I made It through the night with some glitter left over. I am in the future now, tomorrow plus 22 hours. I can see the peaks of Taveuni. I can taste the mangos of Mango Island. I can hear strings strumming a tender song.

Last night I sailed through squalls, then stars, then squalls, then starless,
then stars, the squalls. The sky is so dazed and confused around here. But then again, so am I. I think I know, what I don’t know, and I know what I don’t think I know. I need real food and real sleep to escape the mist.

I am slinking my way to Savusavu. A Native American man is singing to me whenever I step into the cabin and I’m sitting here dressed for a Siberian winter. I’m wearing long underwear and every piece of offshore sailing gear that I own- none of which is still waterproof after 11 years. I’m about to top the ensemble off with a winter skull cap, maybe throw a little wool on top.

I smell like low tide and I look like something that the cat drug in. Like that limbless, wet creature dangling from the cats proud lips. The Fijian Navy might force me into a sanitizing shower when they see me. I won’t resist. If they did, do you think a lady would scrub me down? Maybe even brush and braid my hair? That might feel nice.

The only place I’ve been “scrubbed down” was at a bathhouse in Morocco. A large naked lady sat on a bucket and rubbed me from head to toe with black soap and a sponge. Dead skin flying. I had to do it, it was part of the experience. Anyway, I was the only white gal in there and the lady was laughing the entire time that she scrubbed me. I’ve had a slight complex ever since. I’m pretty sure anatomically we we’re identical, but what provoked such laughter!

Back to Fiji. I turned into the Nanuku Channel around midnight. It put me on a beam reach, which is a slower and more raucous point of sail. Everything is hitting you at a 90 degree angle- the blow, the foam, the breakers- and Juniper has more of a heel, so she’s a little lopsided in the water.

For a long while the tides of the moon were stacked against me and I was swimming upstream, loosing speed with each stroke. Then there were these reefs on the north side of the channel that I had to hit the wind even harder to avoid, which slowed me down even more.

I’m at a good pace now, with everything pushing me towards my destination. I have yet to see another boat. Probably because I’m the only idiot that would be out here on a day like today.

I don’t want to jinx this, because I still have 42 miles to go go, but the weather forecast, wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. I’ve been sitting on wind in the mid-20s, and have yet to see 30 or 40. And honey, this swell has got nothing on what I saw near Samoa.

Right as I wrote that a wave crashed onto me. Ok swell, I take it back, you are so massive, I’ve never seen anything as grand you!

I had myself all knotted up over that forecast. I learned that it’s best not to sweat it until I see it.

Alright peaches, I gotta go jibe. More once I land in Fiji.



  1. I am with you mum on this. Hoping you get there safe and warm, get a good sleep and a good meal. Bernard and I sending you something so you can treat yourself. So impressed with your bravery. Bows down in awe. Love A&B????

  2. in hours you will begin to only remember the good parts so it will be sure you can go again.

    great job to make it all work. have a good curry and go to sleep.

    then fix everything because you never know what’s next. brian and kerstin will be there and soon there other being will join them . a house ashore. it will all be good to you.

    get ready for the blue lagoon and waves waves waves


  3. Well, I’m a night owl and it’s after midnight here. I reckon when I rise later this morning, after some good shuteye, you & Juniper will have arrived! I am so stoked for you! I hope you get lots of good rest and nourishment — can’t wait to hear more when you’re able to blog again! Love and light, ~ Chelle & Sunny

  4. Olivia,
    I’m relieved as most are your almost to Figi. Get rest and good food. Sleep deprivation has been way to big a part of my life. It’s not good. I think of you out there.

  5. Hello my friend, I`m writing you from the island of Hundested in Denmark. Maybe you can bottle the smell of low tide and become a millionaire? Keep the stories coming and please always be safe.

    Your Friend

  6. Absolute legend! The journey was arduous enough, but to have the presence of mind, the creative genius, and the reserve to share with us your amazing poetic version of the hardcore details of the experience was/is next level!

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