1. Start immediately
2. Do it flamboyantly
3. No Exceptions

"Technology is the knack of arranging the world so that we don't have to experience it." Max Frisch

Everyone who sets off to sail the world does so for the potential discovery, for the encounters and experiences both in the sea and on land that can't be had at home. Majestic coral gardens, huge pelagic fish, strange and fascinating cultures, undiscovered waves pull all of us towards the unknown. But sailing the world isn't easy. Great trials and tribulations must be overcome at every turn and at least in my experience a delicate balance is formed between the payoffs and the strife; with the payoffs tipping the scale just enough to drive us onward. For Jody, our photographer the strife of living at sea is exacerbated by sea sickness. For nearly 6 years now she's put up with literally hundreds and hundreds of days of feeling green because of the adventure that lies ahead. The possibilities. And two things that have eluded her the most. Manta Rays and Whale Sharks.

A fast 40 hour sail from Kosrae brought us to the second rainiest spot in the world, the great Micronesian island of Pohnpei. Renowned for one of the best right hand waves in the world myself and our crew were just hoping for a bit of sun, which seemed highly unlikely considering the statistics. We'd been pummelled by rain in Kosrae and needed some vitamin D to cheer the mood.

On the day our guests arrived, Brian and Oded from California, Erik from New Zealand, and Volker from Germany; a light rain looked to be our never-ending accompaniment. We made a hasty decision to sail three hours to a nearby offshore island called Ant atoll. Thinking the rain must stack up on the towering pillars of Pohnpei the low-lying atoll in the lee might have a bit more blue sky. The decision paid off handsomely. The guests got a nice taste for brisk sailing and I lost my hat and then completely botched a man overboard drill to retrieve it (note to skipper- we need practice!)- but it was SUNNY!!!

For three glorious days we gorged in the luxury of the sun. Each of the boys got hours and hours of time on the water and a nearby spectacular reef provided plenty of underwater entertainment between kite sessions.

I'd been keeping my eye on the swell forecast hoping it would pick up so we could give notorious "P-Pass" a go. It's a wave that has been recently featured in nearly all the major surf magazines and as I knew there were only a few surfers in town, we might be able to score the wave and not get in anyone's way. It's also known as a very heavy wave, capable of grinding bodies and boards to mincemeat so we called in a pro to give us some pointers, Cameron Dietrich. We picked up Cameron from the airport on day three, scored 100 gallons of diesel (the first diesel delivered by truck instead of in jerry cans since leaving the Marshalls) and headed out to the pass.

Cameron made it a few hours before busting board number one. Heavy indeed! The rest of the gang were smartly content to play endlessly in the flat water inside the reef. Oded, Brian, Erik and Volker rode for hours and hours day after day, encouraging one another to perfect their first back rolls, downloops, forward rolls and beyond. It reminded me of the earlier days of my riding and seeing the joy, hoops and hollers and smiles on the guys more than made up for my inability to share in their fun as my shoulder remains dicey from an injury sustained in Kosrae.

The sun and wind continue but with easing swell we make the move to the eastern reef, nearby a spot called "Manta Ray Alley", where Jody hoped to realize a long-unfulfilled dream. The trip takes us by a fleet of fishing giants that you can only believe by witnessing in person. Over 30 tuna seiners and long-liners, equipped with miles and miles of nets, spotting helicopters and cargo holds capable of holding hundreds of metric tons deliver over $2 billion US dollars worth of tuna to even grander processing boats in the bay- bound for Taiwan, Korea, Japan, China and the United States. We are told the by-catch of these behemoths includes among much else Humpback whales, Dolphins, Pilot whales, and yes- even Manta rays.

And what does Pohnpei, or more accurately, the corrupt officials who negotiated this rape get for selling their only real resource? $15 million USD a year. That's .0075% of the gross. The crews on these boats make a tiny pittance, the rest goes to the multinationals in foreign lands that own them. Scientists the world over agree that the oceans, which make up 99% of the living space on our planet and provide 50% of the oxygen we breath will be depleted beyond saving by 2050. We sail by in silence, each realizing every one of us are a part of the problem. Too many mouths to feed.

Over the next 10 days we will visit Manta Ray Alley 3 times. Jody finally gets to see the magnificent creatures on our first outing, but they stay deep and it is impersonal. Manta Rays survive on Plankton, tiny nearly invisible but crucial creatures at the bottom of the food chain (they are responsible for every 2nd breath we take). We are told that if we get the tide right they will come to the surface and feed.

Our second outing we get it right. For an hour we follow them along at the surface as they move slowly along the bottom, some 40-60 feet below. It's possible to free dive for a closer look, but Jody can only take her camera housing to 15 feet- they must come up for her to capture the images she has longed for. And then it happens. Like someone throws a switch.

Suddenly great schools of fish are everywhere. Swirling columns and walls you can barely see through. The masses part before our eyes and reveal a Manta Ray Milky Way coming from all sides. Sideways, upside down, flipping in circles.

The swell returns and we return to P-Pass. Cameron wears himself to the bone both enjoying the wave and being driven by Jody's relentless pursuit of photos. Sun, wind and waves rarely align this well and the two make the most of the situation. We are invited to a bar-b-que by a couple of the local surfers which ends in near-tragedy. They guide us down into a bay surrounded by a maze of reefs and show us a place to anchor. It is dubious at best and I voice my concern. If the wind moves even 30 degrees we will swing onto the reef. I am guaranteed it is "safe" and I bend to the peer pressure and reluctantly drop the hook. This is a lesson I've learned in the past- never doubt your own intuition. I didn't need a reminder of this and my folly was inexcusable.

We returned by dinghy to Discovery a few hours later and even in the moon less night from a great distance I knew something was wrong. She was high and dry laying flat on both keels, the port side raised some 6 inches above the waterline. FUCK. There was nothing we could do but get some sleep and wait for the tide. I went to bed disgusted with myself and very much doubting my capabilities as a skipper. I've been at this too long to make such a novice mistake.

At 0200 the boat shifted slightly and minutes later we slipped off the reef with no damage sustained. Could we get off this easy? Not quite. Jody ran forward to hoist the anchor but in the black of night we couldn't tell how we were drifting. As I tried to get our bearings I backed over the dinghy line and stalled the starboard engine. Shortly thereafter we drifted into another unseen reef on the port side. We were playing pinball with a million dollar catamaran and I was fighting to stay calm. Brian jumped into the water to cut the line out of the prop and I jumped in with a dive light to assess our escape. Again incredibly there seemed to be no damage- but our port rudder was nearly encased in coral. We had to move fast. Jody hoisted the remainder of the anchor while Erik used the tender to pull the boat from the starboard quarter while I backed down on the port engine.

We slid free. Dejected and humiliated I put Discovery in slow motion to a safe anchorage we should have used in the first place across the bay. The guests joke that it's all part of the "Epic", and I too am thankful we got off so easily, but I am embarrassed and angry at my incompetence.

On the last day the rain returned, the only real rain we'd had since the first. For the guests the scale on this one was tipped very much towards the payoffs. Manta Ray encounters, solid winds, great food, awesome kiting, incredible waves, wild adventure, new friendships. But for me the scale was more evenly weighed. Thrills muted by mistakes. Fun clouded by injury. Joy replaced with frustration. But as we say goodbye to everyone the smiles and appreciation resonates and my own scale is tipped towards the rewards.

Take a moment to hear the voice of a girl who silences the world for 5 minutes.

The conditions in Kosrae were so monumentally good on the last trip I made an 11 th hour plea to our incoming guests, who included first-time Best Odyssey guest and wave superstar Ben Wilson; returning pros and wave slashers Josh Mulcoy and Mauricio Abreu; as well as owner Scott Wisenbaker and returning friend Chris Smith to re-route from Pohnpei, where we originally planned to hold the trip. It was a bold call and meant my ass was wholly on the line. Pohnpei has one of the best right hand waves in the world, a wave Josh and Mauricio have dreamed of hitting for years (Ben has been there numerous times and knew what we'd be missing). Changing the tickets would be expensive. No one knew anything about Kosrae, and I haven't been to Pohnpei so I couldn't compare. But I'd heard the waves there could be crowded- they are very much on the Surfer's map. Whereas the waves in Kosrae we have all to ourselves. There isn't a soul around, we are the first to kitesurf here. If the swell and wind gods would just pay us a visit I thought the yearning for Pohnpei would be replaced with awe with what we'd found just 300 miles away.

The day the last trip ended ("Departure from Reality") the rain began. For four days we got pummeled. No wind, just rain. And no swell. Everyone had re-routed, the decision was made. My mood mirrored the sky- gray and ominous. The towering green walls and misty, saturated views that had captured our hearts in the weeks previous were now viewed with contempt. No sun to dry the laundry, no sun to kill the mold, no sun to help us smile.

By the time everyone arrived I felt I was almost at war with Kosrae. Swell, wind and sun had come together just a week previously to create conditions for our sport that can't even be imagined. I'd sent photos of these conditions and talked this place up so much that in retrospect I set us all up for disappointment.

The most current 7 day forecast showed little in the way of swell on its way, but we each hoped for the best. For the time being, even though the rain hadn't eased in the slightest, one of the breaks had a great head-high wave working perfectly and the boys all wanted to warm-up.

Ben lives in a land of lefts in Australia and found going on his forehand quite a treat, as did Josh. Chris, who took up surfing just a few months back with us in French Polynesia was now catching waves almost at will. Mauricio would be happy hanging out in a garbage dump- the guy never quits and soon enough even I found my mood greatly improved by his endless comedy and passion for life.

For the next three days we spent hour after hour after hour either surfing or kiting on a wave that according to the pros beats anything they have at home bar-none. Words like "world class" got thrown around and the fact that once again we have it all to ourselves dials down my anxiety enough to make me realize I should never have worried in the first place. Even if we don't get the swell and wind we had on the previous trip we're still in the Land of the Lost, a magical place of ferns and frogs and yes it's a very wet land, but the result is striking. Sun breaks, though too rare light up pockets of green that literally radiate with texture. The photographers (John Bilderback and Jody MacDonald) capture shots with these sensual colors in the background that look entirely surreal. We've got amazing company, we're riding with the best in the world. And in the evenings we have Mauricio, aka Morris to keep us entertained. The mad Brazilian puts the best story tellers' in the world to shame and keeps us gasping for air.

In the evenings we also discuss the economy and what's happening in the outside world. Ben, Josh and Morris have all just signed sponsorship contracts to keep them going and they are each thankful for the opportunity to practice their craft. Many of their friends and competition have not been so lucky. Bilderback shares the woes of the modern-day action sports photographer in the digital age where anyone with a few grand can buy the best there is and snap off shots with little earned skill. John has spent thousands of hours swimming in waves, many of them more than capable of punishing a mistake with death; capturing some of the most sought-after photos in surf for nearly 30 years. It makes me realize there is a lot more riding on these trips than just waves and wind.

But unfortunately the wind and waves both take a nap and leave us to other explorations. Scott, Ben and Chris head out fishing each morning before dawn but come home empty handed, taking much heat in the process from Mulcoy and Morris- the taunts only drive their resolve more but for some reason the fish are either vanished or uninterested in the orgy of lures housed in our multiple Dakine lure bags.

Chris and Morris try out our most recent SUP addition compliments of Surftech on a small wave near the harbor and pronounce it a great hit. A small river mouth is found that winds like a snake more than a mile through a jungle of mangroves and cascading flora that make for perfect, shaded paddle trips on the Stand Ups.

We rent a car to explore the island and search for more unknown breaks as the wind returns, but the swell remains elusive. I keep thinking the mood is going to plummet in the absense of waves but everyone stays upbeat. I realize, as I've done many times before that I've become jaded and need a clean sweep of my mind. Our string of luck has my expectations too high and I've forgotten that just being here is precious, to be coddled and enjoyed like the finest wine or a treasured friend. Whether we're kiting giants or eating sashimi; listening to Morris rapse poetic on some kiteboard related rant or just sitting watching the world go by we are living a life that warrants devoted thanks and appreciation. For now we are living in The Land of the Lost. It is enough. It is more than we need. It is more than any of us deserve.

Somewhere in the past few weeks this train got off the tracks at reality and hasn't returned. I keep waiting for the hammer to fall, to wake from the dream, for something to happen that is just hum drum. The expedition peaked right after Christmas at The Edge of the Earth, went completely over the edge with a bunch of the world's best in Legends at the Abyss and though I don't remember much as I was pretty sick, continued the exponential climb in a Matter of Perspective. The quality of the winds and waves in the Marshall Islands were simply insane and we seriously considered just halting the whole thing there as I thought there would never be chance to find better.

This isn't a comparison log. I'm not going to go on and on about finding another epic location as I've written plenty of those over the years. I want to leave the Marshall Islands where they belong- undisturbed in our minds as the closest thing to perfection kiteboarding can come. But there's this other place many miles away, across another line, into another country, into another realm that I'm having trouble finding fault. But it didn't start that way.

To get there we sail almost dead-downwind for nearly two days and nights, leaving the world of flat atolls and endless reef for a completely different jurassic park land of mountains and waterfalls. Steep peaks shrouded in mist and clouds held together by walls of impenetrable green great us on arrival, yet another stop where we are the sole boat visiting these waters. But the beauty is washed out by the rain. My god it can rain here. For three days it never quits. Walls of water in great heaving sheets platter and pop, drowning out the cacophony of insects that must number in the millions per square mile. By the 4th day, the day our new guests were due to arrive I was beginning to think we should route to another location. It's not a lot of fun sitting in the rain on a boat. Bruce, who's been on board since early January and the crew and I discuss the option of sailing on to Pohnpei, which at slightly different latitude may have more promise.

Our guests arrive, many time zones distant from where they'd started thrilled to be in a new part of the world but they are met with saturated bodies and glum faces. The forecast calls for more rain and light air. I am keen to sail on but we'd lose two days of the trip underway and there would be a lot of cost involved to change flights. Lance and his wife Elena and Keith and his buddy Martin are open and flexible, keen to just be here and their fresh perspective makes us realize a bit of patience is in order. It would have been nothing short of an immense tragedy if we'd left.

Over the next 10 days Discovery hardly moves. The anchorage is dead calm, something we haven't had in nearly two months. The winds pick up to a steady 15-25 knots every day; the sun makes her appearance and stays more than she goes; and we find a wicked right-hand break about 2 minutes from the anchorage, complete with a mooring ball to protect the reef we can use instead of anchoring. Bar-none it is the best wave anyone has kited to date on the expedition. Two big swells will visit us on the trip, both times they bring triple overhead waves, and side shore winds make the money break complete. Keith and Martin are newbies to wave kiting but they jump in with both feet. Martin goes a little too hard right off the bat and visits the "green room" and promptly says goodbye to his board. This is only the beginning of our gear woes as waves this big make mincemeat of mistakes. 4 kites and one board get trashed and I spend hours each day repairing bladders and torn kites. It is work I undertake gladly- we are the first to ever kite this break and a few mistakes are a small price to pay for this level of wave kiting.

Elena and Lance are here for Elena's 50 th birthday compliments of their son and owner Luc Greggain. Though not kiters, they fit into our little entourage like family. Lance entertains everyone each night on guitar while Elena keeps us all smiling with her ineffable wit. For the first time ever we have equal women and men on board and I realize we finally have the right crew mix this year. I run the boat but have three gorgeous women (Sole, Pia and Jody) doing all the things I can't (which are numerous). Why it took me til year 3 to figure out that having women around is a lot more fun is a mystery and testament to my tawdry management skills.

We take a break from the kiting mid-trip and explore a bit of the island. Everyone but Lance, Sole and Elena are divers so they take a crash course while the others go for a reef dive. My ear drum has healed, but I'm wary of putting too much pressure on it and opt for a bit of maintenance. This will be the only day of the trip we don't kite. By the next day the wave is thundering again and duty calls. It is so good in fact that Bruce cancels his flight to return early as planned in the 11 th hour. More swell is on the way and we both agree to leave would be dense at best.

Each day we return to our anchorage from the break a little more beaten up, a lot more tired, more and more satiated. The conversation is always animated, the beers flow freely and we are each inwardly thrilled at what we have found, what we are doing. It's impossible to be more removed from the goings-on of the world: the dire news, the lay-offs, the economy, the problems. Out here our lives are dictated by the sun and rain, but the wind and calm, by the swell and sky.

If I have anything to do with it, we're going to keep this train on this crazy track for as long as I can. Reality can stay right where it is- a long way from here.

As the saying goes there are two sides to every story. The sides are determined of course by the perspective of the story-teller, which in this case consists of only myself; but nevertheless I have two stories, or at least two perspectives of the same trip to tell.

I've probably made it clear in the last two logs that the Marshall Islands have been most impressive. Our itinerary on our third and final trip in these waters would mirror the last, another jaunt to the outer atolls. Why mess with perfection? We begin however in a world far-removed from the ones we have been exploring. It is what some have described as the "armpit of the South Pacific". Anyone who has had the distinct displeasure of visiting would agree and likely expound on the description. It's called Ebeye and it is most certainly not a place you will find in the brochures. It is an island with 14,000+ residents squeezed into clapboard shacks in a living space you can circumnavigate on foot in 15 minutes. It is more densely populated than Hong Kong. Thousands of dirty children roam the two streets that circle the perimeter like a dilapidated Indy track. Water costs 3 dollars a gallon (it rains a lot here but there is no infrastructure to hold the free stuff) and there are only about 1400 people on the island who have paying jobs. The hospital is shut-down, there are 5 schools in bad need of repair. Those who are employed mostly work for the US military base at nearby Kwajalein (workers take a ferry over to the island 7 days a week), earning a fraction of their ex pat co-workers. The garbage dump burns 24 hours a day; a plethora of trash- diapers, plastic sacks, and god knows what else floats downwind past our hulls like a ruined river.

Incredibly the residents, living in what would be a personal hell for me seem content. We've learned that to the Marshallese the family reigns supreme. Nothing else is more important. So while Ebeye is destitute, filthy, overcrowded and grossly lacking in basic goods the people are with their families so life is tolerable, if not enjoyed. I cannot but provide the most basic and probably adulterated glimpse into their lives. We used Ebeye as a provisioning stop for the trip and spent a total of 72 hours there mostly wanting to be somewhere else, so we hardly gave it a chance. I am likely taking gross journalistic freedom with my rash words, but nevertheless we couldn't leave fast enough.

We learned from Guy, the harbor master in Kwajalein (one of the many, many people who went out of their way to give us assistance and guidance in the Marshalls) that a short distance from Ebeye is an anchorage and potential kite spot. Our new guests, Brien and Michael arrive and join Bruce and Scott, who have stayed on from the pro trip I wrote about in the last log.

The anchorage proves spectacular. Just six miles from Ebeye and we are in a different world. Palm covered islands, long wispy white sand beaches, brilliantly clear water. I shuttle everyone to the beach to launch their kites and return to Discovery and curse my blown ear drum. I can not enter the water for the duration of the trip without risking another infection and possibly lasting damage. Considering the wind is pegged at 25 knots and will never once go below 20 for the next 10 days and nights I'm not in the same jovial mood as our guests. These guys are in kiteboarding heaven, and I'm a poor spectator.

We sail all night hard on the wind in steep, uncomfortable and wet seas. Discovery as usual handles herself with grace but she's been taking a beating for us lately. Boats are not unlike humans. They begin to fall apart when they are tired and run-down and for lack of a better simile, she and I are in the same boat. My ear problem is throwing my balance off, I feel like shit and to make matters worse I've got yet another staph infection taking root in my forearm. I've been battling the bacteria for a year since I picked them up in Panama and I'm not winning. The infection starts like a small zit, grows into a nasty abscess, and is proceeded with a horrific fever, sweats and considerable pain. It's disgusting and it takes a hell of a toll on your mental and physical health- especially when you get one after another, as I have for the past few months.

Thankfully I'm the only one on the ugly side of the fence. Our guests have 25 steady knots of wind to play in. The sun is shining, waves are peeling, fresh fish is caught and eaten. Our new crew is getting well and truly up to speed. Pia has learned the intricacies of launching and landing kites from both Discovery and the dinghy while Sole has become one with her galley. The two banter in harmonic Spanish and their laughs and smiles make my own pain a lot more bearable.

Brien has lived near the ocean his entire life and if his large tattoos of the underwater world (he has a veritable aquarium in intricate detail covering his shoulder) weren't enough of a hint, we all learn quickly that he has an insatiable love affair with the sea. On past trips the focus was so much on the kiting and surfing we didn't take much time to look around at the underwater world. Brien changed this. One day between kite sessions he returns to the boat and declares the coral reef the best he's ever seen. Given that he's from Florida where the reefs are in poor shape this doesn't surprise me much. There isn't a soul around, there are no sources of immediate pollution, it follows that the coral should be good. Jody decides to take a look so I take her to the reef in the dinghy. She sticks her head under the water for one second and looks up at me and says "its the best I've ever seen." Now I know it's for real. Jody compares everywhere we go with her childhood memories of the Maldives and not one place we've been in the past 5 years has impressed her as much.

I can only spectate so much. This I have to see. We fashion an ear plug from surf board wax and I get wet for the first time in two weeks. Every square inch of coral is perfectly in tact. Not a single broken or damaged piece. All colors of the rainbow, dozens of different species, sharks and fish in every nook and cranny. Apparently 3% of the world's reefs are in a "pristine" state; that is untouched and therefore undamaged by man. It is both heart wrenching and extraordinary to witness a living thing so beautiful and yet so rare.

By the time we reach the next atoll, and a village we've visited on two prior trips I'm in sorry shape. The staph infection has exploded and is oozing blood and puss. My head throbs and all I want to do is sleep, but I have to say hello to the village or risk offending the chief, which would bode poorly for the final days of our stay.

I'm not really too sure what happened in the final days as I was pretty much wrecked, but I know if you asked me and you asked anyone else taking part in this wicked journey you would get two very different accounts. One story would belong in the realm of dreams. It would undoubtedly contain emphatic detail of great company, superb kiting, fine dining, majestic locations and vistas shared as usual with not a single other boat. The other would resemble the stuff of nightmares. Sometimes we see things through a different lens.

I've been fortunate to have played and explored in some breathtaking places over the past 11 years of sailing our shared blue earth. The most common question I get from our guests is "what's the best place you've been?" It's an impossible question to answer - there are so many amazing places; each have unique vistas and opportunities and each presents their splendor in remarkable ways. The truth is most of the places we travel are visually stunning, so what is it that makes one place more special than another? The answer must be the people we have for company and all the tiny little things that add up to just plain gob smack you into the feeling that THIS JUST CAN'T BE HAPPENING.

The list of "tiny things" in the Marshall islands could easily fill many logs all on their own. Without doubt, our experiences in the Marshalls on this trip and the last will be the benchmark on all future itineraries. I cannot imagine ever----ever finding another place that equals what the Marshalls have on so many levels: If remoteness could be classified on the Richter scale, the Marshalls are an 8.6. Beauty? Michelangelo wouldn't have even tried. Fish? We've caught all we can eat of Mahi, Bonito, and two of the largest Yellow fin I've ever seen, and clearly we could have caught a lot more, but our freezer can only hold so much. Wind? Pegged at 25 smooth knots two weeks ago and hasn't dropped since- 24 hours a day. In fact it's the windiest place I've ever been. And waves? World class breaks, we're the only ones on them. Day after day. When we leave the waves will be as vacant as they have been for millennia. The locals? Stunning, smiling, curious, warm and as welcoming as any we've come across.

Now for the people. We all pick up on a lot more of the little things when we are surrounded by greatness. John Bilderback and Jody MacDonald work relentlessly with trained eyes on capturing it all on film and camera. Pete Cabrinha joins with his impeccable style, charm and pure passion for all things related to water. Moehau Goold and Mauricio Abreu return for their 3rd trip on the Best Odyssey, always gracious, always charging, always fearless. Kristin Boese, 4 time world-champion and Goddess- there is no other word. Two owners, Bruce Marks and Scott Wisenbaker learning from the best in the biz and taking their own considerable game to new levels. Sole serves up love with every meal, Pia cold beers after long days in the sun. With this mix, little can go wrong.

But it isn't easy. The greatest rewards of course require the greatest risk, the greatest commitment. Long sails are required to spots that almost nothing is known. The trip back, if you must- long and very, very hard. We spend little time on the first day just stowing gear and getting to know one-another before we sail the first leg, 18 hours at a moderate pace. Bilderback's stomach disagrees with the trip in the most violent of ways, the rest of the gang stable yet sympathetic.

Our arrival, just after sunrise confirms what we already know. The forecasted big swell has not quite arrived so there's time to do a bit of exploring. By the afternoon the swell does indeed begin to pick up. A dozen or so locals living on an outer island appear out of the trees like a mirage in the desert. On the previous trip we hadn't seen a soul here, and I find myself staring at them in disbelief as you would an apparition. Their eyes are drawn to the sky for their first-ever view of kitesurfing, and soon they are whooping and crying out a song of "whoas!" and "wows!", as Pete, Moehau, Mauricio, Kristin, Scott and Bruce rip up one pearly double overhead wave after another.

By the next morning our hoped-for swell has arrived in full. Hours of play ensue- surfing all morning at a wave everyone agrees compares to Fiji's famous "Restaurants", the afternoon spent kiting what I call giants, what these guys just call perfection. Kristin, Bruce and I take our kite gear to launch from a small island that Jody reckons is "Stupid Gorgeous", and we agree. We all wander around a bit just trying to take it in, confused by the inputs our brains can't categorize. With the sun waning we kite out to the reef and kite some of the waves Pete, Mauricio, Scott and Moehau have been surfing for hours.

In the final minutes of the day John finds a massive green wine bottle washed up on the shore, filled with messages. We can't muster the gumption to crack it open just yet. We stow the bottle to be explored when we are ready. It's about this time I believe every one of us were well and truly at the "gob smacked" stage of the journey. Someone for God's sake pinch us!

It's only on day 4 that the crew is already getting up a bit later. Hips are bruised, legs are sore, skin is burnt. Three cups of coffee instead of 1. The swell and wind however have not let up, and these folks are the not the types to let precious moments pass. Inspired by what I've seen and reasonably sure of our anchor holding (in most places anchoring is impossible- the reefs go from shallow to over 10,000 feet in a near-vertical descent) I inflate my 10 meter kite, hit the water for a stint and come home with the first and thankfully only painful injury of the trip with a blown ear drum. Painful not from the blow, but the ensuing infection, which feels distinctly like someone drilling an 1/8th inch bit into my brain. At the same time, it's the most fun I've had kiting waves in my life and therefore the best medication there is.

Sometime after dinner while putting Discovery to bed the anchor drag alarm goes off. A quick check confirms we are indeed floating free of our holding. As it had taken 4 tries in the daylight to get the marginal footing that it was, I decide to make the windward beat to a more solid spot, 10 miles up the reef. Two hours of heavy pounding in a sea of angry black and some tricky night-time reef navigation gets us finally to a place where we can get some sleep.

Onward the next morning 70 miles on a fast broad-reach to another atoll. The seas are probably 12-15' now with winds refusing to ease. Discovery has been covering a lot of miles of late, 2,000 up from Tonga before Christmas, 1,000 on the last trip, much of them to windward. She's holding up well but I can tell like myself, she needs rest and maintenance. We find it at our next stop, after a long fight with a 120 pound Yellow fin tuna that Scott lands triumphantly. She is mighty and strong; a supremely beautiful fish. Sole expertly filets the great slabs of succulent meat that deliver one mouth-watering meal after another in the days to come.

We return to visit the village I wrote about in the last log; Sole and I find we miss the people as you would your own family and our new guests quickly become bitten by their charm and gracious hospitality. We chant the local greeting, "Iokwe! Iokwe!" and the chant is returned, which literally means "love to you". The many children race out to meet us, delighted by the new faces and new friends. We bring a few gifts; a volley ball and net, some things for the school. We are paid back tenfold in smiles and the sweet juice of coconuts. Pete says what everyone is thinking- we should just stay here and never go back.

While the winds continue to crank we've lost a bit of our swell so the focus turns to flatwater riding. There aren't colorful enough adjectives to describe this place so I'll let the photos handle the task.

We finally decide to crack the message bottle. I think we were all so excited by the endless possibilities of what we would find, the reality was a bit anti-climatic. But we learn it was placed in the ocean by a group of mostly bitter, home-sick maritime students sailing on "The Golden Bear" on August 27, 2007 near San Francisco. As the crow flies, the vessel traveled nearly 4,000 miles in a year and a half, and that in itself is impressive on its own.

In the final days we each come to our own conclusions, we've each had our own highlights. We all agree it has been the trip of a lifetime but maybe that is too cliché? I can easily call this one of the best places, no...one of the best moments of my life. I'm confronted with a similar feeling as it all comes to a close, one I can never dispel at trips end and I imagine is shared by my peers. The feeling is sadness. These magnificent days that seemed would never end have indeed drawn short. Another trip behind us, one fewer in front. I find I am monumentally thankful and appreciative of this crazy life we have carved out for ourselves but I am all too conscious of how fast it goes. Like the swell, like the wind- it comes...and then it is gone.

"The past is history. The future, a mystery. Today is a gift, that's why they call it a present." --Kung Fu Panda

This expedition could not have been possible without the generous support of Continental Airlines, The Marshall Islands Visitors Authority and The Ramsey Reimers Hotel. Thank you.

In the days of old imagine how frightful it must have been to sail off into the unknown, on a presumably flat earth, wondering where the abyss lay. As we begin our 3rd year of The Best Odyssey it was never my intention to reach the end of the world with three years left in the voyage, but somewhat incredibly that is what I've done.

Thankfully we do in fact live on a round globe and there is no danger (at least that I acknowledge) of running out of horizon, but I promise you- we have indeed reached the end of the earth. Without providing the exact coordinates of this place I will endeavor to describe what you can expect to find at this rather distinct line between reality and fiction. It begins by acquiring and socking away tiny tidbits of rumors, gossip and stories, heard over the years through various grapevines. For example: The Captain of the Quiksilver "Crossing" Expedition, who we met on the outside of Sumatra back in 2005 mentioned the Marshalls had the best waves they found in 6 years of looking (but of course did not give me any details or coordinates, and I won't either). A year later, a sailor and addicted diver I met in a bar in Thailand swore that the Marshalls had the best visibility and marine life he's seen in 10 years of circumnavigating (he didn't fall off either). But you mention the Marshall islands to, well just about anyone and they might, just might have heard of Bikini atoll, which the US used indiscriminately as an Atomic bomb testing center for decades. But very very little is known about the other 28 atolls and some 1200 islands of this group of the Pacific.

I knew practically zero. But I'm always willing to chase down rumors, the pilot charts proved the area had substantial trade winds, and this thought of finding waves at the end of the world....well it just had to be explored.

I came back to Discovery, now moored safely in Majuro, the Capital of the Marshall islands just two days before Christmas. A dozen other sailboats are moored here, many of whom have been in the Marshall islands for several years. Yes, they are that enchanting. But the atolls we were most interested in, a solid down-wind distance from Majuro? Not a single cruiser had visited them. They aren't mentioned once on the internet, they aren't mentioned in a single cruising guide or travel guide. Not ONCE. I want to reemphasize this point as I've been at this for awhile and this is practically unfathomable in todays' information rich society. Places like this DO NOT EXIST.

I couldn't shake the feeling when we departed Majuro with our spartan crew- our fabulous new chef Soledad Correa and just two guests, Rob Born and Claudia Batchelor that we were heading into the land of the lost. Even the most reliable information source, the Pacific Sailing Directions had but a few lines about our destination. For the first time in months I spent a considerable amount of time getting reacquainted with the Single Side Band radio- if something happened to us out here there would be very few places we could go for help.

An easy overnight sail and we'd arrived at the abyss, the catechism, the edge... I was actually surprised to see our horizon was in fact in place. The world certainly appeared in tact, but clearly something was wrong in the most magnificent of ways. First was the right hander, a perfect peeling head and a half high wave with not a soul around. A postcard palm-clad uninhabited island lit by the sun overhead lends a tangible feel to the backdrop, thriving corals in various shapes and colors light up the depths.

On day four of our journey, departing one atoll for another I wrote the following entry in my journal in an attempt to capture what it's actually like to sail at the edge of the earth:

Jan 2, Marshall Islands Expedition

We left the atoll before day break, in the calm and tranquility only a painted dark sky can provide. The ocean a mirror of the sky's black, reflecting pinpricks of light from the heavens- Perseus and Orion protecting overhead, Cepheus and his lover Cassiopeia on our northern horizon to guide the way. Everyone peaceful and asleep below we head out of the deep pass through a maze of reefs, the only sounds breaking the silence the hum of the engines and the long breaking waves, remnants of the swell we'd surfed gleefully in the days gone by.

