It's been a busy few months - as the lack of posts on this blog indicates! Alas, I've got the ball rolling on articles from my expedition and the first one was published last week.
It's not so much focussing on my sailing adventure but is a light hearted wrap up of my time on Maui. I wont say any more about it - just read on if you want to know why I'd really recommend visiting this Hawai'ian paradise...
http://www.gayexpress.co.nz/2011/11/from-aroha-to-aloha/
Tuesday 22 November 2011
Friday 11 November 2011
Bringing it Home
I went up home to beautiful Northland last weekend and was reminded that you don't have to go far to find secluded and stunning beaches on this island. Here's a glimpse at my slice of paradise...
I was also reminded that it doesn't matter where you are in this world, rubbish always finds away to creep in and occupy spaces where you should only leave footprints.
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This is what I collected from about a 20m square area of my beach...
It's amazing what you find once you start looking. I took a bag to the beach and at the same time as picking up rubbish I collected some pretty shells - it was an easy way to bring the rubbish home, get rid of it, and still have collected some pretty things to add to my collection of shell rings and paua.
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While I was getting all artistic taking snaps of the rubbish (art + rubbish, hmm!?) I couldn't help but notice how luscious my parents vege garden is looking. Check it out...
Friday 1 July 2011
Aloha!!!
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| Photo: Jesper Mortensen Fanning Island sunset - in an earlier post I tried to describe the sunset from our boat, anchored in the lagoon of Tabuaeran Atoll. Well, this was what I was talking about... amazing! ALOHA FROM HAWAI'I!!! After 17 days at sea I have arrived to land. Ahh, it feels so good to be vertical. I'm staying with my nani (beautiful) friend Arielle on Maui. It all happened pretty quickly, we arrived to a Honolulu sunset, stayed the night on the boat in port, and the next day I flew to Maui. Anyway, will write more about the trip soon, but just wanted to get some pictures up. Theres been a lot of writing going on with this blog and not so many visuals, so enjoy.... |
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| Photo: Chad Hamilton Life on Sea Dragon - dinner at 20 degrees poses oh so many fun challenges. Be careful for waves over the bow of the boat or else chicken and veg becomes salty chicken soup . |
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| Photo: Rachel Morrison Mother fishing boats anchored off the main beach on Christmas Island. Was a huge shock to be anchored next to these beasts. I don't think it matters what light these vessels are portrayed in, they are still horrid and so out of place. |
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| Photo: Hannah Spyksma Just a typical scene at the wharf on Christmas Island - the stench of drying, rotting fish could quite often be found lurking through the streets. Refrigeration is hard to come by here, so fish was dried and salted for preservation. Tasty? Not to sure... |
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| Photo: Hannah Spyksma Customs and immigration, island style. This boat of 'officials' rocked up to Sea Dragon an hour and a half after the agreed time. We couldn't leave until they handed us departure paperwork. I think their tardiness has something to do with the fact it was a Sunday morning after payday... so they were all rather inebriated. Was an experience. |
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| Photo: Hannah Spyksma The rough and beautiful windward side of Christmas Island. Instead of rocks, the beach is lined with coral and an unfortunate amount of washed up plastic. |
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| Photo: Cathy Romeyn We were invited for a traditional Kiribati lunch by the teachers of a local school. This maneaba (meeting hut) is raised about a metre and a half off the ground. It's built completely using local materials including pegs and string made from coconut palm trees. Principal Raine Aretaateta sits to the left. In Kiribati society, women can hold positions of power in the workplace, but men are still boss at home. |
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| Photo: Hannah Spyksma Lagoon view - taken from the back of a truck driving along the (only) road on one side of Fanning . |
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| Photo: Hannah Spyksma Kia Kaha New Zealand 2010 - see if you can spot it. Fanning Island is literally in the middle of nowhere so when we arrived to see this, it was pretty darn cool. The lagoon had two visible shipwrecks in it, they just become part of the scenery after awhile. Aparently wrecks are a pretty normal sight in plenty of the other atolls the Pangaea crew visited as well. |
Tuesday 28 June 2011
The myth of the North-Pacific garbage patch
One thing that is interesting to note, is that there is a common misconception about the gyres of the world. They are often known for having garbage patches’ or ‘floating rubbish islands’ accumulating around their centre. When I first read about the north pacific rubbish patch – an area the size of Texas – I imagined boats having to navigate through literal rubbish heaps, plowing their way through as flies and birds scavenged the mounts of trash.
