ADVENTURE
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Bret and Chad Van Roden's voyage of the broken compassPublished: July 01, 2010
Nuku Hiva
We just made landfall in Nuku Hiva – the largest of the Marquesas Islands in French Polynesia, an overseas territory of France – after crossing the largest body of water on Earth: the Pacific Ocean. The 34-day, 3,600-nautical-mile voyage heading due west of Peru 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 delicacies and leaving a pile of heads as trophies in the Broken Compass’ cockpit. We discovered the value of headlights on a dark evening. Light is like crack cocaine for flying fish, and one night the winged fish hit us a number of times.
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 while watching the sunset; it was 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.
Winged fish: from flyin' to fryin'
Night shifts – we set up the Broken Compass’ autopilot device – are a pleasure that few have had the opportunity to enjoy. The moon and stars quickly become companions and guides. Sailing miles above the ocean floor, thousands from land, and millions from the moon and stars creates a feeling of remoteness and insignificance. In the 34 days at sea, we saw only three fishing boats.
Approaching sunrise, Makai rustled and stuck her nose high in the air as if something had changed. The mountains of Nuku Hiva (pictured above)– which gained in popularity following the 2002 broadcast of the “Survivor” series – emerged in the distance. After several “Land Ho!” announcements we smiled … paradise awaited.
| Bret and Chad Van Roden's voyage of the broken compassPublished: July 01, 2010 |
Nuku Hiva
We just made landfall in Nuku Hiva – the largest of the Marquesas Islands in French Polynesia, an overseas territory of France – after crossing the largest body of water on Earth: the Pacific Ocean. The 34-day, 3,600-nautical-mile voyage heading due west of Peru seemed but a blink of an eye.
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 while watching the sunset; it was 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 set up the Broken Compass’ autopilot device – are a pleasure that few have had the opportunity to enjoy. The moon and stars quickly become companions and guides. Sailing miles above the ocean floor, thousands from land, and millions from the moon and stars creates a feeling of remoteness and insignificance. In the 34 days at sea, we saw only three fishing boats.
Approaching sunrise, Makai rustled and stuck her nose high in the air as if something had changed. The mountains of Nuku Hiva (pictured above)– which gained in popularity following the 2002 broadcast of the “Survivor” series – emerged in the distance. After several “Land Ho!” announcements we smiled … paradise awaited.
We caught a moderate amount of fish with Makai leading the hunting party. She captured countless flying fish, feasting on the delicacies and leaving a pile of heads as trophies in the Broken Compass’ cockpit. We discovered the value of headlights on a dark evening. Light is like crack cocaine for flying fish, and one night the winged fish hit us a number of times.
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 while watching the sunset; it was 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.
Winged fish: from flyin' to fryin'
Night shifts – we set up the Broken Compass’ autopilot device – are a pleasure that few have had the opportunity to enjoy. The moon and stars quickly become companions and guides. Sailing miles above the ocean floor, thousands from land, and millions from the moon and stars creates a feeling of remoteness and insignificance. In the 34 days at sea, we saw only three fishing boats.
Approaching sunrise, Makai rustled and stuck her nose high in the air as if something had changed. The mountains of Nuku Hiva (pictured above)– which gained in popularity following the 2002 broadcast of the “Survivor” series – emerged in the distance. After several “Land Ho!” announcements we smiled … paradise awaited.
