New deal
- Mar 7
- 5 min read
I should have suspected something, been wary, something was going on but I didn't see it coming...
Yet there were clues, especially towards the end. The amount of luggage she was carrying, the ocean overflowing in her eyes when she turned to me as she went away in the dinghy, and then those two strangers the captain brought on board right after she left.
Usually, the two of us would stay put, anchored in a nice place, sprucing ourselves up a bit while waiting for her return.
This time, we set off immediately with this new crew, heading for the Marquesas.
Leaving on December 27, the captain hoped to stop in Fakarava for New Year's Eve.
But I didn't really like having my routine changed without warning. So much so that I didn't really put my heart into it, and neither did the crew, and despite all the efforts of my dear captain to cope with the unpredictable weather, we didn't arrive in Toau until five days after leaving Tahiti, on January 1, 2026.
There, we met up with my good friend, the sailboat Oberon. I love her because she always tells me stories about Alaska, Japan, Micronesia, and the Indian Ocean that make me dream. It must be said that she has been sharing his adventures with the same crew, Marie-Laure and Elie, for over 30 years. In fact, they didn't seem to like my new passengers very much either...
From Toau, we then went as planned to the very close atoll of Fakarava, where the captain took the opportunity to drop off the two crew members who were clearly not equipped to continue sharing the adventure...
I wasn't disappointed. I even thought we would return to Tahiti to wait for the return of the woman who took such good care of me, but no, I think I'll have to get used to the idea of never seeing her again...
The captain's goal was to go to the Marquesas, and he decided to stick to it, even if it meant difficult sailing, especially solo.
This time, I tried to do everything I could to help him, first because I owed him that much—he's a wonderful captain who has always taken great care of me—second because it was the first time he was going to skipper me solo over such a long distance, and third I understood that he must have been feeling a little heavy-hearted.
On January 9, we sailed down to the south of the Fakarava atoll, a route I know well, then the next day, we weighed anchor for Makemo, an atoll to the southeast from where we would have a better angle to set off for the Marquesas.
Makemo is very beautiful. I had never swum in this lagoon before and I really enjoyed it. The captain did too, even though it felt strange for him to discover new places on his own...
Then it was time to leave for the Marquesas Islands. The weather looked favorable despite the headwinds and swells that awaited us in the coming days.
But we knew what to expect. The last time we did this two years ago, leaving from Rangiroa, we spent almost eight days tacking back and forth...
At first, everything went well: a flawless departure, a course even better than expected, a gentle breeze perfect for sailing close-hauled, sitting nicely on my bilge.
Then I sensed that something was wrong with the foresail. I did everything I could to keep it going at least through the night, so as not to impose a first nighttime ordeal on my captain, but in the early morning of the second day, it finally happened...
Fortunately, the wind wasn't too strong, but even if he's skillfull, my captain couldn't have dealt with this damage on his own without immobilizing me.
So, methodically, he rolled up the genoa, secured the sail, lowered the mainsail, and then we diverted to the nearest atoll: Raroia.
As luck would have it, the tide schedules were favorable and we were able to slip through the channel without too much difficulty, navigating between the sandbar on the port side, the breaking waves on the starboard side, and the tidal bore straight ahead. The captain dropped anchor behind the reef. It wasn't really sheltered from the east wind, but it was still better than being out at sea, and he managed to repair the sail as best he could and then hoist it again.
It reminded me of the adventures of my friend Altaïr, the sailboat, and his crew François and François, who had exactly the same misadventure two years ago.
We allowed ourselves a few hours of rest, which were a little rough, then set off again in the early morning. Of course, just as we were leaving, the anchor got stuck, and I thought I was going to end up an orphan when the rope from the stainless steel chain claw nearly exploded in my captain's face.
Fortunately, it was more frightening than dangerous, and we made it out of the atoll without any further mishaps.
The rest of the journey was a mix of moments of grace, when the captain seemed relaxed and confident in our progress, moments of frustration when huge fish snatched his lure or leader several times, and once even the whole reel of line, and finally stressfull moments when, last day, my captain saw that the genoa was threatening to unravel along the entire length of the luff and that the mainsail halyard was fraying. He may be an atheist, but I believe he said a few prayers, and the god of the sea seems to have heard him, as the genoa and mainsail held out until we arrived on January 23, 2026, in Taiohae Bay, Nuku-Hiva. ..
I don't know which one of us was happier to arrive and see the Marquesas again, which we had enjoyed so much the first time.
We've been relaxing and enjoying the surroundings for several days now.
My captain takes care of me, as always.
He took care of the porthole above the saloon, the engine pump, took the genoa to be repaired, etc.
But he doesn't forget to think of himself either, and he found a new tattoo artist to tattoo his entire left leg...
He is enjoying his last moments of peace and quiet because I heard that his youngest son Clément is coming to visit in mid-February.
I know him very well, there's going to be a lot of excitement on board...
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