Dear readers, the Dragonfly experience is now open to adventure seekers and ocean lovers out there. In 2023, Simon and I are offering charters from French Polynesia. More info can be found on our website, please feel free to pass it on. Thank you and very best end of year wishes from the Dragonfly crew ☀️
It’s about 5am and I’m walking along the deck thousands of miles from land, somewhere between the Galapagos and French Polynesia, picking up kamikaze squid and flying fish that landed there during the night, and wondering what I would write about this experience.
What do people do out there in the ocean for weeks on end?
We never get bored on passage. Just this morning Naomi had a visit from some dolphins which never gets old. I’m less inclined to pull out the camera these days and more so just savour the moment.
Personally, I spend a lot of time tweaking the sails and doing my best to get top performance from this amazing boat. First and foremost, I’m making sure we don’t fall behind Arabella (a 67ft Fontaine Pajot catamaran). We are always racing each other and it is uncanny how similar these boats perform. We understand the sailing strengths and weaknesses of each boat.
Grant and I spent many days studying the best route prior to the trip. The routing software wanted to take us north over the equator to miss the doldrums (Intertropical convergent zone where there may be no wind) and to ensure we kept motoring down to a minimum. Intuition wants to take you direct along the rhumb line, 2800 miles as opposed to the recommended 3300 nm.
Ocean currents plays a huge part in these passages, we had 2-3 knots, sometimes more, pushing us in the right direction. We had a maximum speed of 15.3 knots. On that day, we covered 249.6 miles in 24 hours (170 nm would usually be a really good day). These ocean currents affect the whole world weather system, I never realised they would be so strong. One would expect the equator to be stinking hot but the cold currents maintain the air surprisingly cool especially around the Galapagos Islands.
We have been fortunate to have the parasailor up for half the trip, ripping along, it’s definitely the most exciting sail to fly. We did broach once! When I was down in the bathroom for a quick pit stop, Murphy’s law of course. Tama grabbed the wheel and manually recovered from the autopilot. The whole incident was over in a flash but enough to rattle the cage.
Our days are made up of some form of schooling if it’s not too rough, cooking, baking, reading, sudoku, Chinese checkers and on this trip, lots of backgammon. Boxing, face masks, drawing, lego… We eat and we hang out together in the cockpit, we pick bananas off the vine ideally before they land all over the deck, we do occasional sail repairs, play music, and sometimes watch the odd movie.
The vibe on the boat is good until somebody chooses to play the cantankerous card but it eventually fizzles out and everyone is all happy again. Living in close quarters, tired from a lack of sleep and knowing you can’t go off for a walk can be the most challenging part.
The watch schedule works well for all of us. Tama plays a huge part in allowing Amandine and I enough time to rest. The three of us rotate 2 hours on, 4 hours off during the night and then we mix it up in the day with Luca and Naomi helping out with 2 hours each. Lee is our jester, we love to see his sleepy head appear up the companion way every morning. I always sleep in the cockpit during passages to support the helmsman when needed. The autopilot does most of the work, we generally don’t touch the wheel.
Three days into the crossing, Arabella tore a rip in their spinnaker and the temporary repair with tape wasn’t holding. Fortunately the next morning we were becalmed so Grant lowered their tender and his daughter Arabella came over to pick up Amandine with our sewing machine so she could stitch it up for them.
At the same time I was chatting with Grant on the VHF and mentioned that one of our cockpit speakers just died. He said he had one in the fly bridge, same size and not in use. He unscrewed it and sent it over. Who would have thought so much resource was being shared in the middle of the Pacific Ocean! It was surreal transferring crew and gear out there while Dragonfly was under sail. A couple of hours later, the sail repair job was done and we were all sailing again.
We had a big scare half way across when I checked on the steering in the transom and found some water. My jaw dropped when I realised it was salt water. There was a constant drip coming up through the rudder stock. I immediately emailed Oyster through satellite mail to get some advice on this. They told me that although it is a serious issue, we were not in trouble. They will send us new seals from the UK, we’ll have to pull the boat out in Tahiti and get this done.
It is very comforting to cross an ocean with a buddy boat. We were rarely over 3 miles away from each other and spent a lot of time conversing over the vhf.
We have only seen one fishing boat, and another massive vessel that we initially thought was on fire, there was a lot of smoke on the horizon! They were about 8 miles away but wouldn’t answer the radio and didn’t show on radar so we figured it was a military ship doing testing. And that was it for the whole trip!
The chitter chatter on the radio is always amusing, where discussing the weather is actually a real thing for once! Grant and I bounce ideas off each other all the time discussing wind angles, boat speed, sail changes, currents, squalls and at times, fishing strategies. Saying that, we haven’t fished so much this time mainly because we have had the spinnaker up. Trying to slow the boat down to land a big fish would end up in “reel” kuffuffel.
I caught a record fish towards the end of the trip, a 55 pound 1.8m short-billed spearfish. It was exciting to catch, and scary to land but I had top crew helping me out. Amandine was fortunately holding tight on to my vest as I was pulled off my feet from the transom, landing flat on my butt, I really thought I would end up in the drink.
It is day 14, we have less than 24 hrs until we reach Fatu Hiva, the southern-most island of the Marquesas. Spirits are really high putting aside the fact we are all fatigued from a rough evening with a cross current of 3 knots which resulted in a messy sea state.
On such a big trip we know that even if we are getting close, we aren’t there yet until the anchor is down and well dug into the sand. The wind picked up to a constant 30 knots, we were running dead downwind and all was well. Then the bilge alarm went off. I lifted up the floor boards and heard water gushing into the bilge. I instantly thought the ruder leak had become a major or we had hit something. I woke up Amandine in a panic then looked into the problem. It was extremely relieved to find out it was only a burst connection that was draining our fresh water tank into the bilge. (This was a first).
My biggest frustration of the trip has been the size of the bread that comes out of the bread maker when Amandine makes it, although we use the same ingredients and recipe. She says it is the intention of the cook that affects the result. I shrug off the hippy comment and go back to trimming my sails again.
Just after dawn on the 26th of September we arrived in Fatu Hiva, into a magnificent bay with luscious green mountains towering over the water.
