Girl meets boy on a beach in Costa Rica. Boy invites girl to dinner, aboard his yacht to enjoy fresh fish caught by his bare hands, in fact, it was a shark, wrestled to the shore saving all the local swimmers from a feisty attack!!  Less than 12 months later, girl leaves "normal" life on land, to set sail with boy. For an intrepid adventure, fighting fearsome waves and terrifying weather to discover the luxurious beaches of the South Pacific Islands.  Follow the journey of Barraveigh exclusively in the Escape Artist Travel Magazine. – Editor

It was hard earned. You already know of our challenges. Blue Moon had to hand steer the whole way, Helen Kate broke their boom, Sean's elbow on Aquantique swelled to the size of a softball after having it bent all the way back during an accidental gybe, and the Norwegians on Sailabout abandoned ship after losing their headstay and their anchor punching a hole in their yacht. They stepped off their home onto a merchant ship bound for Brazil. The saddest part of the story is that their boat was seen still sailing 5 days later. They never should have quit.

Suzi and I nearly quit. Those last 5 days of cabin fever strained our relationship, almost to the breaking point. If you ever want to test your ability to practice harmony and restraint, go to sea for 3 weeks with another human. Can you imagine being confined to 200 sq feet of living space with one other person, and no one gets to leave for 23 days? I once traveled from a Danish island to a Greek island non-stop. It was 5 days of trains, ships and buses. I didn't sleep on anything stationary for 5 nights. I thought that was a big deal. This passage was punishment sustained. It was as if we were living full time, in one of those inflatable houses that children jump in at carnivals (minus the padding and kiddy germs). The constant sensation of motion is exhausting. Your muscles have to flex while asleep just to keep you in the bunk. There is no respite from the yawing and pitching and rolling. We both just wanted "stationary".  We literally dreamed of a flat, stable surface to live on. One takes that for granted when residing on land.  "You'll have 15 knots the whole way." "You won't ever have to adjust a sail." "Smooth sailing on perfect seas." "It's the coconut milk run." Ha! If you ever plan to sail this stretch, be armed with the truth. Also know that it was worth it. The water is perfectly clear (100 feet of visibility), pleasantly warm, and filled with gorgeous fish. The cliffs soar 3000 feet over the anchorage with nothing but multiple hues of green and the stark black of the volcanic plugs. These islands are so tall they seem to reach up and snag the clouds in order to create a little more drama for the photos. The towering volcanic columns are incredibly impressive, while also being a giant hindrance to my communication. I can't seem to transmit on the HF radio from behind their looming slabs, so in order to send this article to my editor; I had to go back to sea. There's no wifi, or internet cafés, hence - no pictures to accompany these words. I can only feebly try to relay the geologic drama that has unfolded before me. These islands were volcanically formed and then eroded by the elements. Life has a profound footing and everywhere one looks, one sees flora bursting from the shale and black basalt. The jagged shoulders that reach down from the peaks to form verdant valleys, look like broken knife blades painted Kelly green. I try never to miss a sunset while swaying in the hammock on the foredeck. I often catch the sunrise too. I just can't drink in enough of this beauty. There is nothing upwind from us for 3000+ miles and nothing here to foul the air. I think these might be the cleanest breathes I've ever taken. You are allowed to bring in enough liquor to satisfy your own needs, whatever that means. Every blue water sailor drinks too much anyway, and we've all be told that booze is the ultimate trading item in Polynesia due to it's lack of availability and outrageous cost, so all sailboats are loaded with spirits. Barraveigh is no exception. I have 15 cases of beer, 20 liters of wine and 30 liters of assorted booze. I declared about half of it. The 2 customs men who boarded my boat never found it. Trust me - there are a million hiding spots on a yacht and no one gets paid enough to probe around filthy laundry, old onions, or wet anchor lockers. In island terms, I'm rich. The locals always want to trade. Rum costs $30 a bottle here and it has to be shipped in on the weekly boat. I paid $3 in Panama. I'm glad I stocked up. That's not the only thing they will trade for. If they take a fancy to something, they'll swap. One sailor literally exchanged a paper clip for 3 bags of fruit, another, a whistle. I almost swapped a nearly useless garlic press for a pearl. Then she tried the garlic press. I don't speak French, and Marquesan is completely alien to me. Consequently - the communication gap is huge. No matter, these people's smiles are as broad as their shoulders, and they're skilled at pantomime.  When going to shore, I find that all the kids ask for bonbons and all the adults ask for whiskey. I think they're conditioned to relate white people with handouts, seeing as how the French take pretty good care of them. With children, you're foolish to pay them before they deliver. Once they have the bonbons they will never "take out the trash", or "mow the yard", or in this case; bring the bananas, bread or pamplemousse (like grapefruit, only sweeter and juicier). When I was a kid, I did the same thing. I tracked 40 year old Jean for 2 days. I needed him to live up to his end of the bargain. He finally did, when the rum was all gone and the hangover had worn off. He even gave me extra as a consolation.

