adagio 27 sailboat

The Adagio 27 is a 26.71ft masthead sloop designed by Lars Olof Norlin and built in fiberglass between 1968 and 1982.

350 units have been built..

The Adagio 27 is a moderate weight sailboat which is slightly under powered. It is very stable / stiff and has a good righting capability if capsized. It is best suited as a coastal cruiser.

Adagio 27 for sale elsewhere on the web:

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• Sailboat Guide

Adagio 27 is a 26 ′ 8 ″ / 8.1 m monohull sailboat designed by Lars Olof Norlin between 1968 and 1982.

Rig and Sails

Auxilary power, accomodations, calculations.

The theoretical maximum speed that a displacement hull can move efficiently through the water is determined by it's waterline length and displacement. It may be unable to reach this speed if the boat is underpowered or heavily loaded, though it may exceed this speed given enough power. Read more.

Classic hull speed formula:

Hull Speed = 1.34 x √LWL

Max Speed/Length ratio = 8.26 ÷ Displacement/Length ratio .311 Hull Speed = Max Speed/Length ratio x √LWL

Sail Area / Displacement Ratio

A measure of the power of the sails relative to the weight of the boat. The higher the number, the higher the performance, but the harder the boat will be to handle. This ratio is a "non-dimensional" value that facilitates comparisons between boats of different types and sizes. Read more.

SA/D = SA ÷ (D ÷ 64) 2/3

• SA : Sail area in square feet, derived by adding the mainsail area to 100% of the foretriangle area (the lateral area above the deck between the mast and the forestay).
• D : Displacement in pounds.

Ballast / Displacement Ratio

A measure of the stability of a boat's hull that suggests how well a monohull will stand up to its sails. The ballast displacement ratio indicates how much of the weight of a boat is placed for maximum stability against capsizing and is an indicator of stiffness and resistance to capsize.

Ballast / Displacement * 100

Displacement / Length Ratio

A measure of the weight of the boat relative to it's length at the waterline. The higher a boat’s D/L ratio, the more easily it will carry a load and the more comfortable its motion will be. The lower a boat's ratio is, the less power it takes to drive the boat to its nominal hull speed or beyond. Read more.

D/L = (D ÷ 2240) ÷ (0.01 x LWL)³

• D: Displacement of the boat in pounds.
• LWL: Waterline length in feet

Comfort Ratio

This ratio assess how quickly and abruptly a boat’s hull reacts to waves in a significant seaway, these being the elements of a boat’s motion most likely to cause seasickness. Read more.

Comfort ratio = D ÷ (.65 x (.7 LWL + .3 LOA) x Beam 1.33 )

• D: Displacement of the boat in pounds
• LOA: Length overall in feet
• Beam: Width of boat at the widest point in feet

Capsize Screening Formula

This formula attempts to indicate whether a given boat might be too wide and light to readily right itself after being overturned in extreme conditions. Read more.

CSV = Beam ÷ ³√(D / 64)

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Gougeon’s Everlasting Experiment

• By Dave Reed
• Updated: October 6, 2020

It’s a December night in 2015, and Matt Scharl is restless in the “guest room” set up for him in an office inside Gougeon Brothers boat shop on the bank of the Saginaw River in Bay City, Michigan. Out on the shop floor is the unmistakable white trimaran Adagio , designed and built in 1969 by the Gougeon ­brothers, Meade and Jan.

Earlier in the day, Scharl stood alongside Meade and Gougeon Brothers’ president and CEO, Alan Gurski, assessing Adagio ’s winter worklist. Meade’s primary concern was a 3-foot section of track that kept separating from the mast. Now, late at night and alone, Scharl can’t resist “popping a few screws,” and before long, he’s extracted the entire track. When he finally stops, the track is on the shop floor among chunks of epoxy and bits of wire.

“It’s wasn’t what they had in mind,” Scharl says, recounting the story with a chuckle, “but I did it anyway.”

He finally turned in at 3 a.m., and when he heard voices inside the shop a few hours later, he got up and walked out to the boat to find Gurski and Gougeon bewildered. “With my toothbrush hanging from my mouth,” he says, “I lean in between them and say: “Huh. That was on there when I went to bed.”

That night was the beginning of a transformation for Adagio , the most legendary craft among the tight-knit Great Lakes multihull crowd. Over 50 years of racing this unique and experimental trimaran, the Gougeons amassed a trove of trophies and accolades, but with Meade’s health declining in the years before his passing in 2017, he had handed the responsibility to son Ben and son-in-law Gurski, both of whom seized the opportunity to ensure that the boat remained competitive. Work on boats is what they do at Gougeon, especially in the winter, and they were honored to continue Meade’s great experiment.

“I knew then the boat was famous and unique and had quite a history to it,” Gurski says. “That being said, she was getting old and showing her age. Meade had a philosophy that the boat needed to last only as long as he would last. As he got older, some things on the boat went undone—or got done quickly for another day of sailing.”

For Ben Gougeon, one of 10 children, the boat was never really more than another vessel used for family outings and weeknight races in the ­once-thriving Bay City racing scene. As a kid, he says, he was more or less ballast. “Sailing came so naturally to my father, it was hard for him to teach others how to sail. It was more like, pull on that red line until I tell you to stop,” Gougeon says. “At the time, I never appreciated her for what she was. To me, as a kid, it was normal. I didn’t realize the vast differences between Adagio and all the other multihulls.”

Nor did he realize how fast the boat was, and still is today: “It used to drive me crazy because whenever we’d finish a race, my dad would hove to, and we’d sit there and wait for every boat to finish. We’d be around the course in like 20 minutes and then wait for what felt like hours. It wasn’t that he wanted to show everyone that he’d won; he was too humble for that. He just thought it was customary to wait for all the boats to come in, and that’s what he would do. He would talk to people as they came by and congratulate them on a good race and that kind of thing.”

Only once Gougeon, who now works for the company, and Gurski, who also considers himself a late-comer to competitive sailing, started learning how to sail the boat under the tutelage of the Gougeon brothers did they realize what they’d been bestowed. “We fell in love with it,” Gurski says. “Then came the caretaking part of it, which comes from building a relationship with the boat, sailing it and racing. It’s like your dad’s old Chevy; you develop an affection for it, and then find yourself spending an inordinate amount of time maintaining and repairing it. Part of what makes us unique as a crew—and as a family, and us as a company—is that we really like to work with our hands. It’s therapy for us in the boat shop; it keeps us closer to our customers, using our products to constantly maintain and repair our own boats.”

Initially they didn’t really know what the boat needed, but by the second season, they started to have a long-term vision of what its restoration would look like over the next 10 years, being realistic about what was most important—and ­having the budget to do it right.

