American Samoa

We have developed a reputation for cruising the pacific under sail without assistance, and Pago Pago (hopefully) was our final challenge. Our entrance into the harbor was text book. The lee shore anchorage boasted 25 knots of breeze, intermittent squalls and poor holding. We rounded a moored fishing trawler gracefully maneuvering the boat upwind to deploy the anchor. Anchor down and sails under control, we drifted back to set the anchor. Executed beautifully, there was only one catch (or lack thereof): the boat kept drifting.

We re-engaged the jib, sailing on a backwards drift and tactfully dodged 3 other boats. 230 ft of chain on anchor #1 and 180ft of chain/1" nylon rode on anchor #2 finally settled us into 20 feet of water as the hook caught an unmarked mooring line. We ended up dragging ¾ of the way across the anchorage. All of the other sailors are still unsure of whether the Broken Compass is crewed by luck or skill (sometimes we are not quite sure ourselves). Whichever the case, they presented us with a coconut award for surviving yet again. The boat is now berthed safely in the Pago Pago marina as shown:

Pago Pago harbor is in American Samoa, which is a territory of United States. What this means is they have the same government set-up and congressional representation (although they do not vote in Washington DC). The government here is extremely corrupt. They receive over $300 million annually in subsidies from the US government which is disappears amongst the various organizations. The island is far from paradise. Besides offshore tuna, reef, and the occational friendly turtle, American Samoa traded clear water and marine life for industry and plastic. Trash and pollution are just a way of life.

The NFL linebacker breeding ground reputation has been confirmed: they are HUGE! The people here have coined a phrase, "Eat like a Samoan." McDonalds even packs on extra beef patties to the double quarter pounder because supersizing is not enough. Corruption, pollution and size aside; Samoans are generally a carefree and welcoming people.

The 11 mile island offers mountainous terrain surrounded by coral reefs. There are a few good hikes which we explored in the first two weeks. Makai particularly enjoys chasing mice, geckos and the invasive king toads on the shaded paths. The majority of the land is privately held by villages which limits exploration of the island. We were deterred from one path by two men with shotguns who not so politely informed us we were trespassing.

We have spent a lot of time mingling and saying farewell to friends we accumulated throughout the pacific. Our main project here is to fix the engine which hasn't worked for 8 months now. Bret is flying to Mexico for a cousin's wedding. He will continue to Pennsylvania to visit family and friends. I will work on the boat with Makai to overhaul our rusted diesel engine (wish me luck!).

Suwarrow

After leaving from Bora Bora we decided to stop at an island along the way. We had heard of an isolated atoll called Suwarrow. Famously described in Tom Neale's book "An Island to Oneself," the atoll appealed to the secluded live off the land lifestyle we had been seeking. Currently two rangers manage the area, which is now a territory of New Zealand. We pulled into the anchorage to see several familiar yachts, friends, and two big men placed to oversee the island. Apii and James are not your typical park rangers. They were placed 6 months prior for a 9 month contract to survive, prevent poaching, and collect dues from visiting yachts. They take people out spearfishing and organize potlucks for all of the visiting yachts.

With plans of a two day visit, we ended up spending two weeks. Survival on an island like Suwarrow is not difficult. There are coconuts, coconut crabs, lobster and every type of fish imaginable. We took group coconut crab and lobster hunting trips. Thick brush, swarms of wasps, and big claws protect the delicious coconut crabs. The lucky few returned with hunting souvenirs from the wasps...
At least the hunters were able to eat an incredible meal...

Apii taught many survival skills and we taught him a little something about spearfishing. He knew the same man, Fernando Faura whom we had spent three weeks with in Manihi (nearly 1500 miles away) learning how to spearfish. In Fernando's prime, he was one of the best divers and spearfisherman renowned throughout French Polynesia. Life in Suwarrow is simple but rewarding. With a friend from a boat called Nikita, we established a bridge club on the island to pass by squally afternoons. We went spearfishing when we needed food. Similar to a seafood menu, we had our choice of any fish we cared for but never took more than we could eat. The visibily of the water ranged from 60-100 feet and we reached new depths diving. The only threat were the sharks who always attacked the opportunity for a free meal or wounded fish on a spear. Sharks including white and black tip reef sharks along with greys generally ranging from 3-6 feet long. I counted 12 sharks surrounding our boat one afternoon after catching a trevally on rod and reel. Afternoons and evenings were typically spend trading stories and thoughts about sailing and life. One evening while planning a potluck, Apii decided we should go for lobster on the other side of the reef (4 miles away). We had to time the tide correctly, so the best time to hunt would be midnight. We set up camp including a tarp to sleep on and a pot spread on two rocks over a firepit. We watched the stars under a clear sky and waited until the tide went out, leaving the boat up on the rocks. We hunted tide pools armed with headlights, gloves and one machette. The gloves were for the spiny lobster and the machette was used for fish sleeping in the pools. Our take for the night was 25 lobster (3 nearly 2 feet long), 4 parrotfish, 3 grouper, 3 squirel fish, and 1 red snapper. We cooked 5 lobster for the two of us back at the campsite at 2am and contributed the remaining take for a party the following night. Suwarrow is a magical island, but one can't stay in paradise forever. We are off to give Broken Compass a little love in Pago Pago, American Samoa and see if she can ride out the cyclone season.