The arrival of the sun and the arrival of color, they are synonymous. The ocean can only be described as fiercely blue. Only hundreds of meters clear of the atoll the depths plunge to 10,000 feet and beyond. Staring down it is possible to experience vertigo - the waters are translucent, impossibly clear. But they are brimming with life. Birds dive on bait fish, turtles come up for air to have a look at the world above. One of the fishing line sings its magic song, everyone jumps to their assigned place- Sole to get the knives, Gavin to slow the boat, Rob to reel our catch in, Claudia to giddily provide encouragement. We land a gorgeous bonito, a sashimi favorite.

Tranquil hours pass by with no care in the world. Bliss on every horizon. No schedules, no meetings, nothing to do but watch the time slip by in step with the water on the hulls. Later we land the most majestic of the pelagic fish, the Mahi-Mahi, and then another. Off our starboard bow now a light blue line runs like a straight-edge into the distance until it disappears. Outside this line a nearly bottom-less sea, inside the line an enormous lagoon. There isn't mention of it in any cruising guide, nor any travel guide. This line feels to me like the end of the earth- we have reached the farthest reaches of man. Never in all my travels by sea have I felt so remote, so far from anything. But the atoll is not uninhabited- there are people living on it's small isles at the perimeter of the lagoon who approach us in their hand-made wind-powered canoes with gaping honest smiles and baffled, inquisitive looks. She receives no visitors. I spoke with other "yachties" who had spent years in the Marshall islands back in the main port, Majuro- not a single one had ever come here. I searched the internet- not a single hit. We have gone to the very edge of white man's reach.

The pass into the lagoon is deep yet narrow, two dark blue lanes that Y to the north and south, walled on each side by thriving coral walls that come to within inches of the surface. Huge schools of magnetic blue bait fish move in unison along the walls, the girls and Rob jump off the stern and Discovery tows them along for a better view. I have never, ever seen a place like this. The beauty is beyond words, and I am gaffed at any attempt.

We travel slowly under sail in very light wind and almost perfectly calm seas, in no hurry to reach whatever destination lies ahead. Miles of reef pass at a languorous pace- each of us lost in easy thoughts, our minds sponges for our surroundings. In time we reach a lone isle at the northern extremity of the lagoon. The anchor sinks into deep sand in 35 feet of water in the largest swimming pool in the world. Locals approach in outrigger canoes made from breadfruit trees that seem much too small for their owners. Big men in pygmy sized boats- boats we learn are capable of sailing in even the nastiest offshore conditions.

The village, filled with smiling children, proud mothers, and finely-featured grandmothers welcome us literally with open-arms. They delight with hoops and hollers in seeing their faces on Rob's camera screen. We take a tour of their island bewitched with the texture and charm. This place just feels right. In time the sun gives-way to a perfect day and is replaced with a perfect night. Gradually Orion and Perseus return, Cassiopeia and Cepheus follow, again to our north. But this time we are not beckoned on ward. We devour a meal of fresh bonito and mahi-mahi and I retire to the bow of the boat, falling asleep with a smile under the stars.

In the coming days we discover yet another break. Rob and I spend nearly 7 hours one day catching one long glassy right hander after another on 10 M kites, perfect side-shore wind line everything up as I've only imagined in my dreams. I return to Discovery this night scorched and exhausted with a smile I couldn't erase if I'd wanted to. We sit the next day with the local teacher on his floor drinking coconut water. Claudia asks what the biggest problem is for the community here. The man laughs a bit, looks lovingly at his wife, innocently at us and replies, "problems? We have no problems here. Everthing is perfect." Life is like this, at the end of the world.

A preview of things to come: we revisit these places this week with Pete Cabrinha, Mauricio Abreu, Moehau Goold, and Kristin Boese. Stay tuned for more tales from the edge...With many thanks to Continental Airlines, the Marshall Islands Visitors Authority and the RRE Hotel for generously providing their support.

This past fall, Joaquin asked if I would be interested in joining him on the Best Odyssey.

Joaquin is the relief Captain for Discovery and he needed a crewmember to help him sail her from Tonga to The Marshall Islands. I had just returned from a week of kiting in Cape Hatteras, ready to go under the knife for a bum knee and all I could think about was how do I make this happen? So Joaquin, Darren, and myself all left Seattle on the same flight and arrived in Kingdom of Tonga, where we met up with captain Gavin McClurg. We spent the first week in the harbour making repairs and preparing the 60' catamaran for sailing north 2,000 miles.

On November 24, Gavin left for his pre-Christmas holiday and Bjorn, one of The Best Odyssey share-owners joined our crew. The very next day, we left Vava'u, Tonga to begin the journey north to The Marshall Islands. With a northwest heading, we would stop at whatever islands lie in our path.

Of those islands, we were able to stop at Wallis (France), Tuvalu and Onatoa (Kiribati) and then Milli and Aur (Marshalls). The first three days were on the open ocean with no hint of land to be seen. Beautiful blue waters surrounded the boat. Never have I experienced the ocean in such a vibrant blue. To pass the time between watches, we amused ourselves by fishing and looking for ocean birds. Basically trolling until something would “bite”. The birds would try to get the lure. We hoped they would be unsuccessful because the lures could do some major harm to them. It seemed every day that we would catch a tuna. So fun to watch the guys reel them in. The anticipation of the big one being caught. And the energy it created for everyone on deck who would participate in the process. Seriously, we would eat sashimi every day. When we weren’t eating raw fish, we were dining on gourmet meals Hannah and Lars had left for us in the freezer.

There were four of us that made up the crew. We would alternate watches on deck, as well as the other chores, like cooking. My favourite watches were probably the 3:00 am to 6:00 am watch. This was where one could experience the stars and moon, but watch the sun rise up over the water. It seemed every minute that would go by, a shooting star would streak across the sky. I would look forward to this shift just so I could see the sunrise.

Did I mention the Phosphorescence in the water? This was like nothing else I had ever witnessed. Joaquin told me that if you go to the side of the boat, you could see these large spots glowing below the surface of the water. It was huge fish that were sleeping just below the surface. When the boat would pass by, they would become startled and move. This created the glow below.

Day four brought us to Wallis. We stopped here to snorkel. Not going ashore as we didn’t want to spend any more time than we could afford. We opted for a snorkel excursion off one of the three coral heads that protruded to just below the surface of the water. Finding anchorage seemed a challenge, but once we could secure the boat we jumped in to check out the underwater life. Some of us opted for just wearing boardshorts in the water. It was not until the next day that we realized that was a bad idea. Even in the water, the sun would prove to be too harsh on the bare skin, even with adequate sun protection. Snorkeling should be done with a rashie on.

Our next stop took us to Tuvalu. We arrived on a Sunday, which meant that customs agents were at church. This equated to a no weekend liberties off the boat. We would have to wait until Monday before we could go ashore. Joaquin decided that we would have just one go on land and look for provisions and fuel for the boat. After a half a day of working things out, we would be on our way to Kiribati. Our next Island would turn out to be Onotoa, in the South Gilbert islands. When we came into the bay, we realized that the wind was good and this would be our first attempt at Kiteboarding. Launching from the boat seemed a challenge as most of us had no experience with this. Gavin had explained it to us, but once we tried it, it proved to be harder than I thought. I had always wondered how those little Turbo Launchers had worked. They are actually a nice little part to have on the boat. At one time the three of us would kite and Bjorn would have the runabout in the water waiting to help us when needed. By sunset we were off to the open seas again to continue our journey.

By the end of the sailing, we were doing good on our schedule, so we decided to change our heading and visit Milli. Milli is an uninhabited atoll in The Marshall Islands, where the surf photos were taken. Being limited on time for this excursion, we decided that we would not attempt to Surf the breaks. There were many reasons, but for now I’ll say that it wasn’t in the cards. I am sure Gavin will be coming back here for a future adventure. We snorkelled here and checked out the island. The scenery was breathtaking, watching the waves break, literally at your feet. The razor sharp rocks would have torn me apart from getting closed out and pitted!

By the next day we were in Majuro. Bjorn was to fly out in another day and we were to pick up another guest for a couple of days. Kindra would come aboard the boat for the remainder of the sailing. Once anchored in Majuro Harbour, we would meet many nice locals and the "yachties". The yachties were the ones who lived in the harbour aboard their boats. Our first trip ashore here was to the local restaurant where all we wanted was a cheeseburger. Funny after many weeks at sea dining on fresh sashimi and gourmet dinners, we all wanted to eat cheeseburgers!

Our final sailing took place in the small inhabited island on Aur. We spent two days here being able to kite the whole time. Darren proved to be useful by helping the local islanders with a broken generator. He had fixed it in about an hour! What followed was even more surprising. A broken karaoke machine was the next item for him to fix. This took more time but in the morning, we went ashore and delivered it to the community. It was nice to go into the village and be welcomed by the families and children.

We only kited for three days, but these will be three days I will never forget.

Sailing on Discovery is like no other.

My lifelong dream feels fulfilled as I have always wanted to sail the world.

Seriously I want to know what just happened. The photos and my unreliable memory insist on giving me reason to believe I've gone absolutely out of my already questionable mind. I can't even stick to what I know because it has to be some crazy, wild, fantastic dream. But these are supposed to be logs of what we do out here. OK so the last log I promised I would stick to the truth as nutty as it seemed. I promise nothing of the same this time. Every word of this log is absolute fantasy and heresy. In every way I will account for what I believe happened, but there being absolutely no possible way that it did, it's all therefore bull shit. For all I know, sometime around two weeks ago I went down a rabbit hole and this morning I got spit back up in the blaring sun stumbling around with a headache, a clear indicator that something very, very strange and wonderful happened to me while I was away.

The Rabbit Hole was entered sometime around noon on the first day. Our group had arrived from ports far away- the shockingly handsome twins Mike and Stu, owners of Verbier Summits, a paragliding school in the Swiss Alps, and their gorgeous girlfriends Rachel and Rosy (soon to be girlfriend and fiancee- but I'm getting ahead of myself); our esteemed owner Bruce, back for another round of fun and the man who made it all possible to chase that bunny right into fantasy land; and my sister Lesley, out for a break from the rain in Seattle.

A bit of sashimi; a bit of a run-down on the boat; a few laughs; a quick dust of the tow-winch; a brand new wing compliments of our new Gin sponsorship and suddenly my Rabbit Hole had a few extra personalities. Nuku'alofa is not known as Tonga's greatest gem, and the plan was to depart for waters north as soon as possible. But plans suck and should be given wide disregard. I avoid them like moldy food. Use the Lonely Planets and Cruising Guides for firewood and I promise real adventure. Or in this case, a better dream...

So the plan was scrapped and we went for a recon. Not 12 miles from town we found waters so clear, coral so in-tact, beach so beautiful, wind so so so perfect for flying I knew this trip I was on just had to play out. Lead on Rabbit, lead on!

How do I describe what we see up there? Bruce lands and says it's the most incredible thing he's ever seen; Stu lands, his smile can clearly be picked up from a mile away; Mike lands and he just shakes his head and repeats "AMAZING" so many times I consider he may have a brain injury. When it's my turn apparently everyone can hear me yelling all the way up, and all the way down. Personally I have no idea, my brain is whirring at dangerous speed, hardly able to cope with the inputs. I shake my feet around like an excited puppy, then bank a few spirals over the boat, wave to my sister, land on the soft white sand bare footed and in that moment realize that if the winch sank to the bottom of the ocean that first day it would all have been worth it for this one flight. But in this dream, I get to go again...and again.

Ah but even dreams have glitches. By flight number 6 we figured we were pretty much experts and sent Jody up the mast so we could tow Mike right under her. A potentially dangerous and wholly outrageous attempt, but you know how it goes when the camera comes out...And thus ended the towing for the day when the brand new Rebel (and Mike) took swim number one. In the coming days it's possible the wing saw more water than sky, but MY GOD IT WAS WORTH IT!

The next day, the glorious trifecta. Flying in the morning. Snorkeling before lunch. Kite surfing in the afternoon. That's what it says in my log book and I'm sticking with it. Unfortunately it doesn't say much else that's even remotely intelligible- just a lot of "whoa, that was a crazy day" and "whoa, that was a crazy day" ad infinitum, which doesn't help me much when it comes to recapping a week in the space of a log when I really need the space of a book. We did at some point need to move on. The Humpback whales would not wait for us in the Vava'ua group forever, and between Nuku'alofa and Vava'ua were a litany of uninhabited and sparsely populated islands I thought I'd explored on previous visits, but as it turns out in the next 10 days we never once anchored even close to anywhere I'd been on three previous trips. If you look at Tonga on a map you would not be immediately impressed with the cruising possibilities. While French Polynesia is the size of Europe Tonga is more the size of say...Denmark. But small is not the correct word for Tonga. Not her people, not her splendors.

Swells bring great surf; clear deep waters harbor some of the healthiest coral I've seen; perfect white sand beaches compliment stunning limestone and palm-tree clad islands and a million surprises await at them all. Kelefesia holds our attention for a few days, a wickedly gorgeous little spot who's one inhabitant no doubt found himself somewhat bewildered to see people flying without motors over his island. The girls all get to fly and Lars gets his first flight of his flying career. What a terrible thing we've done. If Lars continues to fly I think there will never be a view that can match his first. But as always, the days become hard to track and things you think you'll never forget get mixed up with other wonderful memories. As I'm writing this I recall two surfacing whales that came up near us on the trip to the Ha'apai group, the first Humpback whales most of our group had ever seen, an incredible treasure I'd nearly let go.

We head north, in small runs each time stopping where we see potential in either land or sea. At Mango island we find an anchorage that is almost completely surrounded by a wall of coral 40 feet deep with small body-wide fissures that make for swimming that damn-near meets the adrenaline of flying. Lars and I have a look around one night after dinner and bag 10 slipper lobster for the next evening's feast, one for each smiling soul on board.

From Mango again we sail north, this time with 4 kiters ripping along with us in the first real and only solid winds we'd get on the trip. As Jody was out riding as well we have no proof of this event, but some very tired kiters certainly had sore muscles to remind them at days end. And again we move, this time to the far eastern islands in the Ha'apai, another area I'd missed in trips past. We are told by the few passing boats we see that the Vava'ua group is finally thinning out. It's a famous cruising area and the last stop for most boats that have traversed the Pacific, all headed to New Zealand and Australia for the cyclone season. Perfect- by the time we arrive we'll have it to ourselves. In the meantime we find yet another majestic anchorage with no neighbors, another spot to fly. I full stall the Rebel just to entertain myself, as if entertainment is needed then recover and site my landing in time to see Bruce catch a wave on the SUP (stand up board) directly below. I'm flying, Bruce is surfing, the gang plays on the beach, insane smells waft over us from the galley. Oh yes, very deep in the hole now.

Needing supplies we head to town and make a few diving stops at Swallow's Cave and Mariner's Cave. Always a crowd-pleaser and as cool as I remember.

We find yet another place to fly and not to belittle past stops as they were all exquisite, this one reigns supreme. In the final days we get Stu, Bruce and Jody all up at the same time and they dance above the tree-tops and the mast of Discovery for hours ridge soaring. The winch and dinghy have gotten a work-out on this trip and we decide to end our flying efforts here. The numbers: something over 50 flights, the Rebel's been in the drink 9 times (sorry Gin!), we've burned up a few hundred bucks of unleaded, and "holy shit" has been said enough times to make even the most hardened priest faint 10 times over.

During the last supper, between courses of curried roast pumpkin soup with hazelnut oil, parmesian and soy roasted pumpkin seeds, suvited duck over fresh pistachio pesto and beet juice infused carrots, morsel of tenderloin with basil bernaise, mango and cardamon sorbet (yeah- WHOA!) we learn the Milky Way worked it's magic on Mike and Rachel's night watch. Instead of an engagement ring, Rachel gets an antique compass rose which we all agree is flat brilliant, and of course quite appropriate. Well done Mike, and Rachel you precious girl, congratulations again. The last day has had 4 bests: 1) Best whale sighting as momma whale broached right in front of us, which left all of us giddy for hours; 2) best laugh leaving Mike on the buoy; 3) best engagement announcement; and 4) best meal that has ever been served- to anyone.

And then? Well, then that rascally rabbit takes me by the ear and hauls me and my friends out of our hole and points at the horizon and gives me an even greater gift than he already has. A dangling carrot. The adventure, as always...continues.

See the kites down there? Yeah, pretty nutty

The following words are true. I promise. Thankfully we've got the photos to prove at least most of it or you would all think I'm one of the most sensational fictional writers of all time. But this is non-fiction. I'm entering my 9th straight year of sailing around the world. I'd thought I'd seen just about everything. I couldn't have been more wrong.

Discovery taking on fuel, and her new guests

We've got a very full boat this time, in fact so full that I've abandoned my cabin for the crew cabin forward to make space for the guests. Rogier and the Scheurings (Thomas, Adriena, Clara) are on board for their second trip of the expedition, Bryan and Primoz for their first. To make this trip happen our group has collectively put in hundreds of hours into planning, more than any of our other itineraries tenfold. Our destinations, Penhryn and Manahiki, in the Northern Cooks get a handful of boat visits each year. Hands down, it will be the most remote and most challenging trip we've run.

Bryan getting used to all the...space

Our tale starts in Raiatea, nothing new or out-of-the-ordinary yet. We meet at the fuel dock in town, topping off the tanks for the long run ahead while I take 9 passports (US, German, Danish, Dutch, Slovenian) to the Gendarme to check us out of French Polynesia after nearly 6 months of cruising her waters. I know 6 months must seem a long time, but we've barely touched the surface. Yes, we've sailed a couple thousand miles: from the Gambiers, through the Tuamotus, across the Societies (several times), and down through the Australs- 4 out of 5 of her archipelagos, but it would take years and years to discover all her hidden treasures. But thankfully, in less than 24 hours we would discover one of her most magnificent.

Thomas preps for the first kite session of the trip

For the past couple months I've had my eye on Maupiti, the most westward island in French Polynesia, some 20 miles beyond Bora-Bora. It has one pass into the lagoon, and for the past two months we've had too much wind and too much swell to attempt the entrance, which is reputed as one of the most dangerous in the Pacific. The charter fleets don't allow boats to go there, the locals haven't permitted any resorts to be built. Most locals I'd asked had never been there, but the few who had would get this funny look on their face. One of those dreamy, hold on a moment, I'll be right back with you just as soon as I can clear my head of this vision of perfection looks. I think I've let it slip in past logs that Bora-Bora, though stunning is way too developed for my taste. If you've got 20 grand to throw around then yes, it would be a lovely place for a 5 day Honeymoon in one of the dozens of over-the-water resorts. But here's a little secret, and thankfully my giving this away will not affect Maupiti as the locals are going to keep it just as it is. Maupiti is more magnificent, more scenic, more incredible- IN EVERY WAY. It is hands-down one of the top 3 places I've seen by sail the world-over. It doesn't have a single resort, and therefore no jet-skis, boats, traffic to garble it's mesmerizing lagoon. You can't ogle celebrities or diamond rings in Maupiti, and that suits me just fine.

Bryan discovering the treasures

The pass is indeed tight, but we arrived with nearly no wind and minimal swell which made for an anti-climactic entrance. By the next morning our winds would pipe up to 20 knots and stay there for the duration of the trip. The only time we wouldn't be able to kite for the next 12 days was during the passage to Penhryn, 600 miles to our NNW. But back to Maupiti. Oh screw it, I can't begin to articulate this place, so I'll have to use photos in place of words. All of the shots in this log were taken with point-and-shoot cameras by the way. Imagine what Jody could have captured....Oh, she's going to be sick she missed this one.

Whoa whoa whoa

Two days was a pathetically short period of time in Maupiti and it was with great regret for every one of us to leave, but we had miles to cover and two islands to discover...The boys got one final early-morning kite session in before we set sail for Penhryn, then a large pod of dolphins escorted us out the pass. This has happened more than a few times when undertaking a passage and they always bring good luck. Ours would come in the form of wind and fish. Big fish.

Rogier, in his 3rd hour of kiting...only 214 to go!

We turned NW and the miles started flying by. Discovery is a thing of beauty with her sails in full, blue ocean screaming by her hulls in excess of 10 knots. This she did perfectly well for half a day, then one of the fishing lines started literally screaming. Before I could get her rounded up (ie slowed down) and Lars could begin the fight we'd lost 300 yards of line. There's only one fish in the sea that can take line like that. We've never landed a black Marlin- would this be our chance?

Lars digs in for a long fight

Landing a fish at sea is always action-packed, but landing an 8 1/2' Marlin is just flat stressful. It took Lars nearly an hour of hauling and sweating and cursing before we got a glimpse of the monster. I was putting our engines through hell trying to keep the line aft of the props, but not too far out so Lars could gain ground. We were heaving in uncomfortable seas, which made more than a few of our guests mildly green. In between runs I asked Lars how in the hell we were going to get this thing on board. We decided the best chance was for me to get in the water and shoot it with my large spear gun, which has a float line attached we could safely use to haul it on board. This turned out to be a nearly-fatal mistake. Within seconds of hitting the water I got the float line tangled around my body, then one of the rudders, then the line to the fish, which at twice my weight was a lot scarier in the water sitting right next to me than it had been from the stern of Discovery. Best case scenario at this point would be just not to drown. I'm in 15,000 feet of rough water, boat full of bewildered guests, Lars tied to a 300 pound bleeding fish, my lines wrapped around my body, two engines and props running; all being controlled by poor Rogier who's never even driven the boat! I made a commitment right there and then- I was willing to drown to land this fish cause if we didn't Lars would never speak to me again. Panting and choking on water, and nearing panic, I made one last dive to free the line and get my ass out of the water. Incredibly it worked and I found myself safely back on Discovery and the Marlin still on the line. Luck was on our side.

Happy Boy

A great deal of commotion ensued, but Lars stuck to his guns and I managed to make a lucky plunge with the gaff and we had our fish. The two of us could barely haul it out of the water. Lars wasted no time expertly dissecting every morsel of the tasty flesh from our prize, a gift of great magnitude and an offering from the sea we all appreciated. We each ate a small piece directly from the fish, a ritual and sign of respect and thanks we adopted years ago. For three days we ate Marlin for breakfast, lunch and dinner, and our freezer remains packed full. We packed the fishing gear away and turned north again as the sun disappeared beyond our horizon and was replaced by a glorious waxing moon. A fine day.

Gavin and Lars try to "weigh" in

We spotted Penhryn on the 3rd morning. Adriena and Clara wore their first smiles in as many days- their stomachs weren't in love with being at sea, but they weren't the only ones excited to arrive. Landfalls are one of my favorite things of being at sea. The anticipation, the unknown, the adventure in store. Who knows what this tiny piece of land in the middle of nowhere holds for us? The immediate task at hand was clearing with customs and immigration. Two very large fellows boarded Discovery with about a third of the town's children in tow and the age-old tradition of barter and trade began. Amidst giving away fishing hooks, DVD's, watches and sunglasses we learned that Penhryn is not exactly a boom town. It's famous pearl industry of the 90's has collapsed. It's population, depending on who you ask has gone from 600 or 1000 to 200 or 250. They have either 20 kids in school or over 100. The last supply boat came sometime between 3 months ago and over a year. This is what I love about the Cooks, and something I distinctly remember from my last trip some 8 years ago- the people out here have little concern or even regard for time. There are no races being held in Penhryn for anything, except maybe the race to get the most stuff off of us that they can before the next group comes along.

The Skipper enjoys a long session at sunset

Stripped of a few of our belongings we headed across the expansive turquoise lagoon to the windward side where we knew flat water and wind would be in plentiful supply. For the next 4 days our lives were spent doing mostly two things: kiting and eating. Lars and Hannah flaunted their considerable skills as always cooking up one gastronomic delight after another, while the boys rode and rode and rode. Twice we sailed downwind across the lagoon with the kiters on the horizon exploring miles of empty reef and shallow protected waters. Penhryn has never been kited and we were too happy to be the first.

Rogier leads Gavin, now on his 143rd hour in the water!

We had a number of local visits during our visit. As we were the only boat there, and the only boat the locals had seen in weeks, we were a ripe target for trading. In general I can say the adults are big, the kids are dirty, and everyone coming from one of the two villages are covered in flies; but their smiles are large and their hearts warm. One grandmotherly lady has kept a log book of all the visiting yachts since 1986. Looking through it's pages is looking into a memoir of the sea. Some of the boats I knew from wandering through the Pacific years ago and had long since forgotten.

The crew of Discovery leave their mark

Our final night in Penhryn is where this trip went from epic to unbelievable. We'd kited so much our hips were void of skin, we'd caught a 300 lb marlin, we'd done things no other human has. But the ocean had one last gift in store. We weren't allowed to leave Penhryn on Sunday (it's a very religous place, and movement is not allowed on Sunday) so we anchored outside the pass, neatly getting around the rule so we could depart for Manahiki at the right time. As the waters were deep and clearly full of coral I sent Lars in the water to try to find a spot for us to anchor without damaging anything. As soon as he hit the water he looked up at me and said "it's the most beautiful coral I've ever seen." Some readers will remember we spent some of this season in the Tuamotus- Lars knows what he's talking about when it comes to beautiful coral. Unfortunately for us, the bottom, which shelved from 20 meters to thousands was an Eden of life and there was no way I was going to drop our anchor on it. We ushered everyone into the dinghy so they could have a look around, and Primoz and I headed back for the pass, where I hoped we could find a spot with a sandy bottom. Just before the pass, in dying light I noticed a distinctly clear patch and jumped over-board to have a quick look. This was the spot, an area just large enough to house our anchor and chain. We dropped her down, then I jumped over to make sure we were secure- a slip here would find us well at sea in the middle of the night.

Primoz shouts "TAKE MY PICTURE!"

My head hit the water and I nearly choked on my snorkel. Beneath me an aquarium of sea life in numbers I had no idea still existed in today's depleted seas. Schools of tuna- SCHOOLS, wrasse and parrot fish by the dozens and dozens, a literal herd of bonito, black tip sharks, a lone massive sea turtle, thousands of smaller fish- angel, clown, rainbow runners... It was an orgy of life, on a scale that shattered any previous experience I've had. With the loss of the sun the imagination soars- there were as many predators as bait fish and I reluctantly got out of the water, counting down the minutes until day-break. The next morning we saw all of the above, along with three beautiful Manta Rays, which I haven't witnessed under-water in 8 years. I lost my second spear in as many days in an overly-optimistic attempt to land a huge Dog-Tooth tuna that was way beyond my skill level, before leaving my hunting desires aside and just enjoying the remarkable beauty of what will forever be, at least to me: Never-Never land.

Thomas, one final session on the new 09' waroo

To check out a short movie from this trip CLICK HERE

We can't leave Huahine. And dammit we don't want to! We picked up our skeleton crew, Richard and Paschi in Tahaa on day one with every plan of staying in the area, but by that evening (after a nice kite session of course), we were back in Huahine. Huahine has a tractor beam on Discovery that I'm happy to keep getting sucked back into. Richard and Paschi would be joining us for a week compliments of Best Kiteboarding as they won the sales competition this year (nice incentive Best!). Having just two people on board is kind of like a vacation for us and we'd make the most of it this week.

Early the next morning, with a light forecast we headed around to our secret spot on the windward side of the island, hoping to see some whales on the way. Whoa. Now we've been fortunate to have a number of amazing whale encounters in the last couple months, but on this day the rest would all be trounced. First, a giant male breaches right next to us. He seemed to rise straight out of the ocean, a pillar of gnarled black beauty just to look right at us. Now usually, or at least in our experience, this is when they take off. But not this one. After the breach he swam right up to our stern. I abandoned the helm without a word to anyone (thanks Lars!) and quietly slipped into the sea. Our friend rolled past right under me, singing like a whale possessed. Did he think Discovery was a possible mate? I pondered this for a moment as he wandered beyond my vision. Elated, I jumped back on board and we continued on. A minute later the same male, some 40 tons of whale jumped COMPLETELY out of the water right off our stern. I'm talking tail and everything. Then again, and again. And right next to him, a female. Apparently the singing worked and we'd just witnessed the equivalent of a post-romp smoke.

Our guests were predictably stunned. Not a bad second day. We carried on to the lagoon where we are always guaranteed to be the only boat, met up with Jody and Xavier and went flying. A forest fire had started the day before and ripped right through launch, but miraculously left a small patch of grass the exact size of a wing. If you screwed it up the wing would go in the black. This was a one shot gig, and luckily we pulled it off.

Writing this now, thinking back on the experiences of those days actually sends adrenaline through my veins. Richard and I did a long downwinder all by ourselves in a place that is just pure eye candy. The colors of the water are so many shades of blue I think my mind created it's own acid trip. You just can't process the beauty and we say feeble things like "wow", "whoa", "jesus christ" (that was Richard's favorite) trying to describe how we're feeling, but no words tell the story or the whole truth. Maybe the photos lend it a bit of justice...

I'd had my eye on this downwinder since we arrived some many weeks ago. But this was the first time we had wind. Richard and I stopped for a bit on an outer motu and while I waited for my breathing to slow and my heart to stop pounding I took another look around. I am the luckiest man alive- to be here, to see this, to share it with someone who clearly is as equally blown away? Damn.

The next day we toured around the island a bit. Checked out the famous fresh water blue-eyed eels, the ancient and still operational fish traps, the maraes. That afternoon the wind returned and out we went again. The water just off the bow of Discovery is about 2 feet deep for oh, I don't know- a long long way. I think I saw upwards of a few hundred rays- spotted eagle, eagle, sting and who knows what else. It was easily one of the best flat water sessions I've ever had.

We sailed for Tahaa thinking that OK, this would be our last trip to Huahine. Ah, but her magic would work one last time. We dropped off Richard and Paschi, who I think were pretty reluctant to leave (and we were sorry to see them go- see you in Micronesia!!!) and picked up Troy and Les, who were joining from Florida; and Ryan and his girlfriend Beth who had also won a sales contest. We would almost mirror image the trip before. Kite that afternoon in Tahaa, check. Discuss going to Huahine, check. Go to Huahine, check. See whales on arrival, check. This was the best broken record that had ever been played! We'd anchored in our private lagoon many times in the last month and never gotten good enough winds to kite. Now on this trip we nail it both times? Ryan went from total beginner kite skills to the near upwind-master. Les nailed his first forward roll kiteloops, Troy smiled so much I think he has permanent wrinkles in his cheeks. As always, its the group that makes the trip and we were fortunate to have more wonderful people join.

But Bora-Bora was high on everyone's list to see, so we set sail first for Tahaa, where we spent the night, then onwards the next morning for the famed South Pacific island. Even after a lovely visit, with unfortunately no wind, I still rate it a far second to Huahine and the Australs, but check out this picture- it is pretty darned gorgeous.

We toured the famous lagoon, had drinks at Bloody Mary's, swam in the clear waters, played games, paddled the SUP, ate fantastic food. Even when there's no wind life is pretty good. We finished the trip with a perfect upwind sail back to Raiatea. The seas were near dead-calm, winds a light 10 knots, just enough to sail at the same speed with the boat barely moving. Just carving along steadily under full sail. Discovery is our starship, right here on planet earth.

We began our latest Adventure very much in the literal calm before the storm. The forecast called for the most impressive conditions I've seen since sailing to Cape Horn in 2005. The ground swell was to top out at 5 and a half meters, the winds at 30 knots for most of a week. And for once the forecast was spot on. To be honest it was even a bit scary. Most boats would simply hunker down and wait it out, but we had guests coming who wanted to kite- we were going to not only be moving around in this stuff, but seeking it out! The locals said Polynesia hasn't seen anything like it in recent history, but I couldn't pin anyone down on how "recent" they were talking about. 20 years? More?

Jody captures a lone Humpback

But back to the present. Our guests consisted of 4 repeats, owners Scott and Nashara, and their good friends Matt and Jenna who were with us for the first trip we operated in the Caribbean last year, and newbies Nate and Leslie; Hood River locals. The gang showed up bright and early on a beautiful sunny Saturday in Huahine, with no sign of the impending blow but some very odd and therefore active high level cirrus that was as easy to read as a Dr. Seuss book. This baby was going to scream.

Scott and Matt enjoy a break in the weather

Our chefs had a mouthwatering breakfast waiting at Discovery, then we motored around to the east side of the island hoping to spot some Humpback whales at play. They appeared, almost on cue just around from the airport. I heard a few "holy shits" and had to concur- they are certainly impressive. The gang spent the day recovering from jet lag in the lagoon we paraglided over on the trip before, but unfortunately it was too light to fly. The next morning, anticipating the strong winds to come we headed across to Tahaa, where I hoped the pass we'd had such luck on before would hold the swell on the way. There are only a few breaks in Polynesia that can hold the kind of swell that would arrive, namely Teahupoo and it was likely everything would be too big to even attempt. Just inside the pass at Tahaa on the east side is a perfect flat water spot the locals ride, so we anchored for lunch and let Nate, Scott and Matt get their first taste of kiting. The girls enjoyed a walk around a nearby island, then we headed off downwind with the kiters on our heels to the Tavaruna yacht club. Just at sunset the first squall arrived, notching the winds up to 25 knots. It would hardly fall below that for the next 7 days.

