It’s been seven days since I published my last post. One week. And we all know how the world has transformed in that agonizingly long week. Here’s an image of what that week has looked like for us, a bitter sundae with scoops of anxiety, stress, and fatigue, topped with dissolving dreams, a sprinkle of hope, and a rotten egg on top.
I moved up our flights out of Mexico out of concern that the Mexican and French Polynesian borders would close, hoping that we could make it to the Marquesas to meet up with Tom to quarantine ourselves together, or at least to be in the same country. Obviously, I was too late. Since I had had no luck getting through to United Airlines in the days prior, I decided that once I had landed in San Diego, I would go to the United desk and make the change. Of course, the world had other plans. As we taxied to the gate, I turned on my phone to be met with news that French Polynesia had closed its borders.
The next few days was a flurry of research and emails, tears and chest-tightening anxiety. My parents, kids, and I headed north to Washington (no point in hanging out in Southern California when there was no end in sight for our waiting time). Barreling up I-5 in a loud, shaking RV and forcing back bouts of carsickness, I tried to find out what the news meant for arriving boats and their crews on board. I sent multiple emails a day and dug through Facebook groups of people looking for good information about what was happening. But things changed by the hour, certainly by the day, and the information I fed the guys a week ago is completely different today (when I write my book, I’ll try to get the daily/hourly details in there because it is shocking and, eventually, I hope, laughable). If it had only been our family together on board, it may have been a simpler problem to solve. Or not. But the problems are different with crew on board.
Challenge 1: Getting Brian home. Tom needed to get Brian to French Polynesia for his April 2nd flight. They’re less than 24 hours out from landfall, so he’s done that…. except that all flights from the Marquesas stopped on Sunday, and the last international flight out of Tahiti leaves today. There is a “refugee” flight leaving Tahiti on Saturday, so the goal now is to work with our agent and with French Polynesia’s repatriation service to get Brian on that flight. There is no guarantee – in fact, it’s probably unlikely because Tahiti is 900 miles away from the Marquesas – but at least we have a sprinkle of hope.
Challenge 2: Getting Roberto into Hawaii. Everybody was telling boats to divert to Hawaii, and many did. But the decision was not so easy for Korvessa. Roberto has a Danish passport, and while Denmark is a visa-waiver country, that does not apply to people arriving on boats of any sort; he would need a B1-B2 visa. After five calls to various Customs and Border Patrol agents, I learned that it might be possible for him to apply for a one-time waiver when he entered, but with the information inconsistent, and the consequence of getting it wrong being deportation and a “black mark” on his passport, it was too high a risk to take.
And so the boys continued to French Polynesia, with the only major change being that they will arrive tomorrow in Nuku Hiva instead of in Hiva Oa. Nuku Hiva is a larger town with more resources, including food, fuel, and internet. It’s also, on the plus side, reportedly one of the most beautiful anchorages in the Marquesas. They will have been at sea for 22 days. They are tired. They are sweaty. They ate the last of their fresh food yesterday. And to top it all off, there is a rotten egg somewhere in the pantry.
I don’t know what the guys will encounter when they arrive. They may have to do a 14-day quarantine. They may only be given a few days to stay. They may be welcomed and helped. They may be met with closed arms and grudges. I don’t know. The world is so full of unknowns right now.
One of those unknowns is what to do with the rest of our sailing trip. The only known is that it will not look the way we had expected it to look. Tom and I swap sailmail emails and satellite texts of 160 characters trying to process the information and the decisions ahead. Do the kids and I fly out in six weeks’ times and make our way through the only countries remaining open during this time, trusting that eventually New Zealand and Australia will open their borders? Do we hunker down and avoid going ashore in order to minimize contact and reduce pressure on already stressed resources and populations? With travel by plane being an unknown, do we go to American Samoa so Tom can work for a while? And, if so, what about Demon the cat, who, as far as I can tell, is not allowed there without a quarantine. But at this point, we would all be required to quarantine, so maybe that’s a moot point. You may read this and think, of course not! But know that it can take time to come to terms with disappointment. Dreams don’t dissolve in a poof, but in a slow drip as they melt into the icy anxiety and sadness pooling in our hearts.
Do we leave the boat in Tahiti or Hawaii, and come back to finish the trip when we can? Probably not. Our boat would be too far away and too hard to get to, and a ten month break would be a really awkward and uncomfortable time frame, the kids just getting used to being home when we would whisk them away again. We already did that after four months here last summer.
Should we bring the boat home to Anacortes? Maybe. And there are some strong economic arguments for this. It would require a passage to Hawaii, then a passage around the North Pacific High back to the Pacific Northwest, which we can manage. We don’t feel quite ready for being back, though. An intermediary idea is to sail the boat up to Alaska, have the kids join us, and spend the summer sailing it back down the inside passage. It’s remote, not many people. Appropriate, maybe, for weathering a pandemic. An intriguing idea, but still hard to wrap our heads around when we were preparing ourselves for the tropics.
But as those dreams dissolve and swirl into the anxiety and sadness below, so they become something new. Not the same sweet sundae we had planned to delve into, but maybe more of a milkshake. Lactose-free, hopefully, and maybe with something sweet on top – maybe not a cherry, but at least not a rotten egg. As we figure out what to do next, the adventure isn’t stopping; it’s just changing its form.
I’m so sorry that we didn’t get a chance to visit in LA. I’m really glad that you made it back to Anacortes! We live in a very different time.