Bora Bora

We were welcomed into Bora Bora by 20 knot head winds supplimented with 3 knots of current through the pass. Darkness falling quickly, Bret and I tested our sailing skills tacking up through the pass to find safe anchorage in 80 feet of water. Bora Bora is geographically superior to the other islands we have visited. The main island has two peaks with the largest called Mt. Otemanu reaching 727 meters or 2,399 feet . There are dozens of smaller islands called Motu's scattered within the circular reef surrounding Bora Bora. The clear blue lagoon is calm with several resort vacation bungaloos clustered along the coastline. Tourism is the main source of revenue for the island and the locals are not as easily approachable as in other places in French Polynesia. As a result, we have spent a majority of our time socializing with other cruisers. We celebrated our joint birthday by snorkling, spearfishing, and enjoying a freshly speared octupus coupled with sunset drinks on a catamaran called African Innovation. Spearfishing various reefs on the island is a daily activity. The underwater life is lush and we swam with numerous lemon sharks patroling the outer reef (the largest exceeding 10 feet). Another day we circumnavigated the island with two other dingy's to dive with manta rays, snorkle various reefs with pit stops at distinguished bars along the waterfront. We hiked the second highest peak called Mt. Pahia with a group of friends (the highest peak requires rock climbing gear with no identifiable trail). Makai joined us for the hike and gave us a real scare when she catapolted off a 12 foot cliff. She miscalculated her trajectory and the landing left her clinging for her life on the edge of the trail. One long pull-up later with her two front paws and she was sitting looking at us wondering why we were taking so long. Bret and I are enjoying our time in Bora Bora and plan on spending another 10 days here to explore the north side of the island. After our stay here, we plan on island hopping the 1,100 mile jump to Samoa where we plan on catching up on boat work and perhaps installing a few luxuries such as an engine.

Moorea to Bora Bora

It is a short sail from Tahiti to Moorea with an easy entrance through the pass into Opunohu Bay. Boat bound in Tahiti, Makai had the chance to run and explore land. She met a few local children who enjoyed showing her how to dig holes. Our newly functioning outboard was perfect for bombing around the lagoon in search of fish. Despite local lessons, we continue to eat lightly on spearfishing days. When hungry, we make sure to carry the fishing tackle in which we were raised. We took a few of the speared reef fish to a sandbar known as "Stingray world." In most social circumstances it is a bad idea to fragrance yourself with fish guts (especially when visiting stingrays and sharks). One rare exception is stingray world, where the rays glide all over your body attracted to the smell. The reef sharks are less gregarious and circle from a close distance. On the dinghy ride back from the sandbar we stopped to dive with tikis (an activity we heard down the cruising grapevine). In the 1800's, European missionaries took great effort to abolish ancient Tahitian relics and statues which were not consistent with Christianity. Some locals in Moorea secretly carried huge stone statues and threw them into the lagoon waters about half a mile from shore. The tiki statues continue to lay at the bottom of the lagoon and the dive is a powerful experience.

We left Moorea with expectations of a blow strong enough to leave most yachts in safe waters on the hook (anchor). Pulling anchor before sunset we made it out of the lagoon in time to see the dark clouds make their approach. The wet and rocking nightshifts were all worth it when we simultaneously hooked into two mahi mahi the next morning. Chad reeled in and self gaffed the female while I battled with the much larger bull. Chad then gaffed the male and 'landed' him in the boat. Somehow the monster flipped out of the boat to swim away with his other waiting mistresses. The struggle ended with blood on the sails and a red splatter faced Makai wrestling with the 4 foot female in the cockpit.