“For example, a few years ago, a crack developed in the centerboard trunk, and every time we went over a wave, the boat would fill up with water,” Gurski says. “That winter’s job was to tear the boat in half, tear out the centerboard trunk, and then put it back in. That wasn’t fun.”

It was Meade who eventually enlisted Scharl to assist his son and Gurski himself with updating and racing the boat. “He said he was getting too old to sail Adagio , and he asked me to come to Bay City to help with the boat,” Scharl says. “I said, ‘Sure, but I’d like to sail it once to get an idea of what is involved.’ What I realized right away was that her sails were unforgiving, the lead positions were not optimal, and the hardware was aging on the boat.”

So began Adagio ’s transformation at the hands of Gougeon, Gurski and Scharl.

“Over the years, Meade would try stuff, put it on the boat, but then never take it off if it didn’t work. There was a lot of unnecessary stuff on the boat,” Scharl says. “So the primary thing was to simplify it and get a good set of modern sails. It was about making the boat easier to sail. It weighs only 2,600 pounds to begin with, so there wasn’t much room to take much weight out.”

Roughly 300 hours of labor went into the boat in the first year, 200 the next, and by the third, the work list was much smaller. That was when they finally added a traveler, engineered by Gurski and built in-house by the company’s craftsmen. “We had to do quite a bit of reinforcing to support the traveler on the transom,” Gougeon says. “It’s sort of odd the way it’s laid out because there’s a back cabin with a hatch. The traveler currently sits over that hatch, but no one goes back there anyway. It has made a huge difference on the boat. Before, we’d be blowing the sails in the gusts and have to reset them. The traveler greatly ­simplified the sailing of the boat.”

Adagio ’s sail number is E5, Gurski explains. The E stands for experiment: “ Adagio is Meade’s fifth experiment in boat design and construction, so I like to say there were four failures before it. It took until 1969 to get to Meade’s E5. And it just so happens that Adagio , for what she’s built do to—which is light-air sailing in the Great Lakes—holds true. She’s a light-air machine, and when it’s 8 to 10 knots, any boat in any fleet can’t hold up to her. We could make her stronger, sure, but we’d be hard-pressed to build her stronger at the same weight, or lighter. He got it right, so why change a good thing?”

Gougeon says his father was never really attached to any one particular idea, and that’s why the boat was forever evolving: “He was all for making changes for a tenth more speed and open to any changes that might allow for that. He would try to reduce the weight to make something work better, pushing it lighter and lighter until it broke, and then he’d go back to that point so it didn’t break again.”

Today, not much of his father’s tinkering remains, Gougeon says. Most of the original tiller is there, but ­everything’s been pretty much replaced on the boat, except the main center hull.

Scharl says Adagio is now close to perfect. “It’s crazy how fast the boat is,” he says, “but the number one thing is how quiet it is. It doesn’t make any noise going through the water. Up to 18 knots downwind, it’s absolutely quiet. Meade’s vision in 1969 is so spot-on today. I look at a lot of designs today, and I’m like, ‘Meh…they’re good, but they’re all condition-based.’ What Adagio does in all conditions is incredible. In winds less than 10 knots, no one is touching that boat. In the right conditions, Adagio would beat every boat by 15 miles—I guarantee that. It destroys TP52s and Great Lakes 70s because it’s ­incredibly slippery.”

Scharl’s boasts, of course, are backed by results, including a multihull division win in the 2020 Port Huron to Mackinac Race, a brutal upwind slog that saw most of its competitors retire. The previous year, the team of Scharl, Gurski and Gougeon finished second—by 14 seconds—to the 60-foot trimaran Earth Voyager . In 2016, 2017 and 2018 Adagio took home first-place honors. Countless victories beforehand with Meade and Jan and many others on board stand as a ­testament to its prowess.

Adagio ’s results reflect its proof of design, and its construction technique as well, Gougeon says. “It’s been around since the very beginning of the company,” he says, “so, after so many years, it stands out as a longevity thing. This boat was built with no mechanical fasteners in it—other than the stays that hold down the amas. It’s a testament to the epoxy, and certainly as she got faster in the earlier days and won a lot of races, it certainly helped promote West System to what it is today.”

As a sort of ­sailing shrine to the Gougeon family and the company it built more than 50 years ago, Adagio is an everlasting experiment that continues what they started when they put glue to wood. While nobody has ever tried to buy the boat, Gougeon says, it’s never been for sale anyway. Some things are not for sale, especially something this unique. There’s just not a better experience on a sailboat than Adagio going downwind, surfing waves, Gurski says. The sensation under spinnaker on this boat is magical. The quiet, the speed and the stillness are fantastic—just as Meade knew it would be.

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Let's connect, why it's important to partner with a designer on your adagio 27 sail.

The design is the most critical part of your new sail. Ensuring the sail fits and performs its best is a must for our crew. The Precision Sails Design team are experts at their craft. Unlike other sail lofts all of our sailors work one-on-one with a designer to perfect their Adagio 27 sail.

No Two Adagio 27 Sails Are Alike

There are many factors that affect the performance and design of your sails. Location, sailing experience, and weather conditions all come into play when picking the perfect sail. Two mainsails made for two Adagio 27’s in California and Florida will have different designs, sailcloth, and options based on what is best for the sailor.

Taking measurements is easy. All sailors work alongside our measurement team to measure and confirm their rig specs. This helps ensure your design is flawless and allows us to extend our Perfect Fit Guarantee to all of our sailors.

Discover the best cloth for your sailing needs, our sail details, or more about how Precision Sails is leading the sail-making industry with innovative new practices.

Proudly offering the largest selection of sailcloth in the industry, our team is always available to help you find your perfect sail. Whether you're a weekend sailor, coastal cruiser, or club racer our team is ready to walk you through the process.

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Precision Sail Loft specializes in producing headsails, mainsails, spinnakers, gennakers, and code zeros. So no matter the type of sail you’re looking for, we can help. Our sails are trusted by cruisers and racers alike from around the globe. Review the sail options and craftsmanship available to customize your dream sail.

Build & Process

Every sail we craft is produced to the highest standards with the best hardware, craftsmanship, and skill-set in the industry. Pair that with Precision Sails' approach to communication and your sailboat will be ready to set sail before you know it.

Unparalleled Commitment To Helping Sailors

As experts in design, communication, and production our team is ready to take on the task of making sails for your boat. Give us a call to get started.