But – the reality is, the rubbish is microscopic and creates a thin film on the surface of the water. Which makes it even more of an issue. Because of its relative size, the tiny pieces get mistaken as food, by birds and fish. You can figure out from there what problems this creates.
The rubbish that (we see) which washes up on coastlines, tends to be more of the bottles, bottle tops, noodle packets that you expect. When we arrive in Honolulu I will post some pictures of the impromptu clean up we did on Christmas Island.
But – the reality is, the rubbish is microscopic and creates a thin film on the surface of the water. Which makes it even more of an issue. Because of its relative size, the tiny pieces get mistaken as food, by birds and fish. You can figure out from there what problems this creates.
The rubbish that (we see) which washes up on coastlines, tends to be more of the bottles, bottle tops, noodle packets that you expect. When we arrive in Honolulu I will post some pictures of the impromptu clean up we did on Christmas Island.
Why am I doing this?
All this talk of islands and sailing, and what is it all for? While it is great to explore, have a holiday and a most definite change of scenery, there is a bigger purpose to this trip.
We’re sailing to Hawai’i at the moment and there’s all this time to think, when you’re not attempting to steer, or keep watch, or defy gravity by living at 20 degrees.
So perhaps now, while I’m stuck on a boat and thinking - not exploring, is a good time to explain a little more about Pangaea Explorations and the company’s vision.
Pangaea Explorations is a not-for-profit organization. Run by passionate conservationists and social change makers, the owners have managed to organize an ever-changing crew of enthusiasts to sail around the world on their yacht Sea Dragon for the past 18 months, exploring the oceans and their islands.
Based in America, Pangaea collaborates with a host of different organizations, institutions, and researchers.
The main project to collaborate with Pangaea at the moment has been run by 5 Gyres – a scientific research group looking at plastic pollution in the ocean.
So while sailing across the seven seas, the 5 gyres crew have been running trawls off the side of Sea-Dragon, picking up rubbish and water samples which are then counted and analysed. It’s amazing, across the Atlantic and Pacific oceans they’ve only had one trawl which hasn’t picked up any pieces of plastic.
The aim is to survey the seas and get some kind of analytical picture of how bad the plastic pollution is across the ocean, where and why.
So. Five gyres and various other scientists have jumped on board to accompany the core crew at different stages of the trip.
I am on the fourth leg of the Pacific Survey trip. There are no scientists from 5 gyres on any of the Pacific legs of the voyage because we are so close to the equator, where the trade winds blow and currents are stronger. Rubbish tends to accumulate near the calmer centres of the gyres, in the sub-tropical latitudes.
But, we are still exploring the issues of pollution in the Pacific. However, I guess there is a broader focus to the Pacific trip. From Tahiti to Hawaii first mate and trip co-ordinator Emily Penn has been surveying an array of small islands. The objective for Pangaea on this part of the journey is to get an idea of the challenges and successes of small-island life, including how rubbish is managed.
So our time on Christmas and Fanning Islands has been spent getting anecdotal evidence by talking to a wide variety of locals. The experience has been eye-opening! My days have been spent at local’s houses, businesses, beaches, schools – learning about a different culture and a different way of life.
The information collected will hopefully accompany scientific data drawn from various stages along the way, and contribute towards future research projects, media reports, and building relationships and networks across the Pacific.
As a side note – although 5 gyres staff aren’t on board at the moment we are however, trawling in international waters for a few hours each day. The simple piece of equipment used looks like a kind of a metal stingray. Attached to the boat’s spinnaker by rope, the microwave-sized contraption glides along the surface of the water, with matter being directed through a tail-like net and into a funnel attached to the end of it. It’s astounding, even on our way to Hawai’i – out in the middle of nowhere - we are finding minute pieces of plastic among the few jellyfish and other organic bits and pieces the trawl brings in.
