Day 30
Brace yourselves, I may get a little soppy here.
For four weeks this happy crew, or Team Tahiti as we call ourselves, has lived cheek by jowl. On the very first day, aware of the tight quarters we had chosen to occupy, we established a safe word, something we could say that would tell everyone else to walk away, drop the conversation, give space, etc. For reasons best left unsaid we chose “Andy.”
It’s never been called.
I may have shed a lot on this trip, but one thing that has just grown stronger is the respect, admiration, and trust I have for Georgie, Jeff and David. When the going gets tough, Team Tahiti gets going.
Wilfred arrived bearing very useful gifts: hats, a cook book and a bottle of rum
I choose this moment to get vulnerable because the crew has expanded. Yesterday, after a Homeric level of travel, Wilfred boarded Leona, bringing a new energy, a new smile on Georgie, and a new bottle of rum. Well, he gave that to Jeff, but I think Jeff will share….hope he will share?
We still have a several days to go, including a 36-hour passage to Mo’orea, so this could all go sideways, but then, we are pretty used to living sideways, so…
I have noticed that one hears the word “lee” frequently with regards to sailing. While that could be David looking for the Lea & Perrins to go on his tinned mackerel, it actually has (of course) lots of other uses, mostly with regards to the wind.
The “leeward”side (pronounced “looard” as almost one syllable) is the side the wind is blowing away from, as opposed to the “windward,” which is the side the wind hits. In sailing this usually means the wind hits the sail on the windward side, and the leeward side is more sheltered but closer to the water.
Therefore, the “leeward” side of an island is a good place to anchor because it is sheltered, especially if there is a mountain involved. BUT (and there is always a “but” in sailing) a “lee shore” is bad, because that means the wind will blow you onto the island.
The eagle-eyed reader will have noticed I said “usually” earlier, because yet again, there is a caveat to all sailing definitions. “Sailing by the lee” is when the wind is coming from the same side that the mainsail is on. So get ready for the boom to do its Moody Teenage Daughter act because you are going to jibe/gybe (see Day 7 for Moody Teenage Daughter reference).
There is also something called a “lee cloth” which is a groovy little apparatus, rather like a toddler’s bed safety net, designed to keep a crewmate safely tucked in the bunk without clinging to a shelf or bracing a foot against the side of the cabin. Leona doesn’t have any of those. Yet.
If you are still with me, get yourself a rum drink.
So far, today has been what every postcard of a South Pacific vacation portrays: the breeze-blown palm trees, white sand beach, azure waters, sunshine cooled by 30-second downpours, calm seas perfect for playing in, and not another person within sight.
So we played, knowing that this afternoon we would set sail once more.
Clockwise from top: Wilf and Polly crossing paths; Wilf gets airtime; Wilf (again) getting towed by David; Jeff makes it look easy.
And now it’s back to work. Georgie is in charge as we head up to Fakarava’s Northern Pass and out into the ocean.
Mo’orea, here we come.