“ I just received my asymmetrical spinnaker, with sock and turtle bag, along with a new 135 Genoa. The entire process was simple and both sales and the design team were in regular contact if there were any questions. The customer portal was easy to use and lets you keep track of where in the process your sails are. Great sails, great service -Graham Edwards (Facebook)

“ The whole team at Precision Sails was fantastic from start to finish. We’ve had a laminate main and genoa made so far and have a spinnaker on the way. They listened carefully to our needs and recommended a great sail cloth. We couldn’t have gotten more bang for our buck! -Noah Regelous (Google)

“ We received our spinnaker and launched it yesterday and I just wanted to let you know how pleased we are with it. The service we received from your company was exceptional and the quality of your product is second to none. We will certainly be return customers in the next few months to replace our main and jib sails and will recommend your company to all our sailing buddies. Once again-thank you.” -Daniel Jackson (Google)

“ we had good communication during the planning stages and the knowledgeable people at precision sails really got me fixed up good! The sails look and work fabulous! my boat sails better than it ever had! couldn’t be more pleased with the product AND the service!” -Fred Jelich (Facebook)

“ Our new furling jib for a Corsair 27 Had to be specially designed due to the height of the furler, but this was accomplished quickly and in short order we had our sail which fits beautifully and has a great shape. It’s everything we could have wanted, high tech design, thoughtfully executed and affordable.” -Nancy Y. (Yelp)

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Looking to buy a new headsail or mainsail for your Adagio 27? Request a free quote from Precision Sails for a new custom sail. Our team will work with you to design the perfect sail for you.

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Adagio 27 - Sailboat Sheets

Pre-Spec sailboat sheets for your Adagio 27. Genoa, gennaker and spinnaker shets to fit your cruising or racing sailing style. Full range of options.

MAURIPRO Rigging shop brings years of expertise to the sailing community. Our riggers are constantly working with sailboat owners to provide high-quality genoa, mainsail and spinnaker sheets for their cruising or racing sailboats. From traditional polyester double braid to the latest on high tech lines made out of Dyneema or Stirotek, we offer a wide range of materials and diameters to fit any need of sailboat sheets.

We at MAURIPRO Sailing are looking forward to helping you the best way we can, but most importantly, we are looking forward to seeing you on the water. Let's Go Sailing!

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Adagio’s Voyage

Taking a break.

Hi all. Well, we wanted to fill you in on our whereabouts. We’ve decided to take a break for an extended time back in the States to be with family. So, our plans to go to New Zealand this year have been put on hold. Instead, we hauled Adagio out in Tonga for the cyclone season. Adagio is in a very safe place in the Boatyard, and we know she will be waiting for us when we are ready to resume our adventures in the South Pacific.

In the meantime, I probably will not be posting quite as often on the blog. But, never fear, I have so many pictures and videos from the last few years that never made it onto the blog, and I will be working on some new content to post in the new year. In addition, I’d really like to post information for all the wannabe sailors and cruisers to help with their plans and dreams. But, I need some ideas of what you’d like to hear about. Choosing a boat? Equipment? Living aboard? Traveling in foreign countries? Diving off your boat? Weather routing? Gaining experience sailing? Cooking aboard? Please leave comments either here or on our Facebook page about what you want to see.

I hope everyone has a wonderful holiday season with friends and family. And, happy sailing!

Katie & Mike

Caves and Feasts in Vava’u

We left the Ha’apai group in Tonga and headed north to Vava’u. Where there was a lack of many cruising boats in Ha’apai, we found them all in Vava’u! This seemed to be the cruising hub in Tonga, and we initially had a hard time even finding a mooring in Neiafu, the main harbor. There are also a lot of charter sailboats here, and with good reason. Vava’u has such a variety of anchorages to explore and easy sailing. There is a beautiful anchorage within a couple of miles of anywhere you are, and the conglomerate of islands together block any swell creating calm seas.

After checking in at Neiafu, gathering some provisions, and catching up with some old friends, we headed out to explore all Vava’u had to offer. As we pulled into our first anchorage, a protected bay sheltered by islands and reefs all the way around, we dropped the anchor in the middle of about six other boats. We were contacted by one of the boats at anchor as we came in, who informed us that some locals were holding a traditional Tongan feast on shore that night and we were invited.

At sundown, all the boats in the anchorage dinghied to shore where are local hosts had set up an outdoor shelter with homemade picnic tables where they did a local feast for cruisers each Saturday night during the season. Of course, this was a business making venture for them, but the price was more than reasonable, and we are always wanting to help support the local communities in the islands we visit.

As our hosts began to lay out the dishes in a buffet style, the roast pig was just finishing up on the outdoor fire adjacent to where we were eating. We have been to quite a few “traditional” meals in the South Pacific, but this was by far the best one we have had so far. There was such a variety of dishes, from the roast pig to raw fish, teriyaki chicken, sweet yams, a taro leaf dish similar to spinach, and a curried tuna dish. It was all delicious. And, we made quite a new few friends from several different countries.

We explored several other bays in the coming days with lots of snorkeling, searching for lobsters, finding beautify cowry shells, trying to fish (with no luck), and just overall enjoying the beautiful scenery and nice weather. But, the best thing we did was to visit Swallow’s Cave. This is really a must-do in Vava’u, but more than worth the hype.

We were anchored in a nice bay called Port Mourelle less than a mile away from the cave and made a plan with our friend Roy on a boat anchored nearby to head out in our dinghy in the late afternoon to find the cave. As the cave faces west, we had read that the light was best in the afternoon to really get a good experience. As we had been hearing about this cave so much from others, I was initially skeptical about how great it might be and afraid it had just been talked up as some sort of tourist experience. I was delightfully surprised.

First, the cave is HUGE. I was expecting something small that you could just fit your dinghy into, but as we came upon the cave and started motoring in, we realized how far back it went. And, the opening was so tall with all kinds of stalactites and stalagmites where fresh water continued to drip creating great effect. We’ve seen caves like this where the bottom was land you were walking on, but this cave just continued on below the water for about fifty feet down to the bottom. The afternoon light coming in the cave created this amazing glowing blue color through the water that reflected up on the cave walls. Its almost difficult to describe, but we loved it.

After securing the dinghy inside the cave, we all jumped in to explore below the water. Freediving down to check out the underwater cave was just as exciting as seeing what was above water, and when you swam to the opening of the cave, you were greeted by a coral reef teeming with fish that then rapidly dropped off into the deep. As we were swimming through the opening, we noticed a school of about eight rather large bluefin trevally. As we sat and watched them, suddenly a dogtooth tuna joined the group as they patrolled back and forth across the cave opening looking for a meal. This is not something you see everyday, and we couldn’t believe we didn’t have the speargun with us!

We spent a couple of hours playing around in the cave until the sun started to descend. There aren’t too many places that I definitely want to make a point of seeing again, but I’m already ready to go back and do it again!

