Adventurers' Club Publications

SOUTH PACIFIC LANDFALL by Ed Boden, #659

There are some experiences one never forgets. Like my first South Pacific landfall. Even after almost thirty years the thrill is easy for me to recall. ¨

There wasn't much wind when I sailed from Tagus Cove at Isabella Island in the Galapagos in late November '66 and the going was slow for the first few days until the trade winds filled in. A steady force 5 (17 to 21 knots) trade enabled Kittiwake to make several noon-to-noon runs in excess of 150 miles -- excellent going for a boat with a waterline length of only 22'. The weather was ideal and the sailing glorious, once the trade winds were established, and it was one of those passages I hated to see come to an end were it not for the destination.

The daily noon celestial fixes had been marching across the chart toward the Marquesas Islands and a round of star sights one morning confirmed that landfall should be sometime before sunset. The horizon was somewhat vague and misty, as it is when the trades are blowing strong and steady, and even a high island wasn't likely to show up without some backlight from the sun.

"Aha! There it is!" Pause. "Well, no. Guess it's another cloud after all." Mistaking a cloud for land on an indistinct horizon is common with ocean passage sailors and is really part of the fun of making a landfall. Rather than a disappointment, the common mistake just further heightens the anticipation.

As the afternoon wore on and the sun worked its way toward the horizon, the visibility improved and, finally........

"Land ho! Ho, ho, ho!" There was Nuku Hiva just fine on the port bow right where it was supposed to turn up. Good island. Good boat. Good show!

Kittiwake hurried along on Cloud 9 while Nuku Hiva revealed more of its rugged profile. Toward sunset, the sky and clouds obligingly turned red behind the island and, to complete the real-time masterpiece, a full moon rose through the clouds astern. Still photography, a motion picture or even a painting could never capture the pure magic of that spell while it lasted. Only a memory, while it still works, can recapture those moments.

With a full moon the island was reasonably visible so there wasn't much danger of running it down but finding the anchorage in the dark in the large bay of Taio Hae involved a certain amount of guesswork. Tourism's tentacles hadn't found their way into the Marquesas Islands yet in December of 1966 and there were no hotels and few lights ashore then. I sailed past Taipi Vai valley (Herman Melville's "Typee") and turned into the next large bay which opened up very indistinctly to starboard. There were a couple of faint lights in the distance so it should have been (and was) Taio Hae.

Although I was sailing slowly and watching carefully, I was surprised by a pair of canoes with fishermen who paddled silently close aboard and made me welcome to their island in their native tongue. I had arrived in the fabled South Pacific!