After all, this can also be useful to other people who would have the idea to go sailing around the world, in order to know how much money they have to save. And we have not spent some time to write down all our spendings in a superb Excel spreadsheet for nothing !!

Preliminary comment: we know that a yacht is feminine in English, but Schnaps is a boy, so we unilateraly decide that we say « he ».

The spendings before leaving

One needs to buy a yacht, repair him if it is needed, and fit him so that she is comfortable and safe to be sailed offshore.

Here is how much it costed us:

To understand these charts well, we have to explain 2-3 things:

• Even if Schnaps was almost equiped for coastal cruising when we bought him, we made a lot of things to make him ready for safe offshore sailing (the full list is here, in French, but the length already gives an idea of the amount of work)
• We have done everything by ourselves. Really everything, including the man overboard pole with a flashlight, except 2 single things: the arches for the cockpit and the dodger (we cannot make stainless steel fittings … yet !) and a reef line in the n°1 jib. Making everything by oneself is much cheaper than calling the professionnals, but it is much longer.
• For all these spendings, we have always looked for the best price available, even if we had to spend a lot of time doing the market study. Ebay was one of our best friends, but also the suppliers from the other side of the Channel, often cheaper than the French ones !

A few details on each category:

• Deck fittings : 3780€

chainplates, pulleys, shackles, ropes, stainless steel bolts, charts, furler… The biggest single expenditure in this category is the windvane (our very very good friend Raymond), and most of the rest is a sum of many many very small expenditures.

• Electricity-Electronics : 4680€

full refit of the electric circuit, split-charge device, a few devices for the on-board computer, the SSB, the lightning protection. A few supplementary numbers for this category:

SSB (transceiver + tuner + modem) 2240€ (the first transceiver we had bought was KO)
LEDlights everywhere in the boat: less than 200€
refit of the electric circuit: 1530€, this grows quickly with the wires, the waterproof switchboard, fuse holders and fuses, connexions, switches, battery switches, ampmeters, packing boxes …

• Energy: 3660€

The wind turbine and the hydrogenerator, with their regulators, the solar regulator, the alternator regulator and the fittings for the hydrogenerator

• LPG: 460€

LPG connexions to enable us to refill our cylinders everywhere in the world, or use cylinders from anywhere, but also the refit of the existing installation

• Engine: 440€

That’s Dédé the XUD! Mostly spare parts, maintenance, filters, gaskets, belts… The biggest expenditure is the replacement of the silent-blocs that we replaced when we saw that they were destroyed, while installing the copper foil for the SSB ground in the bilge.

• Plumbing: 260€

Water tank level indicators, new hatches for the tanks, connexions and valves, hose … and if we had had the time to do it, we would have had rebuilt the tanks and all the water circuit.

• Safety: 4280€

A heavy budget, but it is not worth saving money on such important things. Included are the parachute anchor (more than 1400€), the chain and anchor (a little more than 1000€), the distress beacon, the porthole shields, the autopilot remote controls with man overboard alarms, the pharmacy, the lifelines, the harnesses… It does not include the lifejackets, which we already had.

We did not use everything, and that’s good, but if we had to do it again we would probably buy exactly the same things.

• Miscellaneous: 2510€

A little bit of everything and anything as it can be expected, the DIY consumables, the dinghy and its repairs, tools, fishing gear… The opportunity to verify that little streams make big rivers!

• Arch and dodger: 1237€

the arches for the cockpit arch and the dodger and the fittings

• Sellerie : 830€

The cloth for the dodger and the bimini, the tarpaulin for the cockpit roof, the taylor-made sheets for the front cabin, sewing thread in kilometric quantities…

• Comfort : : 1580€

unbreakable dishes, heating and assoociated plumbing, a new resistance for the water heater, cloth to make new cushion covers… The biggest expenditure is the heating installation (1100€ for the diesel heater, the radiators and especially the plumbing).

The spendings during the trip

The spendings are counted from the 16th of July 2009 to the 13th of October 2011 (we stopped counting all the running costs at that moment).

We planned to have running costs of around 1000€ per month for food, fuel and living costs. We have quite well respected this prevision but … but we had not planned that the equipment spendings would explose. Thanksfully we had a safety matress for this kind of expenditure, but we would have prefered to keep it intact…

Click to zoom in

It is obvious that April 2011 was not not very favourable to big spendings, as all of it was spent at sea !

One can also see that we had 3 difficult moments for the equipment : the genoa winches in Ireland, the autopilot computer in Martinique and finally the standing rigging in Polynesia. The last green block is Victor, the new outboard for the dinghy, we were fed up with rowing all the time.

If we remove the 3 difficult moments, we reach an average of 310€ per month, which is not negligible.

And speaking about that, concerning the insurance (the pink block), we learnt at our expense that it was better to keep the money spent in a full-risk insurance policy to spend it in true safety things at the insurance company is not really prone to refund anything when it should.

The biggest running costs are the groceries, that’s logical (a little less than 500 € per month on average). Then, that’s the harbours and the Panama Canal (in the same category). On this aspect, our Pacific crossing, without any stay in a marina, was quite interesting !

The ‘Miscenalleous’ category is rather significant: 1600€ / month, made of spendings for the laundry, wireless, phone calls, taxis and buses to go to the shops, a few souvenirs but not that much (our souvenirs are mostly drinkable or eatable, so they are in the groceries category), picasa storage space, blog hosting, postcards, stamps…

The « restaurant and leisure » category, that’s our little pleasures. A meal in a restaurant from time to time, car rentals and associated petrol, taxis and buses to go to the hikes, and all that…

The insurance is unfortunately just after, by order of size.

The fuel for Schnaps (diesel for Dédé the XUD – our inboard engine – petrol for the outboard and LPG for the stove) costed us 135€ / month on average, which is significant.

After that come very unpleasant spendings: customs and formalities. Let’s be brief and precise: it was very expensive in Panama, Tonga and Fiji.

Then we have the maintenance, which is reduced to the bottom paint that we put on our arrival in Opua.

Voilà! If we had to do it again, we would not change a lot to our previsionnal budget. We would maybe think of replacing the rigging before leaving (to spare ourselves some scary moments as well !), we would only subscribe to a civil liability insurance and we would select our destinations to avoid the paperwork fees. But we would still plan to have a good safety matress, if something happens!

