I’m scorching in the dinghy. It’s another of those really hot, windless days and the water and its coolness look so inviting. I gingerly lower my legs until they touch the sandy bottom. It’s refreshingly cool. As soon as I look around though, they start coming for me.
I am clinging on to Ian’s shorts in the water with one arm and the other holds onto the dinghy for dear life. I lift my legs up and at that precise moment, two stingrays swim right underneath me. They look up and their big black eyes make contact with mine. I’m transfixed. My heart is pumping so hard I think I can make out its ripples on the water. I am appalled, enthralled, fear-tinged and amazed at the sight.
A little way out, a stingray sticks to a man’s chest like a suction pump, gobbling up the bits of fish he offers. A further 20 sting rays, attracted by the disturbed water the first one created, make their swift and silent way along the bottom of the lagoon towards him.
This place is nicknamed “Stingray World”. We have taken our dinghy around the corner from where we’ve anchored our catamaran in Cooks Bay, Moorea, part of the Societp group of islands in French Polynesia, to experience this unique phenomenon.
I am scared. Not only are these suction-like creatures sidling up to anyone who pokes so much as a toe into the water, but black tipped sharks are gliding up and down in that sinister, shark-like way on the periphery of the shallow water. The Jaws theme song is reverberating through my skull. The sharks come in close to finish up the morsels of fish that the rays miss.
Another day in the life of a woman cruising. I feel stretched to my limit, right out of my comfort zone. Blue-water sailing does that. It’s the “high” of unknown territory. As we stretched our horizon lines across the biggest ocean in the world, I became aware of how I was stretching my known experience of myself, my partner and the world.
Our catamaran’s name, Sans Souci, belied the truth of our journey. It means “carefree, without worries or concerns, trouble-free” in French. The adventures found in sailing however, challenged me in a myriad new ways each day.
IN THE BEGINNING
My call to adventure came when a family member invited my boyfriend Ian and I to sail Sans Souci across the Pacific to Australia for her owner. It was a call we felt we couldn’t refuse. We’d sailed together before and knew how much we loved the freedom and quality of life that cruising offered. To be free of city living and working for a while was a dream come true!
A month later, having given up our day jobs and frantically re-organised our lives, we flew to humid Panama City. I’d had a stable vocation as a coach and as business manager at The Coaching Centre in Cape Town. Life was blossoming.
This six-month journey was to be as much a physical adventure as mental and emotional. Our relationship would be put to the test: an attempt at reconciliation, as we had been living together on and off over the past three years and it was a time for us to truly know whether we were to be together as life partners. Also my capacity to endure constant sea-sickness. All our known support systems, family and friends would now literally be on the other side of the world. And if something went wrong out there, well, we would have to deal with it and find our way through.
To reach French Polynesia, we sailed from Panama (through the Panama Canal) for 12 days to the Galapagos Islands. En route, another yacht, Toboggan, needed assistance and we made the decision to turn around to help. We realised the potentially serious implications of their situation: if they had no further use of their engine, they may well not have been able to reach shore and could simply have drifted past the Galapagos. Good seamanship requires that if there is a call for help out at sea, one is obligated to respond if you are able to. This meant a night of sailing in the wrong direction, but the following morning we rendezvoused in the middle of the ocean. Our first friends were made this way, and they rewarded us with dinner on arrival in the Galapagos.
GALAPAGOS TO POLYNESIA
Now our longest passage lay ahead: after 10 days of exploring and provisioning, we set off for the Marquesas, French Polynesia. This would take a full 24 days at sea, with no land or boats in sight. There was a daunting feeling onboard as we sailed over the horizon.
Yet again, I faced five days of seasickness before reclaiming my sea legs. By day three and four we were romping along nicely, cruising at an average of six knots, and witnessing nature at her most majestic: a huge whale, dolphins hunting tuna galloping across the water, a huge sailfish stealing our lure then angrily slamming itself on the waves trying to get rid of it.
We enjoyed the natural rhythm that sailing brings; we took a four-hourly watch in turn and every 15 minutes the watch-keeper performed a 360u check of the horizon for passing ships. Life formed its own natural rhythm, sunrises and sunsets punctuated with nature’s creatures visiting the boat. Food was simple, basic, wholesome and a big focus at the end of a day. Cooking was a creative outlet and we had a wonderful gas hob and an oven. I baked bread almost daily.
Quiet moments stretched into hours of contented solitude and silence. I would sit atop a bean-bag in the cockpit at the dead of night, and gaze up at the immense sky with her stars for company, the moonlight’s reflection bouncing off the waves.
LAND AT LAST AND LESSONS LEARNT
After 24 days at sea, the sight of land was overwhelming. We made landfall at Fatu Hiva, our first of the Marquesas Islands in French Polynesia — a dramatic coastline topped by towering granite peaks rising to 1000m, covered in dense, tropical vege-tation with splashes of brilliant colour. Many fruit trees grow wild here: mangoes, breadfruit, huge sweet grapefruit, coconuts and guavas.
Our Pacific crossing took us to many exotic places: the Cook Islands (the TV series Survivor was recently filmed there), Niue (the world’s smallest independent nation), Tonga, Fiji and Vanuatu (another former Survivor location). At each place, we were invited with warm-hearted friendliness into the lives of the locals.
Six months of cruising the Pacific restored a deep sense of balance as life opened up to me and me to it. The expansiveness of the ocean provided a quietude and freedom; along with the challenges of survival and teamwork. The sea, with her many faces, became a mentor to me, as I surrendered myself to her power and greatness. And in turn, I experienced the transformation created through travel.
*Anita Craig is a life and business coach. She can be contacted at anita.craig@kingsley.co.za
Comments