Grant dropped anchor over to one side of the bay to allow us some room. It was really windy so I waited until they were set until we found out that their chain was caught on a rock, with minimal chain out and the windlass just stopped working. That is a story in itself but after a couple of hours both boats were safely settled in and had a celebratory drink, feeling exhausted and elated.
It has been a great and fast ocean passage. Overall, 15 days, 20 hours. We covered 3304 nm, averaging 207 miles per day, and 8.6 knots of speed. An action packed sail!
SAN CRISTOBAL ISLAND written by Tama
As we approached the Galapagos, all I could see was rocky barren land with leafless trees and dry shrubs, it was a strange sight and not what I was expecting.
On that first night following the crossing from Panama, we rafted up with Arabella in San Cristobal’s port. We had a nice evening sharing funny stories wrapped up in warm clothes and beanies, it was a welcomed change after six months sweating in the hot Caribbean climate.
The next morning, we were visited by the Galapagos customs, immigration and biosecurity teams. It was a little bit intimidating as a dozen people came aboard and a couple of them searched the boat. They quarantined the foods that we were not allowed to eat such as frozen meat and they generously taped up mum’s plants in red tape which I thought was a bit ridiculous since the plants were already completely covered in netting we had sewn around them.
After the inspection, mum took all the kids on shore to explore. When we arrived on the pier we were greeted by sea lions, hundreds of brightly coloured crabs and even some marine iguanas chilling on the rocks. Then we walked to a beach literally covered in sea lions sunbathing in the sand. They are cute but they smell terrible. After the beach we went to a playground where we had lots of fun running around. As the sun set, we met up with the other parents at a little restaurant where we had some drinks and sushi on the waterfront.
The next day we went for a coastline walk over the hill with our snorkeling gear up to a crystal-clear bay. We swam with sealions, marine iguanas, huge sea turtles and lots of species of fish we had not seen before. The water was freezing. Some of us were lucky enough to watch a sealion nibble at a big turtle’s butt, it was quite a sight! That day, Arabella found a really cool sealion tooth on the beach.
Day three, we all woke up, did school, and then thirteen of us took three cabs up into the mountains to a tortoise sanctuary. The sanctuary was kind of boring and there was a lack of information but all together it was pretty cool to see tortoises especially the really small ones that had been bred.
After the sanctuary we went for a stroll along a beautiful beach on the other side of the island where we saw blue-footed boobies, the iconic bird of the Galapagos. On our way back across the island, we went for a muddy walk in thick fog up to the volcano’s crater. It was so foggy we couldn’t see anything. It was very lush bush up in the mountain compared to the dry desert plants on most of the island. After we had arrived back at the dock, the kids were sent to Arabella for a movie night. It was a really fun and exhausting day!
Day four. All the parents and Arabella went for a diving excursion leaving the rest of us to have a chilled-out day. In the afternoon, the divers came back and told us all about their trip. They said the visibility was terrible and the current was very strong but they saw a few hammerhead sharks and from the dive boat they were visited by a group of hundreds of dolphins. Luca and I were not able to go because we did not have a diving certificate. That evening we all had dinner on Dragonfly but unfortunately, we had to un-raft half-way though because the swell became too big.
Day five, the mums had a break day and the kids were sent to shore to do an art class on the waterfront. We all painted something to do with the Galapagos. I really enjoyed it and I was quite proud of my blue-footed boobie. Then, the dads took all the kids to a ping-pong place where we had lots of fun even though Grant was beating everyone. It was a fun last night in San Cristobal, we had delicious pizzas for dinner and left early the next morning.
ISABELA ISLAND written by Naomi
We arrived in Isabela late afternoon after a whole day of sailing. Isabela is the biggest island of the Galapagos but it is very wild. It is the furthest island from the coast of Ecuador and unless you are a sailor it would be difficult to get to it.
It was difficult to get to the dock even from where we were anchored because the bay was full of reefs. And then from the dock we had to walk a long way to get in to town. The town was quite cute but it was not very colourful and it was too quiet for me.
One day everyone on Arabella and Dragonfly went for a long bike ride along the coast all the way to the “Wall of Tears.” It was hot, dusty and the last part was steep. It was tiring and we ran out of water. In the Second World War, some people accused of war crimes were sent to Isabela island and forced to mine volcanic rock and build this huge wall for no other purpose than punishment. On our way there, we rode past giant tortoises and several groups of large iguanas lazily lying in the way soaking up the sun rays.
The next day, we met Claudia, a fun and bubbly tour guide. The Arabella crew, Claudia and us, went exploring the highest crater on the island. First we drove to a farm high on the slope, it was cold and foggy. From there, some of us rode horses and some walked the long way to the top of the huge crater, there were guava trees everywhere around us.
I walked almost all the way to there and then I was lucky to get to ride the rest of the way up and the whole way down on a beautiful mare called Gipsy, she was pregnant so she was not allowed to trot. This made it my favourite day out of the whole Galapagos experience, I love riding and I used to ride ponies with my best friend Abi back in New Zealand.
After two big days out we took it easy. On the last day at Isabela, early in the morning, we took the dinghies to a place Claudia had recommended but where you were not allowed to go without a tour boat. We found the long and tight water channel through the volcanic rock and swam slowly through. Tama counted 50 white tip sharks sleeping on the sea floor under us.
I felt scared, firstly because we were not allowed to swim there and secondly because it was shallow and so narrow you could touch both sides, it felt there was no escape. After the snorkel I realised I had scratched my leg and it was bleeding! Lucky for me, white tip sharks are not dangerous. I felt so good for facing my fears, it made me more confident about swimming around big fish.
SANTA CRUZ ISLAND written by Luca
It was a half-day sail between Isabela and the island of Santa Cruz. On the way there we hooked two big fish at the same time, I took one rod and Tama took the other. I brought my fish in, it was my first big eye tuna. Tama took a while pulling his fish in because he has small muscles, but actually it was a pretty big fish, another big eye tuna, they are great for sashimi.
We arrived in Santa Cruz in the afternoon. There was a big swell so we had to put out a stern anchor. Dad pulled this big heavy bag out of the lazarette. It was the first time we assembled this huge anchor but it was worth it.