And if there is only one thing to remember, it’s that everything costs always more than expected, both in time and money (but Johannes, you already know that, for sure!)…

The cruising along the East coast was lovely: nice coastline, rocks, hills, cliffs, beautiful bays … We planned to sail to Great Barrier Island but decided that it was not reasonable. As we needed to drop Agnès (my sister) somewhere between Whangarei and Auckland and meet my mother who arrived in Auckland a few days after, we would have only spent 2 or 3 days on this island which deserves much more time! We then decided to enjoy small walks around Tutukaka harbour, to stop in Whangarei (beautiful Urquharts Bay) and then to head to Kawau Island, from where Agnès could take a ferry to go back to her kiwi family’s lodge in Warkworth …

Urquharts Bay, at the mouth of Whangarei River

We spent 3 days in Kawau, and we had the pleasure to meet Lin and Larry who were just coming back from the US where they have presented their new book. They were very nice to welcome us just the day after they came back home … it is great to discuss with sailors like them, who have spent so much time at sea in every possible condition, at a time where GPS and electronic charts did not exist! We also met John and Kim, who run the Emerald Lodge on the opposite side of the bay: as we saw the small ferry stopping on their pier, we thought it was a public one (we did not know yet that such things did not really exist in North Cove) and landed here … to help John unload the groceries brought by the ferry! When we came back 3 weeks later, we really enjoyed meeting the other inhabitants of this small island which tries to make itself forgotten from the bureaucracy …

Being expected in Auckland, we had to leave, promising to come back a few weeks later. With a strong NW flow that hit us just after the Whangaparaoa peninsula from where we could see the Sky Tower, the arrival in the City of Sails was a little rough … so was the landing in the marina berth with 30 kts of side wind … Here is Schnaps’ new home: Bayswater marina, face to Auckland.

Arrival in Auckland: an old America's Cup boat and the Sky Tower

Not in the town but not so far from it (only 10 minutes by ferry), real bathrooms to take showers, cheap wireless internet, a berth not far away from the pontoon entrance so that we don’t have to run a marathon each time we need to go to the toilets, a car park, and reasonable prices … fair enough, even if it is a little exposed! This marina became our headquarters for the following weeks, which were filled by our families visits (first Thomas’ mother, then Claire’s parents), job applications and the search of a car.

Yes, a car, which will enable us to explore the beautiful countryside of New Zealand (this is our first big island since Europe, excluding Panama) and go to job interviews even far away from downtown Auckland! In NZ, it is really easy to find an old cheap car. But we wanted something special: first we wanted an economic car to run (and therefore a diesel, we made the comparative study, even with the Road User Charge it is cheaper to have a diesel car as soon as you drive more than 9000 km a year), and a rather big one so that we could sleep at the rear. A big diesel station-wagon as the Citroën Xantia we still own in France would have been perfect, but it is virtually impossible to find this kind of car in New Zealand. If owners of such cars exist, they are not crazy and they keep them! Finally, we almost found what we wanted: old, cheap, reliable, very economic, big enough but not too big to remain light… a 21-year old Citroën BX!!! An old Citroën in NZ, are we crazy ? Not that much: the engine is one of the best and most reliable diesel engines in the world (it is exactly the same as the one fitted in Schnaps), the parts are not that expensive (compared with their price in France), and the BX is one of the most reliable and confortable cars of its generation. The old small Toyota or Nissan diesel cannot really be compared with the XUD engine in terms of fuel economy (5.5 L / 100 km in town for a big saloon!!) reliability and ease of repair … and as it is the 5th engine like that in the familiy, I know it almost perfectly! We got the car for 550$, had a new headgasket fitted (together with a 2nd hand cylinder-head, as the previous one was cracked, this was the only bad surprise), and here we are: we can now proudly drive a collection car, and everyone stares at us and is jealous not to be behind the driving wheel of our spaceship!!

Our "new" Biwik's

So, now, Human Resource Managers of all New Zealand, we can come and see you. We are sure that you have always dreamt of having a collection car parked in front of your company building. This is THE opportunity you will never get again!!!

Everything went as predicted for the 3 first days, but – as it could be expected – the porthole became smaller and smaller … One unexpected low forming on the South side of the first high, another big high to cross, followed by a second front (the big one, 48h of force 6-7 from the SW) and a third high … to be welcomed just before arriving at the latitude of the North Cape by a last front with black thunderstorm clouds. Thankfully we had all the weather information possible, with the weatherfaxes and the GRIB files, and we could anticipate and head SW or SE depending on what was expected.

The last front at the sunset, a pleasant night in prospect ...

We knew that the temperatures would drop rapidly on our way South : 1°C per day in the air and in the water ! But the arrival in Opua, at 5 in the morning on the 24th of September, was worse than all that we could have imagined. The water was at 13°C, and the air at … 10°C (the absolute 0 on Schnaps being 20°C, it was therefore -10°C !!). After a year in the tropics we were literally freezing, even if the Austral Spring had started 3 days before.

But we were there in time for the game : it was the objective and we did it, after 11 and half days at sea (4.3 knots on average with … 86 h motoring). Of course the result was not very good for the XV de France (NZ won 37-17), but we noticed the incredible tension in the assembly of the Opua Sailing Club and the relief when, after 10 minutes of clear domination, the French took 3 tries in a row on defensive mistakes … But our first contacts with Kiwis were great : very friendly, helpful, always trying to find solutions for our problems. Everything seems easy and straightforward, it is not a problem to find a car for rent on a Saturday afternoon, and it is quick and simple.

The day after the arrival, we were already in Auckland to meet one of Claire’s friends who was in New Zealand for the World Cup. It was great to drive through green hills, nice forests, to see sheep and cows along the road ! We had forgotten all that, after so many months with coconut trees and tropical forests, and we realised how much we liked that … We feared Auckland, as we do not usually like big cities, but we were not as ill-at-ease as in big American cities (my reference is the only American city I know : Montréal). Maybe it was because of all these people (even if there were way too many Frenchies) in the streets for the World Cup, but maybe not: the city is well-spaced, a few skyscrapers here and there but not too many, and mostly 2-floor buildings … We went back there for the England v. Scotland game (« O Flower of Scotland … ») a week later, as we could get cheap tickets thanks to Sean, one of the Opua marina guys. Great to watch a nice game (even if England won ) in one of the Meccas of Rugby, the Eden Park Stadium.

Girouette and Hobbes training in the Eden Park before England v. Scotland.