Tahiti

We arrived in Tahiti after breaking sailing records on the Broken Compass. We traveled 280 miles in 45 hours. We kept up with a far superior catamaran called Hasta la Vista for the passage and they generously towed us into the harbor in return for freediving 65 feet to save their anchor in Manihi. Tahiti truly is a paradise. Despite the boat traffic and booming industry, the harbor boasts clear water and 50 foot visibility. We dove two boat wrecks and a plane crash site blanketed by small reef fish. We have been enjoying the luxuries of a real city and spending time with the crew on Mega Yachts has expanded our repertoire of toys. There is a shoal with 3 feet of water where boats gather on a daily basis to play music, games and enjoy sunsets called the sand bar. Makai is quarantined from stepping on land, but the sand bar is her oyster. She is the most popular dog on the reef and she introduced us to dozens of new people. Included in these introductions were professional Heiva dancers. Tahiti demonstrates strong customs and traditions. One of the more noticeable customs is that the local girls do not wear the same amount of clothing that we have become accustom to on the beaches in the United States. So combine topless girls, professional dancers, music on the water and you have a party. Besides dancing with half naked girls and hanging out on mega yachts, Tahiti is a nice town with good restaurants and friendly people. Typical fashion: Girls wear pearls and guys wear tattoos. Walking around, we are surrounded by friends from other yachts exploring the same tourist attractions and chandleries. After the arrival of another new propeller and parts, and with a little love our outboard engine is running smoothly again. We have seen the sun set over the island of Moorea for almost two weeks now and we are headed there next.

Casual Heros

Our image of paradise was balanced when we noticed a formation of dark clouds looming over the horizon the second afternoon in the atoll. The wind gradually picked up to 25 knots by the evening of the second day. All three sailboats in the atoll took firm hold to coral heads scattered in the anchorage. One catamaran named Troutbridge did not weather the storm like the rest. At 8pm they popped their anchor. With the captain enjoying drinks the other boat, an able Kiwi crew member fired up the engine and motored off the reef. Returning promptly, Captain Pete re-anchored and started bailing the rising water from his boat. After a bilge pump failure he needed help. We arrived with a spare electric bilge pump to a terrified crew furiously bailing with buckets. I set up the bilge pump while Bret found the leak and kept the water level manageable. We left the boat that night outsourcing the remaining bailing to the bilge. Several large holes were identified the following morning. The leak had been isolated to the starboard hull which breached through a faulty containment hatch. We were recruited by the local talent to complete the job spending hours underwater re-shaping and mending the dilapidated vessel. During this process, another boat named Imagine could not release their anchor from the coral. Despite enjoying the spectacle (keep in mind, salty old captains do not accept help quickly), Bret and I offered assistance by diving 50ft and untangling a mess of chain to set them free. After the repairs our friends are currently headed to Tahiti to survey the damage.

(Makai also helped out by marking the coral heads for Troutbridge on their way out of the atoll.)

We wish them good luck and safe travels.

Manihi

Manihi (written 6-28-2010)
The 500 mile jump from Nuku Hiva to the Tuamotu islands went smoothly, highlighted by pods of melon-headed whales, a surprise 50 knot squall one night, and a 22 lb yellowfin tuna. On the 5th morning, we reached the atoll of Manihi. Knowing the dangers of entering a coral atoll under sail, we hailed others on the radio for current and tidal information. After realizing we were without a motor, they advised we do not enter the narrow pass due to the strong currents. On a different channel we heard other yachtsmen refer to us as “Foolhardy.” Undeterred, we did a drive by to scope out the obstacle keeping us for our destined paradise. By this time, two captains from the anchorage arrived in a dinghy to help save the fools trying to enter the pass under sail. With two undergraduate degrees in finance on board and well aware of the concept of risk management (or so we think) we tacked towards the 130 foot wide pass. We hugged the starboard side of the channel, and with the boost of a short weather system coming through, threaded the pass into the turquoise waters within.Manihi is more than we could have dreamed. Coral heads with tropical fish are scattered throughout the lagoon. The 400 residents are friendly, welcoming, and overly generous. Our first morning, we received two loaves of bread. Armed with the concept that guests should not pay for food, the locals send boats out to deliver meals of fish, coconuts, rice, and dishes I cannot identify. They invite us to picnics on the beach and children’s dance shows where 5-year-olds shake their hips and they all wear ornaments made from real flowers. A local farmer took us oyster diving and walked us through the black pearl cultivation process. He then took us fishing and we learned Manihi fishing practices catching two grouper and letting a reef shark off the line. Their ability to spearfish is impressive to say the least. Leaving Chad and I feeling like air breathers, the Polynesians dive over 100ft in one breath to wait patiently for fish to swim past their hungry spears.Our neighboring sailboats are off to Tahiti today, but we plan to stay for another week or so to learn more about life on the atoll. It is difficult to pull ourselves away from the wonderful people, clear water, and fish not yet caught. Oh yeah... I forgot to mention: French Polynesia was the best place in the world to see the eclipse. Broken Compass luck? Or great planning?

