So much for a clean wake

Clean Wake: A concept amongst cruising sailors that stresses the impact that individual behaviour has on the group.  Bad actions will reflect upon those who follow and potentially poison perceptions for generations.

Photo Credit: Damien Privé, SV Manwë
Maple at Anchor - Bocas Del Toro

20 years ago, being an unemployed recent graduate searching for a purpose, I read a book that changed my life.  Jon Krakauer’s “Into Thin Air” is the story of a man’s battle with Mount Everest during the deadliest year the mountain has seen.  It is a story of adventure, loss, and overcoming challenges.  After reading it, it inspired me to find an epic adventure of my own, something that challenged me and opened me up to a life lived to its fullest.  And so, I read other adventure memoirs landing solidly amongst the published works of circumnavigating sailors like Lyn & Larry Pardey and Liza Copeland.  Their books opened up a world of far off South Pacific Islands where visitors were rare and local customs still prevailed.  Their ethos was to embrace the differences between us all and adapt to their surroundings.  Their sensitivity was such that they never failed to remind their reader that sailors, as visitors, must respect local customs and law even when it seems strange and always leave a clean wake.
 
Fast forward 20 years.  By the time we embarked upon Maple and our world cruise, the number of sailboats traversing the globe had grown into the tens of thousands.  What had been a small community of voyagers seeking a simple life different from that which they could find at home had become an annual migration of sailors transplanting their western lifestyle to their floating homes. 

A growing community of sailors has also led to an increase in the numbers of those who apparently feel that rules do not apply to them.  Across the globe we have met sailors who think nothing of failing to clear into a country, anchoring where there are restrictions, picking fruit from trees that don’t appear to belong to anyone, going ashore on private land or leaving recycling/garbage in the wrong areas.

In the time of Covid-19 and increased restrictions on activities and movement, the flaunting of rules has become even more clear.  As we sit in French Polynesia, waiting for borders to open I see daily Facebook posts from misinformed, entitled, or deliberately obtuse sailors that offend the concept of leaving a clean wake.  Comments like “we’re the only tourists they have, they should be grateful…” and “it is the law of the sea, they need to provide safe anchorage for sailors…”  and “we know the borders are closed, but we heard that a boat was checked in so we’re leaving today bound for French Polynesia…”  It seems as though the levels of entitlement and lack of respect for local laws are reaching an all-time high and its little wonder that locals in nations along the traditional cruising route are tired of hosting us and unwelcoming.
But then I am reminded that for every self-absorbed soul who sets sail - even though 95% of national borders are closed and the island nations they are bound for are the least well equipped to deal with a pandemic – there are dozens of kind souls who remember the concept of leaving a clean wake and implore the selfish among us to stay put, wait for borders to open and respect local restrictions.

As a world traveler, there are some things that have become increasingly clear to me in the last 5 years.  Technology is making the world smaller, people are more alike than they are different, most of us are good, considerate and decent, but above all, those of us who travel are visitors in the lands we venture to, and as visitors are tolerated and even welcomed, but we simply must respect the local customs and rules or those who follow will bear the consequences.  Covid-19 has shown that borders can be closed easily.  If we want them to be open to us as travelers, we need to demonstrate we are worthy of their hospitality.

An Uncertain Future

Sun sets on locked down French Polynesia.

On March 16 the government of French Polynesia first announced they were stopping travel between islands.  When the news broke, we had been bouncing about between the nearly 100 islands of the various island groups for nearly 10 months.  Anchored in the beautiful lagoon surrounding Raiatea and Tahaa, we were making our plans to head further west to Tonga, Fiji, and Vanuatu once the cyclone season wound down in April.  All those plans ended as nations around the globe rapidly began closing both internal and external borders, canceling flights, and implementing various levels of domestic confinement or "social distancing" to avoid being overwhelmed by the rapidly spreading COVID-19 virus.