We spent some time in the Marina : after 6 months without having seen a pontoon, Schnaps was happy not to worry about the anchor’s holding any more, especially with the almost continuous bad weather we had since our arrival, either windy or rainy. And we could enjoy the benefits of civilisation : hot fresh water showers, internet, shore power, etc… The only « benefit » of civilisation we did not enjoy was the necessity of an Electrical Warrant of Fitness for the boat : an inspector comes with his voltmeter just to control that the polarity of the power lead is good. 60 NZ$ just for that. It would almost be worth writing a second open letter to the bureaucrat who invented this regulation ! The purpose is officially to avoid fires in the marinas … but if it were really about that, the DC circuit should be inspected as well as the « electric » fires are much more prone to come from a badly designed DC circuit. Anyway, Schnaps passed successfully its EWOF and can proudly display its green sticker valid until 2015.

Having rented a car for the game in Auckland, we wanted to take advantage of it for the week after and go camping up to Cape Reinga (the Northern end of the North Island)… but the weather discouraged us, and we went back to Opua after 2 days on the « Kauri Coast » to haul the boat out of the water and repaint the bottom. It was really necessary after 2 years; there was almost no paint left at some places ! We did that in Doug’s Boatyard, a very nice place that we would definitely recommend, both for the environment (just above the bay) and for the pleasure to meet the owner !

Schnaps is being lifted out of the water on the rails

After 2 weeks in Opua, we were eager to go and discover the Bay of Islands, and spent a pleasant evening in Paihia watching Wales defeating Ireland and – quite unexpectably until the moment of the anthems, where I saw how determinated the French faces were – France defeating England. As I had said before the game that if France won, we would hoist the huge tricolor flag that we never dared to hoist before at Schnaps’ stern, so did we… But as far as our discovery of the Bay of Islands was concerned, we were once more stopped by the weather after having reached Russell (where we met Emile and Judith who invited us to watch the second quarter-finals and share a meal with them!). Anyway, we decided to go back to the marina and invite all the friendly people we met on Schnaps… We were busy almost every night but we had very pleasant evenings … Our schedule was full, with the dinners on shore or on Schnaps, and we did not have enough evenings to invite all the people we wanted ! But as we plan to settle in New Zealand (to be followed in our next adventures!), we will have other opportunities to do so !

Our next weeks’ schedules were decided by the last games of the world cup : we were invited to watch Wales v. France and then a wonderful New Zealand v. Australia. We would – unexpectedly – meet the All Blacks again in final ! With our big French flag still flying proudly on Schnaps, we were greeted by « Go All Blacks! » cries – at which we were proud to answer « Allez les Bleus!! » – each time we arrived in an anchorage. This was really good-natured, there was hardly any animosity! Nothing to see with what could be read in the NZ tabloids on the French Team at this time.

We spent the week in the Bay, visiting Motuarohia and Moturua’s anchorages in quite windy conditions, which made us end up in the more sheltered Orokawa Bay…  where we could find some good mussels! As the weather was not expected to improve, we decided that if we had to stay in the boat, we might as well anchor in the range of a wifi network to start looking for a job, a car, a place to stay in the following months, write some blog articles, etc. So we moved back to the « civilisation » : Paihia with a quick stop in Opua to say goodbye to our friends, who we will be happy to visit again when we will come back in the North! It was also the moment to pick up my sister who joined us after her trip in the South Island… it was a little funny to meet again, after a year and half, at the other end of the world!!

The anchorage at Motuarohia Island in the morning lights.

We spent two days with this crew reinforcement exploring a few islands in the bay, and went walking on the very nice Moturoa and Moturua islands. The weather was almost perfect for this, at last ! We could understand why a lot of cruisers coming from the tropics do not go further South with their boat: this is a wonderful playing ground with innumerable sheltered anchorages… And thanks to Doug, we knew where the best ones were !

Then came the final. We watched it in a bar on Urupukapuka Island, with a few tourists and many people who had gone out fishing for the week-end (we could notice that leisure fishing was really developed along NZ coasts). Useless to say that we were the 3 only French people in the room, proudly wearing our white and blue jerseys! Even if we had very little chance to win the final, we knew – and so did almost all the Kiwis but a few pretentious journalists – that everything could happen with « Les Bleus » and that it would not be a piece of cake for the All Blacks. And, as everyone could see, it wasn’t! The atmosphere was incredibly tense, especially at the end of the game… Honestly, we would have been a little embarrassed if the French Team had won, and were happy with this result : France played very well, could have won but didn’t, and this made all the critics and mockery vanish. We were also happy for the Kiwis who had been waiting for « their » World Cup for such a long time, and who came to see us at the end of the game to shake hands and chat a little. We will particularly remember Gary, who offered us to come with him the day after to pick up some scallops (unfortunately we had to leave and couldn’t go with him), invited us at his home when we will be back in Northland and gave us his big « All Blacks » flag which now flies proudly under Schnaps’ starboard spreader as our new courtesy flag!

Dear Sir or Madam, Tongian and Fijian administrators,

As the two owners of S/Y Schnaps and having cruised in Tongian and Fijian waters, we take the liberty of writing this open letter to the administrations of your countries.

Indeed, if the Fijian and Tongian archipelagos seem really attractive from the outside, and their inhabitants are mostly nice and welcoming people, the landfall in one of your ports of entry spoils all the pleasure we could get in the discovery of a nice new place.

Soon after the arrival, the boat is invaded by diverse officers whom we can not even exactly know the function : Customs, Immigration, Health, Biosecurity, Tax-collection, Free-lunch eaters… All that we understand is that we have to pay, pay, and pay again. 100 T$ for that, 172.50 F$ for another thing, 25 T$ there, 90 F$ somewhere else… And why? Just because an Officer asks us the name of our boat, we give him the answer and he writes it down on a piece of paper (which is obviously never claimed by anyone afterwards), beside a stamp and a signature. 5 minutes of « work ». We have not even stepped a foot ashore that we already have debts just to attend to something that looks much more like a masquerade than a really official process.

5 minutes of « work », but by the time every actor of the show has come by and pocketted his pizzo, a day can easily pass. And it is generally not over. We have to spend hours running after people so that we can pay the money they did not collect at first – see how honest we are. We may also be subject of taxes that are exigible afterwards, like « harbour » dues even if we have never used the non-existant « harbour » facilities. You take our money, you take our time, you take our joy of being there. There are already many constraints for a sailing yacht (day, night, weather, all these sorts of natural things…), and you add some others, which are likely to be even more annoying: no departure from any other harbour at week-ends, no officer at his desk in the opening hours, obligation to collect clearances or papers in different offices far away from each other… We already have to cope with natural factors, but the administrative burdens you add upon our shoulders are much worse.