It was a cool little town with a nice vibe. It was a lot more touristy than the other islands with many restaurants and souvenir shops. There were huge pelicans on the pier, lots of frigate birds doing acrobatics over our heads, and more sea lions and iguanas. I saw about twenty black tips sharks swimming in the blue lights of the pier one night.
On the first day, we went for a small walk along salt marshes to go snorkelling into a canyon of mixed sea and fresh water. The water was cold and very clear, they were some big parrot fish but not much else.
On the second day, the parents went scuba diving for the day. Tama and I couldn’t because in the Galapagos you have to be to be certified advanced divers and you are only allowed to scuba dive with a guide. They saw hammerhead sharks, turtles, devil rays, and big ocean fish.
Us kids spent the day with Claudia, she had come along with Arabella from Isabela island. She took us to the Darwin station and taught us many things about the history and plants and animals including lots of quirky facts. One fact I will remember is that some reptiles, like iguanas, lizards and snakes have two retractable penises called hemipenes.
Did you know that frigate birds can not get wet otherwise they would drown? They have to get their food off the surface of the water or steal it from other birds which is why they are also called ‘pirate birds’. Their wing span is so big that they can’t land on the ground, they have to land onto something elevated so they can drop off.
After that we had to do some research as Grant and Delphine wanted us to take part in a debate, Arabella, Naomi and Alex, versus Tama and I. The topic was whether Darwin had a positive or negative influence on the Galapagos islands. We had to debate the positive argument and the girls the other side. We had two days to figure everything out and how to debate. Claudia and big Alex were the judges on debate night. In the end the girls won the debate but Tama and I won on the part where we had to counter the other team’s arguments. I wasn’t too disappointed because Delphine gave us a big goodie bag.
A couple of days before leaving we went to see giant tortoises roam in the wild and some lava tunnels then went to a farm in the hills to harvest lots of fresh fruit before crossing the Pacific. It was a cool place that grew many fruit trees including coffee. We got a huge bunch of bananas, oranges, grapefruit, lemons, papaya, sugar cane, passion fruit and lemon grass.
After the Galapagos, I felt excited to cross the Pacific because I have some really nice memories of French Polynesia and I wanted to go back there.
May, June, and July stretched into a long period of transit from the Caribbean archipelago towards the Panama canal. In essence, a time of intense contrast between beautiful friendships, breathtaking experiences, and personal struggles edging on burn-out.
DUTCH CARIBBEAN ISLANDS
We arrived in Bonaire early May, completely unprepared for how special this place would be. One of the Dutch Caribbean islands north of Venezuela, Bonaire’s coastal landscape is a marine treasure. The island’s coral reefs are untouched and marine life thrives right up to the shore. Boats exclusively tie up to moorings so anchors don’t damage the ocean floor.
Its topography is unique. Besides a 20m ring of shallow sands all around the island, the depth drops dramatically, forming steep reef banks like bustling underwater cities reminiscent of Pixar’s epics, on the edge of the big blue where all species encounter.
Three weeks were spent there immersing in the underwater world within a social constellation of five boats. Our band of youths gained a great amount of scuba diving experience. Lee got hooked on snorkelling and identifying marine creatures. There was so much to see right under our hulls!
From there, our little community made way to Curaçao for a brief stop in preparation for the potentially hazardous crossing over the top of Venezuela, heading west towards Colombia and Panama. (Wind acceleration zone and counter currents).
We swiftly enjoyed the unfamiliar mix of Dutch culture, Spanish and Papiamentu languages (creole of Portuguese origin), and the presence of a vibrant African community, a reminder of Willemstad’s infamous past as one of the main hubs of the trans-Atlantic slave trade for almost two centuries.
We enjoyed two memorable days on the wild and windswept island of Klein Curaçao which we stumbled upon at the time of the May full moon eclipse.
THE CROSSING
Arabella and Dragonfly jumped in at the first weather opportunity to move west towards Colombia, while the other three boats chose to enjoy Curaçao a bit longer.
From then on (and now still), we almost exclusively travelled in tandem with team Arabella, four adults and three children. A South African / Honk-Kong blend of fun loving and very big-hearted people.
After a trouble-free passage over the top of Venezuela, we found ourselves in the doldrums, (inter-tropical convergence zone), where the wind seldom blows. We would hardly sail again for many weeks until we reached the Pacific ocean.
A TASTE OF COLOMBIA
A four-day stopover in Cartagena, Colombia, left us marvelling at the insatiably festive spirit of the locals, the beauty of the old town, its vivid mural artwork, and the outrageously loud celebrations that spring to life after nightfall. By day, we were knocked out by the intense heat that slams over the land and makes it difficult to undertake anything. This heavy heat became a constant for many weeks to come.
FALL FROM HEALTH
In the first days of June, we headed deeper into muddy waters towards the rough town and free port of Colon at the entrance of the Panama canal, feeling depleted and quietly yearning for a change of seasons.
This was a necessary stop to work through formalities ahead of our canal transit scheduled four weeks later. In the meantime, we would turn back eastward to enjoy Panama’s Guna Yala archipelago for a while (also called the San Blas).
While in Colon, health concerns weighed on Simon’s mind. He braved the unwelcoming neighbourhood and heat to see a doctor at the local hospital. He was prompted to see a urologist as soon as possible.
Canal transit preps done, we turned back over our tracks and anchored near Portobello National Park. From there Simon would arrange a car trip across the isthmus to Panama City (on the west coast) to see the specialist after the weekend.
As things tend to happen when in the company of Grant, larger than life captain of Arabella, we were warmly and unexpectedly welcome onto his land by a charismatic man, Jacobo Laks. Over the years, this adventurous entrepreneur has gathered the largest private collection of endangered birds in the world and developed a sanctuary and conservation centre near Portobello. Jaco and his Harvard scientist friend Susan were so much fun and wonderfully engaging with the children. Jaco’s sphere of influence turned out to play an invaluable role in the quality of care that Simon received in Panama City a couple of days later.
Under the wings of mates Grant and Alex, Simon made his way to the big city hospital. That same day, he was diagnosed with a metastatic type of cancer, and a few hours later, underwent surgery. A series of tests over the course of three days left us hanging in that space in-between wondering whether Simon would be okay and if our travels had suddenly come to an end.