Alas, our cave diving will have to wait a bit. As we started to think about the trek south to New Zealand in a short time, we realized we really needed new anti-fouling paint on the bottom of the boat. So, we made arrangements in Neiafu to haul the boat out of the water to be painted. We are sitting in the boatyard right now waiting to be finished and dreaming of being back in the water soon.

The Friendly Islands

We left Niue on a two day passage for Tonga. It was an uneventful and easy passage, which we were pretty grateful to have had after some other boats we know that had some rough passages in this area of the South Pacific. We were also very excited to catch a yellowfin tuna on our first day out providing a delicious sashimi dinner!

We arrived in the Ha’apai group in Tonga, which is essentially the middle group of islands that comprise Tonga. Tonga is known as the Friendly Islands, and indeed the people we have encountered have been genuinely nice and helpful. The Ha’apai group is not very heavily populated, and most people living here live in small villages on remote islands where they do not see many outsiders and supplies are hard to come by. We traded some t-shirts and fishing gear for bananas and papayas with local fishermen. And, Mike in his usual Pied Piper manner made friends with all of the children in one of the villages playing on the beach and jumping out of a tree.

We were surprised not to find too many sailboats in the Ha’apai group, other than our friends Marcus and Diana on Allora, whose daughter Maddi was visiting them. So, most of the time we were two boats alone in the anchorage which suited us just fine. Although some of the anchorages are a bit challenging, the effort was certainly worth it to see some of the most beautiful islands and sunsets we have seen to date in the South Pacific.

The challenging conditions meant we had to be willing to anchor in spots where we dropped anchor up close to reefs, which is only ok in the right conditions. If and when the wind shifts we had to be ready to move on a moment’s notice to not end up with our boat on the reef! In one anchorage we kept watches all night to make sure the situation didn’t get dangerous. And, on another occasion we had to pick up anchor at midnight and move when the wind did a 180 degree shift. In that case, a squall came through and the wind shifted around bringing big waves pitching the boat up and down and putting us way too close to the reef. Luckily, we got the anchor up without any problems and made it to a safe anchorage by 2am. Not the most pleasant night, but sometimes you have to be willing to take a chance in order to see some of the most amazing places.

This time of year is also whale season in Tonga. The humpback whales come north from the Antarctic during winter to mate and calve. And, in the Ha’apai group the whales were everywhere. We had whales come by our boat in anchorages, next to our dinghy when we went out exploring, and breaching out of the water to put on a show every time we sailed between anchorages. We could not get enough of these magnificent creatures all around us. We especially loved the young ones that were just learning to leap and splash and play. They were the most curious about us and our boats.

In addition to all the whale watching, we loved the untouched and unspoiled nature of the Ha’apai for the excellent diving. The water is colder here and that means new and different corals and reef fish. We’ve loved all of the soft corals with their different colors and textures. There are also lots of anemonefish (like Nemo!), and we even saw our first zebra shark!

For several weeks, we jumped around from anchorage to anchorage, snorkeling and diving and whale watching. It would be impossible to describe each of the unique places we visited, so I’ll describe what was definitely one of the most memorable days.

We anchored with our friends on Allora near an island called Fonoifua which is surrounded by other smaller, uninhabited islands and reefs. We started the day by doing some exploring in the dinghies to try and find a good dive spot. We had whales around in the distance and it was a perfectly calm and sunny day. We jumped in the water at various spots to check it out, which is where we saw our first zebra shark and also some painted lobsters. (I didn’t get pictures of the lobsters, but they are worth googling.) We finally decided on a plan to do a dive at a nearby island in what looked to be a good spot.

After getting all the dive gear together, the five of us headed out to dive. The random spot we picked turned out to be spectacular. There were interesting coral formations with all kinds and colors of coral. The fish life was great, including spotting a giant trevally. And, one of the best things was hearing the whale songs on the entire dive. We didn’t see the whales on the dive, but we could hear them. They weren’t too far off, because the sounds were pretty loud under water. The most amazing was the deep sounds made from some of the males which was so loud that it vibrated in your chest, almost like someone had the bass on the speakers turned up way too loud. It was fascinating.

We all emerged from our hour long dive thrilled and wanting to do it again, but one tank was all was had time for that day. Mike had brought along a fishing rod and planned to troll back to the boat from the dive, which was about a mile trip. We weren’t really expecting much, but about half way back to the boat, the line started pealing off the reel, and we knew we had a good fish.

I yelled “fish on” at our friends who zipped back over to catch the fish action on video. It was clearly a strong fish, and at first we worried we might have hooked a shark. As Mike started reeling it in, we peered over the side of the dinghy and could see it was some kind of tuna. But, just as we started to see the fish, I also started to see a shark following the fish up. We have lost more than one fish to a shark in the past, so Mike started trying to reel it in as fast as he could. Our dinghy was full of all our scuba gear, so it made it a bit challenging for him to maneuver in the boat. But, soon enough we had a good size dogtooth tuna in the dinghy! We were all so excited for a good tuna dinner. And, it was a fantastic end to a perfect day.

We were only given a visa for 30 days upon arrival in Ha’apai, so after a few of weeks we had to leave to go up to Neiafu in the Vava’u group to get a visa extension. It was hard to leave Ha’apai, but we were excited to check out a new part of Tonga. More on that next time…

Magical Niue

After lots of exploring the caves and chasms by land in Niue, it was time to see it from another viewpoint.  We booked our first dives with the Magical Niue dive shop and excitedly jumped in the water.  All of the dive sites are very close to shore because of the steep topography of the island.  But, what is impossible to see from on top of the water, is that there are a myriad of caves, arches, caverns, swim throughs, etc. deep underwater.  Most of them you would never know were there if you didn’t have an experienced guide to show you.

Our first dive gave us just a taste of what was to come. (I think they were trying take it easy on us at first!)  But, the second dive really tested your senses.  If you have any kind of claustrophobia, these dives would not be for you.  It certainly got my adrenaline rushing when we had to follow each other single file through a narrow chasm in the reef with twists and turns.  When we got to the end, the first person had to swim over the chain to turn us all around.  There was some light streaming in from up above, but I’m still glad I had my light with me.  And, it also helped to see all the brightly colored soldierfish and squirrelfish that like to hang out in the dark crevices. 

After our first two dives, we immediately booked two more dives for a few days later.  As we were getting our gear on and listening to our briefing for this next dive, I got a little concerned when Rami, our guide, says he only takes experienced divers on this next dive.  Uh, ok.  Mike and I were the only two divers who did not have our Advanced or Rescue Diver certifications.  But, I guess he saw us dive the last time and thought we were capable enough.

Rami explained that this dive would be a little intimidating.  We descended to thirty feet over which there was large chasm in the reef.  It was about fifteen feet long and three feet wide at its widest place.  We were then to descend in this crack in the reef to 90 feet at which there is a large cave at the bottom.  I have to say I was a bit intimidated at first, but then it was just amazing.  At the bottom was a large cave that then opened up to ocean floor, so you could swim out the bottom of it.  (Unfortunately, all my cave pictures came out dark and blurry!)