After going through these long and costly processes, we have one will: going away. We do not want to spend the little money we have left in your countries. With the money that was taken by your administrations (or whoever filled one’s pockets), we could have made your economy richer, because the person we would have paid in exchange for goods or services would have used this money much better than by investing in useless and senseless piles of paper. What you do is not only a loss of time for us and for your employees, but most of all an enormous waste. All the energy you spend in absurd « I-follow-you-and-tax-you-wherever-you-go » procedures could be spent in much more constructive ways to improve the life of your fellow countrymen. Do not expect us to agree with the commonly admitted – but false – idea that the money that we are dispossessed of will be a benefit to the economy of the country. On the overall amount paid, a big fraction of it is lost forever (everyday administration expenses, useless papers, unproductive printers and computers, buildings care…) and will never create wealth for anyone. The other fraction goes to the civil servants’ families (« what one sees »), but could have landed in the families of men or women who would have sold us the fruit of their work and got a deserved reward for it (« what one does not see »). By enforcing laws that take our money by force for nothing in return, you destroy not only potential wealth but also the employment and self-esteem of valuable people, for the sake of others whose only effort is to ask us « What is the name of your boat ? » and put a stamp on a piece of paper. Many visitors may fool their consciences by thinking that after all the money they give enables the Officers’families to earn a living, but we do not. We do not accept that able people’s livings are spoiled by useless, annoying and unfriendly government measures.

When you commit us to pay your fees (which represent not less than a quarter of our monthly budget), you may want us to feel guilty of beeing « rich ». And by considering us as « rich » Europeans who can afford to pay whatever money they are asked, you despise us, and show that the only interest you find in our presence on your islands is the money you can seize from us. The « funny » thing is that you probably consider that we are « rich » because all that we own is a 32-year old sailing boat (worth 50 times less than a modest house), which enables us to travel from the other end of the world to discover your country for a much lower price than any other transportation vehicle.

You will probably try to justify these fees otherwise. You may argue that the « inspections » are necessary and that the people who carry out them (= ask 2 questions, take the money and leave) have to be paid. It may be in the interest of your countries to keep them free from immigrants, animal or vegetal pests. But if it were really in the interest of your populations, they would certainly be happy to pay the corresponding taxes, and you would not need to have the discourtesy to welcome your visitors by emptying their pockets. Moreover, if some arriving crews are dishonest or negligent, we are not responsible for that and we do not see why we should pay for their – voluntary or not – errors: just fine them, but not us.

Furthermore, we are honest and did not need to be inspected. If we had been dishonest, it would have been incredibly easy to hide any forbidden food, animal or illegal immigrant from your « inspectors ». Your rules only apply to the honest people who, by definition, will not try to infringe them. Your « inspections » are useless for dishonest people, who will not even be bothered by them. Quite obviously, your inspections (even if they were more rigorous than they are) are unlikely to prevent anyone evil-minded from breaking your rules.

The consequences of this exageration of powers are rather straightforward. We did not want to spend a dollar more in your country. And except what was strictly necessary and could not wait for the next country – food, laundry, diesel – we bought almost nothing. Sorry for the people of Tonga and Fiji who would have deserved our money in exchange for goods or services, but you’ll need to complain to your governements. We understand it is not directly your fault – many people we met were not even aware of that – but you may be able to act to change the way your country welcomes foreign visitors.

To conclude this letter, we want the people of Tonga and Fiji to know that we mostly enjoyed meeting them and exchanging with them, but our stays were more or less spoiled by the different clearance procedures, which were needed even between two harbours of the main country. We will be happy to set sail again one day or another towards your islands, but we may wait until your administrations come back to reason. By this time, we are free not to come in Tonga and Fiji.

Yours faithfully,

Tomtom and Clairette, S/Y Schnaps, France
Our complete names and coordinates are available upon any Fijian or Tongian’s administration official request, but we would not dare to doubt of your ability to find them among the piles of paper which, year after year, must have achieved considerable heights.

Comme promis, la traduction en français, maintenant :

Lettre ouverte au Royaume de Tonga et à la République de Fiji

Madame, Monsieur, administrateurs tongiens et fidjiens,

En tant que propriétaires du voilier Schnaps et ayant croisé dans les eaux tongiennes et fidjiennes, nous nous permettons de vous écrire cette lettre ouverte à destination des administrations de vos pays respectifs.

En effet, si les archipels tongiens et fidjiens paraissent très attirants de l’extérieur, et si leurs habitants sont pour la plupart sympathiques et accueillants, l’atterrissage dans l’un de vos ports d’entrée gâche tout le plaisir que nous pourrions avoir à découvrir un nouvel endroit.

Juste après l’arrivée, le bateau est envahi par divers représentants de l’administration dont nous ne connaissons même pas exactement la fonction : Douanes, Immigration, Santé, Biosécurité, Perception d’impôts, Pique-assiette … Tout ce que nous comprenons, c’est que nous devons payer, payer et payer encore. 100 T$ pour ceci, 172.50 F$ pour cela, 25 T$ ici, 90 F$ ailleurs… Et pourquoi ? Juste parce qu’un fonctionnaire nous demande le nom de notre bateau, nous lui donnons la réponse et il l’écrit sur un bout de papier (qui ne nous est évidemment jamais réclamé par la suite) aux côtés d’un tampon et d’une signature. 5 minutes de « travail ». Nous n’avons pas encore mis pied à terre que nous avons déjà des dettes simplement pour avoir assisté à quelque-chose qui ressemble plus à une mascarade qu’à un processus officiel.

5 minutes de « travail », mais le temps que chaque acteur du spectacle fasse sa représentation et collecte son pizzo, on perd facilement une journée. Et ce n’est généralement pas fini. Nous devons passer des heures à courir après les gens pour payer l’argent qu’ils n’ont pas pu encaisser au moment de l’arrivée – voyez comme nous sommes honnêtes. Nous pouvons aussi être sujets à des taxes exigées par la suite, comme des frais de « port » même si nous n’avons jamais utilisé les infrastructures inexistantes dudit « port ». Vous prenez notre argent, vous prenez notre temps, vous prenez notre joie d’être ici. Il y a déjà de nombreuses contraintes pour un voilier (jour, nuit, météo, toutes ces choses naturelles …), et vous en ajoutez d’autres, qui ont toutes les chances d’être encore plus ennuyeuses : pas de départ d’un port le week-end, pas de fonctionnaire à son bureau pendant les heures d’ouverture, obligation de récupérer des clearances ou des papiers dans différents bureaux éloignés les uns des autres … On doit déjà se débrouiller avec des facteurs naturels, mais les charges administratives que vous ajoutez sur nos épaules sont bien pires.