The Hunt

Our plan was to re-stock on fresh water from a nearby bay and head out. At the freshwater spikit, we were welcomed by two “real” Marquesians. Dressed tattoos with decorated pig tooth necklaces, these hunters became quick friends.
Bret and I joined the warriors on a goat hunt. The roles seemed reversed when they took out their 12 gauge shotgun and we furnished our bow and arrows. Hunting together we were too large a group for the skittish goats. We split up, Marquesians vs. Americans. We stalked a small group, I tactically herded them in Bret’s direction and he took a tough shot at the largest ram. A couple inches high left us dinnerless. Luckily, the Marquesians who were hunting on home turf were more successful and we feasted like kings.
We had beach barbeques for 2 days and nights to celebrate the kill and our newfound friendships.
We learned our hunting buddies where princes of the king who owned nearly half the land. They do not own cars and ride horses all over the island. They are true naturalists and even control resources; exemplified by only killing male goats and leaving females to reproduce. We hiked to a waterfall with Makai, played games, but mostly spent 4 days listening to stories over coffee and campfire.
The Marquesian warriors humorously reminisced how the survivor episode participants nearly starved with so much food in abundance.
We have learned many lessons from our friends and after an exchange of gifts we decided to continue west. Next stop will be challenging, as we anticipate narrow passes with moderate current under sail (the engine needs to be overhauled) and dangerous reefs in the Tumotu atoll of Manihi.
We also finished designing real soft Peruvian cotton T-shirts. So check them out! Purchases can be made through the website at http://www.sailbrokencompass.com/ (because we really need a new engine)

Nuku Hiva Part 2

We entered into the bay and felt like sailors when a rugged old salt from New Zealand deemed us heroes for anchoring under sail. We immediately broke out the fishing gear and took some albacore tuna to share with fellow sailors. Hammerhead sharks have provided quality fishing competition. On one occasion, an eight footer circled in between a tuna and our inflatable boat, hoping to catch an easy dinner off the end of our line. Going head to head, we hooked up with two five footers, which both won effortlessly taking our hooks, 40lb test line, and sinkers. On shore we’ve been playing tennis, volleyball, and soccer. There are two other boats with younger crews, and friendly international challenges happen daily. The locals comprised of 1700 making up the second largest town in French Polynesia are also extremely friendly and athletic. Two days ago, the outboard started acting up. First the fuel injector hose clamp slipped off pumping fuel into the engine head and water. On the third pull, we had ignition. Fire exploded from every orifice extending to surrounding water. Quick moves turned a barbeque into another lesson. Clamped and loaded, we took off for a hike 2 miles ride with a couple of Norwegian friends. Apparently the engine had second thoughts because 1.75 miles off, she kicked off her new propeller. Paddling back, our buddy Topie was stung in the heel by a jellyfish. Stopping to complete the hike, an allergic reaction set in leaving him nearly paralyzed and struggling to speak. We accepted a tow from a nearby Catamaran. Shade, water and rest promoted a rapid recovery. We chalked the day up to one for the books in Captain Murphy’s Law and ended another day in paradise among good friends toasting rum and cokes.
Tomorrow we depart for a 5 day voyage to the island of Manihi in the Tumotus. It is a little off the grid with no internet, but world class surfing, diving and fishing. We plan to arrive in Tahiti for the American independence day.

Nuku Hiva

We just made landfall in Nuku Hiva after crossing the largest body of water on Earth, the Pacific Ocean. The 34 day, 3600 nautical mile voyage seemed but a blink of an eye. We caught a moderate amount of fish with Makai leading the hunting party. She captured countless flying fish, feasting on the delicacy and leaving a pile of heads as trophies in the cockpit. We discovered the value of light on a dark evening. A flashlight is like crack for flying fish and I was hit three times when initiating my headlight one night. During the day we were frequented by light squalls and the Northwest raingear came in handy. Each evening we dined (usually on fish and rice) and enjoyed cocktails to watch the sunset as if nature was playing a movie. It became practice to say, “See you tomorrow” as the sun disappeared beneath the swells. Before night shifts, discussions consisted of politics, economics, personal enlightenment, and the best new trick to teach Makai. Night shifts (we need an autopilot) are a pleasure few have the opportunity to enjoy. The moon and stars quickly become companions and guides. Miles from the ocean floor, thousands from land, and millions from the moon and stars, there is a feeling of remoteness and insignificance. In the 34 days at sea, we saw only 3 fishing boats. Approaching sunrise on June 2nd, Makai rustled and stuck her nose high in the air as if something had changed. The mountains of Nuku Hiva (which gained popularity from the 2002 survivor series) emerged in the distance. After several “Land Ho” announcements we smiled… Paradise.
Nuku Hiva

Eyes of Makai

Salinas, Ecuador

As a welcome home present, I decided to round out all of the wooden corners so my owners wouldn’t hurt themselves on the sharp edges. After acquiring a taste for teak, I expanded my mission to other items such as wooden cleats and railings. Returning from Peru, they were so happy to see me they never even thanked me for my hard work.