The various results eventually came as a great relief with a prognosis as good as one could hope. Simon’s health must be kept in check, relapse is possible. On the other hand, there is probably no better medicine than learning to master happiness on this sailing life he loves so dearly in order to recover fully. Indulging in what energises his well-being in order to support those amazing self-healing abilities. There is no other place Simon would rather be, what a blessing we can keep this lifestyle going!
Grant and Alex’s uplifting company through these rough seas was precious beyond words. The three Southern men grew very close.
A huge sense of relief washed over all of us. However new dynamics did stir up unexpected challenges and for a number of weeks, Simon and I had a difficult time recovering equilibrium and unity.
GUNA YALA ARCHIPELAGO – PANAMA
Meanwhile, we met up again with the Bonaire clan of five for a celebratory get together in the Guna Yala.
These picturesque islands are inhabited by the staunch and welcoming Guna people, a fully autonomous nation within Panama united under a hierachy of tribal leaders. They told us fascinating stories of their forefathers resisting oppression throughout the ages from the hills of Colombia to these islands, which have nowadays become their homeland.
The Gunas’ traditional textile art-form, the molas, are incredibly intricate assemblages of geometric shapes, interconnected plants and animals. They adorn the traditional blouse worn by Guna women. We renewed the vibe inside Dragonfly by making super colourful cushions with this visionary artwork.
It was really uplifting to see everyone again. My absolute favourite moment was a long early morning snorkelling trip to the outer reef in the company of four great women while the dads schooled the children. The visibility was not great, but it was just so fun and liberating!
The fourteen children were in heaven. Five boats rafted up in a star shape, a make-shift flying fox between two boats, tight ropes over the water and a magic carpet in the middle, the big sleepy silhouettes of gentle nurse sharks swimming underneath. Lee and Azania, inseparable pair, learnt to swim without floats.
Yet, the amount of rubbish that piles up on every little island’s shores is frightening. Floating debris pond when the breeze doesn’t blow, soft plastics sway incognito below the surface, some of that waste having probably travelled many hundred miles with wind and currents. Due to the rainy season, the visibility underwater was poor and the no-seeums, minuscule sand flies, were out and obstinately devouring most of us.
I was soon ready to move on. Simon too was very eager to cross the canal. Families parted ways again as some flew home to Canada and others’ schedules differed.
SHIPYARD WORK
Tiredness escalated over a hot, sticky, and dusty week in Linton Bay shipyard. The time had come to repaint the hull and undertake a few repairs and maintenance jobs before making our way back towards Colon and into the canal.
I can’t imagine how we would have coped without the presence of Grant, Delphine, Alex and Apple. The Arabella crew had tied up in the nearby marina with the sole purpose of helping us out through this time out of the water.
That week, our children were cared for around the clock, meals were laid on the table for Simon and I to refuel twice a day, tools were brought over when needed and Grant dedicated hours getting things done on Dragonfly. We learnt to gracefully accept care, support and generosity free-flowing our way without fuss. We let ourselves receive all of it and it was incredibly heart-warming!
CROSSING THE CANAL
We rafted up with Arabella on the 6th of July and made our way through the first set of locks and into Gatún lake. Arabella was able to carry on the next morning but Dragonfly’s transit took almost three days because of canal staff management.
The process was otherwise trouble free, mostly fun and the best part was…
… we reached the Pacific!!
SWEET HOME OCEAN
Anchored in the dirty waters of Panama City, we were delighted to feel the ocean breeze at last. We geared up for 10 days of intense boat preps and provisioning ahead of the upcoming Pacific crossing. While we waited on some parts, books and other stuff to be delivered to the city, we sailed away (yes, sailed! Wind!) to the nearby archipelago of Las Perlas, 35 miles offshore.
We were blown away by the abundance of marine life we came across, nothing any of us had seen before. Schools of big fish, dolphins, sperm whales, sting rays swimming in large flocks.
Humpback whales were everywhere in the distance, often breaching in massive splashes. It was phenomenal! We discovered that they migrate in thousands from Antarctica to Panama between June and September to give birth and raise their calf. Their moving songs were so loud and clear when we’d swim underwater, that it felt they would turn up out of the blue any moment.
On one occasion while crossing between islands, we came across multiple whale sharks and for a couple of hours, we followed them jumping in the water in turns for the thrill of a close encounter. It was pure magic.
AN INITIATION
Simon’s health troubles threw a spanner in the works which, with time, helped bring some perspective to all of us. Simon, Delphine, Grant, Alex and I all acknowledged that we were successfully running ourselves in the ground and needed to find a quiet space to re-attune to our inner environments.
I made a crazy suggestion to my travel companions and to my surprise, they jumped right in.
In my explorations over the years I have spent much time researching on the topic of consciousness, the physiology of elevated states of consciousness and the healing potential that lies therein.
We happened to be in ayahuasca territory, the rainforest medicine of the Amazonian tribes. I have always been very curious about the possibility of lucid traveling into the depths of the subconscious mind, unraveling trauma and mental conditioning.
Now I felt seeking help had become a necessity.
We arranged a five-day escape into the Costa Rican rainforest.. no children, and a wise and hilarious ethno-botanist as spiritual guide through this process of deep cleansing.
To be continued… !
12th of August: we are off for a week of upwind sailing to the Galapagos.
May 2022 has turned up out of nowhere. Three months of boat life have past in a blink. In contrast, endless crises and dramas have played out on the world stage.
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Shortly after landing in St Lucia early December, the generator had caught on fire. This is a story in itself. The process of replacing parts and fixing it under warranty stretched across many weeks. By the end of January, we were very eager to move to new landscapes and meet up again with other sailing families.
It started with a dinghy sailing regatta in southern Martinique between a dozen family boats having recently crossed the Atlantic. This festive occasion marked the beginning of social times and the bonding of a multicultural community over many weeks. Fires on the beach, games, seafood feasts and a group of kids having the time of their lives. You can read Luca’s story: “How I got my scar”.