Après avoir subi ces processus longs et coûteux, nous avons un seul souhait : partir. Nous ne souhaitons pas dépenser le peu d’argent qu’il nous reste dans vos pays. Avec l’argent qui a été encaissé par vos administrations (ou par quiconque en a rempli ses poches), nous aurions pu rendre votre économie plus riche, car la personne que nous aurions payée en échange de biens ou services aurait utilisé cet argent bien mieux qu’en investissant dans des piles de paperasse inutile et inepte. Ce que vous faites n’est pas seulement une perte de temps pour nous et vos employés, c’est surtout un énorme gâchis. Toute l’énergie que vous dépensez en procédures absurdes de « Je-te-suis-et-je-te-taxe-où-que-tu-ailles » pourrait être utilisée de manière bien plus constructive pour améliorer l’existence de vos concitoyens. Ne vous attendez pas à ce que nous approuvions le lieu commun – mais faux – qui consiste à croire que l’argent dont nous sommes dépossédés sera un bénéfice pour l’économie du pays. Sur le montant total payé, une grosse fraction est perdue pour toujours (dépenses de fonctionnement de l’administration, papiers inutiles, ordinateurs et imprimantes improductives, entretien des locaux …) et ne créera jamais de richesse pour qui que ce soit. L’autre fraction va aux familles des fonctionnaires (« ce que l’on voit »), mais aurait pu arriver dans les familles d’hommes ou de femmes qui nous auraient vendu le fruit de leur travail et obtenu une récompense méritée pour cela (« ce que l’on ne voit pas »). En appliquant des lois qui nous prennent notre argent de force sans que nous ne recevions quoi que ce soit en retour, vous détruisez non seulement des richesses potentielles mais aussi les emplois et l’estime de soi de personnes de valeur, au bénéfice d’autres dont le seul effort consiste à nous demander « Quel est le nom de votre bateau ? » et à tamponner un bout de papier. Beaucoup de visiteurs peuvent tromper leur conscience en pensant qu’après tout, l’argent qu’ils donnent permet aux familles des fonctionnaires de vivre, mais pas nous. Nous n’acceptons pas que les existences de personnes capables soient gâchées par des mesures gouvernementales inutiles, inamicales et désagréables.

Quand vous nous faites payer ces frais (qui représentent pas moins d’un quart de notre budget mensuel), peut-être cherchez-vous à nous culpabiliser d’être « riches ». En nous considérant comme de « riches » Européens prêts à donner sans compter l’argent qui leur est demandé, vous nous méprisez et montrez que le seul intérêt que vous trouvez dans notre présence, c’est l’argent que vous pouvez nous soutirer. C’est amusant, vous nous considérez peut-être comme des « riches » parce que la seule chose que l’on possède, c’est un voilier de 32 ans (qui vaut 50 fois moins qu’un modeste logement), qui nous permet de voyager d’un bout du monde à l’autre et de découvrir vos pays à un coût bien moindre que tout autre moyen de transport.

Vous allez peut-être essayer de justifier ces frais autrement. Vous allez peut-être soutenir que ces « inspections » sont nécessaires et que les gens qui les réalisent (= posent 2 questions, encaissent l’argent et partent) méritent un salaire. C’est peut-être dans l’intérêt de vos pays de se préserver d’immigrants ou de parasites animaux et végétaux. Mais si c’était vraiment dans l’intérêt de vos populations, ces dernières accepteraient certainement sans problème de payer les impôts correspondants, et vous n’auriez pas besoin d’accueillir si discourtoisement vos visiteurs en leur vidant les poches. De plus, si certains équipages sont malhonnêtes ou négligents, nous ne sommes pas responsables de leurs actions et nous ne voyons pas pourquoi nous devrions payer pour leurs erreurs, volontaires ou non : mettez-leur des amendes, mais pas à nous.

De plus, nous sommes honnêtes et nous n’avions pas besoin d’être inspectés. Si nous avions été malhonnêtes, cela aurait été incroyablement facile de cacher de la nourriture interdite, des animaux ou encore des immigrants illégaux à vos « inspecteurs ». Vos règles ne s’appliquent qu’aux gens honnêtes qui, par définition, ne vont pas essayer de les enfreindre. Vos « inspections » sont inutiles pour les gens malhonnêtes, qui vont de toutes façons passer au travers. De toute évidence, vos inspections (même si elles étaient plus rigoureuses) ne risquent pas d’empêcher quelqu’un de mal intentionné d’enfreindre vos règles.

Les conséquences de ces abus de pouvoir sont assez évidentes. Nous ne voulions plus dépenser un dollar de plus dans vos pays. Et à part ce qui était vraiment nécessaire et ne pouvait pas attendre l’escale suivante (nourriture, lessive et gasoil), nous n’avons rien acheté ou presque. Désolés pour les Fidjiens et Tongiens qui auraient mérité notre argent en échange de biens et de services, mais vous pouvez vous plaindre auprès de vos gouvernements. Nous comprenons que ce n’est pas directement de votre faute – bien des gens que nous avons rencontrés n’étaient même pas au courant de tout ça – mais vous êtes peut-être à même de faire changer la façon dont vos pays accueillent les visiteurs étrangers.

Pour conclure cette lettre, nous voudrions que les Tongiens et Fidjiens sachent que nous avons la plupart du temps apprécié de les rencontrer et d’échanger avec eux, mais nos séjours ont été plus ou moins gâchés par les différentes procédures de clearance, obligatoires même entre deux ports du même pays. Nous serons heureux de remettre le cap vers vos îles un de ces jours, mais nous allons attendre que vos administrations reviennent à la raison. D’ici là, nous sommes libres de ne pas nous rendre aux Tonga ni aux Fidji.

Veuillez agréer, Madame, Monsieur, nos salutations fatiguées (copyright Jaddo),

Tomtom et Clairette, Voilier Schnaps, France
Nos noms et coordonnées complets sont disponibles sur requête officielle des autorités fidjiennes ou tongiennes, mais nous n’oserions pas douter de votre capacité à les retrouver parmi les tas de paperasses qui, année après année, doivent avoir atteint des hauteurs considérables.