I have really enjoyed Ecuador. Everyday paddle boats and jet skis come by to see me. I feel like a celebrity. I have entertained myself onboard by playing fetch with the locals. When they come close I drop a tennis ball or toy in the water and they pick it up and give it back to me. In playing the game I discovered a valuable lesson: some toys float, and others sink. I found this out one night when I tried to play the game with Bret. For some reason, he was throwing my toy and expecting me to chase it, so I showed him how to play and threw my Kong bone in the water. He dove in after my favorite toy and fumbled around underwater for a while before throwing it back on the boat. He did not look pleased and we have not played again since.

My favorite days are when we swim to the beach for walks and runs. My owners seem to be getting slower by the day, and now I have to run with everyone before I get tired. Not only am I bigger and faster, but everyone keeps talking about how I am changing. I don’t think anything is wrong, but Bret and Chad say they want to fix me. Previously, all of my friends on the beach used to be content just wanting to play. Now they keep saying they love me and follow me for miles. Although they are different, I do not mind because I am much faster than the boys from the street.

I overheard talk of a place called the Marqueses islands, where I believe we will be headed next. We have been waiting for a GPS in the mail for over a week, and everyone seems anxious to leave. After our third farewell party, I can’t wait to go sailing and start eating fish and rice again. The dog food here is good, but nothing compares to fresh sushi.

-Makai

Machu Picchu is Closed

Two months ago, Peru sustained massive mudslides that carried entire villages and sections of roads into the Rio Urubamba. As a result, many Peruvians along the river were displaced and tourism came to a halt. On April 1, the government planned to re-open Machu Picchu, the architectural world wonder and a major source of income for the city of Cuzco. There was only one catch: Machu Picchu was not ready.

We arrived in Cuzco to book our tour to Machu Picchu. The 4 day Adventure tour including mountain biking, rafting, and trekking immediately caught our eye. We would wait two days until my mother and little brother could join planning our arrival to Machu Picchu on opening day.

Day 1: Mountain Biking. We took a small bus with a group of 20 up through the clouds to the top of Abra Malaga. At 7am we began 3100M decent to Santa Maria. The decent was fast with a touch of mist on the roads from the morning dew. During one of off road shortcuts to a switchback we had a couple of casualties. An Argentine clenching the handlebars and forgetting about his breaks hit the rocks. My mother, who was in slightly over her head bailed before an oncoming mound of dirt. Down the road, an Australian girl faced an oncoming car in her lane and crashed into the gutter. We continued through small creeks and rocky dirt roads to the lowlands. At the end of the day, we lost the Australian and Argentine to a knee injury and strained shoulder ligaments respectively.

Day 2: Trekking. One look at the river and we understood the guide’s decision to abandon river rafting. Due to extensive rainfall the river transformed from class 2-3 to class 4-5 rapids. In other words one or all of us would have perished. We hiked 13 miles through the rainforest harvesting various fruits and flora along the ancient Incan trail. The rainforest was lush with fruit including avocado, tomato, coca leaves, passion fruit, bananas, oranges, chocolate and coffee beans.


Day 3: Falling Rocks and Politics. The rain continued through the previous night into the morning. The guides warned of political turmoil between the tourism agencies and the government but we had to get to the checkpoint first. On a dangerous part of the road, we traversed one by one. Bret saw the danger first and screamed “Rock!” the guide leaped forward and a giant boulder crashed right in front of a tourist looking down worrying about how much mud she was getting on her hiking boots. They guide grabbed her and ran through the dangerous section as subsequent rocks poured down from the land above. Opting for the modestly safer and longer hike, we crossed the river in a small cable to the checkpoint. As the rain ceased, we waited for more groups to push past 5 armed police officers that were heart bent on deterring our trip. But they wouldn’t shoot a tourist right? We all made it.


Day 4: Machu Picchu. Dressed in our damp clothes, we headed holy city of Machu Picchu. The cold air and rain provided one last obstacle. The first hour of the city was blanketed by rain and clouds before the heavens opened up and granted us access the beauty Machu Picchu. The time, effort and dedication that went into the production of this city is magnificent. The Incans were a strong and proud people who cherished their relationship with the gods. We saw and felt the stone that the Incans sacrificed virgins to the heavens during the height of the empire. It was a powerful experience.


After a couple more days of exploring Cuzco, we are back in Salinas, Ecuador to The Broken Compass and Makai.