The skipper works on gibes

This being a "couples" trip the focus was not on kiting, which actually worked out the next few days as everything on the outside was total chaos. The pass where I got the best waves of my life last week was now a maelstrom of 20 foot waves smashing around in all directions. It was nearly impossible to kite, and totally impossible to photograph. Scott did somehow manage to rope in a couple monsters before wiping out and ejecting from his kite which quickly got eaten by the reef. So ensued a couple hours of rescues- first Scott, then his kite, then Matt, then his kite. Two kites destroyed, but no one hurt and a high-adrenaline day. The beers at the yacht club tasted awfully good that night.

Clarissa Hempel

Pro rider Clarissa Hempel joined us that night for three days in hopes we'd find something we could ride without getting killed. We tried the break again the next day, but now it was completely out of control. Just kiting out of the pass was a crazy roller-coaster ride where you'd practically lose the air in your kite down in the troughs, and it was blowing nearly 30 knots. We opted to let the reef get blasted on its own the next day and went for a flat water session the next. Everyone got some quality time on the water, Lars popped a nice trevally for dinner, the girls did the beach gig, the guys went fishing, Nashara bought some more pearls. Her collection now rivals a pearl distributor here- I think she's thinking about opening a shop!

Lars and dinner

With the wind and swell still pumping, but at least easing a bit we headed downwind for Bora-Bora, high on everyone's list to see. Almost mystical, Bora is what everyone thinks of when they picture the South Pacific. Even from a distance it is remarkable. It's a small island whose centerpiece, a towering green buttress that explodes into the clouds on a direct angle with God, or the heavens, or the stars- you get my drift, it's straight up; seems to dominate every view. She's surrounded by an impressive turquoise lagoon which is then surrounded by one fantastically expensive bungalow resort after another. But somehow while Bora is clearly a honeymoon heaven for those with money to spare it still feels like Polynesia. Laid back and friendly. The winds were perfect for kiting on arrival, a wave on the outer reef probably one that solid wave kiters have only pictured in their dreams. As we entered the pass in the midst of another squall two humpback whales surfaced right in front of the boat. This to me would be something more exciting and worth watching than say organizing your day around shopping, but that's what makes us all so interesting. Who am I to judge?

The guys try their luck at fishing

The remainder of our trip was spent doing a little bit of everything. We teamed up for a short stint with local kiter Moehau Goold and his friends at a fantastic flat water spot. We did some snorkeling; Jody and Clarissa went off on their own to do some kiting and shooting; spent 6 hours fishing offshore with Discovery in what I would class as "uncomfortable" seas in which we lost a lot more lures than we gained fish, but Matt landed a nice yellow fin that made it at least worthwhile. All the while Lars and Hannah fed us one mouth-watering meal after another, and even Nate who long ago swore off seafood became a seafood junky by the end of the trip. Rather than pounding against wind and swell everyone but Lars and I smartly decided to fly back to Tahaa on the final day. The dirty jobs, as usual go to the crew. On arrival in Raiatea we prepped Discovery to be hauled out for a quick bottom-paint job. Over the next few days Discovery and I got some alone time- a rare occasion. We replaced both seals on the sail drives; pulled cleaned and re-zinced the props; scrubbed, sanded and painted the hull; waxed all the above-water-line surfaces; changed the fuel and oil filters on both main engines and genset; and a number of other projects to keep us humming along smoothly. By Friday we were back in the water with a new solar panel arch built and installed (the old one was too flimsy) and my wallet was thinner by a large margin. I escaped back to Huahine (15 minute flight) for a short break before we ramp up with the annual Best trip on Monday. We have just over three weeks left in French Polynesia after arriving some 5 months ago. As always, new adventures on the horizon with some very exciting stops, but I'll be sad to leave this area. She's treated us well.

Bora-Bora

Our chefs took some badly needed time off before this last Epic opting for some civilization back up in Tahiti while Jody, Bruce and I stayed put on Discovery hoping to get up close and personal with some Humpback whales and also to explore the paragliding potential of Tubuai. The winds finally backed off to a reasonable level (imagine not wanting wind on a kitesurfing expedition!) for a few days during our break and luckily our whale efforts paid off. Seeing whales in Tubuai takes very little effort- they are everywhere. But swimming with them proved a little more challenging. We tried a number of different approaches, but the best encounter remains practically our first attempt. We spotted a solo whale approaching from behind steaming right for us. Not wanting to change anything we just quietly dropped a long line into the water so we could hold on and let Discovery sail on under auto pilot and staysail at very slow speed. Bruce and I took the plunge, myself with Jody's camera. Bruce held onto a line on the port side, I was on starboard, both of us were looking behind the boat, expecting the whale to swim up behind us and hopefully get curious enough to stay awhile. Nothing, nothing, nothing...then suddenly right at the same time Bruce and I looked down and right below us swam the giant. I took one picture, then the camera battery died. 5 minutes later a mother and her calf approached from the same direction, this time all of us hung onto the line and Jody's dream to swim with whales was finally realized after all these years. For her it was a bit bittersweet without being able to photograph them, as they were literally within feet looking right at us, but no doubt it was one of the finest ocean moments any of us have ever experienced.

The days on Tubuai passed much too quickly. It is an island that grows on you and our departure would be a sad one indeed. Stick your thumb out to go anywhere and guaranteed the first car that passes will pick you up. Again and again we've witnessed remarkable hospitality and generosity on this expedition, but the locals of Tubuai are in a world of their own. Clearly the lack of tourism is one of the keys. For most of our stay Discovery was the only boat at anchor. With our kites in the air or paragliders on our backs we must have been the gossip of the town. I say paragliders on our backs because Bruce and I spent an inordinate amount of time walking up just about every ridge, valley, shoulder, hill, mountain there is on the island hoping to fly but were turned back again and again. There were two launches that would have been incredible, but they have both become totally overgrown as the local flying club, consisting of one person must have given up against what must be very aggressive plants. This stuff is thick, which our badly scratched legs could attest. I did get a short sledder flight at sunset one day, which almost but not quite culminated in me landing in a tree.

And then, the impossible. The wind died totally. The night before the start of the trip this log will eventually get to was the calmest we've seen since leaving Tahiti some six weeks ago. We were anchored inside the reef in a sand bottom lagoon that is difficult to imagine even while floating on it. The moon was nearly full, and the water so perfectly clear that we all got a bit giddy just going for a swim. The dinghy, tied behind the boat looked like it was floating on air, the reflection of the boat on the bottom as discernible as on a perfectly sunny day. We were in a swimming pool the size of a small US state, and as has been the case for quite a long time- we had it all to ourselves.

We were joined by Cristobal and his friend Sebastian from Chile and Brian Jacobs from the States the next day, the second trip out for both owners. We immediately took everyone out to see the whales, knowing the calm would not last. Imagine flying to one of the most remote outposts in the world, getting on Discovery, which was anchored just off the airport, and within an hour watching whales do their thing. Seeing the looks on everyone's faces is one of the most precious aspects of my job.

The wind did indeed increase the next day, which provided two very nice days of kiting, one a particularly spectacular down winder inside the reef. We dropped the boys off at the east end and sailed back down the north side of the lagoon with Brian and Cristobal while Bruce went solo down the south seeking out waves, which he found aplenty, although at double overhead and a bit messy he was reticent to tackle them too aggressively. That evening Brian said The Best Odyssey had changed his life- the experiences and places we've gone have given him a whole new perspective on what living is all about. This probably sounds a bit sappy, but it's a compliment I'll never forget. The places we go, the things we do...we are remarkably fortunate and I am thankful to Brian for sharing his elation so intimately.

The next morning, with the arrival of a new forecast we made the decision to return to civilization by sailing back up to the Society group, beginning with Huahine, some 400 miles NNW. It was a decision I had a very hard time getting my head around. I really didn't want to leave Tubuai. Each of us had fallen in love with its many charms and while I'm usually thrilled to see what's on the horizon, this was not one of those times. I started it off badly when Lars and I took an hour before departure to scrub the bottom, but we did it in strong current and choppy water. I'm not prone to seasickness, but something about being upside down bouncing around scrubbing green slime away sent me reeling. I didn't notice it until we finished, then sat on the stern fighting off puking well into our departure.

The sail north was in some ways terrific and others unremarkable. We caught no fish, definitely a big strike against the trip. A little fresh sashimi always cheers the mood. The wind, while not strong was up between a close reach and a beam reach, which while very fast (we covered the distance in under 48 hours) was a bit uncomfortable. But the nights were splendid. The moon now at full and the sky cloudless, the night watches were mesmerizing and a highlight for everyone.

I didn't expect to be as taken with the northern Society islands as I was with the Australs because of the simple fact that we would be back amongst other boats and more people. But if Huahine is somewhat representative of this corner of French Polynesia I'm happy to say my expectations were all wrong. It is firstly gorgeous. Secondly it has a stupendacular (Gavin word) flying site. This is the trip we cross over big time into paragliding. As Bruce, Jody, Brian and I are all pilots and the winds for a few days on our arrival would not be strong enough to kite, why not take to the skies? And predictably, all the cruising boats would be anchored right next to one another on the opposite side of the island, leaving this heavenly spot all to ourselves. Within a few hours of arrival, with the help of the Huahine paragliding club (which consists of two locals- Xavier and Gilles) each of us were in the air, soaring over the magnificent green hills, clear lagoon and outer motus which protect the inner waters.

So halfway through the trip we'd swam with Humpbacks, kited one of the most amazing lagoons in the world, had a blue water passage, and had three amazing days of flying in Huahine. As the food is always unbelievable we could have just had a happy end there, but the wind gods would play one last card on this one, and a fine card it would be.

We sailed the short distance across to Raiatea to finish out our trip in search of waves. In 10 years of being out here I can promise finding that magic combination of clean wind from the right direction that lines up with a good break is incredibly challenging. On rare occasions, like the pro trip in June- you get lucky. Once again we had luck, and a bit of local help on our side. Unfortunately I can't show you what we got as Jody missed the last few days of the trip opting to swim with whales in Moorea but I can tell you it was the best kiteboarding experience I've ever had. I also can't tell you where it is, respecting the local protocol. Don't you hate that? A big carrot, and a bigger stick. I'll just say the wave was screaming fast; clean and big, and the winds were perfect. A high adrenaline affair. Bruce claimed he got 100 waves. Ok, maybe an exaggeration, but not by far. We retired to the Tavaruna yacht club for a good dose of Maui's pina coladas (Maui the owner, not the island), then had a 5 course last supper compliments of Hannah and Lars, which has become not only tradition, but practically world-famous (at least in our world!) that was the icing on the cake, or in this case the chocolate fondant (baked chocolate cake with a gooey center) and raspberry sorbet.

Bruce has been on something like 6 trips so far- said it was the best yet. Cristobal said it was the best vacation of his life. Ditto for Sebastian. Brian couldn't stop smiling. And we still have 3 shares left? Hello? Are there any sane people left out there or am I just missing the appeal of work, mortgage, traffic, house, car...

This trip goes down as the windiest of the expedition to date. We picked up our new group, Mick and Denise from Australia, Luc and Dave from Canada, and Bruce also from Australia right at the airport as we were anchored directly off the tarmac. The winds had been blowing 20 knots plus during most of the days we'd had during our re-provisioning and cleaning break, and the forecast called for more consistent wind than I'd ever seen in more than 10 years of sailing. We would not be short on kiting on this one.

Kiting off Discovery

A quick lunch followed our new guests arrival and Bruce, Luc and Dave quickly hit the water for a down winder to a spot that somehow escaped our notice on the last trip. Raivavae is firstly spectacular, ringed with a coral reef and small motus which provide for some of the most scenic flat water riding imaginable. With winds blowing strongly out of the west and winds stronger still in our future I opted to try to get Discovery tucked behind a sand peninsula on the inside of the reef that looked from a distance to be promising, and which would give us relief from the wind chop. Once the kiters were away we pulled anchor, Lars climbed up to the first spreaders to help us navigate safely through a maze of coral heads down a couple miles to the hoped-for anchorage.

The secret spot

Luckily the waters inside the lagoon are magnificently clear and with a high sun we were able to safely negotiate a way through. Our reward for the effort was sizable. While it's easy to say The Best Odyssey has taken us to some phenomenal areas to kite, this would be our best sand and shallow water stop yet. We very rarely kite spots suitable for learning- offshore conditions and plenty of coral are the norm and we aren't shy about publicizing this fact. But on this occasion Dave, who was just learning to get up on his board would truly luck out. And for the rest of us working on free style, it doesn't get any better.

Gavin goes for flat flat flat water

The next day the small kites came out- Denise on a 5m, Jody on a 7m, myself on an 8m- you get the point. Honking. Bruce, Luc and I had a jump-off at sunset after a very full day on the 10m HP which in 30 knots of wind I could barely hang on to. Bruce won hands down, soaring well over 100' more than 3 stories high. Not bad for day 2. That evening was an animated affair; plenty of stories surrounding wind, our remoteness- life in general. Why can't it just stay this uncomplicated? Then a feast of fresh sashimi, saffron seafood paella, and home-made berry sorbet kind of drove it home- it takes more than just wind to make it this good.

Bruce goes big

The next day Jody arose much later than usual (she's usually up with day break), owing to the previous full day of kiting and incredibly was still the first up (behind our chef team of course, who already had out a full breakfast). Even the young guns, Luc and Dave were feeling it today. In fact, for the remainder of the trip we would each go kiting almost out of guilt. Our bodies pounded and sore, but the wind relentless and you just had to go. One night Luc said, "this has got to be the greatest trip ever, no way could there be a better one." My reply was that they are all pretty incredible, the wind being only a small factor in the overall experience. The people are a much larger component of a successful journey, but on this one we did seem to be on a lucky run. If there is a negative it's that this far south, in the middle of winter (we're just below the Tropic of Capricorn) the wind bites and the water is much cooler than it was up in the Societies. A shorty wet suit is required for kiting, as is a fleece in the evenings, which is not something we're used to. The Canadians didn't seem to mind, but Denise and Mick were hoping for a bit more "tropical".

Raivavae from above

Opting for a change of scenery we moved Discovery around to the west side of the island on day 4 where we would spend a couple days kiting as well as exploring the island itself. Bruce, Jody and I were actually hoping the wind would ease and allow us to paraglide what would be one of the world's most incredible ridge sites. I'd tried to gain access to the ridge previously and been turned back by thick undergrowth, but with the help of the locals, who are among the most friendly people I've ever come across (not only does EVERYONE say hello, most will actually come directly up and shake your hand in greeting) we found a good trail. Indeed, the flying would be a once-in-a-lifetime experience, but on this trip it was not to be. The winds continued to nuke, now out of the east and we needed much more tame conditions to attempt a flight. But the hike and view, as you can see- was stunning.

Bruce ponders a paragliding flight

A local says orana

With the winds now out of the east it was time to head off to Tubuai, some 100 miles to the west, where we hoped to find Humpback whales, which are "in town" this time of year. We headed out at 0100, after nearly 3 weeks in Raivavae in winds that were about as unsteady as they come- gusts to 35 knots, heavy squalls, separated by periods of almost total calm. But once we cleared the lee of the island the conditions steadied and we began making good ground dead downwind under reefed main and head sail.

Lars shows off some of the take

Bruce and Luc each did a short watch from 0400 to 0600, followed by Lars as usual on the morning watch so he could deploy all the fishing lines. By 0900 we had 4 very nice Mahi-Mahi on board (we had 4 lines out and actually landed 3 at the same time in what must have been a massive school), by 1000 we had our first of many sashimi, ceviche, carpacio, sushi...feasts over the next few days. OK, maybe this trip is charmed.

Lars and Hannah, post Mahi catch!!!

Tubuai appeared on the horizon hours before landfall, the most populous of the Austral chain with just 2,000 residents. Overcrowding is certainly not a concern in this part of the world. We saw two surfacing whales on arrival, but with winds cranking and the seas quite large stopping to check them out was not possible. One other sail boat lie at anchor off the town, which since we left Tahiti almost felt crowded. A small sand motu sat just across from us, which provided for scenic though choppy kiting the next day.

Dave shows off his new kiting skills

Luc perfects the grab

On our second to last day, another wind-filled affair we decided to have a go at finding some whales. Luc and Bruce launched off the boat with 9 M kites and we headed downwind, out through the reef, and around to the leeward side of the island where we hoped whales would be congregating in the calmer water. Bruce racked up some sweet and very entertaining runs on a beautiful left hander breaking off the reef until he snapped his bar in half, which ended up being fortuitous timing because as Lars rescued him I turned around to see three surfacing Humpbacks 200' off our stern. For the next two hours we tried in various ways to get closer, which were mostly unsuccessful but we did get lucky at one point when they came almost right at us, then dove under the boat which I was then swimming alongside. I could hear their singing and squeaks long before I got a good glimpse of one, but not close enough to call it interacting. But just seeing the whales was award enough, and a perfect way to finish an amazing adventure.

The Captain enjoys the surroundings

I could have stayed in Tahiti for weeks longer, but our horizon lay south to an area which by what few accounts I could find, sounded as spectacular as Tahiti, but without any of its drawbacks- namely people. The Austral islands are French Polynesia's 5th group, one of the most remote and least visited areas of the vast Pacific ocean. Raivavae would be our destination, some 400 miles SSE of Tahiti which my cruising guide claimed was the most scenic of any island in the South Pacific. Remote, scenic, no tourists, lots of wind- sounded promising.

Gerry gets a taste of kiting Tahiti

Our group for the next 14 days arrived on Saturday, the boys who taught us dirty clubs a year ago in Los Roques. Dirty clubs has become the gamestay of the expedition. Each game, a combination of luck and skill has a forfeit that the loser must do. These range from something quite benign, like a swim to a nearby island, to something quite comical like singing from the top of the mast, to something not very pleasant. Like getting tattooed. The forfeit on our first game, not long after Rawleigh, Doug, Gerry and Craig arrived was just that. The next time we cross a tatoo artist I will be the not-so-proud owner of a jack of clubs tattoo. Stay tuned to the Captain's logs for proof that I serve my loss.

Downwinder in Moorea

We spent the weekend exploring Tahiti and visiting the local kite spot on the NW coast, which provided for a memorable 5 mile downwinder alongside Discovery, always a favorite of our guests. I imagine the locals were pretty blown away when we pulled in and anchored, launched everyone off the boat, then followed them down the coast. The benefits of kiting off a catamaran with a crew at your disposal are certainly enviable. We invited a fellow Best rider, Franz Heymann who I'd met over the weekend. As Franz had been following these logs since we launched a year and a half ago, we were psyched to show him what it's all about.

The boys check out Moorea

With the winds shifting to NE on Tuesday, a perfect direction for heading south we laid plans to depart from nearby Moorea, which gave us a day and a half to explore. On arrival, an easy 12 mile sail from Tahiti the winds picked up to a solid 20 knots. We repeated another 5 mile downwinder, again with Discovery on the kiters heels, although this time they were able to ride down the inside of the barrier reef as the crew and I took the boat around the outside. What a place to kite- the sun setting over the remarkable backdrop of Moorea, majrestic Tahiti in the distance. It was my turn to be envious. Note to self- teach Lars to run this boat ASAP! I want to play too!

Moorea

We left Moorea the next afternoon. With some luck we'd make it to Raivavae in just over 2 days. Heading SSE in this part of the world is not usually an easy endeavor and while I wouldn't call the passage easy, it certainly wasn't hard. Much of it a dead-calm motor, more of it a pleasant sail, and the last 6 hours a beat dead into the wind as a deep low arrived. We filled our days with dirty clubs and the evenings with star gazing. We made landfall at 0300, 56 hours after departure. With everyone asleep we motored quietly under a black sky to a peaceful anchorage where I did what I always do after a landfall- collapse.

Approaching Raivavae

The winds have only been one thing since our arrival- unpredictable. Raivavae, being just south of the Tropic of Capricorn gets blasted by the tradewinds, but is also near enough the roaring 40's that low pressure systems come through frequently, and sometimes with punishing force. So our days, as is so often the case would be dictated by the winds.

the Skipper takes a turn

When they were light the cards were dealt, when it was strong we'd kite til either our bodies or the light would give out. On our second to last day the boys hit the water for a final 2 and a half hour session which took them from one tip of the island to the other. Discovery sailed out in front, once again leading the way in a place that has never been kited. How many of these spots have we pioneered just in the past year? Once again we share the water with only ourselves and the fish.

Raivavae

Wink enjoys the sights

On the last day of the pro trip the boys got one last sweet surf session at Tikehau, when both a right and a left were working nicely. Mauricio was finally healed up enough to start it out showing everyone up on the SUP, then transferring to his surfboard and staying out solo for several hours after the rest had retired after a very full two weeks. The poor guy had to watch a string of perfect days and it was great to see him able to enjoy in the fun. Clinton and I saw everyone off at the airport then returned to what felt like a very vacant Discovery for an exaggerated sleep session. The next morning we motored around in zero wind back to Rangiroa, landing two lovely king mackerel on the way.

Clinton lands a nice one

The weather during our 5 days between trips was horrible. Never-ending rain and squalls kept the crew holed up watching movies and relaxing. Thankfully, the weather cleared the day before the start of our next trip, just in time for the boat to get cleaned up and our chef team to provision and prep more of their amazing food.

With the sun back in all her regalia, I picked up Cory, Patrece and their friend Augie at the airport. This would be our smallest group yet, and after 14 days with a dozen on board I know the crew was looking forward to a bit more leisure time. Whereas we had wind and swell for the entirety of the pro trip, this one would be desperately short of the one magic ingredient we need to kite. Luckily this group has fun no matter what the conditions, and we found ours early playing a drinking game called Liar's Dice, which is apparently just a means to polish a bottle of Patron in about 25 minutes. This was followed by some terrifically terrible rum punch, which then led to gratuitous nudity and antics our neighbors at anchor may not have fully enjoyed. Some of you may recall a log back from our second trip entitled "pole dancing under the lunar eclipse"- this was the same group, sans two of the couples, but Cory and Patrece weren't about to let the absence of people undercut the fun.

Clinton, partaking in the evening's festivities

The next morning we sailed a couple hours to the south end of Rangiroa, which is peppered with uninhabited motus and beautiful white sand beaches, with the added bonus of having zero chance of annoying neighbors as there would never be any. We spent the day exploring the surroundings, which were stunning, then settled in for a sunset bonfire and shark wrestling, as always performed by Clinton "Irwin" Bolton. Lars and Hannah made gorgeous little banana leaf pouches of fresh fish, black beans and herbs that they roasted on the fire to end a perfect day.

Cory and Patrece enjoying the solitude

With a continued no-wind forecast in Rangiroa, but what looked to be better conditions down by Moorea, some 200 miles south and our destination we departed early the next morning to make what would usually be a 24 hour run. This one turned into nearly 36 and became quite a gruel. For me, it was one of the more stressful passages I've had. We'd only been able to pick up 150 litres of fuel in Rangiroa, which nevertheless would be sufficient to get us down to Moorea if we had no wind. The first 20 hours of the trip were in dead-flat, windless conditions. A peaceful and even enjoyable motor, but I went to bed after checking the fuel gauges for the umpteenth time knowing we didn't have enough to make it without sailing for at least some of the run. Sometime around 0300 the wind started thankfully stirring, and from the SE, which allowed us to sail on a close haul and save precious little remaining fuel. As the hours passed the wind increased, which built the seas into an uncomfortable wind swell from the east, mixing with a large SW ground swell, making for bumpy and tiring conditions.

Approaching beautiful Moorea

We sailed hard into it for most of the day. Finally, with a wind veer even further to the south, making our port tack even further away from our goal of Cook's Bay on Moorea, I dropped the sails and prayed we'd have enough fuel to slog it out. I hoped the lee of Moorea would provide both swell and wind relief, but incredibly the winds kept building. As I'd been on watch all day the previous day, then up all night, then on watch all day again, my patience wick was burning low. With winds in excess of 25 knots directly on the nose, it took nearly 4 hours to cover only 16 miles. We must have arrived on mere fumes and anchoring that night felt awfully good. It doesn't hurt that Cook's Bay is easily one of the most arresting places I've ever sailed. We came here in 2001 and I was happy to feel the same joy in my surroundings as I did the last time.

Cory and Patrece enjoy Moorea

The next morning we fueled Discovery, probably the highlight of the trip for me. We hadn't been able to take on fuel by other than jerry jug since Hao Atoll, on the last full moon, some 35 days ago. As the fuel dock was nothing more than a 10' square we had to anchor out and back down to the pier. You can probably tell from the picture that we are probably a bit larger than their regular customer. Gordon, a semi-local from San Diego who's been coming to Moorea for the past 14 years to surf and more recently kite saw the Best stickers and came down to see what we were all about. I invited him on for the day so he could show us the local spots, which I think judging from the gushing thank-you's and smiles he gave to everyone for the rest of the day, might have made his trip. And we might have a new shareholder. Unfortunately this would be the only day of the trip for kiting. Both Cory and Gordon got about an hour of pretty solid conditions around on the windward side of the island. With Tahiti in the background and the green spires of Moorea overhead, it was a mesmerizing spot.

Discovery takes on badly needed fuel

So we can't always nail the winds but our chefs always nail the food; the locations speak for themselves; Discovery is a lovely platform to soak it all in from; so we can't complain. We've got a week to get some badly needed maintenance done in Tahiti before going south to the Australs for two months, a region very very few people ever visit. Fuel, food, and parts will be near difficult to come by, so it will undoubtedly be a busy week.

John and Alexis Bilderback join The Best Odyssey

When Jody and I started laying out the plan for The Best Odyssey our dream was to travel where no one else does and do what no one else has. I always define life as a string of moments- the more precious moments you can string together means life is being lived instead of passing you by. The last 8 days have been a continuous mind-blowing string.

First you've got to put together the right group- special moments are hard to have solo, and it's hard to have an "Epic" (which we call these 14 day trips because that's what we set them up to be) without highly motivated and talented people. Moehau Goold, Mauricio Abreu, Josh Mulcoy and Clinton Bolton- heavy hitters on all accounts, especially when it comes to waves are a good start. We've also been joined by legend photographer John Bilderback and his wife Alexis on video, Scott Wisenbaker, Nashara Alberico, Chris Smith and especially important to me- Jody. Then, after two weeks of almost no wind, we get a perfect forecast- for both wind and swell literally the day everyone arrived. We pull out the charts and make what we hope are educated guesses for what might work. There are no guarantees and there's no history to go by- these places don't exist outside of local knowledge, if at all. Our goal is to kite waves. We've still got 6 days left on this trip and the forecast continues to be perfect, but I can already say- our goal has been achieved.

First a forewarning. None of the places I'm about to write about are where I'm going to say they are or named what we've named them. The reason for this is twofold- one, we don't know the names of them anyway and two, we want to protect these spots for the locals, who have been unbelievably generous and kind, sharing in the stoke we're experiencing. Josh Mulcoy, who's literally surfed all over the world, from Iceland and Norway to the Mentawais and Fiji had the best wave session of his life yesterday. Moehau Goold, who surfs Teahupoo on a regular basis said the waves he got were among best of his life. Personally I've been at this for 8 years and I've never seen or found even a fraction of what we keep getting, at multiple locations. For some reason we've got karma on our side.

Chris learns to SUP

But first, how we got here in the first place. It all begins in Fakarava, the second largest atoll in the Tuamotus. We motor sailed down to the south end of the atoll in hopes the southern pass would present a wave with a building easterly swell. Operating inside this lagoon is no easy task as there are pearl farms strung across the only charted route. We left at first light and quickly got wrapped up in one segment, and that was following one of the locals. A quick dive below freed the rope though and we headed onwards. Unfortunately the south end didn't have a great wave- enough for the boys to get a few rides, and even a short kite, but the scenery more than made up for it. The pass here, as in all the others we've explored so far present perfectly clear waters and abundant coral and fish life. Add to that swaying palm trees, tiny sand motus and vibrant colors on every horizon and you've got a boat full of smiling people.

Clinton plays friendly with the locals

That evening Clinton got a dozen or so sharks interested in some left-over bonito we'd caught that day and went Steve Irwin on us (I think it's his South African blood) for a few hours shark wrestling. Those of us more interested in keeping our fingers kept our distance.

Moehau Goold shows his stuff in Toau

We pulled anchor at 0400 the next morning and sailed downwind back to the north end of the atoll, some 30 miles to pick up Moehau and head onwards to Toau, a nearby atoll. The winds were now blowing well over 20 knots and looked to stay that way for a week minimum. En route to Toau, an easy and fast sail with the gennaker Scott and Chris hooked into a 5 foot beautiful sailfish, which they landed and Lars prepared into an astonishing array of sashimi and sushi. We sailed into the pass, little more than a small bay on the west side of Toau just before sunset, just in time for Moehau and Scott to get some flat water kiting under their belt, and the photographers to get some work done.

Yes, this is for real

Another very early morning and another nice sail downwind to an atoll that will remain unnamed. We sailed into the pass, which was ebbing at 3 knots, a head-high left peeling down the reef with not a single person on it. Josh grabbed his board and jumped off the stern before I even knew what was going on. Moehau kept saying "what" and "oh my god" while frantically searching for his gear; Mauricio, Clinton and Scott in equal bewilderment. Unfortunately the wave was as perfect as it was dangerous. Within moments Mauricio made his first reef contact, splitting his elbow, then Clinton followed with a nearly full-body drag over the coral on his stomach, back, legs and feet. We wrapped up Mauricio's elbow, and scrubbed down Clinton all the while watching Moehau and Josh get one unbelievable tube after another. Incredibly, we could keep Discovery hovering right at the end of the break in perfect flat water so all those on board or with cameras could catch the action in full.

Josh Mulcoy enjoys the first of many, many barrels

Mauricio shows off his first war wound

The surfing continued until it all came down on Mauricio (aka "Morris") in a bad way. He went over the falls and cracked his head, giving him a concussion and the need for stitches. Josh and Moehau fished him out and we motored into town, which thankfully had both a wharf we could tie up to and a medical clinic nearby. As Morris kept asking the same questions over and over we figured he could use a bit of professional help. We were ushered down to the clinic by some locals, who wore happy smiling faces and the generosity to match. In no time the doctor had Morris sewn up and Clinton covered in pink iodine, but their days on the waves were going to be limited. We attempted an evening kite session on the waves but unfortunately it was too offshore and everyone opted for another perfect surf instead.

Mauricio, before going over the falls

On day two at our unnamed spot some of the locals came out to join those still able to ride and made tube riding look like child's play. One kid, no more than 14 years old in particular must have gotten 20 barrels in a row, with all of us screaming encouragement. Watching Josh and Moehau rip the waves up is a sight to behold, but god this little kid was "killing it", in verbiage the pros have adopted to describe something truly amazing.

Scott and Nashara take advantage of a short break

That night, opting for more seclusion than the wharf and town we motored against the wind up to a small motu behind the reef inside the lagoon. Arriving just at sunset the looks on everyone's faces was tribute to our surroundings. To describe it as "pretty" would be a wildly unimpressive adjective. It was perfect. Butter flat water behind the reef, long sandy strip for kite launching, palm covered motu in the backdrop. This was a kite surfers dream, and a photographers heaven.

Moehau shows how it's done

The small kites came out the next day with the winds picking up even more. Moehau and Scott got things off to an impressive start boosting and doing tricks over a strip of land just off our stern while I took to giving Chris his first taste of kiting on the trip. I got my own taste for a concussion some time later while bringing Chris back upwind and failed to notice Moehau (it was mutual) doing a Slim Chance right over my head, which then got a nice shot to the outboard motor when he came down on my back. There was no pain, but things got pretty fuzzy for awhile.

Clinton shows just how badly the reef hurts

Later that day we excitedly accepted an invite to join some locals for a pig roast at their pearl farm at the far side of the lagoon, one of the largest in French Polynesia, and a trip we'd promised Nashara since the beginning. It's hard to get in shopping with the winds and waves cranking but somehow we got them both this day. The pearl farm was situated in waters protected by a 10 mile strip of land no more than a hundred meters wide. The lee side of the strip was of course ripple-free, which Scott and I couldn't resist having a quick kite on. The others enjoyed a wander on the land, which included seeing photos of a 5 meter tiger shark that they'd killed just months earlier right where we were anchored. I was happy to have missed them, and even happier Scott and I didn't get eaten.

