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we have been in the Marquesas for three weeks, and have explored Hiva Oa, Tahuata, Fatu Hiva, and now Nuku Hiva. We have not given up entirely on this blog, but must admit it is way more productive to post updates on our track (see the link on the “contacts” page) which I can do easily from the boat using the internet connection we have for weather maps. You will see that it took me until day #14 of our crossing from the Galapagos to figure out how to do that! When we are near cell towers, my google fi phone lets us update Instagram with photos and do email etc. We are thrilled to have so many of you along with us for the ride!    this is what our potatoes looked like when we forgot to check on them every day.  one morning halfway between the Galapagos and the marquesas I splatting noise in the cockpit got my attention. At first I thought one of our bananas had exploded ( that actually happened a few times) but on closer inspection I saw it was a squid. On my way to get a rag to clean it up I glanced at the windward deck and saw masses of squid, all squirting jet black ink all over the place. Regrettably I did not think to take a photo until we had cleaned 40 of them - here they are right before we cooked them in olive oil and garlic. We had them for dinner and lunch,
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April 24, 2019
Dear Friends: Last week the stalwart crew of the CHANTICLEER passed our 5-month and 5,000 mile mark since leaving Portsmouth/Kittery. We had hoped to be good correspondents, but our blog has turned into a bust, at least for a while. The Weebly program requires a muscular WiFi signal to upload text and pictures, and we just haven’t had one of those since the French West Indies! So we feel negligent, but what can we (non-geeks) do….. In this place, Sea Lions on park benches are more common than good WiFi. We are trying this mass email as a substitute for the blog. We may be able to upload the text to our blog, if WiFi allows. If not, you’ll just have to imagine all the cool photos of amazing places. We are still anchored in the Galapagos. Have been to four separate islands so far, for a total of about three weeks. These enchanting islands are biologically and geologically stunning. We have been hiking across lava fields, perching on the rim of one of the largest volcanic caldera’s in the world, seeing new birds at an amazing clip, and marveling at the abundance of fish, rays, sea turtles, giant tortoises, sea lions and other creatures. As my colleague Andy Rosenberg once said, “if you don’t kill them, they have more babies.” Yup. I simply have not seen such abundance in any other marine system. The day we made landfall here, nine days out from Panama, we sailed through what seemed like dozens of huge Pacific Green Sea Turtles. Wow! Later we snorkeled in the midst of sea turtles that seemed as large as VW bugs, well, almost. I went SCUBA diving last week for the first time in 35 years. My left ear still hurts, but I saw more sharks at once than ever before, plus moray eels, and wonderful fish. The boat has been great so far, meaning no major mechanical or rigging problems. Thanks to KPYY and Valiant Yachts. And, honestly, thanks to Hurricane Irma. She whacked us, but that made us really overhaul the boat in a thorough way as one should for a voyage like this. I replaced the steering cables in Panama, the last major piece of our huge long refit. In general systems are working. There has just been the on-going maintenance one expects. For those who have been following our blog, we last updated it just prior to transiting the Panama Canal. Yikes: that was a long time ago! In a nutshell: Locking through the Panama Canal was a dream come true for both of us. We had been reading about it for decades, and now we were doing it. We left the anchorage at dusk with our Advisor, or Pilot. That means our first approach to locks and locking through at Gatun was all in the dark – extra exciting. We were rafted with two other yachts, an Australian trimaran and a big catamaran from Colorado, squeezed in behind a huge cargo ship that had only 24 inches of clearance on each side! As the locks fill, the water roars in and there is quite a surge. But all lines held. We moored that night in the big Gatun Lake, through which most of the canal runs, and then descended to the Pacific late the next afternoon. 