Captain and Crew British and Proud Long live the tortoise Message for  home - Missing You For more photos taken on the journey visit www.suziroberts.co.uk

Captain Cook was here in 1769, and his men must have been terrified by how these natives appeared with their tattooed faces and huge powerful bodies. I have a tattoo on my right ankle that says "USA" in red, white, and blue. Before I was a dirty sailor, I took a turn as a filthy biker, and one summer, at the tender age of 19, I drove a motorcycle around the States with my friend Mark. I guess the similarities between sailing and cycling are readily there; the sense of freedom, the wind in your hair, etc. The tattoo seemed like the right thing to do, and here I am in the place where it all began. However, these engravings are monochromatic with highly stylized tiki-like designs. On an island of only 2,500 people I've already seen a few with face tattoos. Think; Mike Tyson, but with more ink, and on bigger men. 

These people are behemoths. The first characteristic you notice are their feet (since everyone is barefoot). They are utterly huge. Like Hobbits, but with bodies to match. Then you notice the calves (30 lbs), and so on, up to the shoulders. You could put an oxen yoke on these men and it would fit. Most of the women look the same. They smile all the time and are so eager to converse, I hope they never see a Western fashion magazine. 

I've anchored in some of the same bays as Captain Cook's Endeavour did (I wish I had a metal detector). I tried to imagine what it must have been like for Cook and his sailors to discover this place. It's still astounding 200+ years later. These islands are so very inaccessible, that they remain unspoiled. In fact, there are hundreds of thousands LESS people now, due to the diseases that the European explorers brought. The population still hasn't recovered more than 2 centuries later. You can't say that about the rest of French Polynesia. It makes hiking a ghostly experience when one discovers an entire city that's been left crumbling. So in a distorted way, the Marquesas Islands are even more untouched by man now, than they were.

At one anchorage on the island of Nuku Hiva, I jumped off the boat and paddled into the line up. It was every surf enabled cruiser's dream. The swell comes into this bay and breaks right on the rocks. However, there is a secondary wave that's formed when the big stuff bounces off the jetty. This wave runs perpendicular to the beach so when you take the left you are actually going away from the beach, back into the bay. First time I've ever seen that, and probably a contributing factor for what happened next. I broke another surfboard. I snapped it right in half. I gave it to some kid who didn't have one. I was strangely philosophical about it. Boards are born to break, and besides, I'm only here to create stories. If some kid thinks he just won the lotto because of my bad luck, then I can ride that karma boost for the rest of the day. Besides, at dusk his family drove him out in a boat and they gave me a huge potato sack full of pamplemousse, and a stalk of bananas as an extra bonus. These people are inherently kind. They take care of their appearance and property (rarely do I see litter), and the flowers in their hair are very charming. Drunks on the street or loud aggressive teenagers - I've never seen even one. Anyone would be happy to have them as neighbors. Of course, they love vowels. Just look at the names of their islands: Fatu Hiva, Tahuata, Nuku Hiva  & my favorite, Oa Pou. Then there are the unpronounceable: Taioa, Meituua, Vaiehu, and of course; Taaoa. It sounds like Navajo, with the endless glottal stops. Smiles disarm, I've taken good care of my teeth and I'll get by just fine, even if I can't understand or be understood. The mission is to earn serenity through adventure, so with that in mind, we'll be anchoring at the next island in only a few hours. I can't wait! 

P.S. The finger healed on its own. Crooked and weak, it gets in the way of typing and knot tying. The doctor told me that I needed to have x-rays and a specialist look it over. Odds are I'll need surgery, which means it will need to stay immobile for 6 weeks. I think I'll leave it until I get to Australia, where I plan to wait out the cyclone season. Let's hope I can get by with this goofy paw until then.

- Captain Bob -

This website will keep track of our journey.  Please feel free to contact us, we enjoy the feedback. Click Here to Contact Bob Friedman and the Crew of Yacht Barraveigh