We chose to make landfall in Levuka, Ovalau Island, for several reasons. First, it is a small town, and we do not like big towns. Second, we read that it was a nice picturesque town with friendly people. Last but not least, we hoped that the paperwork and the formalities would be simpler and quicker than in any other big town in the country. We were quite happy concerning the first two points, but really disappointed concerning the last one: after 6 return journeys in a rather choppy sea between the boat and the wharf (without engine…) to bring the Biosecurity and Immigration Officers on board and back, it was done. ‘Done’, it’s maybe a big word: we « only » had to run after the Health Officer during 2 days so that we could pay him (172.50 F$, yes we know we are too honest) and we had to go to Suva to pay the Biosecurity Officer (90 F$).

As we had arrived on a Friday, without knowing which Islands of the archipelago we wanted to visit afterwards, we only did the check-in… which prevented us from checking out – and therefore from going away – from Levuka before Monday. This was our first experience of the annoying administration of the Fijian Republic: you can go wherever you want in Fiji, but you have to provide the Administration with a very detailed schedule of what you plan to do, where and when. Don’t they know that the weather influences our plans, and that on a cruising yacht you never know what you will do in the next month ? Furthermore, if you wish to visit other anchorages than the official Ports of Entry, you need a ‘Cruising Permit’. It is – surprisingly – free to get one, but it takes one hour to obtain it in an office that is obviously not opened all the time. It only consists in a letter, written in Fijian, to the village chiefs on the islands we would wish to visit. The Fijian Authorities probably think that we have nothing to do except filling forms, papers and waiting in their Administration’s offices. We have obviously no laundry to do, no repairs to make on the boat (or the dinghy outboard), no plane to catch a few days later…

Papers, papers and papers...

Once these annoyances were carried out, we were happy to discover that, as expected, Levuka was a very nice town. The buildings seemed to come straight away from a Far West town of the mid-XIXth century. Everyone said « Bula, bula » (= Hello in Fijian) to us, smiling. Some people, seing that we were strangers, said « Welcome! ». We obviously do not consider this as due, but it is always nice when the people make you feel they are happy to see you come and visit their place. Samu, for example, took us along the paths above the town, showing us the plantations and the viewpoints on the lagoon. Would we have had the time, he would have taken us to the waterfall a little further, and would have been keen to do it. Nothing asked in return, no one begging for the money we don’t have and cannot give, no one trying to take advantage of our status of white european visitors. Mostly really nice and friendly people, eager to help and to make us enjoy our stay.

Levuka from the heights

We would have been happy to stay more, but the unconfortable anchorage facing the easterly trades and the passing time made us set sail towards other islands (which islands? when? where? with who? asks the Administration): Wakaya first, where we could not go ashore (it is a private island) but saw a turtle and lots of fishes in the water, and, after a quick stop in Suva, Yanuca which lies in the Beqa lagoon. We could go ashore there, and after a short « Sevusevu » ceremony, Josef – the chief of the only village on the island – guided us among the houses, the beaches, the school, the rugby ground where I was invited to play with the men (and even scored a try… but could not run anymore afterwards!!)… Everything was clean and tidy, there were even small yellow rubbish containers everywhere! We really enjoyed the place and would have, once more, loved to stay (the chief wanted to take us spearfishing and eventually catch octopus – Clairette dreams of catching an octopus!), but unfortunately we couldn’t as we had to be near Nandi airport two days later.

Rugby in Fiji !

A pleasant night of sailing later, we arrived in Lautoka where we could do all the paperwork (yeeeees!!! paperwork!! had we already written that we do all this sailing only for the joy of filling multiple copies of diverse absurd forms??!): clearing in, officially disembarking our 2 guests who were leaving by plane the day after, and giving our (invented) plans for the next 2 weeks… One day of spearfishing with Josef lost because of such a finicky Administration.

We finally anchored near Denarau Marina, a resort which seemed completely artificial after what we had seen in Ovalau and in the small islands, but in which we found a very nice Fijian restaurant where we enjoyed very good traditional meals and which was a nice place for our friend’s last evening in Fiji. A few hours later, we were waving at their plane while it was taking off from Nandi Airport. Because of the bad weather, we stayed 2 days more near the marina. We were starting to watch closely the weather between there and New Zealand, and as no weather window could be expected for at least one week, we decided to explore the neighbouring islands. Willing to avoid the crowded Malolo Island (there is a big resort and a marina there), we headed to a group of three uninhabited islands in the north of the Mamanuca Group. Very nice place, but rolly anchorage, especially when the wind starts to blow from the East and the big chop manages to make its way arround the small cape supposed to shelter us. We therefore moved to the calmer anchorages of the scenic Waya, which mountains had been attracting us since we had seen them on the horizon from Lautoka. After one night in Yalobi bay, protected from the North-East, the wind shifted unexpectedly to the South-West, and therefore we had to move on the other side of the island, in the equally nice Nalauwaki Bay. We did not go ashore on Waya. We felt good on our boat, in pleasant anchorages, as if we were on holiday, and slowly getting ready for the passage to New Zealand, regularly watching the weather forecasts… and anyway, the beautiful mountains were almost always covered by thick clouds.

The Mountains of Nalauwaki Bay on Waya Island

As a weather « porthole » was tempting us, we decided that we would leave on Monday, September 12th. We therefore had to go back to Lautoka in order to obtain our clearance out (we met there three very nice Australian Grandpas who really knew how to behave in boring Customs Offices: one had borrowed a very confortable armchair from an officer and fell asleep in minutes, almost snoring, while another was writing his postcards on the desk of another officer… a great moment!) and we filled our tanks and jerricans with all the diesel we could carry. A busy day later, everything was ready and we weighed anchor for our final destination: New Zealand!!

After a pleasant passage from the Society Islands with a stop in Beveridge Reef to let two big fronts pass over us, we decided to make landfall in Tongatapu, the capital of the Kingdom of Tonga, to meet our friends Ange and Bo who were joining us by plane for 15 days sailing in the Pacific. As our friends are in charge of a few posts in French on our blog, we will only write ours in English.

First, we met the customs, immigration, health and environment skirt-wearing officers (this is the ‘Sulu’, the traditional outfit), who came aboard to fill many forms and to make us pay : 25 T$ for the environment quarantine – a paper meaning that we declared to have no fresh food on board (the officer did not even have a look in the fridge) – and 100 T$ for a health quarantine, but for this one the only question of the officer was : « what’s the name of the boat ? ». We do not like the authorities to take all this money from us this way, but I won’t say too much about that here as we plan to write a unwinding letter to these authorities in an other post.

