Surviving the Pacific: Heat, Humidity, and the Trials of Ocean Life
Swamp ass in the tropics and Murphy’s Law always rules the day.
One of my favorite quotes is from an old sailor who used to haul freight around the world by sailing cargo ship.
“In spite of all the severe living conditions, there was a romance and charm about the life which is hard to describe in a way to make it attractive to anyone who has not actually lived through it. Those of us who know by personal experience, just what this life was like, have a very fond recollection of it. As time goes on, the hardships fade away while the romance and the attractiveness of those days strengthen with the years as they pass.” “Isaac Norris Hibberd, "Sixteen Times around Cape Horn"
Long before the Panama Canal was built, sailboats plied the oceans with cargo which had to be sailed south in the Atlantic from Europe, around Cape Horn, the deadliest waters on Earth, and then north to ports like San Francisco. And then return. These long voyages took a toll on the body and mind.
I have sailed some of the most difficult voyages on the planet, to both polar regions and across oceans. I mentally adjust to these experiences by compartmentalizing the negative aspects and focusing on the positive outcomes of the voyage. It’s the only way you can return to the sea.
And so, as I have done dozens of times in my life, I recently went back to the sea. I am no youngster anymore having spent 65 years on Planet Earth. My body is a bit broken, even though I spend countless hours training and building myself mentally, and physically, for a long crossing of an ocean. I felt very good going into a voyage across the Pacific Ocean as I joined the sailboat Polar Sun near the seaside village of Barra de Navidad on the west coast of Mexico in April.
I mean, what could be so terrible about sailing across the South Pacific to the French Polynesian Islands? Who wouldn’t want to do that? I had conveniently forgotten about my last three experiences crossing the equator and surviving the heat of the tropics and “doldrums.”
So yes, it all started with the inescapable heat, and humidity. You quickly get “sticky” in this environment. Any clothing is “painted” on your body. Personal hygiene degrades quickly. I took two showers, in two rainstorms on deck, in the over three weeks I was sailing Polar Sun. It’s a rugged life out at sea.
The sailing was intense as ever, but we managed a beautiful and successful sail of 3000-miles arriving in the French Marquesas Islands on May 4th. *Note- If you want the details of the sailing, please read my Parts Three/Four of my recent Substack columns. But friends, what I’m going to tell you is a story of when Mr. Murphy’s Law comes calling in paradise, halfway around the world.
When you enter another country’s water you are in “quarantine,” that is you can do nothing until you go ashore and check in with passports and official boat documents. The French Marquesas officials called “Gendarmerie” are by the book and they also require proof of a plane ticket out of the country within 24 hours. What a pain in the ass. MJ and I assembled an itinerary and got our tickets. The five of us then walked two miles to the office.
It went by the book. No wiggle room. There was one hitch with the Gendarmerie, MJ and I also had to return to the office within 24 hours of departure, and with the captain of the vessel. This threw a real monkey-wrench into the system with our boat schedule to outer islands.
Off we went to explore the town. There was a decent grocery store for provisions and one very small restaurant, which we found was almost never open. It was a nice, hot day on the island, but beautiful for sure. The village of Atuona is the only real town on the island with a population of about 2000. They are all Polynesian, but there are a few French Nationals visiting and living there. And a few sailors wandering about.
The walk-through town eventually brought us to a gathering point and the cultural square. There were sailors from two other boats there also and we introduced ourselves and chatted for a while. We took some crew photos with the 3500’ Mount Temetiu looming over us in the background.
“I want to climb that mountain,” said Mark (he’s a professional mountaineer with The North Face). “I agree,” said MJ, also a proven mountaineer. “How about you DT?” they both asked. I was staring up at the heavily vegetated and steep peak with respect, advanced age and a little wisdom. “No way you guys. You knock yourselves out,” I responded.
The following day the five of us rented a tiny car and toured the volcanic island to the east. We were looking for the “Tiki” sculptures in various archaeological sites on Hiva Oa. It was a great time to stare out at the Pacific Ocean to the east and see where we sailed into the island. The boys were talking about their climb the following day and I was planning my live “Three Degrees Podcast” from the boat in the morning. Listen here- DT Live From the Boat
We had a wonderful crew dinner on the boat that night and life was pretty good in what seemed to be an idyllic paradise.
I awoke early in the morning, and the boys were already gone for the long climb. The clouds were low; the day was gloomy. Hampton and Tommy went into town for fresh baguettes and supplies so I could have the boat alone for the podcast. The podcast was very fun with my great team of Chris Gloninger and Channing Dutton. I was on a high.
Then Murphy’s Law happened in the form of a text from Hampton, Mark’s wife. “There’s been an accident on the mountain. Mark fell and cut his leg. We must find them. Grab the medical supplies and some dry clothing for Mark. I’ll pick you up shortly.”
Hampton picked me up and it started to rain. We drove through town and couldn’t see the mountain, it had disappeared in the low clouds. The tiny car was struggling on the muddy, narrow roads heading up to the start of the trail. There were forks in the roads. We chose the route we imagined they went and finally stopped. I got out and started jogging up the incline yelling Mark’s name and whistling. Finally, I heard a response from the guys. They were on a ridge above.
I circled back and intercepted them. They were both soaked and covered in mud. Mark had a makeshift walking stick and a tourniquet on his leg made from his t-shirt. He was bleeding through. We loaded them in the car and headed to the medical clinic in town. Mark and MJ were having difficult footing on the descent in the rain, mud and vegetation. Mark slid, then rolled into a rocky lava rock field and gashed his leg.