42 miles all told. The locks were exciting; the lake serene. Each yacht needs 4 Line Handlers, plus skipper, so we had a German dentist named Hans, and a husband & wife off a British boat, Philip and Claudia, in addition to Molly, as our line handlers. I had served as a line handler for Hans earlier in the week. Having “company” made it pretty social. And Philip was very impressed that Molly served bacon and homemade cornbread for breakfast on Day 2. We sat in Panama City longer than we had planned, anchored out at La Playita. Our Raymarine Wind Instrument was balky. We were selling our house in Portsmouth. And a million other things kept delaying us. (Arranging for the paperwork necessary to sell the house to be notarized in Panama was a challenge in its own right! We speak no Spanish, and the Latin Americans love rules and regulations. But after a few days and much frustration, we pulled it off.) The passage from Panama to San Cristobal, Galapagos was a marvelous introduction to the Pacific. We had fair winds, but never too much or too little until the last 14 hours, when the breeze petered out, and then came ahead. So we motored the last half day, including Crossing the Equator at 0140 one morning. We delayed the ceremony until the next day, appeasing Neptune with a tot of champagne. We are Shellbacks now. Sometime I will write more details about what a trip like this entails – the noises, the bumps, the bruises, the rush of the sea and wind as the boat careens down a big sea, the serenity of a sunset drink in a quiet anchorage, the concerns when a crucial system seems to falter, the sublimity of the sea and the stars on long night watches with no moon, the consoling presence of the moon at other times of the month, the satisfaction in tucking a reef in the mainsail as the wind builds, and knowing once again that the boat will take care of us. It’s not an easy life. Challenges abound. So o do satisfactions. So we will keep sailing west. We intend to leave for the Marquesas, in French Polynesia, within the week. That will be a long boat ride, close to 3,500 miles without a speck of land between here and there, probably 3-4 weeks, depending on what weather we encounter. That distance is so great that motoring to cover any real miles is impossible. Our 150 gallons of fuel would be a joke! So we will keep our weather eyes peeled, and hope that we don’t have too many squalls. There are rarely or never gales here near the Equator, but squalls can be threatening and exasperating. On a long passage like that, of course, you take what you get. Molly baked a cake yesterday, and threw a modest party (for us) to mark the occasion of me officially becoming an Old Geezer. 65 years ago my Mother forced me out into the world. It’s been quite a ride, and I have been lucky enough to do essentially what I wanted to do: sail boats and ships, write books, lay down miles on my bike, have healthy great kids, and share it all with my wonderful wife. Wonder what the next 65 years will bring. Thanks to all who have been following Molly’s Instagram posts. We do appreciate being “in touch” with old friends, even in that passing fashion. We miss you all. Best, Jeff & Molly Dear Friends: Last week the stalwart crew of the CHANTICLEER passed our 5-month and 5,000 mile mark since leaving Portsmouth/Kittery. We had hoped to be good correspondents, but our blog has turned into a bust, at least for a while. The Weebly program requires a muscular WiFi signal to upload text and pictures, and we just haven’t had one of those since the French West Indies! So we feel negligent, but what can we (non-geeks) do….. In this place, Sea Lions on park benches are more common than good WiFi. We are trying this mass email as a substitute for the blog. We may be able to upload the text to our blog, if WiFi allows. If not, you’ll just have to imagine all the cool photos of amazing places. We are still anchored in the Galapagos. Have been to four separate islands so far, for a total of about three weeks. These enchanting islands are biologically and geologically stunning. We have been hiking across lava fields, perching on the rim of one of the largest volcanic caldera’s in the world, seeing new birds at an amazing clip, and marveling at the abundance of fish, rays, sea turtles, giant tortoises, sea lions and other creatures. As my colleague Andy Rosenberg once said, “if you don’t kill them, they have more babies.” Yup. I simply have not seen such abundance in any other marine system. The day we made landfall here, nine days out from Panama, we sailed through what seemed like dozens of huge Pacific Green Sea Turtles. Wow! Later we snorkeled in the midst of sea turtles that seemed as large as VW bugs, well, almost. I went SCUBA diving last week for the first time in 35 years. My left ear still hurts, but I saw more sharks at once than ever before, plus moray eels, and wonderful fish. The boat has been great so far, meaning no major mechanical or rigging problems. Thanks to KPYY and Valiant Yachts. And, honestly, thanks to Hurricane Irma. She whacked us, but that made us really overhaul the boat in a thorough way as one should for a voyage like this. I replaced the steering cables in Panama, the last major piece of our huge long refit. In general systems are working. There has just been the on-going maintenance one expects. For those who have been following our blog, we last updated it just prior to transiting the Panama Canal. Yikes: that was a long time ago! In a nutshell: Locking through the Panama Canal was a dream come true for both of us. We had been reading about it for decades, and now we were doing it. We left the anchorage at dusk with our Advisor, or Pilot. That means our first approach to locks and locking through at Gatun was all in the dark – extra exciting. We were rafted with two other yachts, an Australian trimaran and a big catamaran from Colorado, squeezed in behind a huge cargo ship that had only 24 inches of clearance on each side! As the locks fill, the water roars in and there is quite a surge. But all lines held. We moored that night in the big Gatun Lake, through which most of the canal runs, and then descended to the Pacific late the next afternoon. 