The gang enjoys the local transport at the pearl farm

After dinner we hoisted the sails again and ran off downwind across the lagoon under a moon-less and ominous sky. Everyone settled into bed for what was supposed to be an overnight crossing to Tikehau so Nashara could catch a flight home. But first we had to negotiate the narrow pass back out into the open ocean, no easy task even in full sun. With winds gusting to 30 knots and the ebb tide making for a current well in excess of 5 knots my heart was in my throat. I fired up the engines to have in case they were required, then put JB (John Bilderback) on my main sheet to control the impending gybe, and Jody on the computer so she could tell me where I needed to be. Then, without mincing words all hell broke loose. I suddenly saw a 3 foot standing wall of water from the current line, which as soon as we hit spun Discovery out of control. I gunned the engines, JB handling the gybe perfectly, then felt the adrenaline rage through my veins as the reef screamed by on both sides. Incredibly we ran through perfectly but god I think I'll be recovering long after this trip is complete.

Josh rips the next stop on the Best Odyssey

Safely back in open ocean it became apparent rather quickly that even with winds as strong as they were, we weren't going to make Nashara's flight the next day. Plan B was another close atoll which had a better flight option, but no swell. That is, none that we knew of. We flew all night, Discovery clearly enjoying the freedom of the black ocean. Arriving with time to spare Hannah and Lars hurried into town to get some provisions and fuel while Nashara said some sad goodbyes. We were pressing to carry onto to Tikehau so we could arrive with enough sun to negotiate yet another treacherous pass. But quite unexpectedly, on exiting the atoll for the run west a perfect, and I mean perfect right, with side offshore winds just appeared out of nowhere. A handful of surfers were already enjoying the goods, Josh and Moehau put their fins on in record time. And for the end of this log, let's let the photos do the talking...

Moehau, in his own world

Owner Scott Wisenbaker, obviously learning from the Pros

From Hao we had to cover some 325 miles to the NW to Fakarava. The charts showed a very small atoll named Hariaki half way that one of our guides said was uninhabited and reportedly had a shallow but possibly navigable pass on the southern side. In other words, no one ever goes there, and be careful if you do. Hariaki will forever be a defining stop on The Best Odyssey. After spotting a couple whales upon exiting Hao atoll we sailed all night, arriving early the next morning. Two fishing lines started zinging just as we were bringing them in. Tobey landed a nice Snapper and myself a very large Giant Trevally, which we let go as fish poisoning is prevalent in this type of fish in the Tuamotus.

Giant Trevally photo Craig Shrimpton

I sent Lars off in the dinghy to scout the pass, which looked dicey at best. 45 minutes later he returned and said he thought it was doable. I put Martin up on the first spreader, took a deep breath and followed Lars in. In short, we made it, with my heart in my throat. My log entry, once we had the anchor down was "I'm a fucking nut ball." I downed a beer, then told Lars that he and I would have to get together on what was "doable" in the near future. But god what a place. Once my pulse and breathing returned to normal I took the time to look around and found what everyone else was gaping at. This kind of beauty cannot be captured and is rarely seen. We had it all to ourselves. If this island was in the Caribbean it would have a marina and a line of high rise hotels. We had sharks, fish, sun, palm trees, crystal clear water and not a lot else.

Imagine negotiating this pass photo Craig Shrimpton

Craig scopes out the corals below

Knowing sharks would again be in play we headed out through the break to the outside in the dinghy to have a look around. Lars and I brought our guns hoping to get something tasty for dinner. I would put visibility at about 80' as we dropped in- awesome. Varying coral fish roamed, but not in great numbers and only a solitary shark or two. I speared a small mackerel, then we moved back into the pass. The current was strong enough that swimming against it was a bit of a challenge, but we anchored the dinghy to have a go. This area was filled with all types of reef fish, and plenty of sharks- mostly black tips. I began to hunt a very thick but wary snapper, briefly wondering if I shot anything what the sharks would do. Martin came around and the two of us tried to work the fish together, but then a nice parrotfish presented and I took the shot. It was a good one, just behind the pectoral fin, but it also presented quite a bit of blood. By the time I had the fish in hand a very large black tip made a run right at me. I turned on my back, flipping my fins in his face, banging at his nose with my gun. As my spear line was through the fish I couldn't reload the gun, and to be honest don't think I could have anyway- it's hard to reload when a shark is coming after you! Then for some reason the shark jerked away in telltale aggressive form and started after Martin, who was nowhere near my bleeding fish. I thought briefly my best move would be to get further away from him to draw the shark away, but at the same time I was the one with a gun and knife! Martin had nothing more than his fins, which he was using to pummel the shark in the face as best he could. Then just as suddenly as the shark attacked he went away, which had both Martin and I cheering in relief. The dinghy at this point was still 100 feet away and I yelled to them to get over to us. Then the shark returned, this time looking quite motivated. Again he went for Martin and as I closed the distance between us realized we had three more sharks coming into play. Now they were all around, coming at us from every direction.

Ours were unfortunately not this placid photo Craig Shrimpton

Martin and I were desperately trying to close the distance to the dinghy while keeping our fins between us and the sharks. It occurred to me I should drop the fish, but I wasn't quite ready to give up the goods. I yelled again for help from the dinghy, but they seemed to be having trouble with the anchor. Finally we closed the distance and I think in unison Martin and I literally flew into the dinghy, breathing hard. Martin and I looked at each other and just gave the universal high five. We'd made it and the adrenaline was coursing through our veins. He later told me this trip was the best of his life, and the shark incident the highlight by far. I couldn't have agreed more. No one was really all that psyched just then to get back in the water so we retired to Discovery to swap death stories.

Discovery in paradise photo Craig Shrimpton

That evening we built a bonfire on the beach under the nearly full moon. Lars and I scaled a couple palm trees, whose coconuts make for delicious rum drinks and also provided our chefs with fresh coconut for dinner- a mix of fresh fish and coconut rice wrapped in banana leaves roasted on the fire. The moonlight; the remoteness; the laughs and smiles; the amazing food; the beauty of our private paradise all came together to create a perfect evening. Well, that and a hysterical performance of "puff the magic dragon" by Iain, who had to serve two forfeits compliments of Dirty Clubs that night (the other a naked swim around Discovery, which given our shark encounter that day was not a light one). These are simply the moments that define our lives and these moments just can't be beat.

The skipper goes coconut hunting photo Craig Shrimpton

The gang in Hariaki photo Craig Shrimpton

Our schedule unfortunately forced us out of Hariaki the next day, which was as thrilling and scary as it was coming in. The forecast showed one more day of light airs but wind on the horizon to finish off the trip in style. We sailed 24 hours up to Fakarava, the second largest atoll in the Tuamotus. A few hours before arrival the wind kicked up as predicted and we punched it to get in early to take advantage of the day. The Tuamotus are all atolls and never rise higher than a coconut tree as they have almost no real estate. Their reefs circle sometimes vast lagoons, which no matter the wind direction present glassy flat water in their lee. We anchored under the north side of the island just inside the pass and wasted no time getting out the gear.

Shane takes advantage of the surroundings photo Craig Shrimpton

Everyone kited all day. Then again the next. And now today, the last day of the trip we're all a little bit sun burned, a whole lot worn out; and I suppose all feeling a bit like I am now writing this log. That we've tasted something few ever will and however life spins in the days to come this trip will always be a precious memory.

The skipper gets some hang time photo Craig Shrimpton

This trip goes down as one, if not the finest expedition of my life. To qualify as an "expedition" it should have the following attributes: remote, rarely or never attempted, difficult, and requiring great planning and usually heroic effort. Having two amazing chefs and a luxury yacht probably removes 'difficult' from our list, but we topped the scales on remote and never attempted on this one, and if you add what our chefs went through to get food on this boat we definitely have heroic. Although swimming with dozens of sharks cannot be described as easy...

But first, we must rewind to find out how we got here in the first place. Everything about The Best Odyssey from an operational standpoint got a lot harder this year in the Pacific. In the Caribbean you have marinas, yards, places to buy just about anything you want on almost every island, in every port. Of course you also have a much more tame and crowded experience so while operating in the Pacific is a lot more challenging the rewards are as vast as the body of water, they just require a lot more effort. I know I'm not the only one on this boat thrilled to be back in a part of the world few ever see. From the Gambiers, a beautiful spot but unfortunately very short on anything for our chef team, and where we were only able to dig up 50 gallons of diesel (at a shocking price) we motor sailed in light airs 450 miles northwest to Hao Atoll, the start of our next adventure. Arriving at the crack of dawn on the 10 th and navigating through the narrow pass through the reef into the tranquil and spectacular lagoon was only partly clouded by the fact that we had almost zero fuel remaining. I knew nothing of Hao- but I was praying we'd find some fuel.

Hao was developed by the French to support the nuclear bomb tests on nearby Mururoa, which went on for 4 decades. The below and above ground testing thankfully finally ended in the 90's and Hao has dwindled in population from over 5,000 to a mere 700. It's a charming, clean and friendly place that has a pace that 'slow' doesn't do justice. Within minutes of our arrival most of the town's children and not a small amount of the adult population were ogling the strange newcomers (apparently Hao gets about 5 cruising boats a year, and we were the only ones currently there). Even though we were right in front of town the water was a magic clear blue, a nearby reef teeming with fish. I could tell we were going to like it here. And a local quickly arranged for the local Mobil truck to come down and fill our very empty tanks. Never mind the cost, when it comes to French Polynesia everything last thing is in the category of rip off, and you just have to shell out.

This reef is about 50 meters off the town's dock photo Craig Shrimpton

Our group arrived the next day. Shane and his friend Craig from Seattle, Martin and his girlfriend Lena from Singapore, Iain and Tobey from the UK. Iain and Shane were with us last season in the Caribbean, for the rest this would be their first go on Discovery. Hao abounds with friendly people, and their hospitality was just beginning to show as Cynthia and her husband, owners of the only pearl farm in Hao offered to drive me out to the airport. I was hoping that maybe one or two would be carrying a few boxes of fresh goods. I'd sent a desperate last-minute email to each that our chefs hadn't had any luck finding more than a few scarce supplies and we needed whatever they could procure in Tahiti. Unfortunately none received the email with enough cushion to get anything so we'd either have to catch a ton of fish, or send Lars back to Tahiti.

But for the time being our chef team felt they could make it work. There was zero wind, and none in the forecast. Usually this fact would suppress the mood on board, but it's hard to be down in such an amazing place and I think our friends were more than happy to take it in. The next morning we took a trip out to the pearl farm, something none of us had seen. Cynthia and her husband and a few others picked us up in their sizable skiff (I think the pearl business is a good one) and took us south some 15 miles, nearly half the length of the lagoon.

Shane enjoys the waters at the Pearl Farm photo Craig Shrimpton

Without going into great detail, I suppose the way to describe the day would be to say it was spent very slowly. Which is to say, just as it should be. Towering palms, white coral sand, turquoise warm water, cold beer and good company certainly helped. OK, so with some wind it would have been the most gorgeous flat water kiting any of us had ever done, but I think we were all just fine with the present reality. The day set the tone for the rest of the trip- a fine tone indeed.

Anyone for Yellow fin? photo Craig Shrimpton

The next day we spent searching for manta rays, which proved unsuccessful, but I was able to spear a few tasty fish for dinner and Cynthia gave us a beautiful yellow fin tuna which Lars expertly turned into mouthwatering sushi and sashimi the next day, so all was not lost. One more visit to town the next morning proved valuable as another supply boat had just come in, which our chefs took advantage of and cleaned house on just about every fresh good available. Craig had to serve his dirty club forfeit (a staple Discovery card game) by donning snorkel gear for a romp through town- very entertaining. And now, let us talk about sharks. Lots of sharks.

Craig learns the pleasures of Dirty Clubs

Back on my last trip to the Tuamotus we spent a bit of time diving the passes that most of the low-lying Tuamotu atolls have. Passes are narrow channels that are the only way water enters and exits the lagoons, some of which are over 30 miles from one side to the other. The passes team with life, as currents can reach upwards of 20 knots on the ebb tide, which create perfect conditions for coral growth. The coral of course attracts great numbers of fish- which of course attracts sometimes impressive numbers of sharks. Back in 2001 on one particular night dive that went very wrong my dive partner and I spent the better part of 11 hours (all night) in the water with a great number of reef sharks after we surfaced with no chase boat in sight. This time around I was determined to get everyone in the water to experience these incredible creatures, but for a relatively shorter length of time, in let's say- less demanding conditions. If you would like to read about that fateful evening some years ago, go here.

We get greeted by the locals on arrival photo Craig Shrimpton

So we moved Discovery just off the pass, spotting a few black tip sharks circling the boat before we even had the anchor down. This was going to be GOOD. Everyone tumbled into the dinghy (some maybe a little more hesitantly than others, it's true) and we raced off, going outside the lagoon so we could ride the flood tide back inside. I have to put this in some perspective. Many of this group had never seen a shark. Just a few months ago Shane went snorkeling for the first time with us in Panama and was fearful of even being in the ocean, now he was heading out to purposefully swim with sharks!

Anyone for a dance? photo Craig Shrimpton

Curious black tip photo Craig Shrimpton

With memories of the night dive gone bad some years ago I hesitantly proposed that we should do another run through the pass under the nearly full moon that night. I never thought anyone would actually take me up on it, but incredibly everyone was game. It's hard to explain the rush that comes from gliding along at such a rate at night, white eyes lit by your dive light, dark shapes lurking, how many there but not seen? It was a high-adrenaline day and I know there were some solid sleeps that night. But the adventure was just beginning...

The gang checks out the pass pulled by Discovery the next day photo Craig Shrimpton

Our winds faded somewhere shy of where we needed them to. Already low on fuel, with flights scheduled for Bruce, Bjorn and his son Kristian and still 800 miles to go things were looking desperate. We had maybe about 300 miles range on our remaining fuel, with a horrid forecast. After ripping for a week in near-perfect conditions it was a bit of a let-down. But after motoring for 30 hours with mounting stress unforcasted winds returned and with gennaker flying and full main the chess games began anew and the mood greatly improved. Our 3,000 mile passage was ticking away in good form- we even looked to arrive with plenty of time to spare.

Not that there weren't a few hiccups. The day the wind returned I flew our recently repaired light-air gennaker, while voicing very strict parameters to our crew for maximum apparent wind that the sail could handle. In other words- if the winds picked up, we'd have to pack it away. Of course shortly after, on my watch (oops), while reading rather than paying the attention I should have I failed to notice conditions were in fact picking up and all of a sudden- BANG, the gennaker blew at the head, the same place it did the last time we flew it, ages ago on our first crossing with Discovery leaving Lanzarote in the Canaries. Twice I've flown this sail, both times I've blown it up. But this time we had some added entertainment. 5/6ths of the sail went right under the bow while making over 10 knots. Lars and Bruce jumped to the task of hauling it out from under the boat, while I took stock of the situation. The head of the sail, now detached from the portion being keel-hauled was banging around at the top of the mast. Still 800 miles out, it would reek havoc on our mast and needed to be brought down. We weren't exactly in calm conditions, but as I was the idiot who blew it up in the first place, I had to retrieve the halyard.

We put a single reef in the main, detached the topping lift, tied me on and up I went. This video shows the circus act I went through to get it down:

Alas the winds took a nose dive yet again, although by the time they did we were in range on remaining fuel. We were going to make it. 16 days, 3100 miles all up- not a blistering pace, but all in all a terrific passage. If it hadn't been for the 5 no wind days our average would have been around 10 knots. The day before everyone's flights we got just enough wind to fly both the gennaker (the other one) and the genoa wing on wing dead downwind and sailed into the Gambiers with just enough light to spare. We put the anchor down at one of the outer islands (there are 5 main islands in the archipelago) and marvelled at our surroundings. I came to the Gambiers in 2001 and from what I could tell it hadn't changed a bit. They are one of the most remote and unspoiled island groups in the world. There is absolutely zero tourist facilities, as there are no tourists. Not a single cafe or restaurant. In fact the only internet in town is the same as it was back then- at the home of the village's friendly doctor Herve who had just moved here back in 01'. The 5 main islands are surrounded on 3 sides by a vast barrier reef, at times bare and at times dotted with sand and treed motus. The main island, Mangareva hosts the main village, Rikitea, home to some 1,000 people. The rest of the area is lush and left to little disturbance but the wind. It is stunning, made all the better knowing a bare handful of people ever get a chance to visit.

View from Mt. Duff, Gambiers photo (and poor stitching) by Gavin McClurg

Ah, but the Captain's reality was not one colored completely in magical hues. In fact, it would soon become one colored only in brown. On the final days of the trip, Kristian somehow managed to plug not one, but two toilets. Back before we instituted our "nothing in the heads but human waste" rule I was rebuilding the heads at an average of one per trip. This is not a pleasant task. You begin by detaching the various hoses, which then blast you with shit (literally), then you take apart a pump (impacted with shit), then clean the hoses and toilet (ditto), then soak yourself and head in bleach (ditto), then put it all back together. I find repeated and strong cussing is about the only way I can get through it. But thankfully since we instituted the rule some months ago the heads have been clog-free. As is often the case, the clients left the boat all smiles after a terrific time, while instead of enjoying a bit of respite after a 21 day trip I spent almost two solid days going through the above procedures. One head rebuild usually takes 3 hours, but in this case I had to actually remove the sewage outlet hose from the boat on both of them and crack the calcium deposits (nice way of saying hard shit) out of the hose by beating them on the back of the boat. To make matters worse, the reason both heads were plugged was because of toilet paper- which I explicitly demand doesn't go down the heads (we even have a plaque on the wall to remind people). Needless to say, Kristian is not on my Christmas list this year.

Lars enjoys the sights photo Hannah Grant

But yesterday things all came right. Hannah, Lars and I scaled Mont Duff which is not only a terrific hike, but provides a 360 degree view of one of the most awesome places I've ever been. We summited about 9 am, but the winds were already a bit strong for flying. Never mind, our chef team brought out a plate of salami, brie, sardines and rye bread and we were more than happy to enjoy the surroundings. My distaste for walking down kept me on the summit all day (Hannah and Lars smartly descended after lunch), until the winds finally backed off to a reasonable level at 4 pm and I launched. The people in town confirmed what we thought- that this was the first ever flight in the Gambiers. I soared in what would have to be the most stable butter conditions I've flown in for nearly two hours. Here's a little video of my view:

I landed at sunset on the local soccer field, dozens of kids screaming in hysterics coming up to me almost before I'd touched down. Their smiles and animated questions made the perfect flight even better, even though I couldn't understand anything they were saying (French is not my forte). Lars and Hannah showed up, cold beer in hand. It just doesn't get any better. My job often entails a number of "brown" days, but it always comes right and on these days I can't imagine doing anything else.

Only birds and crazy folks get this view photo Gavin McClurg

Galapagos penguin photo Bruce Marks

Rarely are the start of passages a calm and pleasant experience, and this one held to the norm. We lost our freezer to something I couldn't identify 10 days before our departure. San Cristobal has one refrigeration tech, and he and I struggled for 4 days straight trying to get her running again so the chefs could begin their provisioning for the 3200 mile passage to the Gambiers. I thought it would be prudent to have a backup in case we were unsuccessful, and hastily ordered a stand-alone freezer from the States to be shipped priority FedEx, which I was told would take 6 days, depending as always on customs. With nothing to do but wait for the freezer, and parts from the mainland, rather than pace around and let the stress build I took a 4 night trip to mainland Ecuador to paraglide in the hills of Ibarra.

Goodbye friends photo Bjorn Hvidberg

I returned to Discovery well-refreshed after three terrific days of flying, prepared to tackle the issues at hand. I'd planned 15 days for the passage, our departure set for the 9th of April, giving us a week of cushion for poor winds or other setbacks. Bruce, Bjorn and his son Christian were all on board, all of us anxious to depart. But the 9th came and went, the new freezer held up in customs in Guayaquil, the existing freezer still giving us the shits. Hannah and Lars were on continuous stand-by. Every few hours "Frio-San" and I would think we'd gotten the freezer running, only to have something else go wrong and the wait continue.

Please, take my picture photo Bruce Marks

The 10th ground by in frustration, FedEx promising delivery, as always "manana". Tiny gains were being made with the freezer, my only means of keeping the only tech in town glued to the boat through a continual deluge of gifts- sunglasses, t-shirts, shorts, food- whatever he would eye I would provide. By the 12th, after 4 very poor nights of sleep and mounting stress our luck broke. The new freezer came in on the only daily flight, and Frio San worked some magic on the compressor. We now had both systems operational. The shipping and customs duty cost double the actual cost of the freezer, but I paid the money without blinking- we didn't have the time to argue. The chefs ran off to the markets, I gave a hasty safety briefing, had a brief visit with Francis, who had just arrived solo from mainland Ecuador on his yacht; and we were finally underway.

Finally, success! photo Bjorn Hvidberg

For nearly 2 1/2 days we motored SSW in nearly zero wind. Burning precious fuel, it was beginning to look very bleak to arrive in time for our groups departure flights on the 29th. But it wasn't all unpleasant. On day two a huge Sperm whale surfaced near the boat, blowing great plumes into the air preparing for a deep dive (they eat the notorious giant squid, several thousand feet down). It was the first I've ever seen. Complimenting the Sperm whale we also saw a hammerhead shark, lots of dolphins, a pod of smaller whales (probably Pilots). And then when we finally got into the trades, about 3 degrees south. The wind gods just threw the switch and we were off, averaging 10 knots on a lovely beam reach. The knots in my shoulders disappeared almost as if I had a personal masseuse. This was what we needed- wind and speed. For the next week we would cover 210 to 245 miles each 24 hours, and cross the half way mark on day 8, which would have been right on schedule if we'd departed on time.

Halfway photo Bruce Marks

Lars is our most dedicated fisherman, waking before dawn each day to deploy two handline's and two rod lines. Thus far we've landed two mahi-mahi and a nice bonito, and lost who knows how many. We're easily spending more on lures than it would have cost to just buy the fish in San Cristobal, but it's a lot more fun. Lars hooked into what we're calling a 50 kg yellow fin a couple days ago. After a 45 minute fight I dropped into the blue with my speargun to hasten getting the monster on board, but each time I dove so did the yellow fin, showing incredible strength even after the long fight. A majestic beauty, the largest yellow fin I've ever seen. I never got close enough for a good shot and my dives were meager with a lacking air supply as I was struggling to keep up with the boat. After a half-dozen attempts I surfaced in dejection only to see an even more dejected crew, some 50 meters away on the stern of Discovery. The yellow fin made a dive directly under the boat and the line cut on the prop (the engine was in neutral, but nevertheless). We didn't hear a word from Lars for several hours.

Lars, pre-dejection photo Bjorn Hvidberg

Last night we passed the half-way point. Our days are filled with blue and white- blue water, blue skies, white clouds, white sails. The routine is simple indeed. Sleep, eat, nap, eat, fight a fish, lose a fish, eat, sleep. Bruce, Bjorn and I batter one another at chess while the chefs seem to out due themselves with every meal. Last night we had homemade ice cream. Ice cream- on a boat, on a passage. Clearly they are insane. You see why we needed the freezer to work!

You've got to be kidding photo Bruce Marks

I would call it thus far a near-perfect passage. Good winds, good sights, good food, good company. If we didn't have a schedule to maintain we could remove the "near" and just call it perfect. We'll need continued to luck to make it on time. And if we don't, I'm sure we'll survive.

We've spent the last week and a half enjoying the "Enchanted Isles", or "Islas de Colon", or more commonly- the Galapagos. As much as I've heard and imagined these islands and their non-human inhabitants, the reality is still sinking in. We began with a day tour of San Cristobal, where we're anchored and where we'll likely stay anchored until we depart for Polynesia on April 9. As it would cost nearly $2,000 US per day to tour the Galapagos on Discovery we've decided to go it with the local boats, which are in abundance.

What's up?

The tour consisted of a few stops to see tortoises, marine iguanas, a couple amazing vistas, a coffee plantation and some very nice surf breaks, which would be utilized in the days to come. I'm not much of a tour person, but as this one was just our own group, our taxi driver, and we got going before the other hoards, it ended up being a great start. You can't help but be in a bit of awe at the abundance of animals here, and yet its also sad to think of how much has been lost, as always- to humans. They say over 100,000 tortoises were killed on San Cristobal alone by the first immigrants for their oil and meat; most of the few remaining live now in a protected walled area much like a zoo. These days, tortoises are no match for the various introduced species and domestic animals that dine on their eggs and young.

Jeez man, cut your nails

Apparently March is the wettest month of the year, and as it was apparently particularly wet before we arrived, the first thing that grabbed our attention was how green the islands are. There's a green quilt of new growth everywhere, which seems in stark contrast the equatorial heat. It's also mating season, so we hoped to not only view all the "tame" wildlife, but maybe some coupling as well. A comment on the wildlife you'll see in the following photographs. These are not taken with a telescopic lens. These guys and gals- from the sea turtles, to land tortoises, to the boobies and sharks, pretty much everything just lets you walk right up and have a gander. Sometimes they get too close: I finally got tired of chasing the sea lions off the boat all night and built two planks of defense for our transoms which consist of a long board with a bunch of nails poking through, facing the sea. Don't worry- they are savvy and smart animals, we haven't hurt anything but my own foot, which I suppose I deserve. But it has kept the big ones off- the little ones can still balk in the sun on the lowest step.

Marine Iguana

For a few days we just surfed and enjoyed the laid back town and took little trips to areas close to home. One of these is a local dive spot called Kicker Rock, in hopes of seeing some hammerheads.

Kicker Rock

Jody, Scott and I each did two dives which I would call decent. The visibility was pretty poor and the water was cold, but we did get a brief viewing of a couple hammerheads and a few other reef sharks to make it interesting. The rest of the group opted to snorkel and saw even more than we did, including a host of sea turtles.

Sea turtle does a fly by

Scott, Tim and Gaby left after an evening of sad goodbyes. It has been an amazing couple weeks that none of us will ever forget. We've been joined by one of our owners, Bruce Marks, fresh from a paragliding trip in Nepal, and Marc Peterson, the man responsible for our website. Hannah and Lars continue to wow everyone with their cuisine. The Best Odyssey is becoming as much a culinary cruise as it is a kiteboarding expedition.

Sierra Negra Crater, Isabella island

Jody and I decided to check out Isabella for an overnight trip before her trip back to the States. A 45 minute flight to a different world. 5 volcanoes, 5 species and 12 sub-species of tortoise (many endangered), penguins, cacti, soaring frigates, flightless cormorants, marine iguanas, finches (one of the types of birds which Darwin based his theory of evolution). There is one sleepy town with three thousand people, sand streets and a long, gorgeous sand beach. Very few tourists and clean clear water were enough to keep me rapt. We hiked to see the second largest crater in the world, Sierra Negra, which erupted in 2005, then descended and visited more tortoises, one of which was enjoying what could only be described as a LOUD love making session.

Gettin' it on, tortoise style

The next morning Jody and I wandered onto a long walkway which led through a tunnel of mangroves and opened on a beautiful clear pool on the edge of the sea. As the sun broke the horizon we slipped into the cool water, reveling in the solitude and quietness. We dried off and realized we in fact did have company; a large group of marine iguanas wrestled for rock space. Yep, they are sometimes this thick:

Just another day in the Enchanted Isles

Jody is now back in the States and will rejoin us in July in Tahiti, some months off. No doubt these logs will be a lot less impressive as we're losing her photographic talent. Sorry folks, mostly words for awhile.

Blue footed Boobie

We crossed the equator at 1700 hours on the 16th, just 14 hours out from San Cristobal, our destination in the Galapagos. Each of us had a solid shot of fine rum in preparation, then we slowed the boat to a mere two knots and counted down. Several hundred yards before the imaginary line was reached we all bailed off the bow of Discovery and swam laughing all the way into the Southern Hemisphere. My first time across the equator was back in 2001, when we did the same thing in the same ocean, although a thousand miles west of our present location, at that time heading for the Marquesas. The seas were as flat as they get, the "Pacific" owning up to its name.

Hope there's no sharks!

The rum probably helped, but each of us were in very good spirits. There's certainly nothing this far out from anything to signify even the slightest hint of the equator, but crossing it is momentous all the same. Everyone swam for as long as you can in 10,000 foot water before the mind begins to scream unfriendly thoughts like "SHARK", and considering we'd just seen a very large hammerhead not one hour before I think we did pretty well.

Smile, you're on the Equator!

Count them- 6, one taking the picture, the captain in the water. Who's driving this boat?

Sunsets are often extraordinary at sea, but this day and night will be one that will be remembered forever.

Equatorial sunset, last night of the 6 day passage

Each of us spent a long time staring long and hard at the water and sky, this our last night of the passage. Each reveling in the peace and calm of our trip. In the last log I mentioned my only concern was our arrival. While we were all excited to reach the Galapagos, I know I was not alone to be very sad that the passage was nearing its end. I know we all could spend more weeks out here in these conditions. Every day new animal wonders to see; each meal somehow more succulent than the last; each evening a shifting canopy of stars...and friends to make it all gel. Our arrival would shatter this calm. Immigration, tourists, customs, taxis, tours. I'll take the simplicity of the sea.

Jody snaps a shot of a playful Sea Lion

By 0300 San Cristobal was sighted, a looming gray shape highlighted by an almost-full moon. By sun break the hills and cliffs of the island could be made out, much greener than imagined. March it turns out has been a wet month and the typically arid landscape was covered in velvety green. A few miles out from port we got our first sea lion visit and decided to alter course to a small rock outcropping to have a swim with the playful creatures.

The Captain gets up close and personal with a sea lion

There are easily more sea lions here than people. Within minutes of slipping into the ocean we were all within feet of maybe a dozen lions, from babies to bulls. This was Hannah's first ever experience snorkeling. Imagine dropping into intensely blue water, no bottom in sight, three miles offshore with 500 pound lions (who's predators are sharks and killer whales) swimming right in front of your mask. I couldn't believe she could hold her cool, and at the same time- what a first go!

Very cool customer

Some time later we dropped anchor in Puerto Baquerizo Moreno. Two very nice surf breaks crashed to either side of us. Sea lions by the hundreds lounged wherever they could on unmanned Lanchas and unattended cruising vessels (this would be novel for about 1 hour- they are not the cleanest smelling creatures). Boobies and other sea birds dove and splashed in the clean water. A small, attractive town lay perched on the sea front, beckoning us to land. Maybe it's not so bad getting here after all.

Uninvited guests

Our new chefs, Hannah and Lars

We've got a whole new crew on Discovery, a decision made just in the last week before departure. I'd spent two weeks interviewing potential candidates to fill Jody's shoes as she'll be only joining us on select trips this season. At the same time Nico had fulfilled his 12 month contract with extraordinary success, but we all felt with a very difficult year on the horizon in the South Pacific (lots of miles, lots of back to back trips) some new energy on board would be a good move for all. With a week left before we sailed for the Galapagos I was suddenly faced with replacing our Chef, as well as finding a Stewardess/Mate. The Best Odyssey has turned into not just a kiteboarding expedition, but a culinary adventure as well, and we've all grown accustomed to truly world-class cuisine. How could I hire two people in a week and have them be remotely qualified or well-suited to what we're doing?

One of our new chef's amazing creations, Cauliflower Soup

By sheer luck. It occurred to me that a couple/team would be the way to go. We'd be using one less cabin for the crew, and single people tend to get very lonely out here. I found a team profile on one of the crew web sites and somehow knew they were the ones. Two days later we had an interview using the wonderful technology of video skype, and we suddenly had a new crew, Lars and Hannah, from the US and Denmark respectively. They both have formal training, (Lars the French Culinary Institute, Hannah the Copenhagen Culinary Institute), and have worked in some of the finest restaurants in the world. In fact they met cooking at the 3 Michelin star "Fat Duck" in the UK, but more importantly, they are both PASSIONATE about food. Lars and Hannah arrived Friday, spent the weekend provisioning and buying things like an ICE CREAM MAKER and completely overhauling the galley. As I write this five days into our sail to the Galapagos I can say beyond a shadow of a doubt that we are in for an amazing year. These guys are at a level I didn't know existed.