A first walk in the town did not convince us, but as it was a few days before our friends arrived, we decided to cycle round the island to discover more of the landscapes and also probably some nice places.

Well… I had never been bored cycling before, but there, I was. To pass the time along the long strait unlovely roads, I tried to understand why I did not feel well in this island. The houses, all unfinished (except the royal palace, the only place where we found a wall painted completely), made me wonder if the poverty was the disturbing thing. But it was not, otherwise I would not have loved Dominica, for example. Maybe it was the fact that no place at all was left wild : there were houses (more precisly parts of unfinished houses) everywhere, even 10 km away from the city, there was some garbage everywhere, everything looked dirty… Maybe it was the fact that the people were not smiling, never a « Hello ! », even between locals – so far from the welcoming people we left in French Polynesia !! I must admit that the children gave me some hope, as they were surprised to see white people, they were all smiling and saying « Bye ! » (a sort of « hello », apparently), laughing at their daring.

The monument on Tongatapu. If we accepted responsibility for our words, we would precise that when the Tongan built this, we were building cathedrals.

Then we received an SOS from our friends, because Air Pacific (a company they would not recommend) tried to prevent them from flying to Tonga because they did not have a return ticket. Indeed, we had planned to sail from Tonga to Fiji with them and to leave them there, where they were to take a plane to go back to France. Maybe they could have managed to deal with their one-way ticket problem if they had had the time to buy a refundable return ticket, but they could not do that. So, thanks to an emailed declaration of the captain saying that they would leave the country on our board, they could fly to Tonga, where they were « welcomed » by another officer (also wearing a skirt) who made them pay 460 T$ to allow them to enter the country. Honestly, they should’nt be afraid of any stranger staying illegally in this island, it is really one of the worse we have visited : any sane person should try to leave it by any means.

Yes ! They are in the plane ! But will they go through the officers skirt-wearing skirts ?

To end with this description of paradise, the weather was awful and we were obliged to stay in the boat two days before leaving – no : before visiting two more administrative officers, paying one more fee for the « harbour » and getting stamps and papers authorising us to go to other islands.

We did not want to leave Tonga with these bad experiences, particulary for our friends who were on holidays, so we sailed to the Ha’apai group. Tiny islands, clear water, funny fishes, nice coral reefs, few people but smiling and friendly ones, clean houses and villages, funny children with whom we played in the sand, even if they did not speak english : this was a very nice trip. In between the islands, we saw our firsts humpback whales, becoming 4 children looking at these enormous animals dancing and playing in the ocean : « Waaaa… Oh look at this one !! Wonderful ! Splash. Waow… »

Did we say that our friends are talentuous photographers ?

Even the main island of Ha’apai group, Lifuka, was full of nice surprises : we could get some drinkable water, some internet (just 2 minutes but we needed them to send a advanced notice of arrival to the Fiji authorities), a few vegetables, and we cleared out without being asked any money !! (in Tongatapu, we would have been asked 40T$ for each passport stamped by the immigration officer).

Finally, if ever we come back to the kingdom of Tonga, we will only go to the Ha’apai group. Never again in Tongatapu…

Children in Matuu Island, Ha'apai Group

Schnaps in Paradise

Well, in fact, that’s not really Paradise.

First, to go there, you face strong winds and seas that break your rigging.

If ever you manage to keep your mast up until there, there are absolutely no ways of having it fixed, except if you are willing to wait a very long time… There are no facilities at all there, but you can order parts from Tahiti… But the tahitian riggers do not reply to your e-mails until you phone them at least twice. But even then, they do not answer properly to your questions, their quotations are awfully high and in fact, you discover quickly – after having lost one week – that it is cheaper and faster to deal directly with the rigging manufacturer, for example with SeaRig in New-Zealand. How marvellous it is to discover then efficient people who are willing to help you to fix your boat !

Then, you have to wait for your parts to arrive. You can wait a very long time, if you are not aware that even for a yacht in transit, whose owners are not supposed to pay taxes, the customs make it complicated and ask you to hire a « transitaire » for the customs procedure. Welcome back in French administration, or maybe in a Corsican mafia ?

But finally everything arrives, by boat or by plane, and you can plan a do-it-yourself week, dismounting your shrouds, cutting cables ashore, going back to fit them on the boat, dismounting them because they are a little bit to long, going back ashore to cut them again, etc etc…

The new rigging

Another reason for not calling this place « Paradise » is that you have to be ready to be poor if you get there. There is absolutely no ATM on shore, and only one shop takes the credit card. The post office can « change » dollars or euros if you buy a stamp or something like that, but the rates are not really interesting… The solution we chose was to make a bank transfer to someone who lived there. But the OPT (Polynesian Post Office, which tries to work like a bank sometimes) diligence carrying our money arrived only 3 weeks later, during which we almost emptied Schnaps’ food bilges, being unable to buy eggs, butter, cream, fresh vegetables…

Last but not least, by night, you can face a thunderstorm that changes the anchorage in hell. Gusts about 50 knots coming from nowhere and everywhere, boats dragging very close to others, hurricane-proof roofs flying, a perl farm destroyed… We won’t detail too much, but almost all the sailors who where in the anchorage said that this night was their worst sailing experience. It was not ours, as we are heroes as one night like that is still less than 4 weeks with a dancing mast above your heads.

So… Do you still want to know more about the Gambier ?

Well, we assume that if you read this line, the answer is yes. And you are completely right. The Gambier islands are out of the main sailing roads and are forgotten by « normal » tourists. Let’s hope that it remains like that.

The islands are lovely : green, mountainous, you can cycle around the main island and discover charming bays, you can hike up to the Mokoto or the Duff, you can also anchor in the motus (the small islands of the archipelago), try to catch fish (but ask before to the locals, almost none is eatable !), or even visit a pearl farm and understand how these black spheres are made and why they cost that much…

We did that, as we would have done it on every island. But as we had plenty of time there, and as the locals are absolutely welcoming, we met them. This was our best discovery there… Of course it was easier for us than for the english speaking sailors, because the locals speak Mangarévien and French with a nice singing accent, but we were very happy to see that at least two women, Denise and Valérie, on Taravaï (one of the other islands), speak English. Denise learnt English at school, her English is far from being perfect, but she makes herself understood and her kindness and simplicity cross any language barrier. As the locals are the most wonderful part of these islands, we were delighted to see that thanks to Denise, this part could also be available for the English speaking sailors…

How to explain that ? When you arrive on shore, all the people you see say « Bonjour ! », smiling, meaning welcome, they offer you fruits from their gardens (let them offer, do not pick up without asking !), they discuss with you about everything, as if you were living there with them, they are absolutely charming… They do not try to sell you anything, this is a big difference from the Carribean, they will try to help you if you need anything, they will give, give, give, always more… And you have to change your habits, to enjoy the way they are and to try to find a way to thank them… Giving lessons in the schools, making cakes (only once you get some money to buy butter and eggs !), inviting them to share some typical meals… But you will never reach their goodness.