By March 21, French Polynesia ordered all citizens and visiting nationals into full confinement.  All non-essential stores were shuttered, schools closed, gatherings of people forbidden and individuals required to carry ID and special “Attestation” forms declaring which of 5 approved reasons they had for being out in public.  In addition, cruisers were told they must remain in their anchorages for the period of the confinement, and all marine activity, including swimming, was forbidden.

On March 27 the government announced a curfew between 8:00PM and 5:00AM which was expected to remain in place for the duration of confinement.

All of this has been repeated ad nauseam in nations around the globe, and cruisers in every port from the Mediterranean to Panama, New Zealand to Malaysia and the Maldives to South Africa face the same general restrictions and daunting future.

 
Cruising sailors are no strangers to danger or uncertainty.  Those of us who travel with our homes and most of our worldly possessions must navigate weather, long ocean passages, and language barriers at the best of times.  What now face us are very few open borders, distrust and fear of foreigners and limited prospects for further travel and discovery.  Just 6 weeks ago, most nations of the globe were accessible and welcoming to sailors.  Now, stories of cruisers refused entry at ports, forced to continue sailing or leave their home and fly back to any country which they have passports for are abundant.

For many of us on the ocean, home is an impossible distance away.  Faced with waiting for borders to open again (a decidedly uncertain prospect) or a passage that could span 1/2 the globe in a single leap the future for many of us is murky at best.

For our family on Maple, the situation is similarly uncertain.  Our choices right now seem deceptively simple, but on further consideration become much more complicated.

1. We can remain in French Polynesia and wait to see if borders re-open.  We are in French Polynesia on a long-stay visa.  Our visas expire May 20 and we had planned to be underway for Tonga long before they ran out.  We have applied for an extension to our visas which were granted and we could conceivably continue to extend for another 2 years, giving us lots of time to see if/when the Pacific will open up,
2. We can set sail west using a route that takes advantage of countries that still have borders open to voyaging sailors.  This was the plan up until late March. Unfortunately, as of today only American Samoa and Papua New Guinea are allowing entry for sailboats.  American Samoa is a great option but is only 700 miles further west, still within the cyclone zone, and only offers a 3-month visa meaning we'd have to be looking for the next welcoming nation to continue our march West by July or so and I just don't know if anywhere else will be open by then.
3. We can leave Maple in French Polynesia and try to get a flight home.  This is not an option.  Maple is our home, we have no other and I cannot imagine leaving her in French Polynesia for an undetermined amount of time.  It could be 12-18 months before borders re-open, possibly longer, and by the time we can return to Maple we may not have a bank account that will support further sailing.
4. We can sail back to the west coast of Canada.  This option is intriguing.  We can manage the trip one of two ways.  The first would see us head North to Hawaii, then onward to Vancouver.  This passage is certainly do-able, depending on seasons and is only 5000 miles total.  Many cruising sailors follow this route to return to the USA or visit Alaska.  Typically yachts will sail to Hawaii in April/May and on to Vancouver in July.  The second option is to work our way West, possibly via American Samoa, and then North to Japan.  This could involve a stop in the Marshall Islands and/or Micronesia (if they open their borders) and may include a stop in Guam (currently open to boaters).  This is a more challenging route, covering nearly 7000 miles to Japan and then another 4300 to Vancouver, a total of over 11000 miles.  It will also mean avoiding typhoon season in Japan and Cyclone season in the South Pacific while bouncing between countries that don't want or need visitors.  Typically yachts will sail North to the equator before November and plan to head to Japan after March.  Sailing to Vancouver is best accomplished in June/July.

As Janet posted the other day, we are leaning heavily towards option 4.  Sailing back to Canada seems the best choice in these uncertain times.  There is simply no way of knowing how long travel restrictions will last, and even if commercial travel starts again soon yacht travel may be far behind.  In a future where vaccines are required, quarantines likely and foreigners suspect we can't help but feel that the comfortable embrace of our home and native land will be a welcome change.  It will also allow us to refresh our bank accounts and reconnect with old friends.  Bringing Maple along gives the added bonus of a floating home and escape pod for when the travel itch hits us again.