Bryan Bailey’s Epic Journey!

My name is Bryan Bailey and I am 23 years old from Boise, Idaho. I was raised in the mountains as a competitive alpine ski racer and pursued that path from my small program in Idaho to a ski academy in Colorado and ultimately to a top spot on an NCAA Division I ski program. This past winter, with the sun setting on my career, I was looking for an extension of this adventurous, arduous lifestyle as well as a means of perspective on a life lived in pursuit of the dominance of nature via rapid downhill descent.

Enter sailing. Having never stepped foot on a sailboat before, I contacted Rob to see what it would take to get me prepared for a multi-month single-handing expedition in French Polynesia, and together we hammered out a plan to work through ASA courses 101, 103, and 104 from his home base on the island of Taha'a.

I first set eyes on Escape Velocity on August 23 as sweat poured over my eyes from carrying my suitcase and dry-bag for three miles on my back on the road from the ferry to the Hibiscus pension (the wheels on my suitcase had fallen off, certainly not an omen for my trip). I could name most of the important parts of the boat, including the standing and working rigging, but couldn't tell what the wind had to do with anything even if I was pissing straight into it. Rob and I did some shorter day sails inside the reef and then hit the open ocean bound for Bora Bora. With Rob's young back strangely ailing him, I was the deckhand for most tasks and quickly got a grasp of the boat and its tendencies. We spent many a night moored at the Bora Yacht Club taking pulls from the rum bottle and arguing about the relative merits of Cat Stevens and James Taylor, these nights being a proper introduction to the free-spirited lifestyles and conversations a green sailor encounters whenever he enters a new port.

We had a phenomenal sail back to Taha'a as well, a harbinger of the (mostly) favorable winds that would push my journey along. By the time we returned to Taha'a from Bora, it was nearly time for Rob to head home to his casa, so we worked out the particulars of me chartering Escape Velocity for my three-month haul, which generously included all of the remaining delicious Mountain House freeze-dried camping dinners. Rob departed on Friday, Sep 6, leaving me with his vessel and a burgeoning group of Tahitian companions. I am grateful to Captain Rob for many reasons, one of the biggest is him having introduced me to his Tahitian friends on the island of Taha'a. Metu has become a very close friend of mine and his entire extended family was extraordinarily welcoming and helpful the entire duration of my stay in French Polynesia.

My single-handing voyages began with a bang, literally, as my first open ocean sail from Taha'a to Huahine resulted in the dinghy's ropes loosening and then the dinghy flipping over on the bow of the ship in a decent-sized swell while I was trying to navigate a close reach. Few experiences were more demoralizing and sea-sickening then heaved to fixing a problem due to a lack of preparation on many fronts. I eventually reached Huahine in 8 hours, setting no water-speed records. As I explored the inside of the reef in Huahine in the following days, my wind app predicted a surprising shift in the wind from its usual southeasterly blow to the northwest and eventually the northeast, but only for 24 hours. I had a make or break decision whether to brave the long passage from the Leeward Islands to the Windwards, a passage rarely done with the benefit of a tailwind. I bought into the spirit of adventure and heeded Rob's sage advice: "it is not about the sailing, it's about the preparation". I prepped water, meals, music, sails, jacklines, and my mascots Gumby and Pokey for the long haul, weighing anchor just before noon.

I sailed into Papetoai Bay on Moorea surprisingly chipper at 8 am the next morning, feeling like a real sailor. My time on Moorea and Tahiti was spectacular: scuba diving, friends flying up from NZ to visit, spearfishing, meeting friendly cruisers and locals, and hiking up the fabled Mouaputa mountain. After almost 3 weeks cruising around the Windwards, I prepared to make the passage back to meet my parents at Raiatea. Unfortunately, the week window I gave myself lined up perfectly with 20-30 knot Mara'amu winds, forcing me to rely even more than before on Rob's edict of preparation before all else. I found a dip in the weather pattern and set off a little later in the afternoon due to my anticipated increase in speed. With a good 15-20 knots on my tail, I surfed 8-12 foot swell for 19.5 hours to arrive at the southern tip of Raiatea around 9 am the following day.

Man was I feeling like a real frickin' sailor. Bob Bond, in his Handbook of Sailing, which had become bible-like to me, told me that to truly test their skills, "real sailors" sailed out of moorings and docks. God scoffed at me as I left the mooring on a close reach trying to cut to the outside of the bay before heading north towards Taha'a. Pinching the wind meant that I was prone to bursts of acceleration as I continuously trimmed the sails, acceleration being one of the last things you want when you run full bore into a reef shelf, which is what I did that morning. I quickly dropped both sails, jumped in the water on top of the reef, and attempted to kedge myself off. After a lot of shimmying and swearing, I was on my way again with a scraped-up keel and a severely bruised ego. As the old saying goes, "There are two types of sailors: those who have run aground and those who have never left the dock".

The following weeks in the Leewards were spent scuba diving, showing my parents around for 10 days, reading my hefty stack of novels, and eating sugary cereal out of my homemade coconut bowl. My brother came to visit my second to last week, a particularly special way to end the trip as it coincided with the annual Hawaiki Nui Va'a race. Over 150 6-person teams raced in outrigger canoes across dozens of miles of open ocean, with seemingly half of Tahiti following behind them on fishing boats cheering them on. The finish of the race at Matira Point on Bora was an unforgettable spectacle; a truly Tahitian cultural event that celebrated their history and strength.

I put Escape Velocity on dry dock after two months of single-handing and returned home to a chilly Boise in late fall. It has been a cultural shock to return home to so much noise and civilization although I notice a particular appreciation for all of the amenities that living on dry land offers — chiefly among them, a shower. This was undoubtedly the most remarkable trip I have ever taken and I cannot thank Rob nor the countless friends I met along the way for supporting me. I went from a landlubber to a decent sailor in 3 months thanks to the belief of Rob, my family, and myself in my desire to have the adventure of a lifetime. Mission accomplí.