Ecuador

Entering the Southern Hemisphere was like being welcomed into Heaven after a couple weeks in purgatory. The wind picked up and a succession of 9 big-eye tuna hit as we drifted across the imaginary line of the Ecuador. We entered Salinas, Ecuador on March 4th. Salinas is a ritzy beach town considered a weekend escape for the wealthy sect of Ecuador´s largest city, Quayaquil. After obtaining much needed provisions we hit the town. Salinas harbors the most divine ceviche along with oceanfront clubs which blast music all night long. We document this on a nightly basis as the water provides a clean passage directly to our anchorage. The culture is pure ¨South American.¨ The people are friendly, family oriented, and emotional. We lost our little brother Tyler shortly after our arrival. He flew back to the States realizing he could not bear to be separated from his girlfriend Natasha in San Francisco. Bret and I traveled to a nearby surfers paradise called Montañita for a couple of days. We befriended four local girls whom we exchanged dancing and spanish tips for surfing lessons.

Back in Salinas, we are fortunate to anchor next to a classic 1928 70ft schooner, Niña. The mother and son, Rosemary and David have proivided good company and sailing advise for 2 twins still picking up the ropes of cruising. Aboard the Broken Compass, the repairs and provisions for the pacific puddle jump are moving smoothly. We are stuck on our diesel engine repair, but are confident we will crack the challenge before our departure. Makai is teething and it is a full time job keeping her from chewing all the teak on the boat. We are now in the Quayaquil airport on our way to Peru to follow an ancient Incan trail.

Transit to Ecuador

I always liked the Hamlet quote ¨When sorrows come they come not single spies, but in battalions¨…

The depth sounder stopped working as we sailed out of the tricky Pedregal River in Panama. Coupled with the theft of our GPS navigation, it made for a difficult exit.

We stayed in Isla Parrida for a day to clean the bottom of the boat. The wind came and we sailed south planning on stopping at Isla Cobia. Unfortunately, the 50 hp Perkins engine made a horrible knocking noise and stopped working as we were scouting out an anchorage, so we continued to sail. As a result, we did not have the opportunity to raise Firefox onto the boat. The wind and seas picked up, towing rings and grommets started popping like a handful of blackcats on July 4th. Around 2am, I jumped in the dinghy to build a makeshift bridle. 3 grommets burst as I finished the tangle of bowline knots and tie offs to the inflatable. Luckily, the last one held and we (me and Firefox) stayed connected to the Broken Compass and there was no manoverboard drill. At least so I thought before trying to get back into the BC with the swells crashing against the hull. I slipped and fell into what I can only describe as black silence. Falling in the water at night in rough seas was not really my cup of tea, so I hauled myself back into Firefox and returned to the safety of the Broken Compass.

Our solar panel purchase in Panama paid off. The generator shut down (later to find out it was a fuel line leak) and we somehow fried our inverter. This left us with no AC power (chargers for satellite phone, power tools, ipod, computers, fans, etc.), and only solar to charge the batteries.

The proceeding windless days made for some lousy fishing, and our beloved ´fish and rice´ diet turned into just rice with seasonings. Now destined for Ecuador to resupply and lick our wounds, offshore fishermen became plentiful as we approached Ecuador. Many of them stopped by the boat to talk, and were helpful in pointing us towards Esmeralda. The port captain was not there, so a naval officer instructed we head another 200 miles south to La Liberdad.

On the way, Tyler (Chief Communications Officer) was adamant that we charge the satellite phone and call let someone know where we were. Since the outboard engine on Firefox joined the rest of the engines in the apparent ´motor labor strike´ I was not very comfortable taking her into shore when she was crippling along at about 30%. We did it regardless. Chad stayed on the BC while Tyler and I left to complete the mission. As the shoreline swell rose up behind us, we were a sitting duck. (I had always wondered how other boats struggled to land their dinghy, but it seemed pretty obvious when your motor only gives you 9hp when you are acclaimated to 30.) The wave crested, tossed Tyler and myself in the ocean, and barrel-rolled Firefox onto the beach.

After charging the phone, we limped back to the BC looking like bedraggled strays. We raised anchor and set sail south hoping the tides would change when we crossed the Equator and entered the Southern Hemisphere as shellbacks.