After swimming out of the cave, we swam through numerous other chasms and swim throughs in the reef until it was time to ascend and head to the next dive site.  At the next dive, we were going to head into a true cave.  It was low tide which meant the cave would be filled with more fresh water than salt water creating blurry vision and we all needed lights to enter.

We descended to about thirty feet and followed Rami as he disappeared under the rocks.  After swimming quite a ways with rocks overhead and following the lights in front of us (since everything was blurry), I could see that Rami had ascended to the surface inside the cave.  We all came up and looked around the large cave with our lights as there is no opening in the cave to let in natural light.  Rami explained that coconut crabs often hide in this cave, but we didn’t see any this time.  The fresh water on top was much colder than the warm ocean water.  So, we didn’t stay too long and descended back down to exit the cave. 

We followed Rami through many more chasms and openings in the reef.  On this part of the island there was quite a lot of surge, so we weren’t able to go through some of the more narrow openings.  At one point I was just hanging onto to a rock to keep from flying into the other divers.  It was a bit amusing, but it meant the end of that chasm. 

The underwater topography is truly amazing in Niue and nothing like we have ever seen.  There are some nice corals and reef fish, but these dives are all about the scenery and underwater adventure.  

Our time in Niue is starting to come to an end, but we’re trying to see if we can squeeze in one more dive before we have to leave here.  Niue has seriously been one of the highlights of our time in the South Pacific, but we’re also looking forward to seeing Tonga next.

We finally arrived at Niue after our seven day passage from Penrhyn, and as a harbinger of good things to come, we hooked a nice mahi mahi just a few miles offshore.  Niue is known as “The Rock” as it looks like a big rock plopped down in the middle of the South Pacific.  Actually, it was created as a reef that was lifted up out of the ocean thousands of years ago. So, its origins are a bit different than the other volcanic South Pacific islands.  This gives it a really unique topography.

Niue is steep-to all around the island with no sheltered harbor or anchorage.  In order for visiting yachts to be able to stop, the Niue Yacht Club formed to put in heavy duty moorings in deep water for boats to tie up to.  The moorings are professionally maintained and put in and taken out each year for the cruising season. However, because they are not in a protected harbor, they are open to swell and wind waves and completely unusable in westerly winds.  

There is also no small boat harbor to tie up your dinghy when you go ashore.  So, all dinghies, fishing boats, dive boats, etc. are put in and pulled out of the water by a crane at the wharf.  We got quite good at getting our dinghy in and out of the water, but it definitely is a bit unusual!

After checking in and getting familiar with the main town of Alofi, we decided to rent a car with another boat to do some exploring.  One of the great things about Niue is that they have done a fantastic job of making all of the scenic sites accessible to tourists, with a tourist office, detailed maps, and well maintained trails and tracks to follow.  

All around the island are “sea tracks” which are trails that lead down from a main road toward the water.  Some of these sea tracks lead to small, sandy beaches protected by the reef, some lead to caves and chasms, and others lead to a mix of fresh and salt water pools that you can swim in.  Over the next couple of weeks, we will have explored almost all of them!

But, after just our first few days, the weather forecast was beginning to look a bit grim.  A low pressure system was going to be moving by Niue in a couple of days.  When these systems blow through, which they do regularly, they bring higher winds, rain, and wind that clocks around from East, to North, to West, to South and back to East.  As I mentioned above, you cannot stay in the moorings in any type of westerly winds. 

So, we had some choices to make.  All of the other boats in the mooring field prepared to depart for Tonga, Fiji or Samoa.  We were just not ready to leave.  We hadn’t seen all the caves and chasms yet and hadn’t done any diving, which we really wanted to do.  We decided that we would make the effort to spend more time in Niue by departing the moorings and heaving-to on the east side of the island until the westerly winds passed and we could get back onto a mooring.  At first we thought it would be about 24 hours, or maybe 48 at the most.  It ended up being 72 hours at sea before we could get back onto a mooring.

As the winds started to pick up and came from the north, we were the only boat left on the moorings.  The waves were picking up, making the boat pitch up and down quite a lot, so it was time to go.  We let go of the mooring and headed to the south of the island.  We drifted very slowly along the southwest shore of the island until after dark when the winds finally started to clock around more from the west, so it was time to head around the southern point and get to the west side.

The winds were blowing in the 20’s and rain was starting to come down.  I had gone down below to rest while Mike was on watch when I heard him yell down to me to come up.  We had been drifting at a speed of less than one knot with just our main up and had somehow drifted over a FAD (a fish aggregation device).  These FADs are all around the coast of Niue, but we weren’t expecting one a mile offshore! 

The FADs are unlit and uncharted. They are a buoy with a line to the sea floor and have a floating raft of sorts that are meant to attract small fish below them, which in turn attracts larger fish, etc.  The local fishing boats and charter sport fishing boats use them to fish near.  Well, somehow we had drifted over one and one of the lines was caught on our rudder.  

We tried maneuvering to get free of it with no luck.  The wind and waves were picking up causing or stern to slam up and down with waves crashing over the back of the stern into the cockpit.  It was quickly becoming a serious situation.  We weren’t able to raise any assistance on the radio and came to the realization that the only way we were going to get free of it was for someone to dive under the boat!

The last thing you ever want to have to do is go into the water at night (especially in poor visibility with the weather conditions).  But, we had no choice.  Mike grabbed his mask, fins and dive light.  He tied a line around his waste that was secured to the boat and headed over the side in the quickly deteriorating conditions.  I moved the rudder as Mike yelled up to me to do so that he could free the line that was tangled around it.  (I’m still not sure how he did it with the boat slamming up and down right over his head!).  And, we were free!

I realized we were free as the boat started moving forward.  We still had our main sail up and were suddenly sailing.  Mike was being dragged behind the boat by the line around his waste, and I quickly sheeted in the main sail to slow the boat back down to a crawl.  I’m sure Mike would have been able to pull himself in, but I pulled that line up as quickly as I could to get him back on board!  

I have to admit that this was one of the scariest things I think we’ve had to deal with in the last four years.  Of course, Mike’s reaction was, “easy, peasy.” I don’t think anything rattles that guy!  I guess that’s a good thing, because I probably do enough freaking out for both of us.  

The rain and and winds only lasted for about 12 hours.  The rest of our time at sea was really uneventful.  We enjoyed some sunshine and leisurely drifting up and down the east coast of the island until the wind switched around to the east again.  Soon enough, we were back safe on a mooring and ready to have more fun in Niue.  Despite our one little mishap, it was totally worth staying and getting another two weeks to do some hiking and the most fabulous diving we have ever done.  More about our diving adventures next time!