Ono sashimi, day 4

But I'm getting ahead of myself. The shipment with our chain and dozens of other goodies, including a new stand up board compliments of Surftech arrived Monday night. We brought Discovery into the fuel dock and worked until the wee hours. We've been joined by Scott Balogh, who was so helpful to us in Bocas for the all-pro event in January; a surfer friend of his named Gaby from Venezuela; and my good buddy Tim Ahern, who I grew up with in Lake Tahoe. Tuesday was spent tying up all the loose ends- changed the oil in both main engines, replaced the radar antenna, GPS unit, packing everything away, getting immigration clearance... Finally and thankfully we got underway by 1930 Tuesday night, just a day behind schedule, all of us tired but excited to put the city behind us. Once the myriad of tankers, cargo ships, and other boats (which all dwarfed us) waiting to cross the canal were threaded we had nearly 48 hours of light but sail able winds out of the north, perfect conditions for our new cruising gennaker, which powered us along downwind at a respectable 7-8 knots. The seas were calm, everyone in jovial and anticipatory moods. It's only a 1,000 miles to the Galapagos, but being right on the equator and thus the doldrums the conditions would likely be marginal for sailing. We caught a beautiful yellow fin tuna Wednesday, which Lars filleted expertly and had on the table within minutes in the form of mouthwatering sashimi. A nice start to what would become a perfect passage.

Scott and Gaby, enjoying the calm

By Thursday the charts showed the waters to be over 10,000 feet deep. We'd left the Bay of Panama, heading almost dead south towards Malpelo island, the only spot of land between the coast and the Galapagos. In hopes to hook into more fish and wind, we decided to sail right past the island before turning southwest on a rhumb line to the famous archipelago. We reached Malpelo just after nightfall, a lonely and stark dark form in a sea of black. All kinds of sea birds ducked and played in the rigging, and we'd seen footage on the BBC's "The Blue Planet" of abundant sea life around the protected marine reserve which made us seriously consider stopping for the night, but our charts were so wildly off what the radar showed (not uncommon in the S. Pacific) I was too uncomfortable trying for a blind anchorage and we carried on.

Oh, what a beautiful morning!

Seared Ono, wrapped in Nori, over green tea noodles and yellowfin boulabaise

As we turned SW our winds died and have stayed calm ever since. This is not something any of us mind. We've got plenty of fuel, we have a strong westerly current helping our speed, the ocean is almost pancake flat. The skies have been almost void of clouds and each day as we close on the Galapagos we see more and more wildlife. It has been in fact one of the most pleasant passages I can remember, and the only passage I've ever been on that I don't want to end. Huge pods of Spinner dolphins, Pilot whales, the elusive and rare Beaked Whale, a lone Hammerhead shark, and sea birds have visited, many on more than one occasion. We slow the boat each day to swim and refresh in the vast expanse of deep, clean blue water. We caught a 30 lb. Ono yesterday (which means 'delicious' in Hawaiian, and my favorite pelagic fish) which our chef team turned into breakfast, lunch and dinner- nothing short of culinary orgasms. Five days ago I was choking on the exhaust and garbage of Panama City. I can't begin to explain the difference of living out here. It is clean, pure, healthy, simple. Our lives are dictated only by what we feel like doing- eating, reading, sleeping, dreaming.

Beaked whale breaches next to the boat

Calm Passage

This afternoon we will sail into the southern hemisphere, my fourth trip across the equator by sail, virgin territory to all but Jody and Scott, who have both crossed once. In 24 hours we will reach the Galapagos, a place I've imagined and dreamt of since the sea became my home. My only anticipation is the next meal, my only concern is reaching our destination, which means this amazing journey will be at an end. And another begins.

Dead calm

But I've been excited to see the Perlas islands for years, and we were all excited to get out of the city and get kiting. Our guests were Dan Schneider, Brian Jacobs and his girlfriend Debra; and Michael Bigger, who joined us a few days after the start of the trip. We picked up everyone at the Balboa Yacht Club dock and sailed straight away for Punta Chame, the local kiting spot. The winds had been cranking all week, and by the time we sailed clear of the Bridge of the Americas and got the main and jib up we were cranking as well. Two hours later we anchored just off the beach in Punta Chame, with solid winds kicking up an uncomfortable chop (for everyone not kiting). We launched Dan and Brian off the boat, then with the sun sliding into the sea we brought up the anchor and headed around to the leeward side of the peninsula hoping to find calmer water for the night. The water around Punta Chame has ripping currents, with tides in excess of 18 feet. Sand bars are everywhere, and the water is murky, making navigation tricky at best, even in good light.

Local Parrot, John Wayne Island

We made it around the point, but even in the waning light we could make out breakers well over a mile offshore, which weren't on the charts. We motored slowly around, trying to find a way through, but with nearly zero light and nothing usable but the depth sounder, which just showed us getting in less and less water, I decided to play it safe and return to the windward side. Dan and Brian had been chasing us on foot on the beach and must have covered a couple miles by the time we got all the way back and had the anchor down. Needless to say, it was an uncomfortable night. Debra and Jody passed on dinner with wobbly stomachs and I don't think any of us got the greatest sleep. Not what the crew needed.

A friendly Tita Monkey says hello

For the next few days we had a similar weather pattern. Calm and hot all day, then wind late in the afternoon, which would mostly stay up all night. Punta Chame is the most reliably windy spot in Panama, and this is the perfect time of year. Our second morning we took Discovery around to the backside in good light, which made me thankful we didn't try it the night before- a sandbar did in fact go well over a mile off the point. The backside was more comfortable, but when the winds came up late (too late to kite unfortunately) a reverberating swell did as well, which made for another uncomfortable night. Small dinners again, another lackluster night of sleep. By day three I got smart. An island known locally as John Wayne island (there was a resort with the same name built just like a Hollywood John Wayne set, which we visited and all came away thinking...weird) lay across the bay at the foot of the mainland mountains. In front of it was a perfectly calm anchorage that we had all to ourselves. At low tide massive sand bars would "rise" out of the water like apparitions in the desert. With wind it would be one hell of a place to kite. Perfect flat water, all to ourselves.

A baby turtle smiles for Jody on a windless day

And thankfully, though the days remained stubbornly calm, that's exactly what we got in the afternoons. Michael arrived on Saturday and the wind came with him. We would launch off one of the sandbars, then if you liked butter flat water you would stay put, or if you were more inclined for a down winder, off you went across the bay to Punta Chame, about 3 1/2 miles. This wasn't an ideal arrangement for the crew, as one of us would then have to cross the channel with the dinghy to bring them back, but the smiles on the clients were worth it. Brian got his first front rolls and riding blind down, Dan got comfortable with staying upwind (this was about his 20 th time kiting)- in very challenging conditions as the currents were viscous, and Michael pulled his always crazy moves with his new Nemesis HP kite.

The sign says "John Wayne pissed on this tree". So did Brian.

By about this time my knee had gone totally seppo. My whole leg was about twice its normal size and hurt like hell. My knee cap was a red volcano, but hadn't yet erupted. I could barely walk, and the toxic doses of painkillers and antibiotics were taking their toll on my sensibilities. In one afternoon I managed to launch Dan with his lines backwards, scream at Michael for making me wait in the chop (long story, and thankfully the only time I've truly lost it in 8 years of operating boats), and damn near sank the dinghy in the shore break. Luckily Jody made an intervention and while I won't say forced, aggressively urged me to visit a hospital.

By mid day on Sunday I'd visited the doc, who subscribed injectable antibiotics and said it would soon explode and all would be well. As we were heading to the Perlas islands, our friend Moises Niddam, the local Best rep had to watch the doctor inject my ass so he could explain to Jody how to do it- as I had to take the shots for 5 days. I'm sorry Moises.

Monday goes down as the most incredible passage we've ever had, bar none. It was only 40 miles, and flat as a pancake with zero wind. But that's not what made it great. As Carnival was happening in Panama all the fishermen were on land. Which left the ocean totally to ourselves. Make that us- and millions upon millions of fish. I'm not joking, there were bait balls and sea life everywhere. Pelicans and other birds in the thousands, diving on the fish like lunatics. Tuna and other game fish slamming the bait balls, dolphins jumping and diving and getting their share. Turtles, rays- you name it, everything was on the move. We saw whole schools of rays swim right under the boat. Not one or two- dozens upon dozens, again and again. For five hours everyone hopped around the deck going "look at that!", "oh my god", "holy shit", "I've never seen anything like it." I had no idea there was still life like that left in the world. What a reminder of how precious and precipitous life can be. A long liner fleet could wipe this area out in a season.

Welcome to the Perlas islands

We then spent 5 days in the Perlas islands. Five days without a breath of wind, so the kiting was somewhat unspectacular, but that isn't the case for the area. The Perlas are striking, and if we'd had wind we'd have been among the very, very few to ever kite them. We basically circumnavigated the group, covering over 100 miles. We visited a beached submarine; swam with large schools of fish of varying kinds (puffer, snapper, mackerel, jacks) and a bunch of rays; saw a traditional island village; and even saw a couple very large salt water crocodiles on a river trip on the island of San Jose. That was pretty amusing. 8 of us in the dinghy, making our way up a narrow black river, anticipating getting ripped over the edge at any moment. I would say the overall mood was one of...curious trepidation. We all wanted to see one, just not too close.

Local Perlas boy gets a visit from the gringos

The anchorages were all spectacular, and by our last day in the Perlas my crew and I were finally recovering. My knee had erupted, which was fantastic and horrific in tandem. The swelling instantly subsided, my fever broke, my leg felt great but you can't believe what came out of there. Better left unsaid.

Vincent shows off the local Mahi catch

We'd been joined by a local guide named Vincent, who'd spent a lot of time exploring the islands. By the fifth windless day I pulled Vincent aside and said that while the islands were incredible, we needed to find wind to end on a solid note. Vincent pointed us north to San Miguel, where we could get cell reception so I could call Moises. Moises knows the kiting areas better than anyone in Panama and he said there would be only one place with wind- Punta Chame.

Dan tries the local canoe

So we headed back west, and arrived just in time for the afternoon winds to crank. And we did indeed end on a great note. We got three great days of kiting, and while at times very gusty, they were extraordinary sessions. As it was a spring tide, the sand bars on low tide were vast. One night with the winds gusting to 30 knots, even in our protected bay at John Wayne island the current was so strong that they held Discovery with her stern toward the wind. In all my years at sea I've never seen anything like it. For some hours of each day you could have walked over a mile from one side of a sand bar to the other. And at high tide you never knew they were there. The most incredible thing? Three miles away everyone who kites in Panama kited in onshore conditions in 4-5' chop. It's like a very scaled down Cabarete. And it's a very cool place, and an incredible community. But we had perfect glass, and we had it all to ourselves, but you couldn't get to where we were without a boat. Once again I realize the price we pay (in hours and work, not money) sometimes out here is dear, but it's almost always worth it.

After saying sad goodbyes to the whole crew in Bocas we took two days trying to get some sleep, then departed for Colon. It was a fast, easy sail. With building winds out of the north Discovery took flight as she hadn't in weeks, covering the 140 miles in no time. We arrived the Shelter Bay Marina by late Wednesday afternoon and quickly began arranging our transit of the Panama Canal. We'd already lined up an agent, a giant of a guy named Stanley who doesn't waste time. We'd no sooner tied up the boat when he arrived, cell phone ringing incessantly, favors being called in, dollar signs adding up. But he got it done. Some boats wait for weeks to get through the canal. He arranged a slot for us Friday evening, 48 hours and closing.

Entering the canal

On Thursday we did as much to the boat as we could. Our windlass was down, I found water in the sail drive (transmission) of the port engine, the boat was still a mess from the Bocas trip. Nico, Jody and I were a collective disaster. Red eyed and worn out. We had to move off the dock to make way for a tide of incoming boats who were part of a blue water rally, which took us off water and power but no mind, we didn't have the energy to clean anyway. I changed our prop zincs, decided there wasn't anything I could do about the other problems, and just chucked the long list of haven't dones into my tired brain.

Second lock, going up

By Friday morning Nico and I still needed to visit immigration (we'd overstayed our visa by a month- a few greenbacks would solve the problem), and I needed to tie on the protective tires (6 on each side required for "lockage"), buy food for the crew, update the web site, order spares, organize Discovery, and try to calm down. You have to have 4 line handlers- we had Jody, Nico, Francis (who was waiting in Colon for a new engine and offered to help, which I gladly took), Dave and Erin (friends from the Bocas event). So we had plenty, but as Francis was the only one who knew what he was doing (he'd been through 6 other times) I also hired a pro, Rudy who had been through many many hundreds of times.

View from above

We sailed the short distance from Shelter Bay to the Colon anchorage at 1400 hours and waited for Rudy and our Advisor to board (every boat through the canal has a mandatory advisor stationed on board. This person is the liaison with the captain of the boat and will direct the line crew. He/she must be fed and taken care of, but will not take control of the boat unless the captain is incapable of the job.) By 1530 we were ready to go. Our advisor handed me all the paperwork and guidelines, of which one clearly states that if for any reason your vessel delays lockage or passage through the canal you must pay the full amount of the transit (in our case about $1200 US), plus a number of very heavy fines. Then of course, you have to arrange another passage.

Handling the lines

And that's when our windlass stopped working. Jody went forward to bring up the anchor with the winds blowing a solid 20+ knots, a large container vessel which we were to follow just heading into the channel. We had ten, maybe fifteen minutes to get the anchor up, otherwise we'd lose our spot, and pay the fines. With another trip heading out in 5 days (from the Pacific side), it was not an option I wanted to entertain. I urged my tired brain to come up with something. By hand? Would take too long, if it was even possible (180 feet of 1/2 inch chain is not a light endeavor). I tore open the control box, grabbed a screwdriver and just shorted the positive leads. It was a sparky, hair raising affair (at one point the screwdriver actually caught on fire- the metal part), but the windlass worked, albeit begrudgingly, and we got in line.

Massive eh?

I'm happy to say the rest of the trip was an absolute delight; a once-in-a-lifetime experience. We went through "center-chamber", which meant we would have two much smaller mono hulls tie up alongside, I would be in charge of driving our flotilla of boats, and our boat's crew would handle the lines. With a catamaran and two strong engines it was not a hard job, even with all of the wind. The locks are enormous- over 1,000 feet long and 110 feet wide. We had a large cargo ship in front of us and still had room to spare. By sundown we were in the first lock. Two guys on each side of the locks huck down monkey fists to the crew, who tie them onto our own 120' dock lines. My job was to keep us straight and centered, and moving at 2 knots. With a strong tail wind it was stressful, but the impressiveness of being in such a mammoth operation overshadowed my fear. When the chamber begins to fill up the waters become a cauldron of roiling water, churning in all directions. The waters rise very fast, the depth sounder lodging the height change like the clicks of a clock.

Humbling being next to these

Three locks carry you up 80 feet to the level of Gatun lake, the second largest man-made lake in the world. By 2000 hours we'd transited the first set of locks, untied from the other two boats and motored a gentle 5 minutes to a soft mooring ball and settled in for a night on the lake. The lake, which is indeed massive is a natural reserve and hosts a wide range of amazing flora and fauna. Howler monkeys, toucans, sloths, crocodiles...

Miraflores locks, Day 2

Our advisor de boarded and we all tucked into a nice dinner and an early evening under a vast canopy of stars. The Howler monkeys, we were told would wake us early and it would be a long day across the lake (5 hours) and down the other set of locks, which lower you into the Pacific.

40 of these pass every day

The remainder of the trip was equally as lovely. Many of our friends and family got to watch us descend the Miraflores locks on a live video feed the canal provides into the Pacific and we all agreed in was an extraordinary experience. We sailed past one massive container ship, cargo ship, car carrier, after another. The largest of which have to pay as much as a half million dollars for transit. Being right up against one of these hulks is a sobering experience. And a reminder of all the crap that gets moved around the world to satiate our burgeoning need for material goods. It is awesome and sickening at the same time.

Bridge of the Americas, we enter the Pacific

We finally motored under the Bridge of the Americas and took a mooring at the Balboa Yacht Club, which is nothing more than a very long dock (the tides here range upwards of 18 feet) and a small restaurant. Discovery will not see another marina for nearly 2 years, across all of the South Pacific and Micronesia.

Interviews

We've all made new wonderful friends, and we've all shared in amazing moments. Rami left us this morning and he was still wearing a perma grin that never left after his amazing kite session several days ago. He inspired every one of us. The boat, now missing Scott Balogh and Rami feels almost vacant, and its not because of the physical space gained, but because of what they contribute to our collective mental health.

The Bocas Crew

We got a late start today, but our swell forecast is the biggest its been, so we know we're going to find waves. Knowing the classic breaks would be packed with surfers we headed around past Silverbacks (grumbling but still not yet working) to Playa Larga. All the guys willing to take a beating headed for the surf while the rest of us settled in for another amazing dining experience at chez Nico. We arranged for a watertaxi launch to come out to get Raphael and Mika, who were also leaving a bit early on the afternoon flight. I know for a fact that every person on this trip was positively influenced by Raphael. I never even saw him grimace, let alone pout. He's been at kiting as long as anyone here and yet he's still like a little kid. He was our introduction to professional kiteboarding back in 2004 on our previous boat in Fiji (some of the footage from this trip is in our promo video ), and it was so fantastic to see and work with him again. And to see Mika kite is seeing perfection. At 110 pounds, he's like watching an acrobat with springs for arms and legs. I can't say for the others, but for me having them leave was very emotional.

The Riders, from left back row: Mika Fernandez, Amit Anbar, Raphael Salles, Scott Wisenbaker, Chris Wyman, Mauricio Abreu, Moehau Goold. Front row: Moises Niddam, Will James, Joao Pedro Simonsen

After lunch we headed back around to the Dumps. Our day was looking windlass, our hopes for a final session and some quality footage looking desperate. This was our last shot. On arrival there were maybe 4-5 surfers in the water and a large dark cloud to windward. And the wind, the graceless bitch that it has been, finally begrudgingly arrived. At first no one cared to ackknowledge it. It's tricked us like this before. But finally Moises and Mauricio and Joao all launched off the boat and we saw our first true wave riding of the trip.

Moises

Mauricio

To each of you who joined us on this journey, thank you. This week was one of the finest of my life and it will be something I will hold dear forever.

Getting Ready

We motored past the famous breaks at Ponch and the Dumps, which were big and carried on out to the north end of Colon island. We found a small gap in the reef, just wide enough to get the dinghy in through a cauldron of nasty rocks and breaking waves, which made for an interesting ride. I managed to run the gauntlet with the video crew, who set up on a shoreline that was very intimidating. Sharp volcanic rock went from the reef to the trees, no soft sand here. They all stepped gingerly out of the dinghy and hoped the winds would stay up long enough for us to get some riders off the boat.

Looking out

Back on Discovery Wyman would be our wind dummy. Even though we've got the boat launch down to a science, these guys all prefer launching off the beach so it wasn't without some difficulty that we were able to get Wyman (with crossed lines), Amit, Scott, Raphael, Maurico and Will James off riding. This was Will's first kite session, and it would last about 40 meters, when the wind died. I'm afraid Blade Kites is not going to get a lot of kiting promotion from this trip...but he's a hell of a fisherman!

Will, Moehau, Mauricio

Wyman, if anything had less success, though he did get to ride. Twice he had a go with the reef, and both times you can guess who won. The first time skinned his arms and torso, the second time he went right over the reef on shore but somehow managed to keep from getting hurt, lying on his board for protection in less than 2 inches of water. Thankfully we got his kite, board and broken ego back in the dinghy; and none of them too scathed.

Moehau

Smartly, Raphael, Amit, Scott and Mauricio headed off downwind towards Bluff Beach, where the break was massive and we all hoped they would be able to get in without getting pounded. It took some time to get the video crew off the rocks and by the time we got underway with Discovery again there were no kites flying.

Rami, hoping for wind on his last day

30 minutes later we arrived Bluff beach and each of the riders had their gear stowed and had been picked up by Scott Balogh with his Panga and Gary Saavedra with the Red Bull Ski. We shuttled everyone aboard and headed around the corner to the Dumps so the boys could get some waves. The Dumps is a well suited name. One of the best breaks in Bocas is also home to the town dump, which is alight 24 hours a day. Interesting smells waft down over an otherwise unblighted landscape of tall jungle and shoreline boulders. Chris, having an off day jumped on a wave and was immediately accosted by a local Rasta who threw water and obscenities at our whole crew for the next hour. Raphael made a funny comment just before we realized the conversation was anything but friendly. "Look at Chris, talking to the locals, it is very nice." Then we saw the local slapping water in a very un-nice way and we all cracked up.

Will James

This show of surfing antics got us all in a conversation about the difference between the attitude of surfing and kitesurfing. I think Michael Behar wrapped it up succinctly when he said "man, surfing sounds gay." Moehau, who's no slouch when it comes to catching waves surprised me by agreeing. Luckily there isn't any ownership of kite spots and so far the people who participate in kiting remain as friendly as this guy was not.

The lucky owners of the trip, Scott and Nashara

Tomorrow is our last day. It will be our biggest day of swell on the trip, and clearly a lot hinges on getting some wind. Incredibly though I find myself content and relaxed. This has been one of the most amazing weeks of my life. And judging by the smiles and rapport of everyone around me, I think I'm not the only one. We're all surrounded by greatness, and once again I am reminded that life is so much more than wind and waves. It is about those you surround yourself with, those you share your time with and choose to have in your space. My world, for the next five years is 57 feet long and 30 feet wide and will be shared by a large compliment of people from around the globe. You would think sharing that space with 20+ people for a week would create a hostile atmosphere at best. But the reality is our atmosphere is one of the most positive I've ever lived in. I think we'll all be sad to see it end.

But this morning the skies were filled with blue. And while sleep had been in short supply our crew remained as positive as ever. We pulled anchor and navigated further down into Laguna de Bluefield so those inclined could traverse back over to Cusapin for an early surf. After ferrying everyone to the dock I returned to Discovery to try to make her a little more organized and comfortable. Restock the coolers, hang up all the wet cloths, swab the decks, sweep the cockpit. I looked up at one point and saw Mauricio paddling back to Discovery with two little kids in their canoe. He'd broken his board on his second wave and needed another. Apparently the waves were really heavy, as not long after Wyman came back with another one snapped.

Chris shows off his work

Nico's been pulling 20 hour days. He gets up at 4 am each day to start baking bread, prepping lunch and dinner. We're catching a ton of fish (mostly Spanish and King Mackerel) which he's turning into ceviche, sashimi, indonesian peanut sauced kebabs...I've never seen hands move so fast, never thought it was possible to actually feed this many people out of our galley. This was never the plan, we were supposed to be back in port every night but as usual, he rolls with the punches. Everyone came back over per our set time limit at 10:30 am. The waves at Cusapin were killer for surf, but we're running out of time to get kiting footage and we had to press on.

Mika Fernandez is amazing to watch

We headed northwest to CayoAguas where Scott thought we had a chance of a good right with more exposure, and the winds were slowly starting to build. On the way up the winds kept building and I found myself conservatively ecstatic. Would we finally get wind? Alas no. By the time we pulled in the winds had backed back off and there was little to admire but the stunning scenery. We anchored near shore, with 4 hysterical indians waving like crazy to get as close as we could. Morris went to see what the commotion was all about and it turns out they were just a group of dudes in the forest excited to see some company. And they wanted beer, which they correctly figured we had.

Moehau, going for gold

From Cayo Aguas we again went in search of wind, this time back up to the Zapatillos. And there, finally we got some. By the time we had most people on the beach it was blowing 15-18 kts, an enormous squall to windward that threatened to shut us down so everyone was moving in high gear.

Mauricio

For the next hour and a half the winds stayed consistent and true. Erik and Jody shot photos from the water, Moehau, Morris (Mauricio), Scott, Wyman, Mika, Raphael, and Joao all finally got some quality water time. But the true celebrity this time out was Rami. We hadn't really had a chance to see him kite. Well and truly overpowered on his 15m Rami cranked around behind Discovery, throwing down big jumps and some impressive wipeouts with our gallery on board almost shrieking in encouragement. We were all nearly in tears with joy. I've seen some inspiring, monumental things on this trip but this moment was Rami's and Rami's alone. No leg, no arm, and his other arm severely injured and you would never know it. He handled his kite like a pro and wore a smile a mile wide for the rest of the evening. Unfortunately as the photographers were near the beach we don't have any pics to document his riding but those in our heads, which I will never, ever forget.

Rami

Scott would have to drive the jet ski 34 miles, half of them offshore. He and Mauricio went ahead to get some early waves at Cusapin to break up the trip with us on their tail. By the time we arrived we'd already been through several serious downpours, one of them providing more than enough water for a full deck shower for yours truly, and some strong winds.

The Red Bull Ski

We pulled into Cusapin and knew right away the swell was way up from the day before. Mauricio jumped on board and our own Scott joined Scott Balogh to surf. I programmed Escudo into a hand held GPS so they would have a guide if they lost sight of us, and we headed south. The weather was wet and visibility went from poor to nearly zero. For 17 miles we ran south while I just stared north hoping for a site of the ski and the two Scott's. They would have no land reference at all and have no backup- if the GPS ran out of batteries, or if the ski had a mechanical failure, or any number of other failures, they would be totally on their own, drifting alone.

Mauricio, aka Morris

But just as we pulled into Escudo the sky lifted a bit and finally the ski came into view. After crossing some 17 miles of open water, the boys were pretty wiped. I was incredibly relieved to see them. I've got 25 people in my charge and the thought of losing someone either to injury or other nightmare is just that- a nightmare.

Beautiful

Escudo is a stunning island, with a series of offshore islets which dot its small coast. All are covered in thick jungle with a mix on the shoreline of steep clay walls and then long beaches. The wind was up just a bit as we pulled in and we were escorted by a small pod of dolphins, to everyone's delight. We anchored at the south end, behind a series of tiny motus which made for a spectacular backdrop. Joao launched off the boat, but then the wind was replaced by a windless rain squall and the "kiting" was quickly finished.

Joao wears his "tie"

We never imagined or planned to be running things with everyone on board overnight. Nico will have to prepare three meals a day for two and half days for 25 people in a galley that's challenging for 6. Not only has he ridiculously trumped anything we've had locally he blows everyone away. On a trip where we've had very little wind, it's a damn good thing we're eating first class fare. Will took the ski in for some fly fishing, others went for a snorkel, others just stayed on board for a rest, while a few of us went for a stroll up the coast to recon for waves. Rain squalls were coming in rapid fire succession by this point and I kept thinking the wet weather and lack of wind would wear thin on everyone, but this group continues to amaze me. They take whatever the weather throws at them and we continue on, seemingly undaunted by the poor conditions and lack of kiting.

Late in the day some wind finally did arrive and just about everyone got in a short semi-wave session. I managed to bury the dinghy a couple times shuttling people in through the shore break, but otherwise there were no major catastrophes. The winds were hardly strong or consistent enough to be called good, but I think those who got a chance were glad to at least have a go. If nothing else, the scenery was incredible. I can practically guarantee no one has ever kited here.

Mika Fernandez

Early that evening we found ourselves in a major debate. The options were numerous, with no clear favorite: 1) Stay in Escudo and sleep on the boat, with those on deck suffering through the inevitable rain (although the skies where clearing rapidly); 2) head back to the Hotel Maccavite (4 hours) to be more central to waves; 3) head all the way back to Bocas (6 hours) where I could take on fuel as both Discovery and the ski were getting very low; or 4) head back up to Cusapin (3 hours), sleep on the way and at least have the option of good surf in the morning, though we'd be one crowded boat for the night.

Mika, later in the day

The debate raged for a good hour and option 4 won. By the time we pulled out of Escudo at 2200 the skies were completely clear and the moon was brilliantly waxing to nearly full. Scott B took the first leg on the ski, we raised all the sails to take advantage of a light apparent headwind and headed out. We'd come a long way to leave such a beautiful place so soon, but this expedition is all about wave kiting and Escudo was currently lacking both wind and waves.

Even with the help of the wind and the motors cranking, a counter-current kept our progress slower than normal and the trip ended up taking over 4 hours. But it was a stunning night. I was wide awake for the duration and had several others stay up to keep me company. Mauricio, Mike Jones and I brought Discovery in around the point at Cusapin under a brilliant sea of stars, the Milky Way in all its glory. By the time we dropped anchor we were nestled into a perfectly calm anchorage and bodies were strewn sound asleep everywhere. I gingerly made my way to our cabin and passed out immediately. Sleep has been in as short of supply as kiting, but we've certainly had no shortage of adventure!

Moises, landing a fish

Day 4 will probably go down as the best surf day of the trip. With Scott on the Red Bull ski and the swell finally pumping, we pulled out early to head down to Cusapin, where we heard very few people ever reach. Cusapin is 4 hours south of Bocas, across a long channel, through a myriad of mangrove lined islands, across another open water channel and into a long, fully protected bay called Laguna de Bluefield.

The Locals

From there we shuttled everyone ashore using our new dinghy which just arrived from California via Miami via freighter to Panama city via truck to Almirante via me getting a water taxi to the mainland to assemble the boat, motor and various accoutrements to get her going back to Bocas.

Hiking to the surf

This was a day that this trip really started to shine. We haven't gotten more than a trifle of wind, but hiking across the bight through virgin rain forest, slipping and sliding on the thick clay mud and passing the local smiling indian faces on the way to surf that we knew we'd have all to ourselves seemed to unify the group and stoke our common cause, which was to have a wild adventure and have it with amazing people. On the way to Cusapin Will put out a few lures and we promptly hooked into two sweet Spanish Mackerel and a very nice Sierra Mackerel which Nico would no doubt do something amazing with in the days to come.

Local girl greets us

The scenery at Cusapin is stunning. Verdant green jungle rises above a long pearly soft sand beach which contrasts against deep green waves that thunder in from offshore. By the time the film and cameras were rolling every guy on board was out in the water. We were the only ones there and the energy on the water was remarkable. I knew these guys were known for their wave kiting skills, but I had no idea they were such skilled surfers. Amit, Mauricio, Moehau, Chris, Scott Wisenbaker, Scott Balogh, Raphael, Mika, Joao, Will- each of them caught wave after wave after wave. Everyone was hooting and hollering and encouraging and laughing and it was all just perfect. After three days of little to no wind, a lot of searching, a lot of hoping, this was just the thing that was needed to boost everyone's spirits.

The Beach

Setting up

Everyone surfed until the sun disappeared beyond the horizon, then we each trudged across the mud path again, back to our home on Discovery. Nico greeted us with another spectacular meal, this time for 25 souls on board. My poor chef is going to be one buggered dude after this trip- I can't believe he can pull off the quality of meals we are having in the space he has. He received a standing ovation this night for his efforts as he's been working 20 hour days since the beginning. Every morning he rises at 4 am to begin the days' meals, proofing loaves of fresh bread (which he makes in large tubs), chopping salads, marinating fish and meats. He blows me, and everyone else away.

Moehau

We got underway after dinner, this time just two hours back north to another lodge called the Maccavite. The tunes were cranking, the beers were flowing, everyone animated and laughing and having fun and as the organizer of this event I couldn't have been happier. Sure, with wind we'd actually be doing what we are all here to do, but it's so rare to have such an amazing group of people together in one spot just here to have fun. These guys represent a host of different teams and sponsors, many are married, many have kids; all of them lead different lives all over the world, but today we all came together- the pros, the video crew, the writer (Michael), the photographers, the guests, the crew and just had a blast.

Mauricio catches another one

We reached the Maccavite hotel at 2200 hours, a beautiful new place on the south end of Bastimentos island which sat in the mangroves over a deep water channel. Nothing but trees and jungle for company in all directions. Each of us were worn out from the great day and crashed immediately. Tomorrow we're planning on heading south and offshore to Escudo Veraguas, where we hope to find even better swell and wind. We're going to overnight at the island with 25 people on Discovery, which has cabin space for 11 comfortably. Should be tightly interesting....

Rami and Amit

This was our first day of real kiting, though it was a bit short and not a whole lot of sweet. But it was a pretty amazing day. The morning began early for me with yet another trip to the airport, this time to pick up Amit's board bag, Erik's camera bag and Rami Beracha, an Israeli kiter and friend/student of Amit's who owns a school called Kiteaway in Israel. Rami lost one leg and one arm and suffered a serious injury to his other arm in a landmine accident in Lebanon while serving mandatory service in the Israeli army. Rami has climbed Kilimanjaro, and Amit insured us we'd be impressed by his kiting, but I was already impressed by just how he got around. He can handle a board bag better than I can!

Searching for wind

We got a bit of a late start as getting 20 bodies moving in the same direction takes a delicate balance between a concerted attempt to stick to a schedule and the reality of...getting 20 bodies moving in the same direction. It isn't easy, but one thing I'm learning to love about this group is they are all positive and all motivated. The video crew shoots everything they can, the pros watch the weather more attentively than I do, and everyone works diligently towards our common goal- which is to make a killer movie, but have a blast in the process. Part of that process is covering every inch of ground in Bocas so when the wind and swell hits we'll know where to be. This would be our mission on day 3.