Pedegral, Panama

We arrived at the small marina of Pedegral after navigating up a narrow river about 6 miles. Panama is amazing. The cost of living is about 1/3 the price of the states. An average meal costs $1.5-$3 at a local restaurant with a beer running about $0.60. Broken Compass is anchored in the center of an estuary with mangroves for protection at 50 feet on either side. There is an abundance of wildlife including monkeys playing in the nearby trees. Tyler and I are leaving Bret and Nicky to tend to the boat as we take a 7 hour bus ride to the city.
Panama City is fragmented. There are areas with extreme violence where military personel stand on each block corner with automatic weapons. There are also nice areas including a large mall which appears to be imported from the United States. We explored the city, picked up solar panels and won some money at the casino before we returned to find Bret and Nicky had a difficult time as security guards. Bret´s Decription:
¨Nicky and I took Makai to experience Panamanian soil and go for a morning walk. After three hours ashore, we found out the true value of our faithful puppy. She had been deterring the theives that patrol the Pedregal river all day. I returned to see our companionway door ripped open and the boat ransacked. Every drawer was open with clothes and valuables strewn on the floor. The VHF radio was ripped from its mount and in a "to go bag" with bilge pumps and riffe speargun sitting next to the accumulated valuables. Apparently, they left in a hurry because after hours of evaluating damage/theft, we found out the only missing items were our two handheld GPSs and $200 Nicky had in her passport.¨
We were lucky. Bret and Nicky took off for Panama City the following morning and Tyler and I took our shift. While preparing the boat for the long leg to Peru, we almost destroyed our boat and a dock after refueling. While refueling and topping off the water tanks, the tide went out leaving us stuck in the mud. I realized the weight of our craft when one tractor, 2 winches, and three boats carrying 30hp, twin 150hp, and 75hp engines respectively could not pull Broken Compass from the mud. We tied 4 lines from the top of the masts to trees and docks to prevent the boat from leaning. Fighting a rising tide using bumpers, 2X4´s and ply wood, we fended a floating steel dock off all night until BC started floating again.
Bret just returned today with a christmas list of boat supplies from the city. We are sail ready with two new 63 watt solar panels mounted, water, food and diesel. The trip to Peru should take about 20 days with intermediate stops at islands and perhaps Equador along the way. Pray for wind.

Pamama Islands

The 130 mile sail from Bahia Drake to Panama provided light wind in the afternoons and calm seas at night. After hours of carving and painting, Tyler’s creativity paid off and his plug named “Mexican-American” lured a whopping 47 inch Dorado into the boat. The Mexican-American also hooked a Wahoo for breakfast under a full moon.

We completed the last sail repairs underway. We flew the mended Genniker off the port bow until Isla Parida came into view. There are dozens of islands scattered around the gulf, Isla Gamez is just one sample provided below.



Out of fish and in need of food, we grabbed the spears in search of lunch. After two areas with shallow water and small fish, we anchored Firefox next to an exposed rock and three large coral heads. Chad dove the coral heads with a sling and quickly resurfaced to grab the high powered Riffe speargun. I swam over about 15 minute at the end of a battle to see Chad wrestling a mammoth sized fish and Tyler repeatedly stabbing it in the head with his dive knife. Chad’s Pargo (Red Snapper) kill:


Scanning the area, we motored to the only what looked like civilization to find a fisherman with his family of 18. The father skillfully worked the fish as his wife, Rosa, reluctantly prepared a meal for us. Their hospitality far exceeded any expectations. The grandfather took us on a nature walk, the children shared local fruit and played dominoes, and the father talked of fishing and diving. We ate the cooked Pargo for lunch before departing, leaving the rest of the fish to feed their family.

Fish, oysters, and coconut milk make great meals. After meeting an American couple on one of the islands, we traded these delicacies for an exquisite homemade meal, drinks and good company.

Bahia Drake

Applying our finance degrees, we evaluated the price of diesel in Costa Rica at just over $5 we decided we could save $145 by filling up in Panama at $2.76. We only picked about 20 gallons which forced us to sail the entire way. The shifts were easy with 4 people, a nice change from the 2 man crew down to Costa Rica. With minimal wind, downtime was spend improving neglected areas of the boat, reading, and relaxing.





Bahia Drake boasts good surfing, diving and monkeys. Excited about the new surf boards purchased from a shaper in Jaco, we tested Firefox’s 30hp engine as she pulled each of us up with ease.



Makai even took a turn and she stood up first try (with a little help). Day 2 in Bahia Drake we procured food. We dove off a nearby reef and took 5 decent parrot fish and about a dozen oysters. Tyler concocted a sautéed oyster and pasta dish which has become a staple in our diet. We shared the extra fish with a couple we met the previous evening and concluded the evening with drinks and foosball at a bar overlooking the bay. Makai found her own entertainment as she sited her first monkey. She climbed half way up the tree to get a closer look. The monkeys didn’t take to kindly to this invader and threw branches at the playful puppy as she clung nearly 6 feet off the ground. The wind picked up and we are off to Isla Parida in Panama.

Gulfo de Nicoya

We departed Puntarenas the afternoon of January 11th for a nice break from boat work. On the way out of the marina, fish were breaking water and Tyler hooked into his first pescado. Excited about the early catch, Chad and Tyler deployed Firefox (our 14 foot dinghy) to chase after the fish. Firefox returned with a skipjack about an hour later as the Broken Compass was cruising in 25 knot winds. We never quite made it to our planned destination, but it was a great shakedown for Tyler and Nicky on the boat as we scurried to a familiar anchorage (Punta Leona) to avoid the swells. It was a rocky night chalk full of lessons on how to (and how not to) anchor in heavy weather. The wind shifted during the night, putting us in a precarious situation. Seeing a small fishing boat anchored next to us was reassuring until they were towed away by our buddies, the Costa Rican Coast Guard, early the following morning.