Big Fat High

After two lovely weeks in Penrhyn, we were ready to depart for the remote atoll of Suwarrow (also in the Cook Islands).  But, mother nature had other plans for us.  We woke up early in the morning before sunrise to get the boat ready to depart.  As we were having breakfast, we decided to do one last download of weather.  The forecast had changed in the last 24 hours which altered our plans completely.

The weather for the passage to Suwarrow looked fine, but the weather that would come through Suwarrow shortly after our arrival gave us a reason to reconsider our plans.  The forecast was showing a large high pressure system that was going to sit down around 30 degrees south (for reference, we were currently at 9 degrees south) that the weather gurus were calling a “Big Fat High.”  Although the moniker was amusing, the weather was not.  The Big Fat High was going to cause what is referred to as a “squash zone” north of the BFH where the change of pressure gradients would be “squashed” together.  What this means is that there were going to be strong winds blowing right through Suwarrow (and ultimately a good portion of the South Pacific) in excess of 30 kts. 

Suwarrow is a low lying atoll without much protection from strong winds and waves.  Around 6:00 a.m. that morning, all the boats in the anchorage that were planning to depart started chatting on the radio about rethinking the plan to leave Penrhyn.  Two of the boats decided they had to leave as they had guests meeting them in Tonga in a couple of weeks and needed to start making their way west.  (This is why it is hard to make plans to have guests visit!)  All the other boats made the decision to stay put for the time being.  Penrhyn was far enough north to be out of the forecasted squash zone, so we might as well enjoy some nice (and safe!) weather.  We had no idea at the time, but that Big Fat High stuck around for another two weeks.

We made the most of our additional two weeks in Penrhyn with lots of social activities with the other boats and the locals in Te Tautua.  We even had a Fourth of July BBQ on the beach.  Although only a couple of the boats were American, all of the boats were eager to celebrate our national independence with a big beach bonfire and grilled meats.  I think that is a universal joy!

We also got to spend some more time enjoying the natural beauty of Penrhyn.  Mike had fun stalking the bonefish on the flats, and I got in quite a few good snorkeling sessions.  

But, the highlight for me were finding the nesting birds that were all over the motus.  I had gotten pretty good with fish identification, but I needed a little help with the birds.  Thankfully, some of the other boats were better birders than I am, and they helped me identify red-tailed tropic birds, black noddies, red footed boobies, brown boobies, fairy terns, sooty terns and a few others.  I learned that red-tailed tropic birds usually nest on cliff sides.  Well, there are no cliffs in the low lying atoll of Penrhyn, so the birds were all nesting on the ground.  That was good news for us camera happy visitors who wanted to snap pics of the beautiful birds and their fluffy little chicks!

At the end of our month in Penrhyn, the winds were finally changing.  We saw a good weather window to depart and took it!  But, we decided to make a detour.  Although the winds looked good to Suwarrow, they also looked good to bypass Suwarrow and head all the way to Niue.  Niue has been one of the places we were most looking forward to seeing in the South Pacific.  We also know and have now experienced how variable the weather can be in this area.  After much contemplation, we decided to skip Suwarrow and head all the way to Niue.  (This ended up being a good move, as our other friends weren’t able to get a weather window to Niue after Suwarrow and instead headed to American Samoa.)

We said goodbye to the rest of the fleet who left Penrhyn and decided to stop in Suwarrow, and made our way down to Niue.  This was our second seven day passage this year and definitely our best.  For most of the passage, we had what another sailor called “magazine sailing.”  It was easy sailing with moderate winds just aft of the beam and seas that weren’t too big or confused.  We only had one 24 hour period that was less than ideal, where the wind shut down for about eight hours and then piped up to 25 knots with lots of rain.  So, we were a bit soggy one night, but that’s pretty good for a seven day passage.

Finally we arrived in Niue! But, more about that next time!

Cultural Immersion

After arriving in Penrhyn, we were greeted by three different officials who came out to our boat to check us into the Cook Islands. The Cook Islands are an independent group of islands associated with New Zealand, tied politically and economically with New Zealand. Each island in the Cook Islands has its own dialect of Maori that is spoken at home and in churches, but English is taught in school. As a result, everyone speaks two languages.

After checking in and paying what are a bit hefty fees, the officials gave us info about the atoll. We were permitted to anchor in front of either of the two villages, Omoka and Te Tautua. If we wanted to go anywhere else, we would have to ask permission of the island council. In addition, there are strict rules for Sundays, which are days of rest and prayer. You are not allowed to swim, work on your boat, go fishing or basically do anything except go to church. And, there are very strict dress codes for church, including for women wearing a long skirt, shirts that cover your shoulders and a hat. We were definitely not in French Polynesia anymore!

We didn’t spend much time anchored outside of Omoka, the main village, as it is on the west side of the lagoon and the strong easterly winds made it an uncomfortable and choppy anchorage. As soon as we were cleared in, we headed across the lagoon to Te Tautua where our friends on Allora were already anchored.

We wanted to go exploring both on land and in the water, but we were told we should go introduce ourselves ashore first. Te Tautua is a very small village with only about 50 residents. We didn’t know who we needed to talk to ashore, so we stopped at a catamaran anchored nearby and asked a nice Frenchman. He immediately said we needed to talk to the pastor of the church.

Ashore we walked to the only church but found it closed. As we were walking nearby, a young man and teenage girl came out of the home next to the church and greeted us warmly. We discovered that they were the pastor’s children and that their dad was down the street where workers were being given a feast to celebrate the end of construction of a new cistern and rain catchment system. We found the group gathered around, looking exhausted from a days work, and waiting for their meals to be served. We briefly said hello and met the pastor, and then went on our way.

Later that night, the pastor and his cousin arrived at our boat and wanted to come aboard. We visited for a while and made plans for the weekend. The pastor offered to take Mike and Marcus out to a spot where they might find some bonefish and do a little fly fishing on Saturday. We were also invited (or expected) to attend his church on Sunday. He also made very clear that we were not allowed to do anything else on Sunday. It was actually “against the law” to be out in your dinghy or go swimming or basically anything. I have no idea what that actually means as there is no police or jail here.

There were about six boats in the anchorage at this point, and they said there would be a lunch for everyone after the church service. On Sunday, I got up early and baked a cake to bring. I had to dig around for a skirt long enough that was acceptable to wear to church. I did all of this a bit begrudgingly. Its a bit strange coming from our culture for it to be mandatory to attend a religious service, but when in a foreign country we always try to be courteous and sensitive to the local culture.