Mauricio Abreu and Raphael Salles

Discovery's waterline at the bow is now well underwater. I can't guesstimate the weight of all the gear on the trampoline, but we must be near her maximum payload. We pulled out of the Careening Cay marina (aka Sand Fly bay) after breakfast and headed out to the Zapatillos, hoping to find wind and some wave potential. We had plenty of blue sky and sun, and a bit more swell, but the forecast still looked bleak until tomorrow (Tuesday). Nico served up one of his wonders for lunch- sushi rolls, homemade sandwiches (yes, bread and all- for 20!), and pear tart. The guy is incredible. No matter what I throw at him he can handle it. He's got this tiny kitchen to turn out world class meals and somehow he pulls it off in style. His job was going to be getting a hell of a lot harder, but that's a bit down the road.

Rami

When we reached the Zapatillos the wind surprisingly came up to that annoying level where you know you shouldn't bother, but you still have to give it a shot. Everyone took to the beach, a gem of a spot on the NW side of one of the main two islands. Several made attempts at having a go, most of those weren't able to stay upwind. And then there's Mika Fernandez with F.One.

Mika Fernandez

Zapatillo Beach

It wasn't a fantastic session, but it was great to get at least some kites finally in the air and the spot was stunning- this area has so much potential. It definitely gets world class waves. We just need the wind.

Mika Kiting

From the Zapatillos we departed for home. We had two choices- go the safe route around the outside, where there would no doubt be some sea sickness suffering (we've got a few people who seem to be prone to the "greens"), or go the inside route, which was a bit shorter in distance and totally calm, but in the moon less dark through a maze of mangroves and reef.

Scott and Moehau, checking out the break potential

As we'd done the inside route the day before and I had it on the GPS, I opted for the calm route knowing it would be more comfortable. This ended up being an idiotic choice, but luckily we ran the gauntlet and prevailed. There were more than a few times when we got so close to the mangroves I could hear the secadas scratching their wings, not to mention the gasps and groans of those on board who ventured to take a look around from time to time. It was two hours of incredibly stressful navigating. Me, crouched over the lap top pushing the auto pilot controls trying to follow a track line from the day before exactly, shouting commands to Wyman for more or less throttle, with rarely a moment to even look out the windows in the main salon. I never once looked at the depth sounder, as the stress was enough as it was.

Mauricio getting ready

We made it back to port in due time. It had been a long day, and a particularly stressful one for me due to my poor decision of navigational choices, but all in all an encouraging one. Bocas is stunning, the swell is coming, the wind we can only hope for. In the meantime, while Discovery is a big cat, with 20+ on board I imagined it would be more chaotic than it is. Everyone is having a blast and the energy is contagious. We all have different agendas and somehow they all feel like one.

Raphael Salles

Getting ready on Discovery

With the addition of Raphael Salles, Mika Fernandez, Erik Aeder and Ryan Gaw today our crew is almost complete. The weather remains clear and sunny, but our swell is still minimal and the winds non-existent. The forecast however remains excellent- by tomorrow we should have some wind, by Tuesday the swell and wind, peaking by Friday. We're planning an offshore expedition out to Escudo Veraguas. If we go, we'd have 24 people on Discovery- should make for some entertainment to say the least!

Loading her down

Mika Fernandez

For our first day of exploration we headed out to circumnavigate Bastimentos island, about 25 miles in total. We stopped at Playa Larga for a few hours so everyone could have a swim and quite a few of the boys got some decent waves. As we haven't had any rain in a week the waters offshore have cleared nicely and visibility is excellent. When Will James shows up (we're not sure where he is) we'll have to give a go at some spearfishing, as fishing is how Will spends his time whenever he's not chasing massive waves.

Raphael Salles

The plan was to head around to the south end of Bastimentos to have lunch, but by the time we got there we realized lunch would be served about the same time as dinner (the place was reputed to be very slow), so we just trucked on. For the next hour and a half we traversed through the strangest salt water area I've ever seen. Certainly an odd place for boats of our size to venture. Hundreds of tiny islands dotted the horizon, covered with a solid forest of mangroves and our route went right through them. The chart had little more than "uncharted", but I'd heard there was a way through and somehow we found it. Some of the channels we navigated couldn't have been more than 3 boat widths wide. Mauricio, Moehau, Joao, Chris, Michael and Ryan all had a go at jumping off the trampoline and riding through under the nacelle (bridge) of Discovery but unlike when we normally do it, with these guys I didn't slow down. Good old fashioned horsing around. Maurico even got in another "surf".

Mauricio Abreu tows behind the cat

By the time we got back to the Careening Cay lodge everyone was starving and ready for a big meal and a few drinks. A great band was playing at the bar, the forecast continues to look positive. So far everyone's spirits are high and we're all anticipating another fantastic day tomorrow- let the wind come!

Moehau, prepping for a surf session

The plane arrives

We've been planning this event for so long I can't believe it's actually happening. Ten of the top wave riders in the world. On our boat, in the middle of nowhere, in a place that as far as we know has never been ridden. I've had some serious jitters for weeks. Will there be wind? Will there be waves? Could we pull this off? Would everyone have fun? We arrived a week ago Saturday in torrents of rain. The rain continued for three days, then cleared up beautifully but of course the wind and swell cleared out as well. Two days ago I got an email from Michael Behar, the writer for one of the main magazines running a feature (I'm not allowed to say until it's published) that he thought the magazine might pull the plug. The forecast was looking dismal and without wind there would be no "kiteboarding expedition", and thus no reason to come. Without Michael our lead photographer (Erik Aeder) from Maui would have no main publication to sell the pictures to. Without Erik the pros get no press, and don't have much of a reason to come. I felt like the domino was about to fall.

A tiny bit of the gear!

My immediate response was to send out an urgent email to everyone coming down that we should consider moving the dates back a few days, in hopes the forecast would improve. In the span of two hours my world went from upside down to nearly as relaxed and perfect as my world can get. Our film crew, carrying nearly a quarter of a million dollars worth of gear were already enroute (Dan Connely, Mike Jones, Erin Harvey, and Ryan Gaw). All the athletes were within 24 hours of departing. Erik, one of our owners Scott Wisenbaker and Michael were packed and ready to go. But in those two hours our forecast suddenly went from bleak to very hopeful (winds coming from the NW, swell coming from the NE) and the response from everyone was the same. "Do it". They made me realize that what we get is what we'll get and with the group we have, we're going to have a blast regardless.

Unloading, Careening Cay Lodge

The head of Red Bull in Panama, Hayes Wheeler put me in touch with a well known local surfer, Scott Balogh who's developing a piece of property in Balinese style at a remote spot called Red Frog Beach. Our lead on production, Dan Connelly arrived first on Thursday and we all decided to have a look around with Scott to recon the area before everyone arrived. On Friday we were joined by Mike Jones and Erin Harvey, two more of our cinematographers. I took one look at the gear these guys have and realized they are way, way, way overqualified to be here on our budget. To be around people with the kind of experience, passion and enthusiasm these guys have is contagious. I was beginning to feel a whole lot better about running this event, and with the forecast continuing to improve, I couldn't wait to meet all the pros.

Mauricio and Amit begin the filming onboard

My hope is to write a daily update on the event for the next 9 days. Even if I pull this off, I'll never be able to describe the quality of men who are now here. With each flight yesterday from Panama City a few more guys arrived, each one bringing their own amazing and unique energy. Amit Anbar from Israel came in first. Amit had no bags at all- his board bag lost in New York, his clothing bag lost in Panama, but after 40 hours of straight travel he was still keen to get in the water and get some waves. He and Scott (also looking pretty bleary eyed) headed out with the film crew to see what they could find. Then came Chris Wyman, Moehau Gould, Joao Pedro Simonsen, and Mauricio Abreu, coming in from Los Angeles, Maui, Brazil, and Tahiti. The boys (all but Joao) were pretty shattered from a rough night in Panama City, which I probably shouldn't elaborate on. Needless to say, having this kind of talent all together in one room was fairly over the top. I don't think "starstruck" really describes how I was feeling, but it's not far from it. Raphael Salles, Mika Fernandez, Fernando Peraud, and Rami Beracha will all be joining us tomorrow and Monday.

Mauricio Abreu (Morris) checks out Discovery

By the time we had everyone rounded up we headed out to Scott's bungalows for our opening party, a big bonfire and dinner under a moonless, cloudless sky. It's such a remarkable place. To get there you have to take a 15 minute ride in a motorized "kayuko" through thick mangroves which grow in pristine clear water. Then you take a sand trail through a jungle (sloths, caymans, and of course- red frogs!) to the other side of the island, which opens onto a beach that thankfully few tourists will ever see. At one point in the party I walked out alone on the beach to do a bit of stargazing and realized I felt incredible. Sure, the food was great, the beers were cold, the bonfire was raging, the beauty of the night was mesmerizing; all these things certainly helped my lofty mood but I realized it was the company. When you are among greatness, you simply feel great. This is going to be an extraordinary week.

Chris Wyman, at home on Discovery

Vix reading about The Best Odyssey, while on...The Best Odyssey

Gavin Simpson, prepping for a session

We spent our first day back in the Chichime Cays letting everyone recover from their long flights and early morning getting out to us from Panama City. Francis was still anchored nearby so he and I headed out to the outer reef for a hunting session. Among other things we saw two good sized sharks- a nurse and a dusky, and about an 80 lb grouper. The swell was a solid 12 feet, which made for some interesting surge swimming and not a few untimely surfaces where I felt like a surfer instead of a free diver. From Chichime we headed around to the Hollandes Cays, where the crew spent hundreds of dollars on Molas. It was easily the best mola-sales day the Kuna had had all year.

Kuna family

We celebrated the New Year back at Bar-B-Que island, where we knew we could teach in the shallows and take advantage of winds that were now piping 24 hours a day. With beers and booze flowing a bit freely we took out the cards for a game of Dirty Clubs, in which the loser would have to swim to the nearest boat and sing HAPPY NEW YEAR at the top of their lungs when the bell tolled. Randy lost, and we all had a hell of a laugh watching his dive light swing all over the place on his swim across to our neighbors, who were no less amused.

Randy and Lunch

For the next three days the winds never went below 20 knots and got as high as 40 on our last day. Vix and Jody were overpowered on the 5 and I got some of the highest jumps of my life (sometimes unintentionally) on the 7. Jay, Randy and Kay all got some exciting body dragging in and will no doubt be addicts in the near future. Gavin came back in exhausted hanging on to the 10 and we were all sporting big grins.

Vix proudly displays reef contact

On the 4th, with a forecast with a bit lighter winds I decided we'd make the 210 mile run to Bocas, hoping the seas would be down a bit as well. For the first 150 miles we had great winds and were averaging a solid 10 knots in very reasonable 12' seas, but then our good fortune broke and we found ourselves motoring in sometimes heavy rain against a 3+ knot current, destroying our speed average and giving a good bash to our mental health. I think we watched three movies back to back. Passages are sometimes nothing more than necessary evils to get to the next place, and this ended up one of them. We arrived Bocas on Saturday on a Seattle-like gray rainy day. Luckily the gorgeous days in the San Blas still held our spirits high, because our first taste of Bocas Del Toro was pure shit. Our marina, nestled into "Sand Fly Bay" (that was NOT on the brochure) we discovered was very aptly named. "Chitras" as they are called locally never tire of burrowing into any exposed flesh. I've experienced them the world over, and my fondness has never grown.

Under sail

On our final day we decided to forget the rain and go for a walk through the forest. It was supposed to be 1.2 kilometers and about 10 minutes across to a beautiful beach on Bastimentos island. I guess that must be in the dry season, which is supposed to be now. For us, it took a good hour in mud that at times sucked your shoes right off your feet. We slid, skidded, fell and slipped our way down to the beach, which was in fact stunning and played in the surf until the mud on our bodies and frown on our faces were replaced with clean salt water and smiles. Ok, so a solid kite session would have been a happier end, but all in all this trip was another extraordinary leg of The Best Odyssey. Gavin and Vix are joining us in future years as owners, Jay and Kay have decided to buy their own boat (this was their test piece) and Randy will be back soon to hone his kiting skills. Jody, Nico and I will get a moment's breather before we start our all-pro wave invitational in a few days.

Our newest owner, Gavin Simpson!

It seems an eternity ago that I happened across an old friend, completely unexpectedly. I was having a tough day, running around Cartagena, Colombia trying to get parts for Discovery, dripping sweat in the blistering humid heat. I sat down for a moment in the yacht club trying to plan my next move when in walked Francis Savage, who crewed for me for two seasons in the South Pacific a few years ago. We hadn't seen or spoken to one another (Francis isn't too keen on modern technology, such as email) since June, 2005 in Buenos Aires, me on my way to sail around Cape Horn, Francis on his way to becoming his own captain (I'd taught Francis how to sail). I guess we always knew that we'd see each other again, but it was a hell of a surprise.

Kuna traditional clothing

The next day, after discovering our 40 hp motor had gone to the dogs and I'd arranged selling it for parts Francis saved my ass after I fell into the harbour in Cartagena in 40 feet of water- with our backup 6 hp Suzuki. I tried swimming with it, but it was a losing battle and I had to dump her. I got to the back of Discovery, screamed several obscenities, grabbed my mask and fins and took a line down to the bottom in search of the engine. The water in Cartagena harbour is disgusting- a filthy black muck swimming with fuel, trash, sewage and who knows what else. As I swam down through the muck in total darkness I thought I would have no chance of finding the motor. With my lungs burning and heart racing I finally found the motor and tied the line on. Nico and I hauled the motor up and then Francis and I took her completely apart, replaced all fluids, cleaned the carburetor, and got her running better than she was before my little "swim".

Gavin, Francis, and lunch

The reason I bring up Francis is because after our last trip we ran into Francis again in the San Blas. He's now sailing his own 32' yacht solo which is currently without a motor, but this is a minor inconvenience to Francis- he also doesn't have a fridge, computer, radar, autopilot or any number of the things found on most cruising boats these days. We're living vastly different lives these days, but we both share a passion for the water, spear fishing and free diving whenever possible. Not since the last time we dove together in Vanuatu in 2004 have I spent so many enjoyable days in the water as we did this Christmas. Each day we'd head out to the outer reef in Chichimi Cays and usually bring back plenty to enjoy for lunch and dinner. Permit, Chubb, Parrotfish, Red Snapper, Trigger, Jacks- we kept Nico busy and my Mom and Jody's parents well fed for a week.

Mola Lady

The San Blas are ruled by the Kuna Indians. They are a fascinating people and culture. We've enjoyed our time here among the Kuna as well as anywhere we've been in the world. The women make and sell Molas, the men sail dugout canoes, the kids smile and play. Their lifestyle is relaxed and frankly, very enviable. Their homes are built strong and with totally sustainable materials. Decisions are always made with the greater good in mind, but with tradition reigning supreme. They have what they need, and are in want of little. Their waterfront property would be in the millions at home and yet they live here in harmony with each other without fences and walls.

Gavin taking a local for a ride

And the kiting. There aren't many beaches in the San Blas, but with Discovery we can get just about anywhere and just launch and land off the boat. The winds have been mostly strong and consistent other than a few days of rain and calms in between long stretches of trade conditions. It isn't often Jody and I get to kite without the responsibility of rescuing others and running people around in the dinghy, but with only our parents and Nico on board we took advantage of the windy days and got some of our finest sessions of the expedition thus far.

These guys go upwind better than I do!

Nico cheffed up an amazing Christmas Eve dinner for everyone, including Francis and his family, who joined us for the meal. Lobster bisque, stuffed crab, short ribs, chocolate sponge cake. After all the months of raving about Nico's food, it was great to get our own family down to share in his exceptional creations.

Christmas Island

On Christmas day, Nico and I dropped off the family members and Jody off at the El Porvenir airport- little more than a grass strip amongst a few palm trees and sailed 70 miles to Colon to re provision for the next trip. Colon is a stinking, filthy, crime ridden cess pool on the Atlantic end of the Panama Canal. Needless to say, two days there were two days too many, but allowed us to clean the boat, buy enough food for the next couple weeks, take on fuel and propane and hit the road. It took all night to get back to the San Blas, bucking big seas and 20 knot winds for the majority of the trip. I let Nico sleep all night as I knew he'd need the rest with another trip beginning on the 29th. By the time we pulled into anchor at 0730 I was one tired puppy- it was a rough ride. The boat looked like we'd been through Vietnam.

Kuna kids

The wonderful faces of the San Blas

Even after all these years at sea in tropical places, it still doesn't feel like Christmas without snow, but this one was memorable to say the least.

After hauling the boat in Cartagena and getting Discovery ready for another year in the water, Nico and I spent a few days on maintenance items and provisioning, then on a perfectly calm hot morning departed for the San Blas. 5 hours out the winds came on like someone had thrown a switch and within minutes the sails were up and we were ripping towards Panama. We covered the 206 miles in 23 hours- not a bad run. We chose an anchorage near Porvenir to make it easy to pick up Jody early the next morning and were quickly visited by a few Kuna families in dugout canoes offering big smiles, Molas (intricate hand sewn handicrafts), lobster fish and crab. The crab are related to king crab- huge rock crab with big claws and a menacing look. Nico decided they would be dinner. I decided immediately I'd be liking the San Blas.

The local crab, aka dinner

Jody arrived the next morning and we cruised over to the Lemon Cays, a group of small palm covered islands, which I'd soon learn were the make-up of most of the almost 400 islands in the group. The San Blas are ruled by the Kuna, a small statured indigenous people respected for their fierceness in battle. Luckily these days they wield fishing nets and spear guns instead of weapons, grow many kinds of fruit and veg on the mainland and leave most of their islands to swaying coconut palms. This will be our home for the next month, a place I've dreamt about for years.

Making the Molas

We picked up our next group on Thursday, which included Dave Tyburski, a pro who resides in Maui and Hood River who we've been trying to get out to join us for some time. Everyone arrived at 0700 on Thursday into El Porvenir, little more than a few outbuildings and a grass strip. Needless to say everyone had big grins. I knew how they felt- I'd been sporting the same grin since our arrival.

Dave, having a bit of fun on another uninhabited isle

That first day we had no wind, on the backside of a low that dumped a torrent of rain on us all night, but since then the winds have been strong and steady. In fact, they've been the strongest of the trip thus far. We even had the 7M out for a time, which hadn't seen daylight since Best sent it to us months ago. We explored the Hollandes Cays from West to East. Three anchorages we had all to ourselves, beautiful spots all protected by a long barrier reef that made for excellent flat water conditions. On the east end of Hollandes is a popular anchorage called "Bar-b-que" island. It did have several other boats and as we're usually quite shy of company, this spot was indeed spectacular so we settled in for a couple nights and gave the other cruisers a show of kiting I'm pretty sure most had never seen. The island itself is covered in a native grass and kept meticulously clean, compliments of one of the cruiser's who's made this area his home for the last 8 years!

Teaching the locals about kiting

The next generation on kiteboarders in Panama

Two Kuna also looked after the area who we befriended and taught how to fly a trainer kite, which they got quite a kick out of. We've found the trainer kite a great source of breaking the ice with the locals. Two days before I landed my kite on an island and while walking around to the windward side, being followed by a few little kids and their family I stupidly got a steering line caught in a palm and was suddenly yarded straight towards a trunk 10 feet off the ground as my kite dove into the trees. I yanked my quick release and came down softly but the kite and lines were well stuck way off the ground. Two of the older men scrambled up coconut trees like they were ladders and in no time I had all my gear back with no damage to anything but my ego.

Resident Jelly, which are in abundance (they don't sting)

A few of us then returned to their island with a bag of gifts to repay their kindness. We had a load of laughs with everyone as they each in turn learned to fly the trainer kite. One small boy, no more than 6 years old would grab it and laugh his head off as it dragged him down through the water. The Kuna are remarkable watermen and accomplished sailors. Their dug out canoes, complete with short masts and jib sail are expertly used to navigate between the mainland and the outer islands in all types of conditions.

The Kuna under sail

No log would be complete without a mention of the incredible food Nico continues to create. It is no doubt the highlight of everyone's trip and continues to boggle my mind with what he can come up with. As I've been somewhat successful with my spear gun and the locals always have plenty on offer, we've been enjoying roasted snapper, lobster bisque, stuffed crab, marlin and tuna ceviche, sashimi and sushi, along with the accompaniment of soups, fresh breads and salads which are never in short supply.

Gavin nabs a nice snapper for lunch

Nice Catch

Yesterday the boys did a 5 mile down winder from the Hollandes Cays to the Coco Banderas Cays. For Shane and Kyle, it was their first down winder. For both Shane and his father, snorkeling was also a first and they both told me at one point that this trip was the most amazing adventure of their lives. When people tell me these things it helps put The Best Odyssey into perspective. A short while back we were on the hard in Colombia in a toxic dirt yard sanding and applying antifouling paint, changing zincs, getting filthy working in humid scorching heat. You forget in those situations that what we're doing has an impact on all those involved in a way that will not soon be forgotten. Those few words made me realize that this expedition is worth all the ups and downs. When I look back it's those comments and the smiles that I'll remember, and not the time spent keeping Discovery underway.

Marc Becker, kiteboarding the San Blas

Kyle, pulling a backflip off the bow

But now to the business at hand. I flew back to Bonaire one day short of a month after I left, and 24 hours later Nico and I got underway for Cartagena, Colombia. The hope was to get to a place that had a facility to haul Discovery for some badly needed antifouling bottom paint, new zincs and a few other needed maintenance issues before we head into the South Pacific next year. That hope is still to be realized as we're finding places big enough to haul Discovery in very short supply. The sail however was perfect. Strong Easterly tradewinds have been blowing for weeks and they continued for our three night trip (500 miles). It's a little tiring running a boat with just two people as you get very little sleep, but for a passage ranked as one of the top 5 worst in the world (mammoth short seas and very strong winds are the order of the day), we had it easy. Winds from 20 to 30 knots blew consistently and barely moved in direction the entire trip. Discovery felt alive and happy to be underway again, gently skipping along downwind at impressive speeds for the duration. Other than flying fish smacking into the boat and flailing onto the decks at night, we had little else from the animal world for company. We did have a lot of traffic though. This route is plied by a seemingly never ending supply of cargo and tanker ships, plying the waters between South American ports and the Panama Canal. Coffee, plenty of coffee. Getting taken out by a tanker is not my idea of fun.

Our next trip starts Dec 6 in the San Blas, on the north central coast of Panama. We've got 10 days to try to coerce the local yard to haul us out, then get back in the water and sail onward. From Cartagena it's under 300 miles, so we've time- but only just. So while we're not coercing Nico and I will enjoy another foreign port, and a country neither of us has visited. Jody will join us in Panama (she prefers to skip the passages), so the next update will at least have some pictures!

Our first trip to Los Aves proved worthy of a return, which has completely altered our planned itinerary, but all for the good. This time the crew of Discovery only had 4 days to prep both the boat and ourselves for our next guests, Thomas and Adriena Scheuring and their daughter Clara from Germany, and Martin Stockl and Keith Cockrum who would join us from the States. Martin and Keith were on our "try before you buy" gig and I'm happy to say now ten days later that they are our most recent owners! I'm not sure if it was the boat, the food, the locations, or what was the deciding element because unfortunately this trip it probably was not the wind. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

Gavin, Boat launch

We were supposed to be in Aruba by now but I write this 48 hours before departing for the States for some much needed time repairing body parts (knee and tooth) in Bonaire yet again. Just can't peel ourselves away from this place, although getting back this time proved a lot more difficult. Our guests arrived right on time last Saturday, while Jody, Nico and I scrambled (as always) to meet our deadline. It never quite feels like paradise the day of departure for the crew, but once everyone was onboard everyone quickly got into leisurely pace of onboard life.

The Scheurings, enjoying Discovery

We had a go at kiting the local spot that afternoon, and even with light winds the boys had a good time. We had our first of many amazing meals that night at Chez Nico, then with a light forecast decided to head again for Los Aves, 45 miles east. We motored all night, arriving early the next day. Regardless of wind Los Aves is an incredible place, and this time around that was a good thing because we got very little of it. It howled the days leading up to the trip, and it's howled ever since it ended yesterday, but the kiting was slim pickins' for the 8 days we spent cruising the two archipelagos. But we did have our moments...

Kiting Los Aves, one great afternoon

So we did kite several times, and of course snorkel, explore, relax, and take in the unique beauty that is Los Aves (spanish for "birds", of which there are thousands). Each day we were greeted with spectacular weather, beautiful warm water, great company, fantastic food, many smiles and plenty of laughs. Keith and Martin even went for their first night dive/lobster gathering attempt (saw quite a few, nabbed a few less than that, but their attempt was worthy!).

Nico, one of many treats

Technicolor Los Aves

One morning Jody, Keith and I woke up early and nabbed some early wind. I have to say it was one of the more special kite sessions I've ever had. Not only was it certain to have been a first for anyone- another in the growing list of first ridden places on this expedition around the world; but the beauty of the water, early morning light, and thousands of boobies and other seabirds diving, singing and dodging my kite made for a truly wonderful way to wake up. Like the US army recruitment slogan- "we do more before 9 am than most people do all day." It felt like that, but without anyone shooting at me, screaming at me, or forcing me to eat crap food. There isn't a single person permanent person living on these islands! Later that day we were all laughing about what it's like to kite in Tarifa. Sorry, I prefer these "crowds".

Gavin kiting the mangroves of Los Aves

On the last couple days in Los Aves the weather turned a bit foul. Lots of rain kept us indoors watching movies and reading, while wind from all quarters made for some midnight re-adjustments to the anchor. This turned out to be quite fortuitous as I got to learn how to walk on the bottom with anchor in hand. It reminded me of the Laird Hamilton footage of him walking on the bottom with a boulder. Keith and Jody even took a try the next day at this new-found work out which I think will become a staple on The Best Odyssey for trips to come. The weather hardly shook anyone's spirits though and I actually think it was while the rain was pounding that Keith and Martin decided they would be joining us for the next 4 years.

Martin, downtime

The weather hits

From Los Aves we motor sailed downwind all the way to Curacao, where everyone was scheduled to leave. Curacao was a reality hit I would have preferred to miss. Always painful visits to customs and immigration (4 times), airports (4 times), missed flights (2), delayed flights (2); which left Nico and I on the boat facing the first really good winds in 10 days- from the east, which was exactly where we needed to go back to Bonaire. We'd hoped to get Discovery hauled out of the water this week in our absense to prep her for the upcoming months (bottom paint, new prop zincs, etc.), but the only yard in the area (Curacao) is full and the only marina suitable to leave her is in Bonaire. Nico and I put our game faces on, cranked up the donkeys and headed out. 6 hours later and a little shaken (but not stirred) we made it to Bonaire.

Clara, going for the big jump

The Best Odyssey takes a short hiatus for body repairs, rest, and reenergization for the next 3 weeks, then we'll be heading west to Panama for our next series of grand adventures. Stay tuned.

Nice eh?

/Wild_Flamingo.jpg" border="0" alt="Wild Flamingo">
One of thousands of Flamingos, Bonaire

Bonaire is hardly remote. It's been on the scuba diving map for 3 decades and sports a healthy tourism industry, due to the sound management of its ecological treasures. But it feels way off the map, and we're finding much to love. With Los Aves so nearby, exploring the two on one trip makes for one hell of a journey. And #11 was wicked in the best of ways.

Local Bonaire Fisherman

This time we headed out with just three. Patrick and his girlfriend Emilie and Iain Henderson, out for a trial trip to see if The Best Odyssey yacht share was the ticket he was looking for. To make a long story short, he's now an owner, but I'm getting ahead of myself.

Gavin enjoying Bonaire

We decided to spend a few days exploring Bonaire. Patrick and I had a great evening out at Atlantis, the local kite spot but our winds shut down for the next couple days, which provided time to do some island exploring, diving and snorkeling.

Patrick, perfecting his repertoire

We slipped off the mooring at 3 a.m. on Tuesday to head east out to Los Aves. Heading dead east, against the prevailing winds is not something we do unless there's a perfect forecast, and something in that direction well worth exploring. Los Aves is, and the forecast was indeed perfect. One day of very light winds, followed by several that would be perfect for kiting.

A long way from anywhere

Iain, learning the ropes

Emilie, learning her launch

And that we did. After some searching and a long motor, Discovery and crew tucked into a little spot with a long white sand beach, a thin row of trees and little else for company but the wind. Emilie and Iain both got their first rides while Patrick, Jody and I rode by day and even got some turns under the full moon. Usually we're on the move most days, but this spot, called "Isla Oeste" held us rapt for three nights. It's hard not to love a spot like this, but with Nico preparing his standard incredible fare, great kiting, great snorkeling, and not another boat or person in sight- we were all happy settling in.

Discovery, our private spot in Isla Oeste

From Isla Oeste we sailed the right direction again (west) to explore Aves de Sotavento. Once again we sailed into paradise, hunkering into our own little bay between two islands that had a couple palm trees, a wall of conch shells, a fishing hut and not a soul around.

Gavin sailing Las Palmeras, Los Aves

When you're out here it's hard to imagine there's some 6 billion of us living on earth. I know each of the people on the Best Odyssey on trip #11 were thankful to have it to themselves.

Iain on the last day, staying upwind
Too bad though for the owners of this Cat

I'm not much of a spectator when it comes to sports, but I don't think I've ever had so much fun watching two guys have one of the best days of their lives. Both Michael and Ian came back to Discovery at the end of the day with shredded shorts and rash guards and sporting massive grins. They'd both gouged boards on the reef getting as close as they could to one of the wrecks before heading off downwind 6 miles to the other to try to run an insane gauntlet between a large wreck that had been split in two. With winds nearing 30 knots the waves on the outside of the reef had grown enormous, making the area a mess. Michael paid little regard to either the reef or the wreck, preferring to launch the new Nemesis HP into the lower stratosphere- and one time landing in less than 12 inches of water. Ian made a valiant effort to make the run, but thankfully decided that killing himself while on The Best Odyssey might not make for the "Best" press. But Jody got the pictures she wanted. And we all had an incredible day.

The boys, after a little "shredding"

The next couple days we spent further exploring an area of the Caribbean that easily goes down as the best we've visited thus far. In fact, Los Roques is one of the best places I've sailed in the world and it was with some remorse that we finally had to depart, after spending over two months. And I guess Michael was sufficiently impressed as he bought a share after his 4 day stay!

Ian downing the local cerveza during a short break.
Two of them in fact

We wouldn't have to go far though to discover an area that rivals Los Roques for picturesque beauty, but incredibly has almost zero population. Ian and Michael headed north back to the States and we sailed west to Los Aves, a smaller archipelago which has two groups of islands, separated by 10 miles of open ocean.

Los Roques Lighthouse

Always nice to have one of these

We only stopped in Los Aves for a night on the way to Bonaire but the short stop was enough to completely alter our next two trips to include the archipelago in our plans (more in the next log).

Nice solitude

Bonaire is a stunning island, just 35 miles west of Los Aves and although quaint and certainly laid back, completely first world compared to where we'd been. Bonaire is a shining example of what happens to a place when it's ecosystem comes first. Bonaire's extensive coral systems and waters have been totally protected for 35 years. You can't anchor anywhere on the island. You can snorkel right in front of town in the clearest and cleanest waters I've seen in the Caribbean. And while Bonaire is world famous for it's diving, we also found it quite appealing for kitesurfing. Jody, Nico and I had a busy week prepping Discovery for our next trip, but we found some time to get some time on the water as well.

Bonaire's interesting coast

Los Aves and Bonaire. 45 miles and a world of discovery to be had. Makes me realize that even after this 5 year expedition, we'll have barely touched the surface of this planet we all call home.

I have to admit something that will likely reap some funny looks. Jody and I are told by just about everyone who comes out here that our job is incredible. We run a boat that is going around the world seeking remote and special places to kiteboard and explore that most people will never see. OK, put that way I too think it sounds pretty grand. Hell, it's why we put the expedition together in the first place. But until this trip with Best Jody and I were both seeing a pretty small light at the end of a very long tunnel. No days off, no income, lots of debt, rarely doing any of the things our owners and guests got to do in abundance. Maintenance, cleaning, chores, always racing to be ready for the next group and never really catching up have been adding to up to very long days and very little peace. Yes, we've got a great office, but you start to lose perspective. You know you're in trouble when turquoise water and gorgeous sunsets are glossed over like yesterday's paper.

Alvaro and Gavin enjoying the sunset

But if my job has just a taste of what we've had the last ten days, I can handle those bad ones with room to spare. Even though my knee is buggered and Jody's been incapacitated with a cracked rib after getting pegged by a wayward board while shooting, we're both keenly aware of how awesome The Best Odyssey can be with the right group of people. Forget the absolute wild beauty of Los Roques; forget the perfect kiting conditions; forget all the things that make what we're doing so unique and truly special. Give me cool people and all that stuff is just the proverbial icing on the cake.