We’re sailing to Hawai’i at the moment and there’s all this time to think, when you’re not attempting to steer, or keep watch, or defy gravity by living at 20 degrees.
So perhaps now, while I’m stuck on a boat and thinking - not exploring, is a good time to explain a little more about Pangaea Explorations and the company’s vision.
Pangaea Explorations is a not-for-profit organization. Run by passionate conservationists and social change makers, the owners have managed to organize an ever-changing crew of enthusiasts to sail around the world on their yacht Sea Dragon for the past 18 months, exploring the oceans and their islands.
Based in America, Pangaea collaborates with a host of different organizations, institutions, and researchers.
The main project to collaborate with Pangaea at the moment has been run by 5 Gyres – a scientific research group looking at plastic pollution in the ocean.
So while sailing across the seven seas, the 5 gyres crew have been running trawls off the side of Sea-Dragon, picking up rubbish and water samples which are then counted and analysed. It’s amazing, across the Atlantic and Pacific oceans they’ve only had one trawl which hasn’t picked up any pieces of plastic.
The aim is to survey the seas and get some kind of analytical picture of how bad the plastic pollution is across the ocean, where and why.
So. Five gyres and various other scientists have jumped on board to accompany the core crew at different stages of the trip.
I am on the fourth leg of the Pacific Survey trip. There are no scientists from 5 gyres on any of the Pacific legs of the voyage because we are so close to the equator, where the trade winds blow and currents are stronger. Rubbish tends to accumulate near the calmer centres of the gyres, in the sub-tropical latitudes.
But, we are still exploring the issues of pollution in the Pacific. However, I guess there is a broader focus to the Pacific trip. From Tahiti to Hawaii first mate and trip co-ordinator Emily Penn has been surveying an array of small islands. The objective for Pangaea on this part of the journey is to get an idea of the challenges and successes of small-island life, including how rubbish is managed.
So our time on Christmas and Fanning Islands has been spent getting anecdotal evidence by talking to a wide variety of locals. The experience has been eye-opening! My days have been spent at local’s houses, businesses, beaches, schools – learning about a different culture and a different way of life.
The information collected will hopefully accompany scientific data drawn from various stages along the way, and contribute towards future research projects, media reports, and building relationships and networks across the Pacific.
As a side note – although 5 gyres staff aren’t on board at the moment we are however, trawling in international waters for a few hours each day. The simple piece of equipment used looks like a kind of a metal stingray. Attached to the boat’s spinnaker by rope, the microwave-sized contraption glides along the surface of the water, with matter being directed through a tail-like net and into a funnel attached to the end of it. It’s astounding, even on our way to Hawai’i – out in the middle of nowhere - we are finding minute pieces of plastic among the few jellyfish and other organic bits and pieces the trawl brings in.
Sunday 26 June 2011
The definition of remote island paradise
If I could define remote island paradise, I’m pretty sure Fanning Island would come close.
I mean, a pod of dolphins followed our boat on the way in, and then from our anchorage on the last night here we watched manta-rays feed in the lagoon, flapping their wings on the water's surface. That’s got to say something about this place.
Every day we were here this paradise was revealed in a new and different light.
The first day ashore we stumbled across an old Frenchman who got shipwrecked near this island 25 years ago. He invited us to visit his house. Nestled among a grove of coconut palms and frangipanis his petite, open-plan home was simply stunning. It is the only western-style home on the island, built by hand it was a 20-year labour of love, now fit for a vogue magazine.
A morning was whittled away listening to his stories of life on the island, married in to a Kiribati lifestyle.
The next day we decided to visit a local school. To get there, the dingy dropped us off at the local wharf and we were instructed to walk 10 or so minutes to arrive at school. An hour and a half of walking later we still hadn’t found our destination.
