Tall ship Pacific crossing - part one

It wasn't quite what I expected. I had thought Star Flyer's arrival in Tahiti would be in fair weather with tropical fragrances wafting from idyllic shores. Perhaps a welcome offering of coconut water, a lei of Tiare flowers and a lovely dancer or two. Instead, squalls were sweeping across the rolling decks and the first mate was shouting orders as deckhands struggled with uncooperative sails. With a seriously ill crewman, we were making a Christmas Eve mercy dash to a remote atoll with a basic airstrip. Fakarava is said to be beautiful, but, if so, its attractions were impossible to discern through rain and mist.

Some background: for five weeks in December and January, I was aboard the tall ship Star Flyer for her first voyage across the Pacific and passage through the Society Islands. There were only thirty-eight passengers, including two friends, as she crossed the 4493.9 nautical miles from Panama to Tahiti. Below is the ship.

Two years ago, I sailed Star Flyer’s sister across the Atlantic from Cannes to St. Martin, a four-week trip with a number of port calls in the Mediterranean, as well as Madeira and the Canaries. But this latest voyage was to be much different. We would be more than three weeks continuously at sea, only a few days shy of my 2001 container ship trip from New Zealand’s South Island to Lisbon, by way of Cape Horn.

Here’s a shot from behind the wheel.

We saw plenty of flying fish, some porpoises and whales. Our main bird sightings were between Panama and north of the Galapagos Islands – Brown Boobies, Wilson’s Storm Petrels and Wave Albatrosses. Near Tahiti, I saw some Red-Billed Tropic Birds. On the fifth day out from Panama, one of the crew caught the first fish. There was some dispute as it what it was – either Spanish Mackerel or a Kingfish. Anyway, it headed straight to the galley.

Speaking of the galley, food was superb. In fact, it was so good and in such quantity that, with little opportunity of exercise, my friends and I were happy to disembark for three nights on Tahiti and have some light meals.

Star Flyer had spent three weeks in a Panama dry dock, but a combination of manãna and heavy rain meant that much of the work was incomplete. So, we were able to closely follow something exceedingly rare in this day and age, the laying of a tall ship’s teak deck. It is highly skilled (and messy) work. As a souvenir, I have a piece of teak ("Number one wood from India," said one of the crew), which will serve as a paperweight.

In addition, much of the old varnish was stripped and replaced, and the ship largely repainted. A lot of work was also done on sails and rigging. Below is Victor, one of the riggers, up in the sky and on the sewing machine. Under full sail, Star Flyer carries 36,000 square feet of Dacron. If I remember correctly, that’s about half a million dollars of sails.

Here’s my cabin. Very comfortable with a little nook, panelling, sailing prints, lots of storage space and private bathroom. I loved the lights on gimbals.

Between crew and passengers, there were twenty-four different nationalities. I was the only Canadian. Many of the passengers had been - or were - keen sailors. One lady from California had sailed around the world on a small yacht in the 1970s.

First picture shows my friends, Don and Jode from Michigan, at sunset and the next is of Allan from Seattle. He’s getting ready to toss a message in a bottle into the Humboldt Current. By the way, some of the cast-off teak has found its way to Seattle where Allan’s making a hull model of the Flyer.

There was always lots to do. A number of lectures were given on subjects ranging from Nelson’s Victory to Pitcairn (the Bounty island) in the South Pacific. Many of the passengers learned knot tying. Below are Robert from Oklahoma and Bob from California varnishing a new pull for the ship’s bell.

The captain, a delightful Pole who’d sailed tall ships under Cape Horn, gave navigation and sextant instruction.

Most of the passengers and crew had crossed the Equator before, but this was the first time Star Flyer had. Glasses of champagne and orange juice were distributed; at 12:02 PM on a lovely tropical day, the ship's horn sounded and the captain announced, "Welcome to the Southern Hemisphere!" Cheers and toasts all around.

Below, I pretend I'm at the Equator, although it was actually ten or fifteen minutes previously.

Won’t bore you with umpteen sunrise and sunset shots, but will include a lovely rainbow seen just under the fore course.