossing

Now I am quite sure: flying fish not only exist but they live both in the Atlantic and the Pacific. They prowl around as they please until they cross with a bonito or a mahi mahi, or if very unlucky, land on the deck of a boat.

To cross the Pacific leaving from San Diego, United States, will take us 25 days aboard the Kaimana, a 42' feet long catamaran. Next time we land it will be in The Marquesas Islands. Which specific island? Depends more in how winds and currents behave through the crossing. We are 4 aboard, the capitan Matt, the owners of Kaimana a Hawaiian couple Melissa and Scott and me. The best crew for this journey two very good surfers and a super woman, for three of us the first ocean crossing, a good star is with us.   

Before leaving the port, I feel something unexpected, I think I wasn't really aware of how far we were going. My heart starts beating really fast, I feel like hugging anybody on the dock, say goodbye to somebody, it doesn't really matter who. That feeling stays for several hours, until the sea little by little cradle me and I feel welcome, blessed to find myself comfortably saying see you later to the shore. 

                                                  

Urban pirate enjoying life in San Diego

Today is the 11th day, in terms of distance we are halfway, 1500 nautical miles. We have had good wind for the whole first week, sailing at an average of 8 knots, literally surfing little bumps, swaying harmoniously and comfortably. Poseidon has been good to us, a mahi mahi, a yellow fin tuna and seven bonitos of 5 kg each. With an offering in between: herbs, tobiko and Peruvian rocoto all wrapped in a sacred Hawaiian leaf.

Mahi Mahi for the ceviche 

Learning how to reel in a fish con Scott 

After a week and a day under way, by latitude were afraid had arrived to the doldrums strip, which in plain Christian means: no wind for two days. Sailing very, very slow, at about one or tow knots or none and always motoring as well. That was what the map and our position in the earth suggest, but from the said to the fact there a big space, so as the day goes by the wind blows over our stern steadily at some 12 knots, allowing us to sail with the spinnaker reaching speeds up to 7 knots. Not bad for the doldrums! We laugh, with the wind in our favor we feel masters of the ocean that we successfully sail.

Somewhere in the Pacific

Yesterday we had a storm; the sea was furious, 37 knots against us, the waves that come with such a windy. Can't talk regarding the size, it was dark, no moon not a drop of light. I only know they were big and coming from different directions, because occasionally  break stern over the deck. Fifteen hours lasted the storm. During my shift I felt the energy of the ocean, that energy I like so much. It was spitting us, rocking us hard and maybe officially baptizing us: Kaimana in Hawaiian means exactly that, the strength of the ocean or the sea. There is no right to bear such a name without having tried plain cinnamon. I felt the solitude in where we were like a needle, a little piece floating in the world. Watch out with the ego, we are tiny beings with a surprising capacity to consider ourselves big, the center of the universe. Being out there you understand that we are not from any reasonable standpoint, the center of the universe; we are only actors or even better, vectors.

The calm arrived, not suddenly like the songs claim, but little by little. After bum,bum, bum we are now with the waves against us but the wind to our favor, able hoist up the sails again. With the current and a south wind too strong to hold our course, we are now moving at an average of 4 knots. It is so true the phrase “al mal tiempo buena cara”, there is nothing we can do  at this point but to endure the beating on the boat, smile and enjoy the pleasure of being here now, surrounded by the sea, by peace with no rush, being happy because the storm is over and we still have a mast and are afloat.

It seems surreal to be here, outside the time, in a small sailing boat at 5 knots, or 5 nautical miles per hour; approximately 6 miles per hour, in a journey of 2,100 miles searching for waves and sea and more sea. My shift today is at dawn; well the clock says 6:30 but the sun has not yet risen. Seems to be the moment we were waiting for to give ourselves one hour by pushing back our clock. We are outside the time, marked by a new kind of routine:  6 hours nights with 2 hours shifts. Check our fresh goods daily to make sure they are not going bad, see the stars just in case the compass had gone crazy, put attention to the wind strength and direction, see the clouds, check that the sails are well suited.

The chicken sings when a fish on the best by Matt.

We caught some fish today. Never saw one that big. Taking shifts, Matt, Scot and Melissa reel fight with it for a quite bite, while I astonish look trying to learn how to reel in a fish.  It took its time but couldn't be better: Wahoo 4.5 feet. I don't know the name of Wahoo in Spanish, I know it is from the family of the macarel; and to be loyal to the truth, this is the nicest fish for frying or grilling I have ever tried. I will have to be forgive by my beloved Chita,  peruvian fish, witch until now have take that place in my kitchen.

Cooking Kitchari with Melissa in a nice calm day

We have arrived. After 21 days of blue sea, we saw land. It is green with high hills. It looks like a little piece of the Peruvian high jungle in a curvy island. It is so nice to arrive somewhere by sail with slowly changing angles as you move forward. We are in Nuku Hiva, in a town called bla bla bla, I said town but it is the capital of The Marquesas Islands.  Happy for completing the journey, we go down. As I put mi first feet on land and like to make me feel at home, a radio is playing a known bachata. Seems like Latin music also crossed the Pacific, a while ago.

Gracias Kaimanos for the nice crossing  and the sharing

Nuku Hiva