Tall ship Pacific crossing - part two

One of the most enjoyable locations is on the widow’s net at the bow. It’s just a few feet above the waves and, bar the sound of the water, very quiet. Here’s Bob from California and then my own self-portrait and ship's bow.

Here's what it's like having climbed the ratlines up the foremast. And this is only part of the way up. You can see one of the ship's officers looking up.

Two weeks between ship sightings and no contrails above. No news or email for virtually the entire voyage. Lots of reading, good conversation and looking at the sea. Much entertainment as a result of my cabin porthole. I took a number of pictures, but this gives an idea of a wave washing it.

I have occasionally wondered what might happen if someone was hurt or ill at sea. About a week out from Panama, one person broke her arm, but the doctor took care of it. That said, on her return home, it had to be re-broken and operated on for three hours.

A much more serious case was a crewman who went into severe diabetic shock and was comatose for three days. There were no other ships with appropriate medical facilities for hundreds of kilometres, so Star Flyer had to divert to an outlying French Polynesian atoll with a small airstrip. On a foul Christmas Eve afternoon, the still unconscious patient was transferred to a Zodiac and ferried into Fakarava. An air ambulance took him to Papeete on Tahiti. As of today, he is still in hospital, conscious, but with a shunt in his head, and unlikely ever to return to the sea. However, he is fortunate we were not in mid-Pacific. I confess that, as all this happened, my reporting instincts kicked in and there are a couple of pictures that I won’t show. Paula Westbrook from California and I took these shots.

The evacuation successfully completed, Christmas was celebrated in European style the evening of December 24. We had very good dinner, Santa Claus, present giving and carol singing. Midway through the meal, the captain got up to announce that the sick crewman was safely in Papeete’s main hospital.

At 0500 on Christmas morning, I got up early, as usual when at sea, to see the sunrise. Wandering out of my cabin, I was confronted by water pouring in from part of the deck on which new teak was being laid. Water was starting to splatter on a fine oil painting of Star Clipper, Star Flyer’s sister. I grabbed the painting and stuck it in the closest dry space, my cabin. Then, soaking wet, one of the crew and I stopped the leak as squalls (fortunately warm) swept across the deck. For a few hours, the painting shared space with my underwear. I thought about keeping it as a Christmas present for myself, but didn’t have space in my luggage!

Christmas Day, 2007: noon position - 16 degrees 58' 0” S and 148 degrees 22’ 5” W. The temperature was 28 degrees Celsius and depth 3,900 metres.

The next picture shows our first sight of the main island of Tahiti – other than the unhappy glimpse of Fakarava – first land after three weeks. Perhaps I am overly romantic, but the photo seems to express the sailor’s age-old hopes for the shore after a long voyage.

A few hours later, we arrived at Cook’s Bay, Moorea.

Far better writers have described the bay and, certainly, no tourist brochure can do it justice. As Star Flyer threaded the narrow channel through the reef, we lined the railings burning up digital camera cards.

The bay is surrounded by mountains resembling something from a fantasy novel. There are valleys and cliffs, ridges and passes, and a peak with a hole near the summit, which, as might be expected, is the source of a legend. Green rain forest plunges to the white of the surf and blue of the sea. Had the voyage been a disaster (and it was, for me, a great success), the arrival in such a place would have still made it all worthwhile.

The next day, we made the local papers and, eventually, even the President of French Polynesia (it only has a population of 250,000) came aboard to welcome us.

As we spent a week cruising through the islands, it was the traditional greetings, rather than politicians, that provided photo opportunities. Because it was Star Flyer’s first time in French Polynesia, we were welcomed at every island – on the water, on land and on the ship.

At each ceremony, leis, coconut water and fruit were offered. On Huahine, the performers' shy smiles, dancing, singing and band reflected a tiny island community. The welcome was on the grass and gravel verge of the village's main street. Locals paused to watch, youngsters tried to copy the older dancers and dogs wandered in and out of the crowd. It was (I think) reasonably authentic and certainly enjoyable.

New Year’s Eve was off Huahine. Just before midnight, champagne was served and on deck we counted down the seconds to midnight. Star Flyer's horn sounded a long blast for 2008. More toasts while sky and water were lit by fireworks from celebrations on the island. We partied on into the night.

Last picture. Anyone else would look delighted; I manage to look apprehensive!

A rare chance for an ocean crossing on a working sailing ship. After so many weeks continuously at sea, I rolled for three days – more than ever after other long voyages. Tahiti was never on my list for a trip; I only went for the voyage. Although Papeete was hot, sticky and noisy, French Polynesia is beautiful and the locals friendly. Many of the outlying islands see few visitors. But the place is expensive and the government is concerned about static or dropping tourist numbers.

A good way to spend Christmas and New Year!