From there on we meandered north up the chain of Caribbean islands; Martinique, Guadeloupe, Antigua, Barbuda, St Barts, St Martin, and the British Virgin islands. Each within sight of its neighbour, yet culturally so diverse. A unique identity bestowed on each by the turns of a particularly brutal history.
Of all these places, we did not interact with people, cultures and traditions as much as we did with the land. Immersed in nature, most of our time is spent amongst wildlife at anchor, on the sea shore, hiking in the hills or exploring underwater.
Pretty pictures don’t speak of personal challenges or the sometimes tedious or stressful aspects of boat life, but our time in the Caribbean has been particularly sweet and care-free in comparison to earlier steps in this journey. The weather conditions predictable, with east trade winds blowing most of the time and shelter easier to find. More time to read, or to just be. The fishing and seafood gathering improved as we progressed north. Tama and Luca learnt to scuba dive. Some dive sites along the way (many wrecks) have been spectacular.
Yachts come and go following their own rhythm, occasionally enjoying some solitary cruising. Each family a unique part of a genuinely fun and caring community. Passions, skills, tools, and good humour free flow in all directions, kids get fed wherever they roam and extra pairs of hands turn up without prompt. Unity in diversity, the qualities of a resilient ecosystem..
The kids are thriving, soaking up all that nature has to offer until they drop. Playing games and water sports, taking each other hiking, building stuff, baking, crafting, and so often singing. There is immense joy in witnessing a tribe of children aged 3 to 15 spread their wings under each other’s care and that of a whole village.
Here’s Simon leading a memorable morning class in crayfish hunting. You can read Tama’s story here.
The British Virgin islands are where paths separate, many families sailing back across the Atlantic to Europe. A chapter closes, with numerous farewells and a big celebration one crazy windy night dancing under the April full moon.
We are now extremely excited to be making our way to the Pacific.
It is a strange time to be away from home as world views rapidly shape-shift and collide. For some, it may be the first time their perception of reality is found resting on shaky grounds. No matter what you see from where you stand, it is a confronting time.
What I can see from where I stand, is ever-escalating government control, local economies being destroyed, civil rights desecrated and dissenting voices muted. The way forward is from the ground up. People and land. Community.
It was a huge relief on the 21st of November to cast off from the Canary islands and begin the 3000 mile journey across the Atlantic . We were tired from months of preparations and last minute challenges, and could not wait to unplug for the three-week journey ahead. The atmosphere in Las Palmas was very festive and the fleet of 165 yachts received a memorable send off.
Our quiet desire to race friends on similar boats was dampened as soon as we lined ourselves up for the start line. A fuse blew when we attempted to deploy the headsail and we found ourselves bobbing along until we could work out the fault. By the time it was unfurled, we were at the back of 130 yachts. A humorous reminder that we chose to sail over oceans precisely to unlearn rushing!
For most of three days, the entire fleet crawled along with light winds straight on the nose. Motoring became unavoidable until the conditions improved. We were blessed to have friends on yacht Blake as sailing companions for a couple of days. They took a series of great photos of Dragonfly under sail.
After a very calm first week reading books in the sunshine, fishing lines out, the wind picked up significantly and sea state became pretty rough. These conditions set in for the rest of the crossing . We poled out the head sail for downwind sailing as it became too windy for the kite.
Overall, the wind was reasonably tame on our tracks, averaging in the high 20’s with gusts in the 30’s. There were frequent squalls, mostly at night, which fortunately we could anticipate with the radar.. Three to five meter swells in mixed directions were on the forecast for the rest of the journey, we were going to be rocked around a fair bit. Along the way, we reached our all-time speed record of 15.4 knots surfing down a steep wave!
Tiredness set in noticeably after ten days. We became more disciplined about resting during the day, reduced night watches from three down to two hours, alternating between Tama, Simon and I. This worked really well, although we started fading again on day 15. I am not sure how we would have coped without Tama taking shifts. Hats off to all the double-handled crew who made this journey with children on board, it is a real feat of endurance!
After a few rough days, we eased into the unpredictable motion and found equilibrium between sailing performance and peace of mind. We re-opened our books, resumed playing numerous card games, and Tama became unstoppable in the galley, baking all sorts of fabulous things. Often twice a day!
In lieu of schooling we practiced patience and kindness, entertained great topics in the cockpit and learnt to complete usually simple daily tasks with acrobatic prowess. Lee seemed perfectly unfazed by the erratic motion and he went about his day, dinosaurs and dragons at his side, and watching way too many movies! Luca and Naomi, both affected by motion sickness, soldiered on and slept it off in between the social highlights of the day.
Time passed surprisingly quickly. We connected with the outside world once a day via satellite email, which provided great family entertainment as one day would otherwise merge into the next.
We discovered absolutely spectacular night skies the way our ancestors would have witnessed them. It was too rough to exit the cockpit and appreciate the full celestial display but Matariki (the Pleiades cluster) was always first to jump out, brighter than ever and watching over us.
As we progressed further south and west, the temperature became more tropical every day. We adjusted our clocks by a couple of hours, twice during the trip as the sun would seemingly rise later and later (my favourite dawn watch according to our clocks would otherwise end before sunrise!). We didn’t see a single boat within twenty four miles of us on the radar for many days on end. It’s a big ocean!!
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We arrived one minute before midnight on the 9th of December, after 19 days at sea. Having ripped three sails and broken two spinnaker poles (one smashed into the other while under load) but we were all in one piece and stoked to see land again. It was a very heartwarming welcome in Rodney Bay marina from fellow sailors.
The stories shared on the dockside were fascinating.. the relentless weather (strong trade winds and an unusual swell coming from the North) had lead to great difficulties for many crew (extreme fatigue, serious breakages, ripped sails), some heroic feats and some tragedies too. One man lost his life. Two yachts had to be abandoned mid ocean.
Following a catastrophic steering failure, the crew of 5 adults on Charlotte Jane II were rescued out of their life raft by our friends Rod and Jane, their two crew and three children on board Magic Dragon. Twelve days at sea, nine adults and three children (incl. 4 yr old twins!!!) on a 55 ft monohull. They were on strict water rations due to a broken watermaker, in tropical heat, and one of the heads (toilet) out of order! These guys with their wicked sense of humour and giant hearts arrived bubbling with laughter and with an extraordinary story to tell.