42 miles all told. The locks were exciting; the lake serene. Each yacht needs 4 Line Handlers, plus skipper, so we had a German dentist named Hans, and a husband & wife off a British boat, Philip and Claudia, in addition to Molly, as our line handlers. I had served as a line handler for Hans earlier in the week. Having “company” made it pretty social. And Philip was very impressed that Molly served bacon and homemade cornbread for breakfast on Day 2. We sat in Panama City longer than we had planned, anchored out at La Playita. Our Raymarine Wind Instrument was balky. We were selling our house in Portsmouth. And a million other things kept delaying us. (Arranging for the paperwork necessary to sell the house to be notarized in Panama was a challenge in its own right! We speak no Spanish, and the Latin Americans love rules and regulations. But after a few days and much frustration, we pulled it off.) The passage from Panama to San Cristobal, Galapagos was a marvelous introduction to the Pacific. We had fair winds, but never too much or too little until the last 14 hours, when the breeze petered out, and then came ahead. So we motored the last half day, including Crossing the Equator at 0140 one morning. We delayed the ceremony until the next day, appeasing Neptune with a tot of champagne. We are Shellbacks now. Sometime I will write more details about what a trip like this entails – the noises, the bumps, the bruises, the rush of the sea and wind as the boat careens down a big sea, the serenity of a sunset drink in a quiet anchorage, the concerns when a crucial system seems to falter, the sublimity of the sea and the stars on long night watches with no moon, the consoling presence of the moon at other times of the month, the satisfaction in tucking a reef in the mainsail as the wind builds, and knowing once again that the boat will take care of us. It’s not an easy life. Challenges abound. So o do satisfactions. So we will keep sailing west. We intend to leave for the Marquesas, in French Polynesia, within the week. That will be a long boat ride, close to 3,500 miles without a speck of land between here and there, probably 3-4 weeks, depending on what weather we encounter. That distance is so great that motoring to cover any real miles is impossible. Our 150 gallons of fuel would be a joke! So we will keep our weather eyes peeled, and hope that we don’t have too many squalls. There are rarely or never gales here near the Equator, but squalls can be threatening and exasperating. On a long passage like that, of course, you take what you get. Molly baked a cake yesterday, and threw a modest party (for us) to mark the occasion of me officially becoming an Old Geezer. 65 years ago my Mother forced me out into the world. It’s been quite a ride, and I have been lucky enough to do essentially what I wanted to do: sail boats and ships, write books, lay down miles on my bike, have healthy great kids, and share it all with my wonderful wife. Wonder what the next 65 years will bring. Thanks to all who have been following Molly’s Instagram posts. We do appreciate being “in touch” with old friends, even in that passing fashion. We miss you all. Best, Jeff & Molly  Here we are entering the first of three locks that raised us up 85’ from sea level to the level of Gatun Lake which we crossed the next day -23 miles- before going through three more locks back down to sea level. The building of the canal is a fascinating story - read David McCullough’s book PATH BETWEEN THE SEAS and you will see what I mean!  This was the ship that went through the locks with us!  The blue-footed boobies enjoyed riding on our bow pulpit when we were still three days out from the Galapagos. At one point there were ten of them, all squeezing onto the slippery metal.  cactus grows in the middle of this lava, a very hot hike up to the volcano on Isobela
CORRECTION: the canal website is pancanal.com. - don’t even look at the other one!
 we have rented giant fenders and heavy duty docklines to use in the locks. see www.panacanal.com and click on “multimedia” to see the live webcam of the locks. We expect to go through the Gatun locks this evening and the Miraflores locks tomorrow morning. We will add more to Instagram today if we can.