Feeling exhausted from the beating sun, we stopped on the side of the track and decided it would just be better if we went swimming. So white sand and turquoise waters beckoned. We didn’t find the school that day, but it was just so lovely strolling along this path, through the forest of coconuts, next to the lagoon, chatting and walking along.
The afternoon was spent cycling through sleepy villages in another area of the atoll. It was slow going because everyone who was out and about wanted to chat - people here are so friendly. A few fresh coconuts, an impromptu photo shoot with them, and an evening swim later, and I was one happy camper.
On the last day here we managed to make it to the school. An extensive tour of the complex was finished off with a tradition meal served in a brand new, raised maneaba (meeting house). Prime real estate, the handmade open-air hut housed us for a few hours while the local teachers spun yarns and entertained us with more stories of island life.
That evening, the sun sunk low in the sky – an orange ball silhouetted the drooping coconut palms. This place has a good feeling about it. It’s kind of sad to be off in the blue mare pacificum now, leaving Fanning behind to become another part of this dream.
I mean, a pod of dolphins followed our boat on the way in, and then from our anchorage on the last night here we watched manta-rays feed in the lagoon, flapping their wings on the water's surface. That’s got to say something about this place.
Every day we were here this paradise was revealed in a new and different light.
The first day ashore we stumbled across an old Frenchman who got shipwrecked near this island 25 years ago. He invited us to visit his house. Nestled among a grove of coconut palms and frangipanis his petite, open-plan home was simply stunning. It is the only western-style home on the island, built by hand it was a 20-year labour of love, now fit for a vogue magazine.
A morning was whittled away listening to his stories of life on the island, married in to a Kiribati lifestyle.
The next day we decided to visit a local school. To get there, the dingy dropped us off at the local wharf and we were instructed to walk 10 or so minutes to arrive at school. An hour and a half of walking later we still hadn’t found our destination.
Feeling exhausted from the beating sun, we stopped on the side of the track and decided it would just be better if we went swimming. So white sand and turquoise waters beckoned. We didn’t find the school that day, but it was just so lovely strolling along this path, through the forest of coconuts, next to the lagoon, chatting and walking along.
The afternoon was spent cycling through sleepy villages in another area of the atoll. It was slow going because everyone who was out and about wanted to chat - people here are so friendly. A few fresh coconuts, an impromptu photo shoot with them, and an evening swim later, and I was one happy camper.
On the last day here we managed to make it to the school. An extensive tour of the complex was finished off with a tradition meal served in a brand new, raised maneaba (meeting house). Prime real estate, the handmade open-air hut housed us for a few hours while the local teachers spun yarns and entertained us with more stories of island life.
That evening, the sun sunk low in the sky – an orange ball silhouetted the drooping coconut palms. This place has a good feeling about it. It’s kind of sad to be off in the blue mare pacificum now, leaving Fanning behind to become another part of this dream.
Friday 24 June 2011
The first twenty-four hours
Let me tell you a little thing about sailing a yacht in the Mare Pacificum. All the preparation, anxiety, anticipation and sea sick pills do nothing. Until you experience the thrill, the heart-pumping adrenalin, the tirednessand the constant motion - all rolled into one big blur of events - for yourself, you've got no idea what's coming.
When we hoisted the sails and set off from Kiritimati Island, I really had no idea what was coming. It's only now, sitting in the safety and shelter of a calm, beautiful lagoon that I can sit in a room that isn't rocking like the inside of a washing machine, and write to you.
We arrived at Fanning Island, Tabuaeran, at about 8am on June 20. We first spotted the idyllic atoll, which is 24 hours sail north-west of Christmas, at about 6am. By then I had been on watch sitting at the helm of the boat for about two hours. That coast was a welcomed site to say the least.
By the time we saw land, we were only sailing at about six knots. Over the course of the 24 hour sail we had lowered the yankee sail, the stay sail, and had put three reefs in the main sail. So, in case you're like me and don't really understand boat terminology - we'd pretty much reduced our speed by half, by lowering the sails and consequently reducing the surface area for wind to catch on and propel us forward. We did this because if we arrived at our destination before sunrise, we'd have to sit around and wait for light before we could navigate across the 100 metre shallow entrance to the inner lagoon.
