Life, Loss, and Lessons
After an eventful Pacific Ocean crossing, Dan and I finally arrived in the Marquesas Islands, a place sailors dream about for years. Remote, dramatic, and unapologetically wild, the Marquesas sit nearly 900 miles northeast of Tahiti, rising steeply from the Pacific like something carved by myth rather than geology. These islands are raw and untamed, shaped by volcanoes, trade winds, and time. They are also, as we quickly learned, not a place to arrive already broken.
When the Boat Starts to Unravel
The autopilot was broken apon arrival and repaired after much consternation and persistence. A win, finally. But cruising has a way of balancing victories with new losses. Our watermaker pump failed shortly after, leaving us without fresh water. Having to hand carry potable water onto your boat, in most cases having walked several miles back to your boat, can be quite taxing mentally and physically. Then our engine, already repaired once in Panama and once again in the Galápagos, failed entirely. The freezer died during the crossing, despite our attempts to revive it in the Galápagos. No freezer, no fresh water, and now no engine.
We had sailed between several of the islands battling a cascade of major boat issues. Some were familiar battles. Others would become defining ones. The biggest issue to date, losing the use of our engine entirely, reared its ugly head apon our arrival on the beautiful island of Nuku Hiva. That is where we are currently, and will be until it is fixed.
Paradise, meet reality.
A Catastrophic Discovery
The engine failure itself was bad enough, but the discovery behind it was catastrophic. After two professional mechanics failed to diagnose the issue, Dan finally uncovered the truth. Our diesel fuel, sixty gallons of it, was black. Thick. Contaminated. Oil had been infiltrating the fuel system. The oil we kept replacing was not disappearing. It was flowing directly into the fuel tank. Every attempt to fix the engine only fed the problem.
There are moments during offshore sailing when you realize you are very much on your own. This was one of them.
The Mess No One Sees on Instagram
Dan somehow found a 55 gallon barrel at a hardware store a mile up a steep mountain road. He hauled it back to the boat tied to his back like a Sherpa, sweating under the tropical sun. Then came the truly miserable work, pumping all the contaminated fuel into the barrel, crawling into the fuel tank to clean it, a task that is as messy, claustrophobic, and exhausting as it sounds, and refilling the system using every clean drop of fuel we had stored for the crossing in jerry cans and another 55 gallon barrel.
Getting the bad fuel ashore was another ordeal entirely. A full barrel could not be carried in the dinghy, so we transferred fuel into jerry cans, ferried them to shore, poured them back into the barrel, and repeated the process over and over. Someone had to stand guard the entire time, as barrels are valuable commodities here. Friends and boat neighbors pitched in, passing jerry cans from deck to dinghy, then heaving them up a ten foot wall at the dock. Once full, the barrel had to be rolled a mile to the town waste facility.
By the end, we were sore, exhausted, filthy, and utterly spent. But the job was done. This is what cruising demands sometimes, grit, community, and the willingness to do hard things because there is no alternative.
Stuck in Paradise
We found ourselves anchored in Nuku Hiva, unable to go anywhere under our own power. The good news was that Dan located the part we believed would fix the engine, a Yanmar fuel injector, and ordered it. The price was steep at $1,500, but the plan was simple. Ship it to our son’s house in the United States, pick it up during our holiday visit, and bring it back.
Then came the holidays.
Coming Home, Briefly
Five flights. Thirty five hours of travel. We arrived in Philadelphia just in time for Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year’s with family and friends. Over the next two months, we crossed the country north, south, east, and west, covering more than 18,000 miles by plane and car.
The travel was exhausting, but the time with family was priceless. Sitting around familiar tables. Laughing with friends we had not seen in years. And most of all, spending time with our grandchildren. They are now at that age where they do not just recognize us, they understand us. They ask questions about the boat. They want to see pictures. They proudly tell people their grandparents live on a sailboat and sail around the world.
The travel was exhausting, but the time with family was priceless. Sitting around familiar tables. Laughing with friends we had not seen in years. And most of all, spending time with our grandchildren. They are now at that age where they do not just recognize us, they understand us. They ask questions about the boat. They want to see pictures. They proudly tell people their grandparents live on a sailboat and sail around the world.