 Having spent quite a while in Les Saintes, south of Guadeloupe, we were eager to sail West. In many ways this was the beginning of our trip. We had many previous voyages to the eastern Caribbean, but to sail its whole length, from Guadeloupe to Panama, was something neither of us had ever done, though we had been dreaming of it for decades. We dropped our mooring at 1445 on Friday Feb 1, immediately set the genoa and rigged the Monitor self-steering. In 20 minutes the engine was off, the breeze was filling in, and we were heading west, in the wake of circumnavigators. By early evening, with soup and baguette in the cockpit, we were rolling deeply and broad reaching in 18-20 knots of wind, reeling off 6.5 knots with only the genoa. No moon as the night wore on, just an inky black sky with brilliant stars. The passage turned in to a Trade Winds romp. We rigged our whisker pole, and set the double reefed main to balance the genoa going wing-and-wing (one sail on each side) dead downwind. It was awesome. A few dolphins about; Green Flashes as the sun set several evenings, and always the Trade Winds. It’s 1100 non-stop miles from Les Saintes to the San Blas Islands off Panama the way we were going, and the boat was eating it up. Of course, the most notoriously rough area in the Caribbean is north of Columbia, on the way to Panama. No way to avoid big seas and strong winds there. So we soldiered on, with the Southern Cross to port and the Big Dipper to starboard, and the compass reading always “West.” By Feb 6th our speed was building, along with wind and sea: 6.5, 6.8, 7.2, 8 knots, and one burst of 9.2 surfing down a wave. Winds gusting over 30 knots and seas 10-12 feet provided some challenge. We struck the mainsail on the 7th, but roared along nevertheless with just the jib in those conditions. My respect for Capt Ned MacIntosh increased. Mac is 102 now, and known in Seacoast NH as a famous boatbuilder. As a younger man, however, he ran a commercial fishing boat out of Panama, fishing the Galapagos, freezing the catch, and then unloading in Puerto Rico – meaning he was steaming to windward in that notoriously rough patch of the Caribbean!   Saturday, Feb 9, our 9th day at sea, we made landfall off the Eastern Hollande Cays in the San Blas Islands. Navigating through the coral, we dropped anchor at 1215 near LEELA, with friends Graham Openshaw and Janaki Lennie (from Portsmouth). It had been a wonderful passage, rekindling our desire to sail West and see new things. And to rendezvous with friends in the enchanted San Blas Islands was icing on the cake.  The San Blas Islands – Like Sailing into a National Geographic Feature The Guna, an indigenous First Nation people, inhabit tiny coral islands off Panama’s Caribbean coast. With their gardens, water supplies, cemeteries, firewood, and timber for dugouts on the mainland, they commute each day in “ulu’s – dug-out canoes – to carry on the business of living. It’s a storybook world, harsh conditions notwithstanding, and we felt fortunate to spend a week moving from anchorage to anchorage in the San Blas, sometimes at inhabited islands, and sometimes at deserted ones.  The Guna are best known for their mola’s, embroidered cloth panels which women work into their wardrobes, and which are also free-standing pieces of art. At many islands mola-makers came out to our boat in their dugouts or outboard skiffs – and of course we had to buy some mola’s.   The mainland, hazy and inviting, is drained by small rivers. Janaki and Molly and I took a dinghy up Rio Diablo and saw a bevy of wondrous birds – the Long-Tailed Tyrant, Squirrel Cuckoo, Smooth-Billed Ani, Lineated Woodpecker, Flame Rumped Tanager, Carracara (a stunning hawk), and about five species of Kingfisher. This was head-turning bird-watching at its best.    At Isla Gerti we were allowed ashore by the Chief, and were fortunate enough to have a tour of the village. Graham summed it up: Stone Age People Meet 21st-Century Consumer Culture. The contrasts were jarring, and its tough to see how the Guna will be able to persist as their population grows (due to better medicine and public health), even as food resources, such as fish and turtles, decline.   