As we all gathered on shore to head over to the pastor’s home before church, we started seeing many local boats arrive from across the lagoon, which was a little confusing given the lecture we had been given about being out in your boat on Sunday. Then, we learned why. Apparently, one of the elderly women in the village had died in the early hours of the morning. There would be no church service today, as all day would be dedicated to the funeral. The boats from the other village were given an exception to the “no boats” rule in order for friends and relatives to attend the funeral.

We were all invited (or expected) to attend the funeral. I was hesitant at first as I didn’t want to be intrusive to a grieving family, but the family and friends and villagers warmly welcomed us. First, we went to the family’s home where the deceased was laid out in a simple wood coffin. The family and friends sat around as various people got up to speak (in their local language) and many songs were sung. The singing was somewhere in between organized music and wailing, with people joining in spontaneously and with a lot of emotion. It was a bit fascinating. After a couple of hours, the family walked past the body one last time before the lid was drilled onto coffin. There are no mortuary services here, and in the tropical climate, bodies are buried within 24 hours.

The coffin was then carried to the church as we followed the procession. There was a church service with more singing, and then the coffin was carried back to the home where a shallow grave had been dug for burial. The grave had been lined with a concrete form where the coffin was placed. After more singing, the family and friends disbursed while workers got ready to cover it in concrete, essentially sealing the body in a tomb underground.

We made our way around to the other side of the home where a feast had been laid out for everyone of chicken, rice, oysters and clams. There is very little produce grown in Penrhyn. By 3:00 in the afternoon, I was exhausted..and hot. We excused ourselves and made our way back to the boat to relax.

This was our first real introduction to the culture here, which was strange and new. I doubt many outsiders get to see the ritual of a funeral in this remote place. I’m thankful they included all of us to be able to witness it, despite my reservations.

The people of Penrhyn, and in particular Te Tautua, have been incredibly welcoming, treating us as guests in their village rather than visitors just passing through. We have been invited into homes, asked to attend birthday parties, visited the school to tell the kids about where we are from and even had a feast prepared in our honor. I don’t think we’ve visited anywhere else that has so immediately embraced us as part of the community. It has really been a special place to visit.

Rough Passage

We left Maupiti en route to Penrhyn in the Cook Islands on a beautiful day with perfect wind. Penrhyn is northwest of Maupiti and the eastern trade winds put the wind just aft of the beam. If the wind stayed this way the whole passage, we were in for an easy, fast, four day sail.

We got into passage mode pretty quickly, alternating our shifts overnight. We had consistent wind and hardly any squalls. I had pre-made food that made dinners easy to prepare. And, our average boat speed was pretty good for this old boat. It had all the makings of a great passage.

That all changed after a couple of days. As I was on watch, suddenly the mainsail came sliding down the mast and I hollered out to Mike as loud as I could to wake him up. We had lost the main halyard. (For non-sailors, that is the line that is used to raise our mainsail.) Mike came out and looked at me like I must have been joking until he turned around and saw the sail falling off the boom and onto the deck. I think there were a few expletives coming out of his mouth at that point.

A month earlier back in Tahiti we had noticed some chaff on the line just above where the line attaches to the sail. Mike went up the mast and thought he could see where it was chaffing at the top of the mast and came up with what he thought would fix the problem. At this point we realized that it didn’t work. We didn’t have a way to run another main halyard while at sea. In order to do that, Mike would have to climb to the top of the mast and figure out a way to run a line inside the mast that I could fish out of a hole toward the bottom. We had close to 20 kts of wind and at least a 2 meter swell that would make that impossible to do here.

We started brainstorming what we could do to try and use our mainsail. If we couldn’t use the sail, we would be sailing with just our jib which would slow us down at least a day and make it a rolly, uncomfortable ride. We have a spinnaker halyard that comes off the top of the mast, but the front of the mast, not the rear like the main halyard. Mike decided we could try and use that, but he would have to go up the mast to the spreaders to move it. I watched below helping hold the line while he put his harness on and climbed up the mast in the rolling, pitching sea.

Because the line came out the mast at the front and would have to wrap around to the rear, we weren’t going to be able to pull the mainsail to its full height. So, we got it up to the second reef point and turned back toward Penrhyn.

A day later the winds started to back off, and with our reefed mainsail we just weren’t getting enough speed. We wanted to make it to Penrhyn in daylight on Thursday. If we didn’t make it in before the sun was down, we would have to wait at sea overnight to go in through the pass on Friday morning. We were both pretty motivated to get there at this point.

Mike looked at the spinnaker halyard and thought we might be able to get the sail up to the first reef point, which would get us more sail and help us move a bit faster. We turned up into the wind and raised the sail, tightening down the first reef line. When we had turned back the direction we needed to go, we realized the foot of the sail looked a bit baggy. We don’t use the first reef point very often and decided the car needed to be moved back a bit to get a better sail shape. To get the most power out of your sail, you’ve got to have the shape of the sail right.

So, a plan was made to turn back up into the wind, release the reef line, move the car back, re-reef and then head back in the right direction. When we reef the mainsail on Adagio, we have to tie the excess sail down to the boom so it doesn’t hang down on the deck. When we turned back into the wind to fix the baggy foot of the sail, Mike released the reef line before taking the sail ties off the excess sail being held down to the boom. This was a big no-no as immediately two large tears opened up in our mainsail.

Mike realized his mistake immediately. He knows better, but mistakes can happen when you’re trying to do a bunch of things at once on a moving, rolling boat. We both screamed out when it happened, a bit in shock. Our sails are only a little over three years old and to rip big tears in them is a bit heartbreaking. Feeling a bit dejected, we put the mainsail back at the second reef point and headed toward Penrhyn.

Now, were were really ready to get there, both of us in a bit of a foul mood about the passage. We headed more up wind to try and get more speed and made it to Penrhyn just before sundown on Thursday. Luckily, after we arrived in Penrhyn, we had numerous friends offer to help us with the repairs. The main halyard was easily rerun through the mast, and we had friends on other boats willing to give us sail cloth to repair the tears in the sail.

Locals in one of the villages gave us a big, covered space we could spread the sail out to repair it. Two of our friends from other boats, Ken and Tuomo had experience repairing sails. Tuomo even worked for a sail maker in Finland. We lugged our sewing machine, sail and generator to shore and four of us worked for several hours to patch and sew the sail. I never thought I’d be sitting on a dirt floor with my sewing machine on the ground, sitting sideways so one foot could work the pedal, and be sewing a giant sail! It took all four of us to work the sail through the machine, but afterwards our sail looked good as new. The patches are hardly noticeable and really strong. Afterward, we all celebrated back on Adagio with a cold beer. Whew! Time to have some fun!