A month after making landfall we are yet to “land” into new beginnings. The passage itself was in fact not the biggest challenge, but only the culmination of a very intense year, full of magics and chaos.
We celebrated the end of 2021 on a secluded beach in the company of a great multicultural bunch. Water Dogs from Canada, Magic Dragon from the UK, Sylvia from Belgium, Blake from Hawaii and Kithara from Germany. 16 kids, 13 grown ups.
A couple of nights before Christmas, at dusk, our generator caught on fire. Within minutes, we had assistance from nearby friends helping out on every front. Once again we were very humbled by the support we have in this nomadic community and considered how incredibly lucky we were that it didn’t happen a few days earlier at sea.
We are still in St Lucia enjoying some quiet time at anchor and waiting on new generator parts. We are left to count our blessings and envision the next chapters of the journey with a wide open heart.
An immense thank you to my brother Augustin for creating a series of beautiful maps of Dragonfly tracks which are now uploaded on our site. https://sailingdragonfly.wordpress.com/map-tracks/
As October approached, we were eager to exit the Mediterranean and start connecting with other sailors and live-aboard families. We had found ourselves pretty self contained over the summer months and started to feel the need to interact with fellow human beings in more depth. We were gradually heading towards the Canaries to join the ARC+ and its fleet, a yearly transatlantic rally (Canaries to Grenada via the Cape Verde islands) held by the World Cruising Club. An organisation offering continuous support during preparations, a wealth of seminars and resources, and an opportunity to meet many sailors of all backgrounds and levels of experience. The rally was to leave Las Palmas de Gran Canaria on the 7th of November.
On the way along the southern coast of Spain in a quiet anchorage off the regional park Cabo de Gata, we witnessed two refugee boats chased by the guardia civil making landfall at dawn. In the distance we saw people running for the hills. They were soon after intercepted by the border police who arrived in a convoy of cars. Search lights, dogs, shouting.. It was absolutely heart breaking.
We transited via Gibraltar for a couple of weeks, mainly to take delivery of the parasailor we had ordered a few months before. There we crossed paths with old friends (Quintessence crew!) and made new ones (Vast!), enjoyed a taste of British culture and history. It felt great to be social.
Shortly before leaving Gibraltar, we noticed a crack in the mast in the alignment with the boom (gooseneck). We had hoped to visit the Canaries archipelago before mooring up in Las Palmas to join the rally fleet, but we had to have the mast inspected as soon as possible so we could fix it in time before the rally. Other things came up that had to be fixed before crossing an ocean! A pole on the stainless structure holding the davits for the tender had broken all the way across as if sawn. We also found significant delimitation under the floor, and the satellite phone wasn’t working. It is essential for receiving weather forecasts while at sea.
We had a fantastic 5 day passage out of the Med to Lanzarote, the most northern island of the Canaries. We flew the kite up pretty much all the way, by day and by night.. the conditions were ideal. It didn’t take long to figure out this sail was going to change everything for our navigations. It can be flown in very light winds up to 20 knots, and from a very wide range of angles. It also lifts the bow and stabilises the boat when going downwind (no more rolling!). It will prevent much wear and tear to the boat as well as limit our fuel consumption significantly.
Tama did his first night shifts with enthusiasm, 1-2 hrs at a time while we slept next to him in the cockpit. His involvement will be invaluable when we sail for three weeks across the Atlantic and get that extra rest here and there between watches. We’ll figure out how to maintain a rythm that allows for enough rest and times spent together.
We enjoyed a short stop over at anchor between La Gracioza and Lanzarote (Northen Canaries) to rest from the crossing, then continued on the next day for another 120 miles overnight to Las Palmas. Beautiful dry volcanic terrain and sand dunes formed over time from the nearby Sahara desert.
In Las Palmas, we immediately found ourselves surrounded by a really friendly community of sailors, many of them families. We were uplifted by the community spirit and conviviality of very capable, open-minded people of all cultures and ages.. every crew with the same focus of preparing to cross an ocean, many for the first time. Our kids have been roaming happily ever since, adopted new families and made great friendships, which gave us the space to focus on the big task.
With two weeks to go before the start of the rally, we were hoping a local fix would be possible on the mast, however it turned out to be a major.. the mast had to be pulled out!! (again…)
We would not be ready to set off on the 7th and hoped to make it for the next rally two weeks later. The stress levels peaked as we waited for a diagnosis.. if we needed a new mast, that could be our entire cruising budget swallowed at once.
Simon worked really hard to mobilise a reluctant insurance broker, and moved very fast to orchestrate everything so we could be ready for the next transatlantic rally leaving Las Palmas on 21st November. This one, from Las Palmas straight to Saint Lucia in the Caribbeans..
We farewelled the ARC+ fleet as they set off and kept busy working towards our new departure date.
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Here is a very big shout out to Dmitriy and his fun and super hardworking team at the Rigging Point who flew in from Mallorca to conduct testing and repairs on the mast. The way these guys have supported us and made a stressful process happen seamlessly on such short notice has been phenomenal!!!
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We set out across the Atlantic tomorrow. We are very eager to be out there and disconnect from all the busy-ness. We are tired, ready to regroup as a family and enjoy the real thing. There has never been a better time to find ourselves totally unbound, a free electron.
Meanwhile, we realise how fortunate we are to be at a distance from the hysteria and division that are ramping up across the planet. Extreme sanitary measures are imposed forcefully and people’s most fundamental rights confiscated. It is so grossly absurd, it is hard to believe it is happening. We are thinking of you all and sending lots of love and strength. Kia kaha tātou!!
The greatest crises bring on the greatest evolutionary shifts.
ABOUT THE RALLY …..
We have a tracking device for the duration of the rally. Those interested can follow us and the whole fleet in real time across the Atlantic ocean. Download the YB Races app / select ‘ARC’/ you can search by individual boat names.
The forecast predicts very little wind until we reach the southern end of Gran Canaria… we will take it as it comes and expect to arrive in Saint Lucia in more or less three weeks.