We subsequently hauled up our fouled anchors and pushed across the bay to a calmer anchorage, ironically named Playa de Muertos (beach of the dead), which we renamed ‘Paradise.’
The beach displayed coconut trees and the 30 year old ruins of a catamaran originally from Coos Bay, Oregon. We dove and collected dozens of oysters and conch. We learned the best way to remove conch is to boil them after nearly 2 hours of pounding and breaking drill bits on their shells. Unfamiliar with island life, we attempted to several techniques to procure coconuts. Tyler had a crack shot at a coconut with the compound bow, and it narrowly missed him as he tried to pull the coconut back down (we retired this method).


We subsequently broke out the climbing gear and attempt #2 yielded coconut milk for our beach bonfire. Makai had a close call with a fellow predator during the fire, which sent Tyler on scorpion watch for the rest of the night.




















The weather normalized and we headed back up the gulf to Puntarenas and spend the past few days finishing overdue boat maintenance, re-working our itinerary, and hanging out with the local fishermen. A local charter fishing captain, Marcial, has made it tough to leave Puntarenas due to his hospitality. Off to southern Costa Rica and Panama this morning for some island hopping and to knock off a few hundred more miles.

New Years 2010!!!

New Years

Still illegal immigrants of Costa Rica we decided to hit land at Hermosa and Jaco. We celebrated New Years on the beach in Jaco surrounded a bonfire and hundreds of locals as an array of fireworks lit the sky. The light show consisted of high grade professional fireworks being set off by amateurs, some being successful, others no so much. We counted down to the New Year at least 10 times as no one seemed to have the ‘real’ time. Guided by our new Tica (Costa Rican girl) friend, Roxy, and accompanied by an amazing group of people including our mother who i swear is a saint, a great friend from home Liz Rapp who is the smartest person i know (and i know a lot of people), Nicky our new sailing strategist to Panama, and our little brother Tyler who brings a lot to the table.



Following New Years we decided to prove ourselves in the ocean and get barreled. We got hammered at Hermosa beach with over head high waves which tested our breath holding ability. The following day, we decided to hike to a waterfall in search of monkeys. Our hunt for monkeys proved unsuccessful but we were rewarded with 3 tiered waterfall which consecutivley leaped down after a nature walk through the jungle. Tempted to see more wildlife, we procured chicken legs and headed to the river.



We tempted dozens of crocidlies by dangling chicken legs on a string until inevitably the seasoned preditor stole our bait. The last couple days were spend surfing and exploring before we parted with our friends and family to concentrate our efforts on curing the wounds from the Papagyos. Work efficiency increased dramaticially with a beefed up crew including two new additions including the little brother and model (Tyler) and Bret's girlfriend Nikki whom we met in Mexico weeks prior. Repairing sails and fine-tuning the old diesel engine have consumed the last couple of days and we will depart for islas de tortugas tomorrow morning. As if Jaco and Hermosa were not vacation enough we look forward to more wildlife and adventure the gulfo de Nicoyo has to offer.

Christmas

After arriving in Costa Rica on Christmas Eve we could not officially check into the country due to the holidays. Avoiding officials, we hid out in an isolated cove about 6 miles North of Jaco beach. My father, his beautiful wife Maureen, and my little brother Tyler flew down and joined us for Christmas. Christmas Day was perfect. We had a great breakfast before heading out to catch dinner. The boys dove unsuccessfully off a nearby point with poor visibility while my father, the seasoned angler, caught a decent Sierra. Sierra are great for sushi and so it was. About 2pm we saw a large vessel cruise by towing a small boat. Further scrutiny yielded their identity,


The Costa Rican Coast Guard.

All our faces turned sheet white. We calculated our international criminal acts as the Coast Guard pulled past us in our dive boat and anchored 50 yards from the Broken Compass. Half a mile away, we darted to a sheltered cove to hide our rods and spearguns. They launched a patrol boat and cruised toward us. Amid the Chaos, Maureen saw a couple of monkeys and almost fell off the boat with excitement. Our plan: we are not criminals, we are now tourists. We threw on our masks and pretended to snorkel and Maureen snapped pictures of the monkeys. The patrol boat cruised right past us to a nearby beach and completed their patrol. We were never boarded or questioned on Christmas day, however we did attract a horn of approval following our Christmas light display up the main mast that evening. The coast guard stayed anchored with us all night and continued up the coast the following morning.