As boat folk we could not help but be charmed by the ulu’s. Some dugouts were paddled, others sailed, yet others had outboards. They were the equivalent of work boats, cars or bikes, and recreational craft. Little kids paddled. Old ladies paddled. Young men sailed for the pure joy of sailing – all this against a magical backdrop of rustic villages filling every square inch of tiny islands. It was quite a sight         Shelter Bay – The Entrance to the Panama Canal Now we are secured in Shelter Bay Marina, at the entrance of the Canal. There are Brits, Kiwis, Swedes, Danes, Norwegians, Canadians, Americans, French, and others, lots of sailors poised for their next leg. It’s the only place we have ever been where we can walk five or ten minutes from the boat, and be in the jungle surrounded by monkeys, parrots, coatis (a raccoon like animal), and birds galore. Today Molly and I were in the main salon around lunch time when we heard a neighboring cruiser shout “CROCODILLIO.” Sure enough, a six or seven footer was swimming lazily across the marina, between C Dock and D Dock. No swimming here! Today the official “Admeasurer” arrived to measure our vessel and certify us for Canal transit in a few weeks. Tomorrow we are off to CA to see Ellie and Carl and Earle (our cat, who drove W with Ellie), and to catch up with Molly’s sister, Jen. So the adventure continues, as of Day 95.  Dear Family and Friends, We are still in Îles des Saintes, Guadeloupe where we have been getting ready to go to San Blas and Panama. I wanted to let you know that my father passed away yesterday. It all happened very fast - he was in a car accident when he had a heart attack. Fortunately he had taken himself to the hospital so he was in the parking lot when it happened. He was not going very fast and there were no other injuries. Dick Wheeler was an extraordinary guy, as many of you know. Always humble, he was generous, big-hearted, adventurous and inquisitive. Dad began his studies at Harvard as a French Lit major, then switched to English, and later taught school. Along the way he made the cut to serve in the Navy’s UDT, (Underwater Demolition Unit), precursor to the Navy Seals. He spent four years in the Peace Corps in Fiji helping with fisheries technology. An intensely strong man, he swam and paddled and rowed throughout his life, capped in 1991 by his single-handed kayak trip from Funk Island, Newfoundland to Cape Cod. That had been the migratory path of the Great Auk, extinct since 1844 from over harvesting, and Dad wanted to draw attention to the plight of ocean fisheries by retelling the Auk story. PBS Nova turned it into a memorable one-hour film. He had multiple interests throughout his long life. A voracious reader, he explored subjects such as Darwin, mushrooms, the natural history of Shelburne, and others, in great detail. Recently he had set himself the challenge of figuring out the Mid East. He painted beautiful watercolors, and dabbled in cartoon art, including a memorable series of chicken cartoons, reflecting his infatuation with raising poultry. He often described himself as a member of Poultryholics. “If one is good, then lots must be better!” Instead of having a small flock of chickens he had hundreds! He loved gardening and the past few years he had several plots at the local community garden and grew garlic - enough to supply all the local restaurants. We adored him and miss him already. Ellie and Carl were very close to him too. He always supported and encouraged them and we are very glad he lived to see them grow up. Dad always said “there should be no tears at an old man’s funeral.” He lived large and lived long, and we feel grateful to have been in his orbit. But we have all cried a lot anyway. No plans have been made yet about a memorial service. Love, Molly 
We are still in still in Isles des Saintes Guadeloupe doing a long list of pre-departure tasks. Yesterday we unpacked the fo’c’sle to check the sewage tank connections, clean some tropical mold in the anchor chain locker, and stow all the spare line so the spare Genoa sheet is on top where we can reach it easily if the one we are using chafes through. And finally, I did an inventory of the food I had stashed away in lockers that have been inaccessible since November just to make sure nothing is growing or rotting. The good news is that I found all the tahini so will now start making hummus in earnest. No photos this time- having a hard time with WiFi here.
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