The thought of sailing round the world with a young family still terrifies me. Nearly 12 months and 4000 miles into our expedition, I still feel this way.
We are getting to know how Dragonfly reacts in different conditions and learning from our mistakes along the way. No matter how many books one can read, there is nothing like hands-on experience.
Life on board can be stressful at times, a more constructive stress from that of and life, but of a more intense kind. I spent many years working as a senior executive responsible for hundreds of employees and managing a very large annual budget. Handling that stress didn’t prepare me for being at sea with a boat full of kids, incessant 45 knots of wind in pitch black conditions, huge seas, an anchor dislodged off the bow, ripped sails and no bimini left over your head while you fear the wind is going to increase. I had some very dark thoughts that night last August. (see Amandine’s post “Swooping across the Thyrrhenian sea and a storm”)
Going back to the first half of the year, getting the boat ready for offshore sailing was a massive learning curve. There was no hand over as the previous owner lived in Florida and was unable to travel due to the pandemic. Bringing a well equipped pre-loved 56 foot boat back to life after 18 months in a yard, how hard can it be? Yet I worked on it 6 days a week for 6 solid months. What was I doing? How could a boat take so much time and effort, – and money? I think of a bluewater boat as a mini mobile city: you have to be able to generate power, make potable water from saltwater and you have dozens of pumps everywhere backed up by complex electrical systems, mechanical systems, hydraulics, navigation and communication instruments, and so much more.
Something will inevitably break once in a while, sometimes, many things at once. You have to know how to repair, replace, maintain and make sure you have all the spare parts when you are out at sea. Six months were spent researching and learning with the fortuitous assistance and coaching by a great guy (thank you Ricci). We don’t have any passive income and the budget blew out a first time mainly due to the unforeseen rigging refit, and now again recently as we discovered the mast required a major fix.. Financial stress is something most of us have experienced at times. It can take the wind out of your sails, but it is also an opportunity to rethink how we can make this journey last and how we can replenish our financial reserves using our various skills as we go.
The kids can drive us nuts! We have good days and not so good ones. Predominantly managed by Amandine, homeschooling can become very challenging at times when one child decides they don’t want to focus on the topic or start picking fights with everyone else. But as soon as they are released into freedom before lunch, they are back to their awesome selves and enjoy each other’s company!
Our recent trip into the Atlantic to the Canary Islands was a 600 miles passage from Gibraltar and 4 days without seeing land. This was a first taste of what crossing the Atlantic to the Caribbean will be like. It is the most liberating experience.. Distractions disappear along with the sight of land, and there is a great vibe on the boat.
There will be other storms, breakages and other issues but the crew on this vessel have fantastic attitude and we make a great team.
The land between Africa and Europe narrows down to 7 miles. I was anxious when we left Gibraltar about the currents, wind against tide being a recipe for very rough sea state and currents can flow 6-7 knots against you (our average boat speed!). The shipping lanes in this area are some of the worlds busiest so you need to be very alert. Last but not least, orca attacks on sailing yachts have happened frequently in this area over the past year. Many boats have been rammed and ended up with serious rudder damage and had to be towed back into land. This is a strange phenomenon, which largely remains unexplained but we have heard very distressing stories from the sailors point of view. The orcas themselves may well be distressed.
Oh, the Sat phone has not been working during the crossing so we haven’t been able to get updated forecasts. I managed to radio passing ships at times and they were more than happy to provide an update.
The lows may be low but the highs are exhilarating. We know this chapter isn’t forever either which makes it very special. Family is everything. We have never felt so free while life in our home countries have never felt so limiting.
There will be places we can’t visit due to the pandemic, and it doesn’t matter. We just take one day at a time and make the most of it when dolphins gracefully swim under our bow and birds swoon in our wake.
A big thank you to Amandine for her beautifully written blog posts, the cooking, home schooling, and everything else. She is my rock, my first mate and my best mate!
The past six weeks in France have been a return to the source. A soul nurturing time strengthening the many relationships this big family weaves. Precious times shared both on land and on board Dragonfly, honouring special places and people in the history of the family. I didn’t foresee how moving this period would be.
For a couple of weeks mid August in Brittany, Tama, Luca and Naomi were able to immerse fully without parents in the care of aunts, uncles, cousins and a rather special grandmother. (What grandparent would rent a house for themselves and six of their grandchildren for a whole week holiday?)
They had a very colourful time, which for some even involved jumping out of a plane.. (!!?) They contributed to rural community projects, organised a big fiesta and overall had loads of fun and bonding with relatives and other people of all ages. They returned as the frenchest versions of themselves which was really fun to witness on their return.
Meanwhile, Simon Lee and I conducted repairs and maintenance in the port of Toulon, mostly installing a new windlass, fixing the bimini and refitting patched up sails. Toulon is not on the touristic map. The largest naval base in France, it was completely destroyed during WWII and rebuilt without much charm. It was for logistical reasons that I had chosen my birthplace as a temporary land base. As it turned out, soaking up its vibe after living there briefly in my early years unearthed profound memories. So came up an unsuspected opportunity to acknowledge a place which has shaped me more than i knew.
Autumn has set in, the crowds have gone. We have enjoyed three tranquil weeks of September sailing around the islands of Porquerolles and Corsica with the occasional company of special people.
For the first time ever we were able to introduce Dragonfly to family and embark them for a journey into our world. We celebrated life in the most simple ways and contemplated how its unfolding has shaped us.
We were blessed to have my father join us a second time for an overnight passage from Porquerolles to Corsica, right through a maritime region that him and his father before had known so intimately over years in the navy.
We left before dawn on the new moon. Venus and Matariki (the Pleiades) exceptionally bright above our heads. The wind did not help us across as much as we had planned. Instead we were visited by dozens of dragonflies over the course of the next day. Perching on antennas, fishing rods, guard rails, even hands and feet.. their unsubtle presence felt very auspicious.
Our dear old time friend ‘Jelly’ joined us in Calvi for a lovely week meandering down the west coast of Corsica. This island holds some of the most dramatic beauty of the Mediterranean. High mountain peaks towering above pink calanques and quiet stone villages camouflaged amongst olive trees and maquis. The sweet smell of fig trees, thyme, eucalyptus and immortal flowers, an intoxicating cocktail. We celebrated beauty and friendship indulging on Corsican cheeses and wines. We learned new words, swam, lounged, rescued a boat in distress with a tow to port and laughed heaps. Thank you Jelly for meeting us in yet another random location as you always do. We look forward to your next visit on board Dragonfly.