So.. this meant that my introduction to sailing was really, friken shaky. The less sail area to counter-balance the keel below and the onslaught of waves, the more the boat smashes from side to side in the surf.
Oh. My. Gosh. Aparently the seas were calm! I laugh at the thought. I didn't get seasick (wahoo), but being downstairs in room that's a hot, humid, 30 degrees, and slipping and slopping from side to side is not pleasant. It is going to take a bit of getting used to having the salt and the pepper become missiles in a room where walking to the bathroom requires sturdy thigh muscles and quick reflexes.
I was planning on using my downtime while at sea to type and keep up notes and blogs, but maybe I'm going to have to re-evaluate that plan. They say you get used to living at 20 degrees after a day or so, I sure as hell hope so!
Now, this isn't to say sailing was a horrible experience, just challenging. That feeling of setting off into the horizon, the unknown, is just exhilarating. When we first set sail I was steering the boat for about two or so hours. At some point while I was at the helm, I looked back and couldn't see land - that was the moment I had been waiting for. It lived up to my expectations. It's hard to describe that feeling of being absolutely surrounded by ocean. You are very aware of your own mortality and place in this world.
I felt small, and tiny against the commanding sea, but not scared, not alone. It is in some ways a very empowering feeling to know that it's just you and the ocean, and there's nothing to do but rock with it, roll with it and enjoy the ride as best as possible.
All that blue, and what do you do with yourself? Well, we have watches set up. Our crew of eight is split into two watches of three people, and the skipper and first mate take turns at being in charge. There are five watches in a day. From 6am to midday. Midday to 6pm. 6pm to 10pm. 10pm to 2am and 2am to 6am. When you are on duty, you steer the boat, fill out the logs, watch the conditions on the sea and in the sky, make dinner, do dishes, clean the boat. When you're not on duty, it's best to sleep. Of course, being my first day at sea, it was far too exciting to sleep. Until I realised that was probably the best thing to do if I wanted to keep sane. I'm a slow learner sometimes, I tell you.
Anyway, it started getting rough in the evening and I just remember lying in my bunk as waves crashed over the boat and water trickled in through the hatch and onto my legs which were poking of the side of the bed, thinking "sleep, you can do it, just ignore that feeling that says PANIC!!" The sleep bit didn't really work, it's hard when it feels like you're in the worst thunderstorm you've ever experienced, but I managed to keep the panic levels down.
What can you do, really. So now, I write to you from the comfort of a steady boat. I've just watched the most amazing sunset - the coconuts were silhouetted against the orange sun, the clouds tinged green by the reflection of the palms, and the water painted a majestic, turquoise blue. It's hard to believe I've experienced my first 24 hours as a sailor. It somehow feels like a dream. Mind you, this whole trip does.
We are going to be at Fanning Island for the next few days, so while I'm here in the calm I'm going to take the chance to write up as many notes as I can and hopefully bring you tales of the last week on Christmas Island, and of course more updates about this new little slice of paradise.
Just thinking, if you have any questions about this trip - what I'm doing, who with, why, what's it like, how am I (!?) that kind of thing - feel free to email them to seadragon@gmn-usa.com and I'll try my best to include a response as part of upcoming blogs. Just make sure you put 'for Hannah' in
the subject line.
Ok, I'm tired from the lack of sleep during the past 24 hours, the adrenalin is definitely wearing off. Bed time.
Nite, will write again soon, while I've got the chance. Thanks for reading!
When we hoisted the sails and set off from Kiritimati Island, I really had no idea what was coming. It's only now, sitting in the safety and shelter of a calm, beautiful lagoon that I can sit in a room that isn't rocking like the inside of a washing machine, and write to you.
We arrived at Fanning Island, Tabuaeran, at about 8am on June 20. We first spotted the idyllic atoll, which is 24 hours sail north-west of Christmas, at about 6am. By then I had been on watch sitting at the helm of the boat for about two hours. That coast was a welcomed site to say the least.