Lulu's find

On Wednesday we exchanged crew and said hello to Aaron Sales, editor of Kiteboarding magazine and Lulu Vroman and Enily Vater from Real Kiteboarding who won the "pimp your shop" contest that Best put on for an all-expense paid vacation on The Best Odyssey.

Enily helping us take on fuel

We got off to quite a start. First, a nice session at Francisqui to wake everyone up after their long travels, which installed perma-grins for the remainder of the trip. Kiting in Los Roques is kiting in dreamland.

Enily throwing a Railey

Then things got a little scary, or at least…interesting. We had another gorgeous lunch compliments of Nico, who continues to astonish everyone with his creative culinary talents; and were prepping to sail to Crasqui when a park ranger showed up and slapped us with a citation. Turns out one of the local charter boats ratted us out for doing charters, which is illegal. But as we aren't operating charters and have nothing but owners or people associated with Best Kiteboarding, who is our sponsor, we merely had to clear the water. I thought taking Alvaro with me to the authorities couldn't hurt, being fluent in Spanish and well, adorable (we all thought so, it's not just me!). Sure enough, Alvaro, a couple Best T-shirts, a magazine with a Best ad and lots of pleading charmed the officials enough to give us another week. Then the fun really started.

Gavin and Aaron recon some riding spots

Aaron post-gun trauma

What a fiasco. Our new guests had been on the boat for less than an hour and one of them had already been confronted with a gun! OK, the Best Odyssey promises high adventure but this was a little ridiculous. Enily, Alvaro and I pleaded our case in the kindest way we could and eventually were told to simply wait (we were now in the middle of the ocean with two kiters and their kites flying off the stern) for them to return with another citation. We disabled the kites, had a few stress relieving laughs, waited a half hour for our "citation" and finally made the call to just sail away. This worked perfectly well. We had a great sail and never did see the unruly lot again.

Alvaro kiting Crasqui at sunset

For the next 5 days we would sail, kite, play cards, eat incredible food and simply enjoy the company of wonderful new friends in a remarkable area. One evening Aaron asked each of us what the highlight of our trip had been thus far. The answers were quite telling: Jody and myself- "last night's dinner" (baked red snapper with a sweet pepper, onion, garlic, parsley, bacon and cashew crust served over grilled zucchini, sun dried tomato polenta with a buerre blanc and balsamic glaze sauce); Enily- "last night's dessert" (panne cotta with strawberry coulis); Lulu- "today's snorkel" (this came a close second for several of us- it was brilliant); Gavin Butler- "all the life" (birds, fish, turtles, rays, all in great quantity); Alvaro- "everything- the kiting, food, company, dirty clubs" (card game which has everyone hooked); Aaron- "getting here the first day, after all the long travel, seeing the water, seeing the boat, realizing it was all real. Meeting everyone and feeling the anticipation of a great adventure to come."

Just us and a wreck. Pretty cool.

Those comments capture it all. Notice Kiteboarding is hardly mentioned. Even though everyone kited so much in such great conditions that even Alvaro had to take a long break from getting blisters on his hands. We rode butter flat water; we rode over gorgeous reef; we watched Alvaro do things that are simply bewildering; we rode on water so many shades of blue and green you can't believe it's real. We're on a Kiteboarding expedition around the world, but when all the little human pieces of the puzzle come together it hardly matters whether the winds blow. Our small community shared in an amazing adventure. That adventure defines my job, and that's the perspective I needed to get back.

Happy Skipper

We've got the Best crew for 15 days in Los Roques, which they've split into 3 trips of 5 days each. The first go brings us Gavin Butler, Best's photographer, Alvaro Onieva, currently 3rd in the world on the PKRA, Rou Chater from Ikitesurf magazine, and the two lucky winners of Best's retail challenge to win a free trip on The Best Odyssey, Harm Wattel and Martin Kooger from Xwatersports in Holland.

Alvaro Onieva, aka "Sunshine"

This time hurricane Felix brought us a bit of rain and foul weather for the first day, but we made the best of it on the outer reef doing a bit of skurfing behind the dinghy, then the wind cranked up and everyone got a kite in before sunset. That night blew hard, with lots of lightning and rain, but Felix passed well to the north and we hoped to get some swell as we did from Hurricane Dean last week, but Felix was a bit lackluster. Gavin and Alvaro still managed to get some decent waves in Francisqui and as always the place made for some great pictures.

The life of Los Roques

From Francisqui we sailed over to Crasqui, which has a stunning beach and the winds were on. The boys played for hours in butter flat water, showing off their moves for Gavin and Jody, who were taking pictures about as fast as they could. My knee is still buggered, but even I couldn't resist and went out for a short ride yesterday morning.

Testing the New Nemesis HP

Last night we sailed back over to Gran Roque, 5 days already behind us. Today we get a crew change, Enily and Laura from Real Kiteboarding, who won the "Pimp your Shop" contest, which Best also put on for a free trip on Discovery. We're also joined by Aaron Sales, the editor for Kiteboarding magazine and good friend of ours. Jody and I paraglide with Aaron whenever we're stateside and whenever we can tear him off the river.

Testing the New Waroo

Best is testing their new Waroo and the new Nemesis HP, and so far everyone's smiling. They are awesome kites, and we're happy to be the test center.

Nice eh?

The cliffs of Gran Roque

We'd gotten a couple nice evening sessions in Tortuga and were planning our early morning departure for Los Roques when we got "wind" of Hurricane Dean. My forecast had light wind and little swell on the horizon, but upon further investigation we found the beast bearing down on Martinique, forecasted to sweep 180 miles north of Los Roques in two days. I felt that was a little too close for comfort, so we decided to spend another day in Tortuga.

Bruce kiting Tortuga

Sure enough, the first signs of Dean hit us the next day, with a gradually increasing swell that brought us some nice waves, the first we've had in months. Miguel had a nice long surf session at two breaks, and I gave it a short whirl, but with my ever-problematic knee I was forced to mostly watch. We ended the day under dazzling sunset and now feeling secure that Dean would pass well north of Los Roques we set off just after midnight for the archipelago.

Another good dinner

We had decent winds and a good sail for the first 3 hours of the trip, but then the winds unfortunately subsided and we had to trade out for the donkeys. We threaded the reef into Los Roques just after noon, again blown away with the vivid colors and pristine beauty of this remarkable place. We had just enough wind for a short evening session, all of hoping for the forecast that was showing a healthy swell and wind on the backside of the hurricane to arrive.

Gavin, ripping past a wreck in Los Roques

Thankfully the winds and swell did arrive, giving us two insane days. We all played on the outer reef for a few hours, then hoisted Discovery's sails and headed off for Gran Roque, Miguel and Bruce opting for a 10 mile downwinder along the reef. These were the best winds we've had in a month, and the day would only improve.

Miguel, Sunset kiting

We finally stopped for lunch and a hasty clean of Discovery as we'd have a new guest arriving today, Mark Godley from Canada and the owner of the "Kitelauncher", one of our sponsors. Getting him onto the boat turned out to be a bit of an epic in itself as Gran Roque was being slammed by swell and getting the dinghy into the docks was precarious at best. But we pulled it off, and motored around to Franciski, where Bruce and Miguel were already shredding some gorgeous offshore waves. Mark kited til sundown and the boys came back gutted, after kiting for well over 6 hours but sporting huge smiles.

Mark Godley, ripping

Mark Godley, playing before the storm

Mark Godley

On Monday Nico re-provisioned the boat for our final week while most of the gang hit the town to catch up on email. Then we headed east out to the outer reef again, where we found a gorgeous blue hole for swimming, filled with massive soft corals and alive with tropical fish of all types. Parrotfish, snapper, angels, grouper, wrasse, cod, triggers, sierra mackerel and dozens of others I can't identify were scattered everywhere. I haven't seen a single healthy reef in the Caribbean since our start back in January, so this was quite refreshing.

Miguel, dancing in front of Discovery

Mark, fileting what caused all the hassle

The wind blew all the next day as well, with gorgeous blue skies filling the white sky Dean had left in it's wake, making photography possible again. Jody got out the lens while Mark and Bruce hit the water. My knee continues to keep me sidelined, which I'm noticing is seriously deteriorating my peace of mind. It was then further agitated when we took off for a downwinder, a 10 miler to Augustin, a jewel we found on the last trip. Miguel thought his student Rob was up for it, but after 5 minutes his kite went down and he wasn't able to re-launch.

Miguel, instructing

Airborn

We had an interestingly painful week in port prepping for #9, the trip we are now on. I had two large shipments to navigate through customs and in some ways was unsuccessful with both. The first were 8 solar panels which had been shipped to Miami two months ago and then brought down to Margarita by boat. I'd done this to avoid the hefty import taxes Venezuela places on "luxury items". The second was our paragliding tow winch, which was coming from Slovenia via Air France freight, to arrive in Caracas.

Tortuga Fishing Boat

On Wednesday, 4 days from departure I took a ferry from Puerto La Cruz to Margarita (2 hours) to hopefully abscond the panels and get them back to the mainland without raising the Aduanas' (Customs) alarms. Somehow I failed to realize that 8 panels, weighing 16 pounds a piece, all packed within a bombproof wooden crate was not something I would be capable of hiding in a day bag. After much negotiating I hired a Pescadore to bring the panels as "contraband" in the middle of the night on his boat for 2 million bolivars (about $500 bucks on the black market, which doubles the value of the US dollar as most people with the means are actively hoarding US dollars with the hope of escaping Chavez and the mess he's been creating for some years in Venezuela). All up, including the shipment to Miami, the boat shipment to Margarita, the ferry trips, payoffs and headaches, it would have been cheaper to send the freight overnight via Fed Ex and pay the damn taxes. Lesson learned.

Another nice evening in Tortuga

From Margarita I learned the tow winch was similarly held up in Caracas, but this time in the firm grips of the Aduana. I would have to fly to Caracas to get a customs agent, which is code for opening your wallet. I jumped the next flight to Caracas, was met by the shipping agent, who dropped me off at the nearest bus stop assuring me that "manana" the package would be mine. I took the bus 40 minutes to downtown Caracas which to my eyes seemed like an endless slum, or "barrio". I'd spent a few days in Caracas while backpacking some 15 years ago and my memories of the place would hardly improve this trip. A country that is so rich in natural resources (gas costs less than 3 cents per litre)does not appear to be spending their wealth on projects that would assist the population at large. Sure, health care is free, but the educated all leave, or try very hard to do so (a US visa is 10 grand). There are countless 1st world projects like unused soccer stadiums and splashy Chavez billboards, but I saw little signs of useful infrastructure under construction. In short, the countries health seemed on par with its road system, which is atrocious.

Bruce, taking a breather

I've learned a few things about how things work in Venezuela. The first is that when someone tells you "manana en la manana" that means it will NOT happen tomorrow, and definitely not in the morning. Such was the case with the tow winch. We tried until the late afternoon to get the winch free from customs to no avail. My agent, correctly sensing my state of unhealthy agitation suggested I forget about the winch and return to Puerto La Cruz. I would have to return to Caracas another time.

Another happy customer

On Friday I siphoned 600 litres of diesel into our tanks (about 17 dollars at the national price), which reminded me of my commercial fishing days in the Bering Sea (not wholly pleasant memories). Nico spent the day provisioning for the next 15 days and Jody got Discovery ready for her next guests. By Saturday morning, although seriously scrambling, we were ready. Miguel Willis, Best rider was the first to show after flying the last two days from Seattle, followed by the return of Bruce Marks, and new owner Rob Bass and his girlfriend Kristin. We departed immediately for Tortuga, leaving Puerto La Cruz forever behind. In my opinion, and those of our new guests and our permanent crew- good riddance.

Miguel Willis

Tortuga is just 55 miles from the mainland, but it is a world apart. We motored most of the way but had an unexpected explosion of wind a few miles out which started as a pleasant sail and ended in a full blown "Tormenta". About the same time the tormenta hit we caught a nice Sierra Mackerel, which I bled, put in a bucket then promptly lost over the side. We barely got the mainsail down before things got really ugly, a blizzard of rain and wind screeching down from the heavens. I think the ocean was pissed about taking and then losing one of its gifts, and I had to concur.

Cayo Herradura lighthouse

The last three days have been spent searching the sky for signs of wind. The regular wind pattern we got on the last trip has returned, blowing at sunset through the night, ending at sun-up but this time we have no moon to keep us on the water. Miguel had enough of waiting last night and launched under a dazzling canopy of stars. The night was almost pure blackness, but he and Bruce made the most of it and came back smiling and unscathed. These are times of rest and recuperation. The wind will return; the anchorages are spectacular; the food out of this world. We wait. Albeit impatiently.

Miguel going big

This trip ranks as highly or better than any I've done in the past 8 years. With lighter winds than expected and hoped for it proves that the group dynamic is the most important thing on any expedition and these guys rank among the best. Of course, the mood was helped with 12 out of 14 days of kiting, most of them either at sunset or under the full moon with a strong sea breeze blowing late in the day.

Tortuga local

We spent three full days exploring idyllic Tortuga. It is an impressive landscape. Dead flat, with a peppering of well-placed cactus and shrubs that shimmers in the mid day heat, making for a surreal feel that the cameras cannot capture. The land is contrasted against a backdrop of crystal clear bright blue water that are laced with massive parrot fish, plenty of lobster, triggerfish and a plethora of other tropicals from small to large. We spent our days reading, working out, playing cards, enjoying one incredible meal after another compliments of Nico and then the winds would come around and off we'd go into the night.

Dinner

The only negative for me was continued problems with Discovery and a mound of escalating maintenance issues. Another blown impellar kept me kinked up in impossible body positions cussing at the generator for almost two days. I finally managed a work-around using the salt water washdown pump just as our water tanks were running dry and the batteries down to a bare minimum. On a boat with so many "luxuries" these problems are as inevitable as the sunrise, and something I'm plenty used to but sometimes enough is enough.

The Locals

With an improved wind forecast and the return of the trades we spent one final night in Tortuga feasting on lobster and getting in a final sunset kite session before setting sail for Los Roques. It was a near-perfect sail, downwind with 20 knots keeping our speed up to arrive late in the day for another long session just inside the reef at Sebastapol.

Nico and friend

Over the next 9 days we'd kite 6 different spots and even one long downwinder across a large section of the vast archipelago. We anchored in a new spot each night, each seemingly more spectacular than the last. Never in my years of sailing have I seen a place like Los Roques. The entire area is protected and managed very carefully by Inparque. Sand islands and reef all lie within the protection of a huge barrier reef, which keeps the waters within protected and calm. You can kite literally anywhere.

Capturing Los Roques

The main town of Gran Roque is touristy and yet quaint and fantastic. Brightly colored Posadas line the beach along with dozens of fishing boats. The streets are of sand and there is not one motorized vehicle on the island. No motorbikes, no cars. The pace is leisurely and the locals friendly. The town this time of year is filled with wealthy groups of stylish Europeans and the more well-to-do from Caracas and neighboring cities. At night each Posada becomes a mini-festival of music and candles, one romantic scene after another. I'm not sure what I imagined, but Los Roques beat all my expectations and I'm already looking forward to our return as we'll be coming back to Los Roques twice in the next month.

Bienvenidos

Local Character

Nico and I are now underway back to Puerto La Cruz to pick up our next group. We'll then turn around and head back to Tortuga and Los Roques for more delights. Jody flew to Caracas from Los Roques to pick up our tow winch so we can now paraglide to 3,000 feet which I'm sure will make for some incredible aerial photography. Stay tuned for more adventures...

Rawleigh kiting paradise

My return to Discovery was not exactly welcoming, nor even pleasant. A long flight from Seattle to Caracas, a sleepness night in a ratty hotel near the airport and then an early flight to Puerto La Cruz burdened with three massive bags and boxes stuffed with gear, parts and galley equipment only to be met with a frantic Nico. The water pump to the freezer had quit the night before and we were losing all our frozen goods. I dumped all the gear, hooked up the cooling water intake to the shore water and ran to the chandlery to purchase a new pump (and spare). The next 5 days would be of much the same. Replace the impellar for the generator after overheating, two of the 4 electric heads were down and needed replacement,...not a fun week in the blazing heat.

With Discovery mostly back in working order Nico and I motored 80 miles up to Margarita, the start of our next trip. We made the anchorage at 3 am, music on the beach blaring and skyscraper hotels ringed the beach. I'd heard Margarita was a party joint and it didn't take me long to want to leave. Not really my cup of tea. Jody joined us via ferry the next morning and she and I spent most of the day tracking down two of her bags that went missing in Miami three days before. Her bags held many of the parts I needed to fix a host of other problems, pushing us to the wire for the start of the trip.

Our group arrived Saturday night: Rawleigh Ralls, Jerry Moffat, Craig Powell, Craig Mcmahon, and Wink Jones. Each has traveled extensively around the world. Jerry just completed a successful summit bid on Everest this spring and each have paddled some of the hardest rivers in Bhutan and Nepal. Luckily this experience played to our benefit as two of the heads (toilets) were still down as our needed shipment of parts from the US was held up in customs. These guys were used to such minor inconveniences.

Underway with the new Genny

No matter, time to have some fun. We motor sailed around the corner with our new gennaker to Coche, launched Rawleigh off the stern, which would link the next 5 straight days of kiting, each day in a new spot. Nico served up the best ribs any of us have every eaten and Jody and I were familiarized with "Dirty Clubs", a card game that you play only not to lose as the loser has to serve a "forfeit". Some of the forfeits are hysterical. Eating breakfast with mask and life jacket in the dinghy, eating lunch in full wetsuit in the dinghy, riding in the dinghy behind the boat...

Craig's first forfeit

Gavin's initiation to Dirty Clubs

Jerry's forfeit, leaving Margarita

The boys had Coche and the winds all to themselves on Monday. I however spent the day back in Margarita frantically trying to run down our missing parts and trying to resolve a crashed laptop. Sometimes being the captain has some serious drawbacks. But thankfully, my reality was soon to change. I returned to a very jubilant group aboard Discovery, a heated game of Dirty Clubs underway and another stunning meal of con fit of Tuna with an orange and basil sauce, cajun style beef tenderloin skewers served with guacamole and pesto pasta. Nico has now been our chef for over 3 months and we've yet to have the same thing twice.

Tortuga fishing village

With light winds we pulled out of Coche at 3 am for an 80 mile motor up to Tortuga. Tortuga is barren and flat, a stunning island with turquoise waters, gargantuan lobster, white sand beaches and only us to experience one incredible kite spot after another. I'd heard some incredible rumors regarding Tortuga's kiting potential, but not since I left the South Pacific have I experienced such remoteness and beauty. By day the treeless landscape shimmers in the heat, and each day begins nearly windless. We spend the days freediving, snorkeling, playing cards, eating; but as sunset arrives the wind inevitably pipes up and the kites come out. A nearly full moon keeps us going well into the dark, much to everyone's delight.

Tortugas Landscape

Launching

Perfect

Sunset Kiting

www.freewebs.com/lanchacochecubagua

The crew of The Best Odyssey has been on a short hiatus the last couple of weeks, but we've been far from docile. After the last trip ended in Grenada Jody, Nico and I sailed down to Trinidad to pick up a couple new sails, then headed east over the top of Venezuela to Puerto La Cruz to prepare her for our absence. A number of large projects will be completed before our next trip July 21st, including a tow winch for the dinghy for paragliding a few thousand feet over sea level, a large solar panel array to minimize generator run time, a new freezer to keep the beers cold...

Coming into Puerto La Cruz

Jody and I enjoyed being in Seattle for less than 48 hours, then flew up to Alaska to do some paragliding and bush plane flying with Jody's brother for the solstice. Kind of strange living in a place that never gets dark, but it sure makes for a lot of hours of playing to your hearts content. Flying several thousand feet over the Talkeetnas also made for some of the best paragliding we've ever done.

Gavin Flying in Alaska

Note the wing above the ridge

We've just opened reservations to all the owners for the 08' season in the South Pacific, which takes us through the Galapagos, Gambiers, Tahiti, Bora-Bora, the Tuamotos, Austral islands (for the Humpback whales), Cooks, Tonga and Samoa. But for now we'll enjoy our poolside company back in Puerto La Cruz, a family of large iguanas that patrol the area in style.

Our neighbor

In some ways we're back where it all started. At least this is where it all started on trip number 1 back in February. I can't believe 6 months have passed. 6 trips, 6 thousand miles (if you include the passage from Italy to Trinidad), 32 kite spots, 15 countries, plenty of memories and smiles. It hasn't been without its disappointments and hardships of course, but that's what an expedition is all about. We said goodbye today to Ethan, Rogier, Jason and Bruce and tomorrow we set sail right away again for Trinidad to pick up a couple sails, some frozen goods, then hightail it for Puerto La Cruz in Northern Venezuela to get a short break and get Discovery ready for the rest of the season.

Gavin, perfecting the forward roll

We had the best winds we've had on this trip, a month which has typically terminally poor winds. Such is the weather on our planet these days, if anything completely unpredictable. We kited 12 out of 15 days, or at least Kiteboy, aka Rogier did. Some of us were too worn out to go every day, but we all made the best of it we could.

Bruce at Sunset

Rogier, a rare moment off the water

From Union we sailed a short distance south to Curacao to inspect a small island called "Sandy Island" (one of the dozens in the Caribbean) which we'd passed up on the first trip. I'm glad we didn't this time around. Jody was the only one not to kite because one look was all that was needed to get her climbing harness on and her camera slung over her shoulder. You can probably tell why from the pictures.

Bruce kiting Sandy Island, Curacao

It wasn't all paradise at Sandy Island though. Jason had his first kitemare and got overly friendly with the reef and a few urchins. Luckily Bruce, our resident doc and pain relief provider (he an anaesthetist) took to making Jason squirm a bit, but also saved him from some hellish suffering. Needless to say, "Cankles" was done kiting for the trip! But as always, Nico also came to the rescue with yet another spectacular meal, how he does it, none of us know.

Kitemare

Blackened Mahi Kebabs

From Curacao we hopped around to Saline Island, a favorite on the first trip, but alas our winds were finally giving out and with the strong currents the kiting was marginal. It's still a spectacular spot though and Jody and I were happy to get a chance to share it with the others. Bruce managed to pull some sweet waves on a nice left break, more incentive for us to get our surf board riding nailed in the months ahead.

Saline Island anchorage

The next day we awoke to some nasty weather, the first hard rain we'd had in months. Strong winds and almost zero visibility drove us from the anchorage and south to Grenada. Eventually we made it to the fishing village of Grenville where Jody arranged for us to witness the rare and endangered Leatherback turtles laying their eggs on Levera beach, one of the kiting beaches we discovered some months ago. Levera is one of only three beaches in the Caribbean that the monster Leatherbacks come to each year, and June is the perfect month to witness their nightly ritual. A local conservation group has been protecting and studying the turtles, (who get as large as volkswagons and can weigh two tons) for the past 5 years. Incredibly they have seen a steady increase in their numbers and learned some amazing facts. For one, they travel as far as Nova Scotia and South Africa between mating seasons, and can dive to 3900 feet! We all really enjoyed the evening and were happy to contribute a small amount to help the prehistoric animals hopefully survive it's greatest threat, which is of course us.

The awesome Leatherback

We had a lazy final day motoring around to Hog Island, at the south end of Grenada, where I had my first tropical Caribbean swim back in February. As always, all good things must end. Bruce has been with us for over two months and will be sorely missed until he rejoins in August, the others we will see next year. For Jody, Nico and I we've got a mad dash and a ton of work on the horizon. No rest for the weary.

Bruce, a final downwinder

This trip by location is just about a dead repeat of trip number one. A 15 day Epic from St Lucia down to Prickly Bay, Grenada. From there we'll sail a few hundred miles to Puerto La Cruz, Venezuela to take some much needed time off as well as complete a few major projects on Discovery, including a topside freezer, large solar array for some greener charging, which will double as a surfboard rack, possibly a new tender and outboard...it's a long list.

Ethan Kerber at the helm

I'll cut straight to the chase, and what we're all interested in here. It's day 11 of the trip, we've kited the last 10 of them. We've had so much wind that yesterday we had 20 knots and only Rogier could muster the energy to kite. May is historically one of the worst months for wind in the Caribbean, and while the temps have definitely risen considerably and the hurricane season seems just around the corner, we've gotten very lucky.

Frigate Island, Union

The first 5 days were light, granted, but that gave us time to practice with our new carbon fibre Aviso surfboards on Canouan, a favorite stop on the first trip, and a new location for us on Mayreau across from Saltwhistle Bay. Bruce, Rogier and Ethan got in a killer 6 mile downwinder from Canouan to Mayreau. It's so much fun to sail along on Discovery and have the boys ripping by us with huge grins on their faces.

Frigate Island, Union

We even got in a kite under the full moon, something I've always wanted to do. We had a perfect cloudless evening, solid winds, gorgeous shallow water. Had to do it. Bruce, Rogier, Jody and I all had a go, much to the delight of the other boats moored in the anchorage.

Kiting under the moonlight

From Saltwhistle we motored just around the corner to the Tobago Cays and had a decent day of kiting out at Petit Tabac, but with the low tides on the full moon it wasn't ideal. From the Tobago Cays we had to get into position for the best forecast we've had all season- 7 straight days of +20 knots. I'd heard through the kiting grapevine that Union had a fantastic flatwater spot called Frigate island.

Nico, working his magic

Happy Island, Union

Rogier, at it again

At the end of the day, worn out and sore we'd up anchor and motor back up to Clifton, in prep for another day of the same. Ethan, Rogier and Jody would nail their first forward rolls, I'm working on riding blind and doing forward roll transitions, Bruce is doing some crazy boosts, and Jason the rookie would be riding for the first time. At the end of each day we would briefly consider moving on, but logic thankfully would always reign and staying put would win out.

Tobago Cays

We finally had to leave not by choice, but by demand. Our ever-problematic dinghy, which we abuse to no end got a short in the negative wire so we regretfully sailed the short distance across to Petit St Martinique to make the repairs. To be honest though, I couldn't have kited even if I wanted to. My body feels like it's been used as a punching bag for the last 10 days. With more wind in the forecast through the remainder of the trip, a short rest will be good for all of us.

Tobago Cays

This time of year is an unknown when it comes to the wind. Which means hit or miss. We keep getting rather marginal forecasts but somehow get lucky. From Antigua we sailed out of Falmouth Harbour, launched Bruce off the back of Discovery, (something we're getting quite adept at) and sailed 6 miles downwind to the SW corner of the island, below Jolly Harbour. These boat downwinders are a bit of pain and pleasure for me. Pleasure because I get to share in the smiles and fun, pain in that I'm always the one at the helm. Job hazard.

tasty treats

The crew of Discovery has been thinned down to a very nice number for the next 10 days. Nico and Jody, the permanents; Bruce, who with 8 shares is certainly semi-permanent, and my sister Lesley and her boyfriend Dagan. Another major drawback of running an offshore expedition is that I rarely get a chance to see my family so this was a period of time to be relished. Nico cooked up the first of many spectacular meals (Duck breast with a ginger reduction, nicoise fresh sashimi tuna salad, and bread and butter pudding) at anchor Thursday night, then we sailed south for Guadeloupe just after midnight with solid winds out of the East.

One of Nico's incredible creations

As we were hard on the wind I decided to alter course for the lee side of Guadeloupe and sail straight for Isles de Saintes rather than make the long haul back up to the SE coast, hoping we'd find some good kiting on one of the windward beaches. Isles de Saintes turned out to be a wonderful stop with a quaint little town, lovely locals and very scenic vistas which made for remarkable walks. After the long night sail Bruce was the only one who could muster a kite, but even he gave it up for a long nap later in the day.

From Isles de Saintes we had a short and fine sail to Prince Rupert Bay on the spectacular NW side of Dominica. Dominica held little possibilities for kiting but we were keen to explore it's wild interior. Dominica has mountains over 4,000 feet and the most volcanoes of any Caribbean island. The fertile forests have been largely left untouched, and are host to a myriad of rivers, waterfalls, immense tropical trees, and a wide range of amazing fauna, including iguanas and parrots.

Pretty cool eh?

India River, Dominica

Chaudiere Pool

Hoping to teach Lesley and Dagan to kitesurf, as well as the need to stay at least marginally attentive to our itinerary drove us on to Martinique, some 50 miles south but a world away. One of the great things about traveling in the Caribbean is not only it's ease of sailing, but enjoying the vast cultural differences from one island (country) to the next. Where Dominica is wild, and almost exclusively native in population; Martinique is bustling, manicured, and very French. Both have their charms and attractions. The crew rented a car and spent the day enjoying the windward beaches, where Nico, Lesley and Dagan all got to fly their first kites, while the skipper had the joy of part searching in scalding temps and raucous and filthy traffic. Another job hazard. Discovery has been getting her share of use and maintenance is a constant factor.

NE Dominica

We finished the trip with another good sail south to Rodney Bay, St. Lucia, our end to another journey,and the start of our next Epic on the 26th. Dagan and Lesley both got their first board rides at Cas en Bas, which was incredible considering the short time they both spent learning the sport. Two more addicts in the making.

Always too short, we saw Dagan and Lesley off early Saturday morning and scrambled as always to prepare for our next guests, arriving from Singapore (Rogier Brand), Angola (Jason Brown), and the US (Ethan Kerber). Bruce stays on for his 4th trip of the season, now really part of our crew and a wonderful personality, not to mention incredible kiter (this is his 8th year) to have onboard.

Thankfully the winds have returned to The Best Odyssey and we've taken advantage of every whiff of them on trip #6. From St Maarten we shot across to the south side of Anguilla for a day on her perfect beaches, then spent a night back at Orient bay on St Maarten before sailing down to St Barths to pick up Ian Huschle, the CEO of Best and the person most responsible for our Best sponsorship. Ian has been sailing his whole life and we looked forward to getting to know him outside our business relationship.

Boat Launch

Our guests this trip are Bruce Marks, Steve Rosonke, Brad McDonough, and Cory Wadsworth (who was on trip #2) who would return for just the last few days, after Ian's departure. With a light SE forecast I decided that rather than spend a full night on St Barths we would sail for Barbuda to take advantage of a better forecast. As Barbuda lied directly SE of St Barths most of the 70 mile trip was a sloshing motor against waves and breeze. But an hour out of Barbuda the winds piped up out of the south and Ian and I raised the sails and cranked at full speed all the way to the anchorage.

Ian, Getting Set for a Session

Over the next 8 days we would get in 7 days of kiting. Barbuda is nearly vacant this time of year and we had the island practically to ourselves. Steve found the offshore conditions and reef difficult for learning as he was just at the body dragging stage, but we had him up and riding in no time while the rest of us rode as much as we could. I pulled my first series of successful forward rolls and I saw Ian boost some serious airs, while Bruce impressed everyone with his fluid and solid style. Jody and I tried to master gybing a directional surfboard but were only marginally successful.

Bruce Marks

Nico, our chef is quickly becoming famous amongst our guests. While we understand very little of what he says, his food speaks much louder than words. He didn't re provision once on this trip and we had a daily orgy of the finest food I've ever eaten. When each meal hits the table I am dumbfounded. Tuna sashimi, mahi-mahi steaks in a white wine reduction, Algerian cous cous, duck breast with roasted veggies and magical polenta, filet mignon in a wild mushroom sauce...and of course the cheese plates (Nico is French)! Let's just say I'm not letting this guy off the boat. I knew we'd get some killer kiting on this expedition. I never dreamed we'd be eating so well, and I'm a bit of a food snob.

Chez Nico

I think we'll be seeing Ian again shortly. It was wonderful for everyone aboard to meet and get to know the man behind the machine that is Best, and also see such a professional businessman relax and enjoy our surroundings so fully. He happily and skillfully handled a barrage of questions and ribs over the days regarding the various facts, rumors, lies and truths that revolve around Best Kiteboarding and all I can say is that I feel we are very lucky to have Best as our sponsor. And I love that their CEO likes to go big!

The CEO of Best Kiteboarding, Ian Huschle

Ian was replaced on Thursday with Cory, our last day in Barbuda. Cory arrived on the best wind day of the trip and after he'd seen the footage from the Best trip back in March was very keen to give it a go. We finished off the day with a long downwinder, then set sail for Antigua, just 20 miles south.

Card Sharks

There's something about kiting Green Island that is wonderfully satisfying. We felt it here before with Shannon and Clinton and I noticed it again this time. The water color is so inviting and in such contrast to the green hills that surround you it's hard to be anywhere but playing in the ocean. Luckily the winds kept blowing harder than our forecast and each of us rode for so long on Saturday that we could barely muster an attempt on Sunday, our final day. I for one could barely move. The sun and wind had once again conspired to sap every once of energy we had and a return to port and a bit of rest was welcomed by all.