Easterly winds and swell carried us across the many miles from Southern Corsica to the Southern coast of Spain in only a few days. It was not a smooth trip but it was fast and we beat our own speed record so far… 12.1 knots!
We are now unhurriedly making way westward towards Gibraltar where we will take delivery of a parasailor (Spinnaker) and para anchor (large drogue) next week. We’ll provision and prepare to exit the Mediterranean for new territory. Heading first to the Canaries for an Atlantic crossing scheduled early November.
July ended up a restless and fast paced few weeks as we sailed through many Italian islands and briefly touched the mainland. From remote southern Sardinia to the towns of North western Sicily, the volcanoes of the Aeolian islands, the steep mountains towering over Positano, rocky Capri, Sorrento and Ponza.. the wind blew strong and often prompted us to move along to find better shelter elsewhere. We started having issues with our old windlass which meant we could not relax much at anchor.
In every little bay, port and town we were able to land, we sampled a fabulous variety of impressions and flavours… divine pistachio ice cream, exquisite produce and local specialties, colourful architecture, vibrant urban gardens, weird and wonderful cliffs and caves, ancient ruins almost everywhere, and of course the delightfully passionate ways of the Italian people.
We bounced around a lot at anchor, a mix of wind induced swell, heavy maritime traffic, and occasional squalls. With an unreliable windlass, we were not able to leave the boat as much as we might have liked. As we headed away from Sicily towards the mainland, every anchorage was crowded and we woke up on two occasions to a waltz of dragging yachts, some still asleep others in a panic… at dawn, a collision was heard inside the bay.. people yelling, horns blown, yachts dashing out to flee the mess.
In contrast to this joyful madness, we enjoyed several overnight passages between islands and have come to love these very special moments where everything inessential falls away. The mind spontaneously surrenders into the moment leaving you at one with crew, sea and sky.
A real highlight after braving extreme temperatures and public transports was to experience a walk through the archeological site of Pompei. A bustling Roman city of 12,000 inhabitants, it was frozen in time and preserved in 6 meters of volcanic debris for many centuries after a devastating eruption of mount Vesuvius in 68AD. Walking along the streets worn by the wheels of horse carts, you can see wall graffiti and advertising, through buildings remains sections of vivid fresco paintings, witnessing the huge public forum, thermal baths, temples, thousands of homes and commerces, was a truly moving and fascinating experience.
We undertook the 3-4 day trip back to France in the first days of August to leave Dragonfly in the port of Toulon while we gather with family in Brittany for a week. The conditions for the crossing were not favourable. We waited a couple of days off the Napolitan coast for the wind and swell to settle, then motored almost all the way north of Corsica (two whole days) as the wind was then scarce.
Naomi’s 10th birthday was celebrated on entering French waters in true mermaid style. We were visited by numerous pods of dolphins and sperm whales and even several dragonflies so far from land. Magical!
That night the wind picked up. At last we were able to shut the engine.. 23 knots on the forecast, we would make it to Toulon before lunchtime the next day if the conditions held. By 11pm, the wind built up into the thirties… by midnight it reached gale force.. massive waves and no moon. The clew on the staysail ripped, the reefed main was dropped completely and the engine turned on to ride the waves at a safe angle. We never doubted the capability of Dragonfly to handle this extreme weather but the 40kg anchor was dislodged by the waves, hanging over the bow, it pounded against the hull. The tired windlass failed to retrieve it and the 120m of chain threatened to unravel at once which would have meant very big trouble in these conditions. Luca, Naomi and Lee were woken up to put on their life jackets and rested in the salon.
Simon had no choice but to make his way to the bow harnessed to the jacklines to secure the anchor with a rope. A huge wave crashed over the bow flooding the entire deck in white wash and for a moment Tama and I lost sight of him. It was terrifying.
It took another four hours with no reprieve to reach for the closest shelter in the îles de Lerins off Cannes. On the way, the bimini ripped from above our heads, the top of the mainsail shattered and one of the ropes securing the dinghy snapped. A bonus to making it to safety, the dinghy was still hanging when we arrived.
Sea mammal magic and sea storms.. the epic stuff of myths!! Many practical things were learnt from this misadventure, some of which I will share in later posts. Something remarkable in the days that followed was the atmospheric peace, light-heartedness and feeling of unity in which we were all immersed. A precious perspective reset!
As for how we will be equipped and prepared to ride out a next potential storm, we feel good and confident. One significant piece of equipment we did not have on the 4th of August was the long ordered para anchor we will be picking up in Gibraltar at the end of September. Deploying a para anchor allows a boat to sit safely in extreme conditions and wait out a storm rather than trying to make way out of it and putting stress on the boat’s structure, steering and navigations systems and crew.
As I am writing this, it is the third week of August already. Simon, Lee and I are back on board in the port of Toulon doing some much needed repairs and maintenance after a fabulous week spent with family in Brittany. Tama, Luca and Naomi have stayed there for an extra two weeks, for some very precious times immersed amongst their big French family. The sails and bimini have been fixed and reinstalled, a shiny new windlass is now holding Dragonfly’s chain in place securely, and we are almost ready to leave port to enjoy coastal cruising in this area until the hoard returns… we miss them already!
One of New Zealand’s most iconic native trees, I was amazed as spring set in in Sant Carles to notice a pohutukawa tree in full blossom in the middle of a roundabout. A Catalan pohutukawa, …how cool! I had heard of a very old one in some other Spanish town, and maybe even in Portugal.. but right here.. just for us, in small town Sant Carles? A little later, I noticed others along the water front. That was pretty special I thought.
Then, hedging a marina in Porto Pina, Sardinia, in the landscaping of a town square in Palermo, the planter boxes of restaurants in Cala San Vito Sicily.. and around gorgeous villas in Panarea, Aeolian islands.. All of these fairly young trees.. a new Mediterranean fashion?!
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