By the time we saw land, we were only sailing at about six knots. Over the course of the 24 hour sail we had lowered the yankee sail, the stay sail, and had put three reefs in the main sail. So, in case you're like me and don't really understand boat terminology - we'd pretty much reduced our speed by half, by lowering the sails and consequently reducing the surface area for wind to catch on and propel us forward. We did this because if we arrived at our destination before sunrise, we'd have to sit around and wait for light before we could navigate across the 100 metre shallow entrance to the inner lagoon.
So.. this meant that my introduction to sailing was really, friken shaky. The less sail area to counter-balance the keel below and the onslaught of waves, the more the boat smashes from side to side in the surf.
Oh. My. Gosh. Aparently the seas were calm! I laugh at the thought. I didn't get seasick (wahoo), but being downstairs in room that's a hot, humid, 30 degrees, and slipping and slopping from side to side is not pleasant. It is going to take a bit of getting used to having the salt and the pepper become missiles in a room where walking to the bathroom requires sturdy thigh muscles and quick reflexes.
I was planning on using my downtime while at sea to type and keep up notes and blogs, but maybe I'm going to have to re-evaluate that plan. They say you get used to living at 20 degrees after a day or so, I sure as hell hope so!
Now, this isn't to say sailing was a horrible experience, just challenging. That feeling of setting off into the horizon, the unknown, is just exhilarating. When we first set sail I was steering the boat for about two or so hours. At some point while I was at the helm, I looked back and couldn't see land - that was the moment I had been waiting for. It lived up to my expectations. It's hard to describe that feeling of being absolutely surrounded by ocean. You are very aware of your own mortality and place in this world.
I felt small, and tiny against the commanding sea, but not scared, not alone. It is in some ways a very empowering feeling to know that it's just you and the ocean, and there's nothing to do but rock with it, roll with it and enjoy the ride as best as possible.
All that blue, and what do you do with yourself? Well, we have watches set up. Our crew of eight is split into two watches of three people, and the skipper and first mate take turns at being in charge. There are five watches in a day. From 6am to midday. Midday to 6pm. 6pm to 10pm. 10pm to 2am and 2am to 6am. When you are on duty, you steer the boat, fill out the logs, watch the conditions on the sea and in the sky, make dinner, do dishes, clean the boat. When you're not on duty, it's best to sleep. Of course, being my first day at sea, it was far too exciting to sleep. Until I realised that was probably the best thing to do if I wanted to keep sane. I'm a slow learner sometimes, I tell you.
Anyway, it started getting rough in the evening and I just remember lying in my bunk as waves crashed over the boat and water trickled in through the hatch and onto my legs which were poking of the side of the bed, thinking "sleep, you can do it, just ignore that feeling that says PANIC!!" The sleep bit didn't really work, it's hard when it feels like you're in the worst thunderstorm you've ever experienced, but I managed to keep the panic levels down.
What can you do, really. So now, I write to you from the comfort of a steady boat. I've just watched the most amazing sunset - the coconuts were silhouetted against the orange sun, the clouds tinged green by the reflection of the palms, and the water painted a majestic, turquoise blue. It's hard to believe I've experienced my first 24 hours as a sailor. It somehow feels like a dream. Mind you, this whole trip does.
We are going to be at Fanning Island for the next few days, so while I'm here in the calm I'm going to take the chance to write up as many notes as I can and hopefully bring you tales of the last week on Christmas Island, and of course more updates about this new little slice of paradise.
Just thinking, if you have any questions about this trip - what I'm doing, who with, why, what's it like, how am I (!?) that kind of thing - feel free to email them to seadragon@gmn-usa.com and I'll try my best to include a response as part of upcoming blogs. Just make sure you put 'for Hannah' in
the subject line.
Ok, I'm tired from the lack of sleep during the past 24 hours, the adrenalin is definitely wearing off. Bed time.
Nite, will write again soon, while I've got the chance. Thanks for reading!
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