We are preparing to head out into the Pacific Ocean from Tasmania. We have stayed here, sailing straight past the whole of eastern Australia, including the Great Barrier Reef, Sydney, Brisbane and the Gold Coast. Why, and what now? Read on.
29 July. Despair is weighing heavily today
Once again, lockdowns in this part of the Pacific are putting paid to our plans.
Sydney’s lockdown has been extended until the end of August. The state of Queensland—the territory north of Sydney, home to the Gold Coast and Brisbane—is under threat. Chances are, by the time we get there, lockdown will hit there too.
For almost a year and a half, we have been lucky enough to live in sheltered, “Covid-free” conditions. We have had the good fortune to be in the cleanest states—Western Australia and Tasmania. All told, we wore masks for no more than a month and a half.
View from Mount Wellington, Hobart. The Pacific Ocean
There is a question on my mind (far from the main one, but an interesting one):
I wonder how we will adapt to the world of quarantine restrictions once we enter the “risk zones”...
Under Plan B, we should already have been in Sydney for a month, heading out into the Pacific from there next week. With no visas, no onward or return ticket, but going anyway. Hoping to sneak through the back way—via uninhabited atolls—to Tahiti, quietly and without fuss. To close the loop on the southernmost circumnavigation under sail completed by a family with children.
And then head somewhere towards one of the three continents (there will be no returning to Australia).
Now, though, our trip up Australia’s east coast is in danger of falling through. And parcels and public engagements are waiting for us in Sydney.
Should we stay in Tasmania for another few months, or head out into the ocean from here? What awaits us as illegal arrivals in Tahiti? Where do we go after Tahiti? To Europe through the Panama Canal?
How do we endure four months non-stop?
There are no answers yet. But we have to go.
I feel like a bird whose wings have been clipped. Bloody Covid.
Photo by Yulia Galushina
5 August. The heater and the evolution of our Pacific plans
I don’t feel like crawling out of the den. The heater worked faithfully for two months, then started cutting out. In the middle of the night, when it is +1°C outside, that is especially delightful. At 5 a.m. it is a balmy 8°C in our yaranga, but trying to start the heater only fills the place with smoke. Twice. At 8 a.m., Nastya tries to revive the system, with the same success. Smoke and +11°C at half past nine.
The steam from our breath rivals the smoke for thickness, and we embark upon a new day.
Today we have to decide whether we are going to north-western Tasmania on Sunday, to see the island’s beauty and meet yet another family of White émigrés whose story has become part of our own. There are posts about them on our social media .
Next week we are leaving St Helens (a town on Tasmania’s east coast), but not for the mainland (as we had planned and attempted, only to turn back from Bass Strait because of a breakdown and a storm). We are heading back to Hobart —Tasmania’s capital. We will stock up on provisions, then plunge into the unknown. ⠀ Sydney is closed until the end of August; beyond that, nobody knows. Brisbane is uncertain. We do not have time to wait for Covid to be cancelled, so in half a month we are heading out into the ocean. This is the biggest gamble in our eight years of sailing. ⠀ The Pacific Ocean remains locked up tighter than a barn door
EU citizens on yachts sometimes manage to slip into French Polynesia somehow, but there is no such joy in store for us. Our passports are not EU passports, and the Polynesian paradise does not issue any other visas.
That is perhaps the first difficulty caused by having the wrong kind of passport. ⠀ We will clear out for Panama , though we are not especially keen on going there. But it is the simplest option. We have more or less ruled out Malaysia; everything is complicated there. ⠀ We expect to cross the Pacific in about four or five months. We will pass south of New Zealand. After that, we are pinning our hopes on brief forays ashore for coconuts on uninhabited atolls. And on slipping secretly into Tahiti, which will last precisely until the gendarmerie arrests us. And at long last, we will spend some time in a French prison )).
View from Mount Wellington, Hobart. The Pacific Ocean—from the other side ⠀ Without such trips ashore, risky though they may be, you would go mad. The adults could cope, but our young sailor is definitely not ready for that.
What do you think of the plan, guys? ⠀ We are warming the yacht with sunshine. Thankfully, in this final month of the Tasmanian winter, the sun is shining more and more often. And we will clean the heater. The captain says it is simply clogged. Sailing without heat down to 50 degrees south in winter is no fun at all.
How is your summer going, guys? Are you managing to catch it while it lasts?
P.S. We cleaned the heater and got it running. The photo shows Tasmania.