Crossing from the Sea of Cortez to French Polynesia
What Does It Take to Cross an Ocean?
I’ve given a lot of thought to this as we continue to head westward from Mexico toward Fiji this season. Our accomplishment is personal…meaning, it’s enough that we set out to do this when we bought our boat in 2017; we don’t expect others to fully understand why we have doggedly pursued this dream, especially in the last four years as we knew Mexico would not comprise our only cruising destination.
One of our trusted crew members asked us during our South Pacific passage, “Why would anyone do this?” Meaning, what inspires people to take off into the unknown, into a passage dubbed by everyone we have encountered in the past 2 months as the “milkshake run”—rather than the easy “coconut run” it was supposed to be. Our 23-day passage was neither gentle nor easy; it wasn’t terrible, either. But the huge rolly swell on the beam (the side of the boat, which causes a consistent cradle-rocking effect), the lack of calm in the doldrums at the equator, the inability to do much of anything, including making a meal in the galley, wore on all of us like dirty socks. The four of us stayed positive but tired quickly of the routine and constant motion. Little things begin to irritate, perhaps because we knew what we were missing in the comfort of our fixed land homes. Which felt so, so far away from the expansiveness of one of the biggest oceans in the world.
Leaving Creature Comforts Behind
Is it simply that? We become accustomed to our routine at home? Home means you can choose whatever experience–music, food, shopping, company—you want at all times. As we crossed from the North Pacific ocean into the South Pacific, we witnessed the Southern cross for the first time, heard the persistent swish of water passing over the hull, stared at the royal blue color of the ocean depths, and rode each swell lifting and propelling the boat forward; these rhythmic forces demand simplicity of living and being at the mercy of the natural elements. Annoyingly loud land neighbors or political turmoil or the latest TikTok video garnering vacuous attention—none of these daily realities permeate our existence.
The Daily Challenges of Boat Life
But simplicity doesn’t equate to “easy.” The daily challenges of living on a boat force us to test our loyalty to the lifestyle and the pursuit of a destination on the distant horizon; the hard aspects are immediate, directly in front of us at all times—rather than “out there” in the hazy world captured on our screens. We don’t have time to fret about whether Biden will stay in the race; we ‘re too busy monitoring our power consumption so that our refrigerator/freezers do not hum into nonexistence. Or we’re too busy watching the strength and direction of local Maramu winds, which force transiting boats like ours into a protected anchorage for an unforeseeable time. Or, like this morning before the sun appeared in Moorea, we are too busy watching the boat in front of us drag anchor and wondering when the crew will materialize on deck to avoid hitting us or another boat in the anchorage.
Moments of Inspiration
The humbling and inspiring part of our lives—besides our confrontation with Mother nature out in the open sea—is that we meet cruisers/sailors from all over the world. Anytime I feel frustrated about something related to our lifestyle—the bumpy two-mile dinghy ride which drenches us on the way to the grocery store, the lack of hot water after sitting at anchor for more than three days, being eaten alive by Jejene insects (aka, no-see-ums)—we end up meeting couples like Johanna and Sig, who traveled a week after their marriage ceremony more than 15,000 nautical miles, spanning the Northwest passage (the one Vikings would have taken, to Greenland and Iceland) to Alaska and then on to the South Pacific; or we are humbled by our solo sailor friend who has traveled over 30,000 nautical miles from the Caribbean to Hawaii to Vancouver down to Mexico and westward—by himself, mainly. We meet a diverse range of people with all types of backgrounds, people who speak 3 or 4 languages with ease, and people who welcome others into their cockpits or who sail out of their way over 200 miles in the open ocean to help a fellow sailor in crisis.
Why Do Sailors Cross Oceans?
The truth is, I don’t have an answer about why sailors do what they do—except to say that the experience is so present, so raw, that confronting it and the lifestyle captures what I have tried to express before: cruising invites a sense of being alive, with all of its icky, uncomfortable, and wonderfully thrilling waves.
As Richard Bode writes in his seminal work, first you have to row a little boat: “In due course we arrive, if it can be said that we ever fully arrive. The truth is that there are destinations beyond destinations, and so the confirmed sailor goes on tacking forever.”
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Love your updates and have enjoyed reminiscing of our similar experiences and adventures! Great writing btw. Sounds like a good sail plan, maybe call Vuda Marina to reserve a pit, you probably already did. We are lucky to see you in the Spring!
Kathy,
Thank you so much for taking the time to comment–and we cannot wait to see you both in the Spring (hopefully in your new boat!). We did secure a pit, thank you! We were not expecting to venture that far west, but now we feel good about our plan. We will see you soon! Hugs!
Hi Stacy. Just enjoyed reading your latest newsletter and wanted to tell you how much I am enjoying your posts and updates. So thoughtful and insightful. Thank you for sharing your journey!
Hi Tori! It’s great to hear from you, and thank you so much for taking the time to reach out. I appreciate your support, as always…
I hope you are getting some sailing in on occasion!