May 1st. 1745 hours. Tony is at the foredeck windless. “Let er rip Pops!” I put my finger to the remote and our CQR anchor slips into Traitors Bay, headed for the bottom 20 feet below.
Wow - we are now anchored at Nuka Hiva Island in the Marquesas Chain after 18 days and nights at sea and putting 3,000 nm under Endymion’s keel. It’s time to sit back and drink in the island’s heady tropical beauty. We certainly were not the first voyagers to make landfall here, but this had been my journey with my fine crew, and these tropical surroundings already bathe me in a calming effect I had never before known.
In my business career I was caught up, like a lot of guys, in winning the corporate battle, enjoying the hedonistic self-indulgence that follows. It took years of fermentation to reach the once foggy, distant goal of chucking it all in favor of drifting and blending. I knew there was a rewarding life out there somewhere, and that I could someday live with more wholesome values, where money and its dubious power were not the almighty goal - as I had once, as a card-carrying rat race member allowed it to become.
Sitting now, with wavelets lapping at the hull and gentle breezes wafting intoxicating fragrances around me I can’t say with 100% certainty I’ve discovered utopia. But its close - real close. Sunset over this drop dead beautiful South Pacific Island is minutes away. I count 22 waterfalls from the mountain I can see.
We are alone at anchor. No other yachts.
Where are you? Care to join us?