Best for Last

After a little over a year, it was finally time for us to check out of French Polynesia and head west. We definitely had mixed feelings about leaving. There were still islands and atolls we hadn’t seen in French Polynesia, but there is more to the South Pacific to explore going west.

We headed to Bora Bora to check out of the country, as it is the furthest port west where you can check out. We were feeling grateful that we had spent some time in Bora Bora last year before new regulations came into place this year restricting where private boats can anchor. Apparently the high end resorts that cater to honeymooners didn’t like sailboats anchoring out in front of their hotels. I’m really not sure why were so offensive! So, sailboats are now restricted to certain spots away from the hotels, and some of those anchorages are pretty deep requiring you to use a mooring which they will gladly charge you $20/night to use. This time, we were going to make our visit short.

Even though Bora Bora is the last place you can check out with the officials, there are some islands that are part of French Polynesia further west. One of those is Maupiti, only 27 miles from Bora Bora. The officials (unofficially) look the other way if you check out in Bora Bora and stop over in Maupiti for a few days before leaving the country.

We really wanted to visit Maupiti, but the prospects weren’t looking good. There is only one pass into the lagoon in Maupiti on the south side. When there is a large south swell running, the pass can be completely closed out not allowing any boats in or out. We were carefully watching the weather with our friends on Allora and hoping that we would get the chance to go.

We finished the checkout process with the officials and got our exit paperwork. Some final provisions were done at the local magazins, and our fingers were crossed for Maupiti. There was still a south swell, but it was a lot less than it had been for the last two weeks. Our friend Diana contacted a local on the island who said that the next day looked doable, not ideal, but possible. We decided to go for it.

We pulled up anchor before the sun was up and headed through the pass in Bora Bora. There was little to no wind but we could see the long, slow rollers of the south swell. Allora, as always, is faster than us. So, we knew they would go through the pass first. We saw them lining up to go in and waited to get a report on the VHF. They have been in FP for two years and are not shy or hesitant to go into sketchy anchorages. So, when I heard Diana on the radio say the pass was “lively” with excitement in her voice, with a warning just not to look back once we decided to go for it, I knew we were in for something different.

We lined up to go in the pass based on the heading set out on our charts and held our breath as we started toward the narrow pass with large waves breaking on the reef on either side of us. The current coming out of the pass was immense. The current was 4-5 kts against us – easily the most current we have ever had in a pass. Mike gunned it and we both prayed our engine wouldn’t die, or we would be up on the reef in no time. We pushed it to 2500 rpms, and I watched the engine temp tick up over normal. Despite the engine working as hard as it could, we were barely making 2 kts over the ground. Mike had so little steerage between the current and the waves that I could see him working harder than I’ve ever seen on the wheel to steer the boat. I just tried to stay out of the way.

But, before we knew it, we were inside. We had made it! What awaited us inside the lagoon was amazing. There are fringing reefs and motus on the outside of the lagoon and a beautiful island in the middle with large rock faces on one side and the rest covered in green. I think it is one of the most beautiful places in French Polynesia. It definitely made me think that this is what Bora Bora must have been before tourism came there.

We navigated the marked channel to the anchorage and set the hook. Then, we were off to explore. I think I said over and over that we had saved the best of French Polynesia for last. We biked all around the island, hiked up to the top of the mountain and swam with manta rays inside the lagoon. We went fishing and snorkeling and stared at the beauty of this magnificent place. We played around with local kids on the dock and laughed as they tried out the few words in English they knew and asked us silly questions like, “Are you a peanut?”

But, it was time to move on and the weather looked right for the four day passage to Penrhyn in the Cook Islands. We raised anchor and said goodbye to French Polynesia as we sailed out the pass and headed west.

The Pull of the Ocean

When we left Rangiroa, we had a 36 hr sail back to Tahiti. It was the best sail we have had this year with 15 kts of wind on the beam and calm seas. We barely had to touch the sails as the consistent eastern trade winds pushed us back to Tahiti. The nights were clear without any squalls, and the stars gave us plenty to ponder when alone in the cockpit overnight. I needed a sail like that. We had had a few uncomfortable passages this year, one in which I was sick the whole time. I was beginning to dread being on passage again, but this sail brought me back to the joy of just gliding on the ocean.

We arrived back in Tahiti before dawn and tied up to the dock at the downtown marina. We had planned for one week in the marina to do a bunch of boat chores and provisioning before heading out again. We finally were starting to wrap our heads around the fact that we were going to be leaving French Polynesia after a year. Our last time to pull into Tahiti was bittersweet. But, after a week of hard work, we headed out west again for Huahine.

Huahine was probably our favorite island in the Societies that we visited last year. And, it is the place that Mike really got his surf groove on. He had done a little surfing before that, but not much. Just outside the entrance to the pass was a great wave that Mike got out on almost every day for two months last year. And, as we were departing Tahiti, Mike checked the surf forecast to see that the surf report looked good for the next week.

We arrived in Huahine to find a couple of boats that we knew and quickly met others in the anchorage. There was a fleet of about six other boats, all families with kids, who were going to be traveling to the Cook Islands at the same time as us. So, we’re going to have lots of company.

As soon as we dropped anchor, Mike grabbed the surf board and hit the waves. It had been awhile since he was able to surf, so the first couple of days he was a bit sore getting those paddling muscles back in shape. But, he was determined to get as much time on the waves as possible.

Our friends Ken and Edith on Alondra wanted to go check out the surf and get some pictures of the surfers. Edith has a nice long lens on her camera (better than mine) and thought we could get close enough to get some good pictures. Ken volunteered to drive the dinghy, which took some skill to get inside the waves but then get out of them in time before they were breaking. We didn’t want to get caught inside and roll the dinghy!

We had so much fun for two days capturing Mike and the other surfers catching waves, missing waves, getting pummeled by waves and generally having a good time. I was so impressed by how well Mike was surfing. Its not easy to pick up a new sport at age 50, but his determination and strength have paid off. He was catching more waves than most of the other surfers and actually looked like he knew what he was doing!

After seeing him surf up close, I really started to understand the draw of surfing. The power of the ocean is most evident by the visual of the large waves breaking down on the coral reef. Sitting and waiting for the perfect wave in the clear blue ocean where you can look down and see the coral and fish below as if you could reach down and touch them makes you feel how tiny you are in the vast ocean.

That pull of the ocean, what drives us to spend our days sailing, surfing, diving and swimming is something that feels so raw and natural. It is the opposite of living in the concrete jungle of the cities and spending your days immersed in the online world. Its something I wish I could capture in a bottle and take with me to give to anyone who has never been to the ocean. I think if we could spread that feeling around the world, we’d all live in a better place. A world that appreciates and reveres our environment, is kind and generous and finds exhilaration in the little things in life that make up this wonderful world.