Thanks, Diane. I’m also sorry we didn’t get a chance to sit down together over a meal and talk while we were in LA. What huge changes we’re experiencing. By the way, I’m doing the best I can to keep my mom from going out. I’ve even proven to her that grocery delivery is not going to substitute regular milk for lactose free milk. 🙂
Hugggsss we will all be stronger, wiser, and adventurous.
Stoffel’s
Thanks, James! Back at you.
Sandi, I’m so sorry for the stress and disappointments. You do a beautiful job of telling the story and the book will be fascinating. I’ve been thinking about you all and am thankful to hear you’re all safe. Hang tough this is s fascinating time for all of us.
Thanks, Lynn. It has definitely been hard, but we’re taking it as it comes and willing to be flexible. I’ll write you an email shortly. I hope you’re staying healthy!
Welcome back! I wish your husband was in the photo too!
Prayers for him and his crew members.
Our son and his family were in Laos and thankfully were able to get back to the U.S. to his wife’s home in New Hampshire where they are quarantined.
Thanks, Kathie. I am so glad to hear that your son and his family made it back to the States safely. I hope they (and you!) stay safe and healthy.
Ooooofta! Sandi–You’ve left more frayed threads spinnin’ in the breeze than anyone can count. Your adventure is becoming a tapestry of disconnected patchwork pieces. I think we were all prepared for a tied-off thread here, a clipped edge there, new thread colors, maybe even an unanticipated image or two. But, really, who among us could have imagined THIS!!!???? Visas that could time-out, passports, closed countries, closed ports, canceled flights, and a rotten egg in the galley!
Now you’ve got us all on tenterhooks! You must post just to let us know where everyone is!!! No pressure, however. Just a quick overview by mid-April, please.
At least you are safe with your mom and dad! WHEW! But, you’re in a hot spot (my daughter is in Bellingham, WA, and I’ve been trying to keep up with her–so far, so good). Of course, your folks will help you shelter-in-place and keep an eye on everyone so you stay healthy.
I did take a look at some images of the Marquesas! OMG! Those islands look like paradise to me!!! Under the present circumstances, however, it’s hard to imagine anyone in your crew will truly able to enjoy the obvious luxury of tropical living.
Your adventure is turning into an odyssey!
Hi Vicki. Indeed, it’s an odyssey! Complete with attempting to get home to reunite a family now. Sorry for the frayed endings on this one. Still don’t know how they’re all going to tie together, but they’re slowly weaving their way together. I’ll write more soon when I have a bit more information. At least news isn’t changing hourly or daily now, though I am thinking of my friends in Mexico who are now going through the same ordeal now that Mexico has finally started to clamp down. It’s so hard to follow and make decisions when you don’t know what information is current, accurate, or bound to change in 12 hours. Yes, apparently the Marquesas are beautiful. I imagine we’ll make an attempt to get back there someday. But we have a few other bridges to cross first.
So many people lost, knowing not what to do. I’m sorry this has to be your final stop, but it sounds like you are safe. Hopefully, you will stay that way, though no one feels secure these days, even if we are comfortable in our homes. It’s a time like no other. I pray for you and yours. Love, Dorothy
Thanks, Dorothy. It has certainly been a difficult time, but we are weathering it the best we can, as is everybody. Please stay safe and healthy. Sandi
You summed it up really well, Sandi. Thanks for this and for all your support throughout the trip.
It’s no problem, Roberto! We are so happy you were able to be on the passage!
My name is Marcus. Brian helped me sail my boat from Mexico to Hawaii in 2014. He is one of my favorite humans.
Don’t know how I can help but if you need a hand with something maybe I can be of assistance. My exwife speaks French and maybe that can be of assistance.
I have Brian’s wife phone number as well but I’m sure you have that info.
Please let me know if you need something.
Sorry about your plans…your head seems to be in the right place though. Sailing plans are written in the sand at low tide.
Best,
Marcus
Thanks so much, Marcus. Yes, Brian was fantastic to have aboard. Tom was happy to have him there for his company and his expertise. I got to chat with Brian briefly today as he had to drop a couple things off for me (keeping our distance outside of course), and he said it was really a great experience. Thanks for your offer of help. Luckily, the other crew member Roberto speaks French, so he was able to help with some of the communications and paperwork, but there is also a yacht agent on Nuku Hiva who has been very helpful in navigating the requirements and support for cruisers. All the best, and thanks for following! Sandi
Sandi,
You and the boys have been in our thoughts for the past couple of weeks — as has Tom, whose adventure continues with so much uncertainty. Serafin and I in our isolation are practicing patience and immobilty; you and your family are getting a crash course in courage, flexibility, and resilience. For instance, I can imagine that Tom’s particular set of skills and experience will be in high demand as this pandemic plays out; some hard choices await.
Meanwhile, if you run into my brother-in-law, extend our greetings — also to his wife and grandsons. Stay healthy, sane, and brave.
Mike
Hi Uncle Mike. Yes, Tom’s skills could become useful, and he has already thrown them into the pot of available skills that the cruisers in the Nuku Hiva anchorage can offer. I don’t know if they’ll be needed, but at least someone can ask if need be. As far as courage, resilience, and flexibility, we are certainly learning all of those. I guess everybody is these days, just in different ways. Stay safe and healthy! Hugs to you and Serafin.