That’s why it was so hard for us to leave : we love the people there. We left because we had fixed the rigging and we had appointments for the following of our trip : we had to leave. But we left thinking of the time we will come back…

The Va'as leaving Rikitea for the evening training

The destination was not decided until the last week before the departure from Panama : Marquesas or Gambier ?? We did not want to stop in the Galapagos, and the distance to either of these archipelagos is almost equal : around 4000 miles from Flamenco Island on the Pacific entrance of the Panama Canal. Finally we chose the Gambier, as everyone goes to the Marquesas and we don’t always like following the crowd. Moreover, Mangareva is one of Tomtom’s dreams (from the reading at the age of 12 of Alain Gerbault’s adventures), and ‘Gambier’ is Clairette’s mother’s maiden name (and the young Clairette looked for the islands that bore that name on her Grandfather’s globe !). So let’s go to the Gambier.

Having left Panama and our friends on Maggie and Mare Liberum on the 17th of March, we quickly crossed the Equator thanks to a very strong remnant of the North-East trades that enabled Schnaps to beat a record : 175.4 miles in 24h, unbelievable in this area of usually light contrary winds. We had to go further in the South in order to catch the South-East trades, and found ourselves heading to Easter Island … why not a stop in the Island of the giant statues ? We had first decided that we would go there next time on our way to Patagonia, but we are on a sailing boat and free to change our plans as we want ! What are 200 miles more on a 4000 miles trip ? Schnaps continued therefore in the South-West in quite strong South-south-east winds and waves.

However, destiny decided for us : on the 17th day of the passage, 1000 miles away from Easter Island, we saw that one of the strands on the fore lower shroud was broken. We put the 2nd reef in the main and furled the genoa so that it looked like a storm-sail, just to see how it evolved. The next day, 4 strands were gone. In the wind, and especially the waves, the failure of the shroud was almost certain before Easter Island. Among the possible solutions, we chose to bear away and set a new course to the Gambier, 2200 miles in the West. The archipelago offers a very good shelter to wait for parts to repair the rigging, something that can hardly be found at Easter Island where there are no reefs to protect the anchorages. It’s further away but much less risky for the rigging. We tried to add some ropes, whips and tackles in order to relieve the leak part of the wire (at the usual place of failure : near the swage joint), to lengthen the shroud’s life. But we were then downwind and the tension was supposed to be decreased. No mainsail, just the n°1 jib on port and a very small furled genoa on starboard for balance …

We made some way like that for two weeks, until we heard a big CLONG coming from the mast : the aft port shroud had failed in one stroke. Quite bad! It now started to become serious. Thankfully we had put a strong sheet around the mast and the spreaders to secure the mast. After a few thoughts (and 2 ascents of the mast, quite scary when there are strange noises coming from the shrouds!), we replaced the broken shroud with an old halyard and a pulley so that we could tighten it with a winch at the mast foot. 700 miles to go … yikes!

Our new lower shroud terminal, made with an old halyard. One more trip in the mast and it will be ready for the duty !

In this part on the Pacific, we knew that we were on our own : there are maybe 3 or 4 ships a year, so we couldn’t expect any substantial help if the situation deteriorated.If, for example, we lost the mast we would have had to drift for a long time until we could reach an island with the diesel. Not a very nice possibility. We had to keep the mast up at all cost, in order to have even a small sail aloft (reefed n°1) to keep us moving.

600 miles away from the Gambier, another big noise : CLAC, this time. A quick look in the cockpit, the backstays were lose, we were sure that we were going to hear a much bigger noise, that of the mast falling down. But, nothing more happened and we went out to see that the fore-lower shroud was now completely broken and only held by the ropes we had put there the first day. We had no more « rigid » port lower shrouds. The mast was bending dangerously and we started to be really afraid. Moreover, there was a big stationary cloud in the sky that seemed to be waiting for us… When we tried to go forward to release the reef in order to accelerate and avoid this “thing”, we heard a BZZZZZ at the top of the mast, sign of an imminent lightning strike. Fortunately, it did not hit us this time, but it did convince us to burn a few litres of diesel to go away from this place as soon as possible. Awful day.

In the flat calms that followed this unpleasant episode, we removed the mainsail and the boom, in order to retain as much as possible if we were dismasted and to remove any weight we could from the rigging. We also took down the genoa for the same reason. Then we managed to add a securing rope on the starboard side (as the starboard shrouds were now subject to successive shock tensions and might also have failed from fatigue) and, last but not least, we rigged a length of chain on the port side from the spreaders base to the deck plate. This might have saved the mast, as the far lower elasticity of the chain prevented the mast from moving and bending too much, especially in the rough conditions we met in the following days. With only the stormsail, we were doing 4-5 knots in very short and high waves which were breaking on Schnaps’ transom. We had to steer manually in order to avoid big waves coming from the South, 90° off our course. Awful days.

The last week was the longest one. 400, 330, 260, 200 miles to go … Around 100 miles away from the Gambier, we saw (with the binoculars) that the aft starboard lower shroud was beginning to fail near its upper terminal. Knowing that a small northerly gale was arriving in the area, we decided that it was enough, and turned on the engine for the last 24h. In the morning of the 30th of April, after 44 days at sea, we saw the contours of the Gambier Island with an enormous relief. We knew it was not over yet, as we still had to cover 15 miles from the South-East pass to Rikitea, against 25 knots wind and without being able to use our sails, and take a narrow and tortuous channel leading to the anchorage.

At 11h30 local time we dropped the anchor – safe at last. We lay on the roof. Opened our eyes. The mast was still there.

After 44 days at sea and 4 weeks with the fear of losing the mast, it is so good to see the land ! The Gambier Islands at the sunrise of the 30th of April.

Many thanks to Colin for the corrections and ameliorations brought to this first English article !