A return to Green Island

So we're back in Antigua again. All the superyachts have left for the Med and this time around English Harbour is a quiet affair. We have 12 days until our next trip, which starts in St Lucia. My sister and her boyfriend will join the crew for our trip south through Guadeloupe, Dominica, and Martinique. Discovery seems a huge ship when there's so few aboard. But it's nice to have the space.

I learned to dive 16 years ago at Saba, a tiny dormant volcano which lies just 30 miles ESE of St Maarten. Those 30 miles are an ocean of difference. While St Maarten is noisy, dirty, tourist cluttered and lacks much natural beauty (because it has all been destroyed to make way for hotels and casinos); Saba is spectacular and quaint. Almost a perfect circle, barely 5 miles from one coast to the other, the island soars into a permanent cloud top some 2,800 feet up. For many years the only way to access the village of "Bottom" was to climb 800 steps straight out of the ocean. Now there is thankfully a road (granted, an incredibly steep road) which allows locals and the handful of tourists who come to hike Mt Scenery or dive the famous walls of Saba to access its treasures.

Cristobal, approaching the anchorage

With a light forecast we decided a return to Saba was in order. I held vivid memories of it's rainforest and coral gardens, and wanted to see again the almost fairy tale villages that lie on its impossibly steep banks.

Discovery, all alone again

Adam kiting Diamond Rocks, Saba

I would later find out that this was Christian's first time snorkeling. Now, 5 days later I think he's still smiling.

Christian, post snorkel

Gavin, going deep

Day two we decided a trip to "Bottom" and "Windwardside", the two main villages on Saba (population 700) would be interesting and maybe even a trip up to Mt Scenery. Our taxi climbed in low gear up switchbacks, through a land that in my memory hasn't changed a bit. The white buildings with red roofs, manicured gardens, smiling faces, lush jungle and dizzying drop offs were all just as I had remembered. It's not often you return to a place and find it unchanged these days, and I was happy for the surprise.

Imagine going to school here!

We took a short tour around the island then disembarked and climbed 1064 steps (posted on the sign, not from counting!) to the top of the island, 1700 vertical feet from the start. The hike is almost literally straight up and while our sea legs were screaming we enjoyed the sights, smells, and sounds of the virgin rainforest.

Entering the clouds near the top

Windwardside, Saba

From Saba we had a perfect sail across to Anguilla, where we hoped to find a bit more wind. Instead we found a bit of trouble. Frustrated with the light airs we decided to go for a skurf behind the dinghy at sunset on day 4. This time of day makes it hard to see underwater objects and while I was enjoying a tow behind the dinghy I suddenly heard a loud bang and instantly knew we were in trouble. Sure enough, the lower unit on the dinghy was munched, rendering our chase boat useless. Cristobal, who was at the helm felt horrible but we assured him that these mistakes are a part of the sailing process and inevitable. Better now with no wind for kitesurfing and while we are so close to St Maarten to undertake repairs than some other time. So, back to St Maarten, where we spent yesterday. The rest of the crew took taxis over to Oriental Bay, but were again skunked with no wind while I cajoled and pleaded with the Yamaha shop to get our engine back in working order. Thankfully, the boys worked hard all day and we're underway again. We left this morning at sunrise to sail back up to Anguilla and with an improved forecast, we all hope to be kiting soon. From Anguilla we'll sail NW to Anegada in the BVI's and a hopeful visit to see Mr. Branson on Necker island.

Gavin

Waiting for the wind

I'm a little speechless this last night of the trip. 10 days of kiting, 10 days of wind, 10 days of some of the finest locations I've ever ridden or seen. Add to that the riding caliber Shannon Best and Clinton Bolton bring to the table and I can't imagine it getting any better. We got so spoiled that on our return to Antigua today none of us could muster more than a paltry attempt at kiting Green island one last time. Our bodies are just too wiped out, the muscles need a rest and the skin needs some shade.

Stacey saying goodbye

We spent another three days kiting our unnamed location. Any thoughts to set out and discover something new were quickly squashed as there was no chance we'd find anything better. Some guests of a local nearby resort saw the kites flying and came down the beach to take witness to the filming and crazy boosting and tricks Shannon and Clinton were throwing down, and even some land boarding by Alex.

Alex Brown

They were very special days- for spectators and riders alike. We brought out a trainer kite yesterday, and all in attendance got some personal instruction from Shannon and were quickly having the time of their lives. I think we've added a few kiters to the scene.

Shannon sharing some knowledge

Shannon's shells

Nico continues to amaze everyone in the galley. This, our final evening was completely over the top. Fresh caught lobster Caesar salad, greek salad, fresh caught mackerel, and a humdinger tiramisu. Every meal has been a stunning delight. We're truly dining in one of the finest restaurants in the world, with a view no restaurant can match.

Major wasabi dose

Everyone leaves tomorrow morning. The film footage has been insane on this trip, so we'll be anxiously awaiting the video that Dave will be editing shortly.

Our film dude, Dave

Getting the boat launches down

Barbuda is a totally flat island of palm trees; miles and miles of white sand beaches; just 1400 residents; two hotels; and a myriad of reefs which have claimed over 200 boats in recent years. Nautical charts are unreliable, necessitating great care only in the best of light when on the go. I've looked at those same unreliable charts and aerial photographs of Barbuda for months and all I could see was potential kiteboarding perfection. Of all the places on our Caribbean itinerary this season, this is the spot I was most excited to explore. Discovering new locations and pioneering wild areas is what this expedition is all about and Barbuda would either fulfill or disappoint.

We hooked into a nice Sierra Mackerel (providing for wicked sashimi for lunch!) on the passage and shortly thereafter wound Discovery through a series of bommies, drying reefs and a few turtles under sail into Spanish Point. There was little doubt that Barbuda would indeed fulfill. In fact about 30 seconds after the anchor hit the sand I put in a waypoint and named it "KITING UNREAL". And that's before we even had the kites out.

Spanish Point, Barbuda

Imagine an expanse of shallow clear water over sand and sections of reef almost as far as the eye can see. Imagine flat water, protected by a long spit of land that's low enough to not disrupt the winds. Then imagine a left break with waves booming around the point. And finally, not another kite, or for that matter another human being to share your space with and you've got it. And remarkably, this spot is a far second to the one we'd find later today.

What it takes for a bit of Discovery

The Best crew kited most of the day. Headcams, kitecams, kiteloops and kitebloops interspersed with more remarkable food compliments of our chef at "Chez Nico". Winds were a bit too light to get Clinton and Shannon out in the waves, but all in all our first day in Barbuda was spectacular.

Shannon, getting his groove on

With the light behind us in the morning we decided to sail downwind to another point which will remain unnamed, with the Best crew kiting right along with us. Dolphins payed a brief visit, our first in the Caribbean since the almost daily visits we had on our crossing from Italy back in December. I'm leaving the point unnamed because I don't ever want another person to come here. Maybe that's unfair, but I could end the expedition right here and never leave. Clinton wants to move here. I just don't want to leave. You kite right on the leeward side of a long spit of white sand beach, palm trees swaying. Ok, it's offshore so if you get in trouble it's good to have a dinghy, but I can find no other faults. If flatwater, and I mean FLAT water is what you're after, this is the place.

Clinton sailing along with us

Every one of us got way too much sun today. And the amount of kiting we got is evident in the fact that it's 9 p.m. as I write this and the only one remotely coherent is Nico, who actually had the easiest job today, which is not usually the case.

Shannon Best, downtime

My only complaint is that even as the captain on this journey I think my title would be more appropriate as kite slave. When you're making a video and have a lot on the line you've got to keep the operation moving. Which means instead of kiting these amazing spots we're finding I'm running Dave and Jody up and down the mast to film and shoot, rescuing downed kiters with the dinghy, getting Alex Brown out of bed, keeping Stacey from spilling beer in the cabins, and getting Shannon smokes. I know, I know, you feel for me right?

Friday morning I was scrambling around fixing things, buying parts and spares, always with the dark cloud of provisioning for another 10 days hanging over my head when I got a call from Jody that Nicolas (Nico) had arrived on the docks with gear in hand. We'd posted all over the net and through numerous crew agencies that we were in desperate need of a chef, and Nico was one of the applicants. He'd said in an email that he could come to the boat on Friday and I assumed that meant he was on Antigua and would show up for an interview. But he'd flown in that morning from St Maarten and that kind of dedication meant an interview was unnecessary- I was more than happy to pass the baton.

The Flora of Green Island

It took us months to go through the interview process the first time. This time around Nico, whom we knew nothing about simply showed up, I provided about 2 minutes of detail about the job, he said he was in, we said fine, done deal. Nico knows food. Now that we're a few days down the line I can honestly say we have found culinary nirvana. I didn't even have to eat something he had prepared to know we were in good shape- it was all evident Saturday morning in the markets watching him skillfully select the best produce, his brain noticeably whirring with anticipation of what he could create. Nico is a master. The galley has become "chez nico", and Discovery is finally decked out in all her new logos. At last, we are ready for the Best pro trip.

The final logo

Now on to kiting. Stacey, Alex and Dave Ogle, our videographer showed up Saturday evening but unfortunately Shannon, being an Australian citizen was held up at the airport in Miami as Antigua has just instituted a visa for the duration of the Cricket World Cup, being played now in the West Indies. His arrival now unsure, we decided to sail the next morning for Green island, just around the corner from Falmouth Harbour, where we'd heard there was some potential kiting. Whoa. Potential is just the beginning. This is the third trip in a row we've kited on the first day, but this spot reigns supreme.

Kiting Anyone?

Sometimes a picture says a thousand words- I'll let the pictures do the talking. We filmed til sundown Sunday, and filmed for about 8 hours yesterday using the amazing tools of "Oglevision", Dave's incredible supply of helmet cams, board cams, kite cams, underwater housings, and of course jody's lens to document Clinton, Stacey and Alex all throwing down some insane moves in some of the bluest most inviting water I've ever seen.

Stacey throwing down

Clinton Underwater

We added some things to make the day even more interesting, like towing Clinton into the stratosphere, and having him jump over...well, everything.

Clinton going skyward

Clinton, headcam

Today we woke early, got Clinton suited up for a 6 mile downwinder to Great Bird island, a fast sail on a beam reach for Discovery, and with the added benefit of having Clinton to entertain us for the duration. Shannon gets in shortly, I'm sure ready to put the traveling travails behind him and get to the work at hand- kiting in paradise.

Clinton, Space Travel

Getting an aerial view

Beach Support, Anse De Sable

Cas En Bas would have been a great place to ride for several more days, but as we we're already half way through the trip and had a good distance left to sail to Antigua, we decided to sail for Martinique in the morning. An easy 3 hour sail to wind proved a perfect conditioning sail for the group. Joaquin showed his vast skills on the helm, keeping us rolling along over 10 knots.

Waiting for the taxi

Upon arrival at the south end of Martinique in Saint Anne we decided the best way to get some kiting in before dark would be to rent a car and head for Anse Triboud, one of the spots we'd heard about. Martinique is 20 miles, but a world away from St Lucia. Absolutely French- in language, presentation, feel. While St Lucia is wild and I would say even unkempt, Martinique is all clean and manicured.

St Anne, Martinique

It also has a windward coast that presents dozens of awesome places to kite and some long downwind potential. Triboud was a goose chase as none of us speaks French and we got turned around by a local who was unimpressed with our attempts to open his gate to get to the beach. Never mind, just north of Triboud is Anse Michel, which turned out to be a killer spot to ride til dark. The girls even found another bar!

Clinton, Anse Michel

We spent another day at Anse Michel after a hard night of partying and more pole dancing, one in which the skipper passed out on the aft deck and had to be put in Holly's pajamas and sent to bed, but let's keep that on the down low. By now Lance was getting close to staying upwind and was all smiles and the rest of us were working on more tricks under Clinton's guidance. Joaquin was even pulling some sweet backrolls in a few inches of water right next to the beach, but his time would soon come...

Anse Michel

Friday night we sailed up to Fort Au France where the guests decided to hit the town while Jody, Joaquin and I tried for some desperately needed sleep before a long run the next day up to Guadeloupe, about 100 miles north. Sometime around 3 am a very drunken group circled Discovery and woke me up, then raced through the anchorage at full tilt, hollering and making general asses of themselves, then took off to check out a container ship right across a reef that had thankfully just enough water to clear the prop or there could have been a serious accident. Needless to say, they got an earful when they finally got back to Discovery and got another one the next day.

An easy sail the next morning up to Saint Pierre followed where we hoped to get in a dive, but again our lack of French made arranging anything a bit challenging, so we simply enjoyed the quaint town, bought some avocados, did some internet and headed off for Guadeloupe. Guadeloupe is in fact two islands, separated by a very narrow salt water river which can be navigated by shallow draft boats- but only if you arrive at the bridge that opens once a day at 0500. That's all the information I had, and unfortunately this would turn out to be insufficient. We had an amazing sail from Martinique up to Dominica, then mostly motored up the lee coast of Dominica, then Joaquin and Clinton expertly cruised us across at top speed from Dominica to Guadeloupe. Clinton woke me at 0300, right on schedule so I could bring us into the long channel, a well lit but dubious affair at night. We arrived right on time at 0430. 0500 came and went, the bridge stayed locked down. By 0530 I started getting a bit worried. We had to get to Antigua, and going around the island would add 70 miles and kill a day of kiting. Shortly thereafter a few French guys cruised by in a speedboat and said "no no no- tomorrow!" Sure enough, no bridge openings on Sunday. Shit.

So I turned her around and headed 8 miles up to Anse de Saint Anne, one of the Kite beaches Cory had downloaded on Kiteforum. The winds were too light for kiting on Sunday so the group did what it did best- drink. By now running the boat and cooking for 10 was really taking its toll on me, even with all the help from Joaquin, Jody and Clinton, but I was a wreck and took every opportunity for sleep. The plan was to try the bridge again the next morning, Monday, which would still get us up to Antigua Monday night, in plenty of time for everyone's flights early Tuesday. Alas, it was not to be, but things turned out spectacularly well. Well, for everyone but me. We hove anchor from Saint Anne at 0315 and headed back to the bridge, arriving right on time at 0450. There was a monohull in front of me and I asked them something that had been bothering me since the day before. Would we fit through the bridge? Their reply was they didn't know- the bridge had 7.4 meter width. We are 9.4 meters wide. OK, I was exhausted, but that was pretty easy math. So twice we were turned around at the bridge and now had a difficult choice. The group could go by taxi up to isle Caret, where we'd planned to kite all day on the north side while I took Discovery the long way around (about an 8 hour trip), or they could fly from Guadeloupe to Antigua, or we could all just sail around the long way. As sometimes happens, the decision was made for us through a dumbshit act all my own.

We motored back down the channel to Pointe a Pitre, the main city of Guadeloupe. I waited for the stores to open, then hit the chandlery to buy the Leeward island guidebook so we'd be making less bridge fiasco errors, then back to the boat and promptly sliced my foot between my big toe and index toe on the engine hatch covers. Joaquin took over and we headed for the hospital while the group headed for the airport. Two hours later I was sewn up perfectly by a fellow kiteboarder at the hospital and the group were flightless, so around the island we had to go. Which turned out to be a perfect end to an almost perfect trip.

Ouch- Gavin's foot after the repair

It occurred to my foggy brain as we began our rounding of Guadeloupe that we still had time to stop for one final kite session at St. Francis, another kite spot on our charts- we were going to sail all night anyway and even with moderate winds we'd make it in time for the flights. As the sun sank lower and lower we could see a couple kites in the air and the race was on. Unfortunately we have no pictures to document what then took place, but I promise it was special. Lance got the best riding of his trip, staying upwind on his own, solo for the first time.

What a ham!

St Francis evening session

Oops

An easy sail ensued to Antigua. We anchored in Falmouth Harbour, next to English Harbour, a striking old British fortress that has been immaculately preserved.

Antigua

I went in to customs and immigration to clear in the boat and get everyone off the crew list, and 7 wonderful friends hastily departed for the airport. All I can say - thank god we have a year before they come back! I don't think the crew will ever have to work so hard...but we're not likely to have so much fun either.

Sad Departure

Moored in The Pitons, St. Lucia

We picked up Cory and Patrece at noon on Saturday in Soufriers, a small town on the west coast of the island that had that peculiar and not altogether likable mix of simple, poor town and mainstream tourism which has done its inevitable damage. Within seconds of tying off on the dock we had hoardes of kids and adults pestering us for money, coins, t-shirts, booze, coke. And they weren't particularly polite or for that matter very needy looking. Just demanding.

Soufriere Market

But there was one little guy with gorgeous dreads you couldn't just ignore. He sat shyly in the back of the group in underwear with a big grin and Jody had her lens out immediately. He posed with a huge smile, then smartly demanded something in return. We gave him a t-shirt for his efforts, which sent the rest of the crowd in a dimmed uproar, prompting us to hastily retreat back into the cockpit. Shortly thereafter while eating lunch another of the boys kept yelling, "Mister, mister, hey mister...". I tried ignoring it but eventually had to take notice. When I turned and asked what was up he said, "hey man, there's a little Rasta man on your boat!" Sure enough, we had a little Rasta man on the boat and Jody caught him in the act. The laughs started there and haven't diminished since.

Sneaky Little Rasta!

I then sailed the short distance back to Vieux Fort and Anse de Sable beach while Cory, Patrece, Clinton, and Jody went down by taxi so they could get in a kite session before sunset. That night, with two more women joining us- Holly and Erin, all friends of Cory and Patrece, along with Joaquin, just in from over two days of missed flights and nightmare travel from Seattle and with the help of an incredibly unhealthy amount of liquor,things got very interesting. Maybe it was the lunar eclipse, which came up just over our stern around 10 p.m., but thing got very, very very interesting. Let's just say you couldn't get that kind of show in the finest strip club in the world. That and we definitely need a pole and a disco light before these guys come out again! The pictures here are the tamest we could find. Sorry, can't show more or we might get sued. Let's just say there were some wide eyes and dancing that was far from square that evening.

First Night on the boat, just before things got...interesting

On Sunday Erin and Holly's husbands, Mike and Lance arrived who thankfully found the pictures hysterical and were clearly all in for more fun. A great session was had on Monday back at Anse de Sable beach. Lance is just learning to fly a kite and spent the morning training one on one with Clinton. Imagine having one of the top kiters in the world as your own personal instructor. As Clinton will be on Discovery for the rest of the month (we're doing an all-pro trip with he and Shannon Best on the 17th) I can only hope the rest of us will glean some skills from him as well. He's a remarkable athlete and an incredibly humble and kind person. We all love him and if it weren't for his promising kiting career I'd love to keep him on as crew. He will be welcomed back in the years to come.

Clinton giving Lance some tips

Last night we had a sunset sail back up to the Pitons, a favorite anchorage on the last trip and one of the more spectacular places I've ever sailed. The gang got in an early wall dive this morning and then we motored up the lee side of the island back into Rodney Bay. From here it's a 5 minute drive over to Cas En Bas beach, home of the Tornado kite and surf school, and some great local kiters we've had the pleasure of getting to know.

Doesn't get much better

Mopion island, Petit St Martinique

Discovery, now decked out in her new sponsors logos is getting plenty of attention on the dock here in Rodney Bay, on the north end of St. Lucia. We've made friends with all the local kiters who are helping us get to know the area. Joel, who owns Tornado kiteboarding, the local school was psyched to take out our new Bularoo today, but Jody and I were unfortunately too busy getting Discovery all set for our next group who arrive Saturday to join the gang.

We're still riding the glow wave of the first Epic and wanted to put up some more pictures of the trip. Going through the comments in the guest book just makes it all the more special. For all the promises and hopes putting the expedition together you never really know how it's all going to go until it does. Will we really find unknown locations? Will they be what we all imagine? Will everyone get along?

Check out our logo!

If the rest of the 5 years could be just half as good as the first trip we're in fine form. Everyone had an amazing journey. We had great sails, good winds; found some places to ride that were simply mind-blowing. We ate like kings- local lobster, killer bar-b-ques, feasts day in and day out. To have anchorages in a busy place like the Caribbean all to ourselves, to play all day. Extraordinary. It's hard to make predictions this early into our Caribbean explorations, but I think the Grenadines will be hard to beat. The people and culture are gorgeous, the water is dreamily clear, each island is just a short hop from one to the next making for easy sails. It's magical.

How we provision for veggies in St Lucia

But...I'm hearing incredible things about Martinique, we already know the kiting in St Lucia is world class, Dominica has a sick surf break, and Antigua has paragliding right over the anchorage and some of the finest beaches in the Caribbean. That trip starts in two days. So I guess this week is the price we've got to pay!

Anse De Sable in Vieux Fort, St Lucia

For almost two years The Best Odyssey has been mostly a dream that 11 days ago became a reality with the first dive off the deck into turquoise 80 degree water and just keeps getting better. This isn't a pitch- this is paradise found.

Kitesurfing in Paradise

Day one we were kiting off the south side of Grenada within two hours of picking up everyone in the marina. Since then it's been one mind blowing day after another. Great group of people, solid winds, awesome food, fantastic scenery- we can't ask for more. In fact I can't imagine more.

Clinton Bolton showing us how its done

Today we're the only yacht sitting snugly on the windward side of Canouan, just south of Mustique and north of the Tobago Cays. Just to windward of us is a long barrier reef, the winds are side onshore, there's a luxury resort off our stern, we lie in about 6 feet of crystal clear water and have only ourselves to complete with for the cameras. We can choose flatwater or waves with no one but our kite and wind for company.

Paradise

We were up at dawn this morning to take advantage of 20 knot winds that blew all night. Quick stop for breakfast, back out til the arms or legs give out, then I'm sure another session tonight. Clinton amazes us with his aerial maneuvers, the rest of us work on our next trick or at times give in for a cold corona and take to spectating as Clinton has more energy than the rest of us put together.

A big old bug for lunch!

From here we'll make a short sail to Mustique, then a final night run up to St Lucia to have a few days at Anse de Sable beach. A fine finish to an amazing journey.

But thankfully the crew has remained calm and while a bit low facing our diminished fishing prospects the mood aboard is light. Malu braved the galley for the first time and whipped up the most expensive sandwiches I've ever eaten, using three whole blocks of our finest camembert cheese, and a nice handfull of very pricey almonds. Needless to say, she's been delegated back to dish duty along with Tim and Dave. The galley is no place for an amateur.

Brad sighted a whale today, the first I've seen in ages. Nice to know the big guys are still around. David braved a swim off the stern (the water has gotten wonderfully warm), providing some welcome crew entertainment. Other than that it's business as usual. Our small library has been gobbled by all, naps are abundant, the wind remains phenomenally steady. Our forecast looks the same today as it has every day, which should provide for a landfall in 4 days.

Usually I'm elated with an impending landfall, especially after a long crossing such as this one. A new place to discover, new mysteries and challenges that inevitably unfold. But I find myself less than eager to reach land this time. Land means schedules, repairs, stress, work, worry; phones and customs; banks and atm's; an endless list of "to do's". The opposite of the peace that is found at sea. This is the finest passage I've yet sailed: the winds have been almost mystical in their reliability, and Discovery is simply thrilling to sail. I have relished the opportunity to decompress from our efforts over the past year putting The Best Odyssey together. An amazing journey, whose beginning is really still before us, but for me and I believe most of us, the ultimate challenge is to live in the present. Which is about all you can do when at sea.

Landing Lunch

Now that we've entered the true trade-wind belt our skies have changed dramatically. It's still too cool to get very powerful squalls, but there are rain cells surrounding us by day and by night. Just enough to keep you on your toes, but mostly they are providing a nice kick to the light winds to keep us moving. Our forecast is for continued light airs (9-15 NE) for another couple days, then it looks like we'll get a bit of welcome pick up. We're thankful to have made it half way as quickly as we have.

30 minutes later...

So the crew of Discovery plod along, taking in the horizon, getting plenty of sleep, taking care of our daily chores. It works like this (each day the watch rotates- 3 hours on, 12 hours off- not the most demanding of schedules!): 0600-0900 watch does a wipe down of the glass and stainless; 0900-1200 gives the galley a solid clean, rotates the eggs to keep them from going off, and checks all the veggies to insure there's no "bad apples" souring the lot; 1200-1500 does a running and standing rigging check (chafe, turnbuckles, pins, shackles, etc.); 1500-1800 bangs out the cockpit and sweeps the floors, prepping Discovery for the night. At night we keep an eye out for ships (we've seen one since leaving the African coast), squalls, changes to the weather.

And all the while our girl just cranks along. I don't believe Discovery has ever been out of Mediterranean waters and I get the feeling she's enjoying stretching her legs.

Photos courtesy of Tim Collins

Playing with cameras on watch

The excitement today was a visit by a large pod of dolphins and other than that we look forward to Brad's tasty meals- each one seems better than the last. Sitting on the bowsprit cranking along watching the dolphins play gave me a moment to reflect on the benefits of sailing a cat, this being my first time. Most are obvious: much much faster, way more stable, tons more space, but there's also a host of other things I'm surprised to find make the sailing a lot more pleasant than with a monohull.

Cooking up another wonderful lunch

You can cook with nothing flying around; there's nothing to constantly knock your head on and leave large bruises- an expected regularity with monohulls; the work space is massive- no crawling around bent like a pretzel trying to get to filters and belts; lots more privacy; of course all the amenities you would never have on a similar sized monohull- dishwasher, laundry machine, ice maker, etc.; they're exponentially easier and safer to sail- massive decks, huge working surfaces; efficient and sensible sail plan. In fact after 2500 miles I can see only one drawback:

We're sailing too fast to catch fish!

Gavin wins his first game against Tim (beer helped)

Photos courtesy of Tim Collins

Castle above our anchorage

Lanzarote is one of the strangest places I've been to. Certainly the most arid. I haven't been to Mars, but I heard more than one person say it looked like it and I would agree. Before people settled on her shores in the 1300's there wasn't a single living tree, and barely any plant life at all. The only produce grown on the island: potatoes and onions, as there is almost no measurable rain. The only industry is tourism. Everything, and I mean everything else is shipped in from the neighboring islands and largely from Morocco. I hoped to get a paragliding flight in, but the conditions unfortunately didn't permit. They did permit us to partake in copious amounts of Spanish wine, and enjoy fantastic hospitality.

John enjoying a bit of life back aboard

We've taken on two more souls- Tim's girlfriend Malou from Switzerland and Brad, an Aussie chef/Captain who's hitching a ride with us to the Caribbean. We threw our first party on Discovery - the five of us and John, Stephi and their friend Santiago from Madrid. It was the first time I can remember I wasn't slaving in the galley with guests aboard. With this unexpected joy came the almost sudden realization that this whole expedition is truly a reality. What Jody and I set out to create over the last couple years is now really happening. A fine evening, enjoyed by all.

Taking it in

Brad and I spent a frantic day provisioning for the Atlantic crossing on Thursday, buying the necessary goods for a planned 16 days (2600 miles as the crow flies) at sea, give or take several, depending on conditions. This is something guests rarely get to see or even comprehend- hundreds and hundreds of pounds of food, drinks, frozen meats, staples, consumables of every kind- from toilet paper to flashlight batteries to oil filters and propane. I've done it dozens and dozens of times and it's never easy, but it was great having a knowledgeable hand who's had plenty of practice himself.

Amazing that it all finds a home

After a less than stellar beginning, we're now making good time heading south towards the trades before making a right turn for Trinidad. It's a sailing route plied by thousands in all kinds of ships since Columbus, and his route is still considered the one to follow. However ours was not picture perfect. Two hours out of Lanzarote in very light airs our gorgeous gennaker, a perfect sail for light conditions which we can certainly expect on this trip got shredded beyond repair. An unfortunate mistake, one I'd like to have back, but it's sailing and we simply carry on. Luckily thus far the winds have been excellent out of the NE, the trades blowing as steadily as we can hope for and we're making great time.

Just before going to shreds

Photos courtesy of Tim Collins

Look out!

We're making slow, albeit comfortable time south to the Canaries. As we're running just 50 miles off the African coast we get a bit of usable land breeze in the evenings, making 7-9 knots under sail, but by day we resort to the engines with no wind at all. The highlight yesterday was catching a small Albacore tuna and getting another brief visit by a large pod of dolphins. Otherwise, our days consist of reading, maybe a chess game, a comment on the weather, a hope for more wind.

After the gale

But it's pleasant going. We'll make Lanzarote for New Year's, which is still great time

There is a distinct increase in animation amongst the crew as well, a sign that sea legs are donning. We even had the energy to deploy a couple fishing lines, though I won't be disappointed if we don't catch anything as the only knives we have aboard are a bread knife and my pocketknife- tools not really well suited to filleting. The list for needed materials for Discovery is quickly becoming as vast as our horizon!

We've had three long dolphin visits- a pod of about a dozen and a half playing in our bow wakes, spending in total over several hours. They seem to have a similar schedule to our own. Play for a couple hours, then off to get a bite to eat, then return. Tim has never seen dolphins in the wild and even though I've seen them hundreds of times, I think our smiles were equal. In fact seeing his smile was justification enough that we are embarking on an amazing journey, one that already eclipses the last year of effort and struggle making The Best Odyssey a reality.

We're just 250 miles from Gibraltar and our exodus from the Med after an incredibly fast three days. Discovery is a joy to sail- and for that matter, to motor. Stable, quick, responsive, easy to single hand. We've found a gem for the expedition.

]]> Offshore Odysseys http://www.offshoreodysseys.com/owners/log.php?log_id=3 http://www.offshoreodysseys.com/owners/log.php?log_id=2 Sun, 24 Dec 2006 19:40:00 GMT We're now 24 hours into our run to Lanzarote. Three souls onboard- my uncle David, who sailed with me a few years ago from New Zealand to Tonga, and Tim Collins, a friend of my sister's who I briefly met this summer over a few beers. He heard I was looking for crew, quit his job, rented his apartment in Seattle and signed on (actually he did all of that before even talking to me- I call that commitment!).

Leaving Italy

Usually the first few days out on a passage are not exactly enjoyable. The body struggles with the constant motion, all the stress of pre-departure is captured in tense muscles and knotted stomachs. One suffers a general malaise, that is slowly replaced with equilibrium and peace- but it takes awhile. I can't speak for the crew, but this soul is experiencing a bit of mental, if not physical euphoria right out of the whole shot. It's blowing a steady 35 knots NE- a fast if rough downhill slide, even with a very lumpy and confused sea running that makes for some interesting knocks and wallops. This will likely the be the roughest weather of the trip, if we have some luck clearing Gibralter. So why the euphoria?

A pause for thought

It's this boat! My God, what a wonderful ship. We're running under the 3rd reef in the main and about 50% genoa (ie very conservative) and we're averaging 12 knots. Top speed last night- a whopping 23.1 knots! Our 24 hour run will easily have us over 250 miles. My best day we had in 7 years on Saoirse was 203. I just did the dishes using a dishwasher; I watched a movie last night on my watch on a flat screen TV; tracking shipping targets with an amazing radar; we can steer and keep an eye on everything from the comfort of the massive main salon instead of standing outside freezing in the rain. Moitessier and Slocum would be horrified. Sorry guys, I'll take it.

Now if I could just figure out how to get email to work so someone other than myself could read this!!!

]]> Offshore Odysseys http://www.offshoreodysseys.com/owners/log.php?log_id=2 http://www.offshoreodysseys.com/owners/log.php?log_id=1 Thu, 30 Nov 2006 00:50:00 GMT Because 24 hours after arrival I was standing on our new home for the next 5 years. In my experience, it can take years and looking at hundreds and hundreds of boats to find the right one, and then there's still always a compromise. But I'd spent about 30 seconds onboard and knew we'd found our boat. And it just kept getting better. Brand new engines, top of the line equipment, not a spec of dirt anywhere. Smart installations, tons of storage for all our toys. She just had everything right. And to top it all off- her name is "Discovery". We'd been trying to think of a name for months, but nothing we came up with beats Discovery. So...the glove just fit perfectly.

The next big step in a purchase of an ocean-going craft is a very in-depth survey and sea trial. This is an exorbitantly expensive procedure (especially in Europe!) whereby we lift the boat out of the water and have a certified pro go over every nook and cranny of the boat. Needless to say, I was not at all surprised that he found very little. As we'll be covering some ground before we get another opportunity to haul Discovery I had the yard clean her hulls and add a couple coats of antifouling paint.

My next log will be written from the inside of Discovery, as we begin our passage from Italy to Trinidad- 1,000 miles out of the Med, another 600 down to Lanzarote in the Canaries where we'll spend Christmas, then 2600 across to the Caribbean.

Can't think of a better way to get to know our new baby.

]]> Offshore Odysseys http://www.offshoreodysseys.com/owners/log.php?log_id=1