Those moments grounded us. They reminded us why we keep doing this, not just for ourselves, but to show our family that big, unconventional dreams are possible.
Bad News Travels Fast
Unfortunately, we also brought home something else, a brutal respiratory infection that knocked me flat for three weeks. Just as I began to feel human again, Dan delivered the next blow.
The company we ordered the fuel injector from emailed to say they did not actually have the part. They could not get one. They would refund our money.
They did not.
After fighting with them unsuccessfully, we contacted our bank and began the dispute process. Meanwhile, the truth became painfully clear. Replacement injection pumps for our engine simply do not exist. Anywhere.
Back Across the World
January 6th arrived, and we boarded a 6:00 a.m. flight out of Philadelphia, beginning the long journey back to French Polynesia. Tahiti first. Then Nuku Hiva, where our boat waited patiently. Friends sailing the islands had been checking on her regularly. We had photographic proof she was still afloat.
Enter the P word once again. Problem du Jour.
When the Luggage Does Not Follow
Our four giant suitcases, packed with provisions and boat parts not only for us but for four other boats in French Polynesia, did not arrive. Tight connections across three transfers proved too tight. We spent an extra day in Tahiti, hoping the bags would follow.
They did not.
So we flew on to Nuku Hiva with only small duffels and backpacks, returning to a boat with no water, no food, no showers, and no ability to fix the watermaker, because the pump was in the missing luggage.
Friends Make All the Difference
Our longtime friends MaryAnn and Gary aboard Whatever She Wants became our heroes. They fed us, gave us water, and helped us regain our footing. Most importantly, they made us laugh. Laughter truly is the best remedy when faced with relentless problems. It makes all the bad stuff a lot easier to swallow. A day later, we finally made it to the grocery store.
Dan’s next mission was to find help removing the injection pump so it could be shipped to Tahiti, where a repair shop claimed they could fix it. This is our last hope.
A Small Victory
Two days later, the email arrived. Our luggage had made it.
Four boats celebrated.
We rented a large car and drove the two hour round trip to the airport on the far side of the island. It was a harrowing drive over three mountains, endless hairpin turns, narrow single lane stretches, rockslides, and sheer drop offs with no guardrails. The Marquesas are breathtaking, but they do not coddle.
We survived. Again.
Water, at Last
With parts finally in hand, Dan immediately dove into projects, starting with the watermaker. It is a three day job on a good day. We hope to have water again by the end of today. If you have ever gone without fresh water for an extended period of time, you understand why this feels monumental.
Tomorrow, the injection pump comes out. Timing will be carefully marked. It will be boxed, hauled, and transported back across the island for shipment to Tahiti. Whether we drive it ourselves remains undecided, and not my favorite plan.
Stranded in Paradise
Despite everything, this place is astonishingly beautiful. Daily walks reward us with limes, mangoes, papaya, and other fruit growing wild along the road. It is impossible not to recognize that we are stranded in paradise, a far cry from Cape Verde, where we once waited three months for a brand new autopilot that failed five months later in the middle of the Pacific.
Every boat here has a story like this. Breakages. Delays. Heart wrenching repairs. That shared struggle is what binds the cruising community together.
Yes, things go wrong. They always will. We are a very small population of the human race that chooses to travel around the world by sailboat. It certainly is not for everyone. But if you can hang in there, it is an incredible journey.
What Really Matters
As long as we are still alive, still in love, and still afloat, those are the only things that truly matter.
Thank you for following our journey and supporting us from afar. I hope you enjoy the song we created to honor how far we have come, and the simple fact that we are still out here, halfway around the world, doing what we love.
Here it is. Have a listen. Let us know if you like it!
https://suno.com/song/ed7647a6-5b4a-47f5-9023-14eed873b236?sh=rG6qwisBLbFmif8v
Fair winds,
Captain Dan and First Mate Alison
S/V Equus
alisongieschen.com (author website)