Marquesas!

The experience of sailing across the Pacific has been, predictably,
exactly what I expected and totally different
the days are not endless, nor really repeated
each has felt unique even though they blur together
they also go by so quickly
moments of boredom have been brief 
and moments of claustrophobia which would seem normal
have not occurred 
I don’t want “off” of Allora 
I don’t yearn to walk on land
(other than to pee without thinking about my balance)
I don’t actually yearn to see land or even green, I don’t think
though, that may change when it happens
I think I will appreciate quiet and a sense of relative motionlessness
for a bit
this would have been incredibly hard without our crew
The things we worried about, as a family stuck together on a little boat
have been so much less than expected
tiny spats that lead to good resolutions
perhaps even especially for Diana and I
our big, big blow up on day four or whatever it was
resolved, or at least reframed, months of simmering issues
the challenges are still there as they probably always will be
but rebutting them with love and affection 
has reminded us of what we have made over twenty-seven years
a formidable partnership
having Haley Maddi and Wyatt here was by far and above all 
the best thing about this crossing
~MS

People have sailed into these remote places for ages
when it was a much more dangerous and difficult thing to do
no guardian angel satellites watching over with pin point accuracy
no buzz of data vibrating in the invisible electromagnetic spectrum 
They came for whale oil and gold.
It’s hardest to understand how the captains found their sailors
willing to fall off the end of the earth
What were they promised?
Whalers raided the Marquesas for women
stories of rape they did not share back in New Bedford
with their pious wives hiding wooden dildos in the walls
the food the rot the stink 
there must not have been many better choices
the brutal life of a common sailor
~MS

Marquesan Magic from Stevens on Vimeo.

 

Pacific Ocean Crossing

Galapagos to the Marquesas Islands, French Polynesia 4/25 – 5/13/17

It’s been 6 months since Allora’s first ocean crossing. I am writing this from French Polynesia, eking out the time and wifi to finally share this treasury of experience. Gathering our 3 kids, Haley, Madison and Wyatt, as crew (we call them, ‘GREM’, to be explained later) was ideal and a bit of a miracle at this point in their busy and widespread lives.  I have to say,  I love that it felt imperative to each of them to make the voyage – what adventurous souls! Haley had already crossed the Indian Ocean with SeaMester; I think she knew something of the quiet and solitude we’d be experiencing.

We’re family, yes, but in this experience, we formed an alliance, a team. I was reminded of leaving Montana to live in Ravenna, Italia; we were drop shipped into a new culture – it was palpable, the intense newness of it all – but after that year, our family had shared something indefinably rich. Here, out on the illimitable sea, we truly relied on each other once again to ‘navigate the waters.’ Though I think each of us came away with an impression that also felt wholly personal, as I look back at those sweet days, I see a point in time in which we were able to slip into an eddy in our lives, to come together and share this magic – we were uncertain and proud, bored and content, tired and euphoric, collectively.

I hope to always recall the slow but sure rhythm of these 18 sweet days. My mosaic work often feels like this – bit by bit, piece by piece and one day, something’s manifested. In this case, we, with the wind, landed in paradise, Fatu Hiva, Marquesas. ~DS

Stats:

Distance: 2,956nm (3,401miles)

Avg. speed from Isla Isabela, Galapagos to Fatu Hiva, Marquesas: 6.895 knots/hr (7.9 mph)

Avg. 24 hr distance: 165nm (189.8 miles)

 

I’ve been thinking about the tuna I killed
the exhausted fish bleeding into the water
after our gaff cut its gill then came apart and fell overboard
clouds of blood, Maddi thought of whaling
what it would be like on another scale
the rivers of whale ichor gushing into this exact ocean
from a heart bigger than all five of us
even this, probably average tuna, appears from its deep refuge like a giant
the mass of muscle that challenged our arms despite enormous mechanical advantage
We confounded the powerful, sleek prince of blue water
though we cannot actually lift him, but barely heave him aboard
like a deer drug through the snow
our muscles are spent
chunks of sashimi as big as an elk quarter
deep in the cheek, beautiful stuff I could, should eat from my knife even as I filet
I never ate deer raw
I worry I may one day think I have taken something I shouldn’t have
more than is left to take
for a man living in a world where food is easy
taken invisibly with efficient economic precision
swaddled in styrofoam and plastic
a big mac or burrata
seared tuna or sushi
for anyone who indulges a whim
anywhere, anytime
even in places that in my lifetime once offered only boiled meat and potatoes
peaches and apricots in the season of miller moths beating against the screen door
the man across the street in Hillrose, Colorado had collections of arrowheads
chipped stone for killing, scraping and digging
New technology just a few decades or a century ago
Here we see white fishing boats with towers for spotting the game
powerful motors for dragging it from the deep
fishermen like whalers still, raw
distant lives, sheltered by unquestioning pragmatism
shortsighted, strong armed servants of a frivolous city dwelling species
below us shifts Melville’s eternal blue noon
the multitude of shades of azure
that would have names if we were like eskimos naming snow
it all deepens to black
red squid and sperm whales
all that’s left of the world falls like ash into the deepest sea
~MS