A couple hours later, Mark emerged from the clinic with eight large stitches and a fresh bandage. We all felt lucky it wasn’t worse. The bad news, this changed everything going forward as we now had a tropical medicine issue and risk of infection. Mark couldn’t get in the water and had to return every two days (for ten days) to clean the wound and change the bandages.
I had brought my diving mask, snorkel and underwater camera gear for this part of the voyage, after we arrived. We had full tanks and all the diving gear ready to go to the outer islands to explore the beautiful underwater world full of giant manta rays and vibrant tropical fish, fires on the beach and generally enjoying paradise. This was not to be.
Murphy’s Law simply states, “If it can happen, it will.” Entropy happens. And it did. The cascade of events had started, and it could not be stopped.
In closing, I will attempt in rapid-fire pace to run through the events which took place all the way to me getting home to Lake Okoboji, Iowa. It’s remarkable, so hold on.
Locals told us the “rainy season” started the day the guys climbed Temetiu Peak. Mind you, when it’s raining, all the boat ports (windows) and overhead hatches are closed, there is no air circulation.
It was miserable for us below deck. There was nothing to do ashore. MJ moved his flight and left early. Very smart. I kept my flights with a glimmer of hope that we could still get to the nearest island for some snorkeling for a day or so and return for my flight out. We had three days to make that work. The rain had now completely silted in the bay we were anchored in. We planned to leave but our windlass motor failed; we could not pull in our heavy chain anchor by hand. Mark went to work on repairing it.
The rain was relentless. We now couldn’t move the boat, and we could swim to cool off. Staying hydrated was important but we soon discovered we had no freshwater in our tank. We had made water days before with our reverse osmosis system. It was gone. There was obviously a leak in the system, and it was draining into the bilge. We had no freshwater. To trace the leak, we needed to leave the silted bay to the outer island, but we had no way to get the anchor up.
The reality became clear. My portion of the voyage was over. I just needed to help aboard and survive until my flight left. I had one set of clothing left for the flight home. We could not wash clothing or bedding as there was no way to dry it. I hadn’t been dry in weeks and it was unbearably miserable. I had sailor’s ass for sure.
The day came to do the 24-hour check out with the “Gendarmerie,” so Mark and I took the dinghy in and went into town. It happened to be the day of the Hiva Oa International Marathon, and the morning was nice, but the day deteriorated to rain by noon as we checked out. 136 runners came from all over the world for this ridiculous bucket list event. Not sure how they survived the hot, mountainous terrain.
Back to the hotbox of a boat and I packed up all afternoon. We had a nice last dinner aboard. A friendly boat nearby had been delivering us freshwater which saved us. We did some toasts and told stories. Fun evening. Morning broke and Mark took me up the mountain to the airport in the rental car. It was pouring rain. Soon it was full of marathon runners attempting to get home.
I waited seven hours. The only two flights of the day were both canceled. I had to return to the boat by taxi for another night. My wife and I worked for hours to reschedule my flights. It was stifling and miserable. It would now take three more days of travel to get back home. I put on the same travel clothes and took the same taxi back to the airport in the morning. Same drill. After five hours in the airport, the only two planes of the day arrived, the entire airport crowd erupted in cheers and clapping and I finally departed with some cool air from the overhead vents.
A short hop to another island was needed to refuel for the flight to Tahiti. I had to haul my 90-pounds of gear into the open airport and sweated through my fouled clothes again. Back on the plane and the long flight to Tahiti allowed me to cool off and take in some of the beautiful sights of the islands from a loft. It looked like paradise, but I knew better.
Arriving in Tahiti was great, but I needed to find a hotel with a 36-hour layover and the nearby Tahiti Airport Hotel would just have to work. It was now getting dark, but I could see the hotel up on the hill. A local said I could walk so I put my head down in the 90 degrees and went for it with my two backpacks and roller duffel full of putrid clothing. I thought I was going to die.
The hotel was a relief with an AC unit that worked and a real freshwater shower. Amongst other things I noticed I had developed saltwater sores on my ass for the first time in my 35 years of sailing the world’s oceans. I rinsed out some clothing and went to bed readying for two more days of this same effort.
The flight the following day was a red eye from Tahiti to LA. Then LA to Minneapolis. Then a 200-mile drive to Okoboji. Traveling home ended up being four full days from start to finish. I’ve never experienced anything remotely close to this difficulty. A day after I got home to see my wife for the first time in two months I developed a little cough. The next day I had the chills. The next day I tested positive for Covid. Covid, are you effing kidding me? I was sick for two weeks.
People think my life of sailing around the world, taking beautiful photos and sharing my stories is oh so glamorous. I hope my Four Part Series and this Epilogue gives you a “behind the scenes” glimpse of adventure travel and a life spent on the ocean.
In the meantime, Mark’s leg has healed. They moved on to the fun and beautiful islands that I missed. They also fixed the freshwater issue but soon found that somehow, they have a full-on weevil infestation and now Mark has reported that he may have contracted Dengue fever.
Sometimes we see the enviable images and stories on Instagram and other social media and think why isn’t that me? But don’t kid yourself, life doesn’t really work that way. There is always a back story to everything, especially in what we perceive as paradise.
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Murphys Law = Paradise Lost. Incredible story!!! Glad you finally made it home & hope none of you have any long-term effects.
Oh my! What a journey!