Letters From Polynesia: Mint Lollies & Mahi Mahi

Letters From Polynesia: Mint Lollies & Mahi Mahi

Written January 2023, Fakarava, French Polynesia

This was my first proper leg as jack-of-all-trades-and-seas on board the boat, I’m currently working on, and what a trip it turned out to be. The kind of experience that tests everything while simultaneously have you questioning everything.

Let There Be Rain

The weather? Well, let’s just say it was something else. The kind of stormy chaos that no one could have truly prepared for. Rain was coming down so hard that it felt like the world itself was being washed clean. Everything inside the boat was damp and chilled, even though we were all bundled up as best as we could manage. There’s something uniquely uncomfortable about being soaked to the bone and freezing cold, especially when your only shelter is a rocking boat that, at times, feels more like it’s fighting against you than with you. If I spent more than two minutes in the saloon, my stomach started performing what could only be described as an aggressive breakdance routine.

Letters From Polynesia: Mint Lollies & Mahi Mahi

The Push-Pull of The Sea

It’s funny, really, how I keep coming back to a life on the sea when half the time my body and mind are at odds over whether or not the dinner I had is going to stay where it belongs. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve wondered if I’m truly built for this, if my stomach will ever truly embrace the rhythm of the ocean. And yet, here I am. There’s a strange thing about the sea—its power to push you to your limits, to make you question every inch of your existence, and yet, it’s still a place that pulls at my soul. Even when it’s rough, even when everything feels uncomfortable, I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. I know that, in a few months, I’ll probably have transformed into some sort of real sea gypsy, wandering these waters as if they were my second home.

Mint Lollies & Mahi Mahi

We made it through the night—barely, I’d say—with the help of mint lollies, sing-along tunes that made us laugh through the discomfort, and of course, a sick crew. There’s something incredibly grounding about being surrounded by people who get it, who understand the struggle and still find joy in the madness. It’s these kinds of moments, when the storm rages outside, but the bond within the boat is unshakeable, that remind you why you do it. We survived the night, despite everything, with more laughs than groans, which is saying something.

By the time morning came around, the weather had finally cleared, like someone flicked a switch. The sun broke through, and our spirits lifted immediately. We had a cheeky techno session to get our energy up, the kind of spontaneous dance party that only makes sense when you’re surrounded by the ocean. The beats helped wash away the exhaustion and the frustration, and before long, we were back in action. That’s when we decided to pick a fight with a big Mahi Mahi. I’m not going to lie, we lost. The fish was relentless and far too clever for us, but there’s something thrilling about the challenge—the chase, the tug of war between us and this massive creature, even when it ends with us on the losing side.

Letters From Polynesia: Mint Lollies & Mahi Mahi

Cheers To The Dolphins

As we reached Fakarava, our mood had shifted completely. We were met by dolphins, playful and carefree, as if to welcome us to the new world that awaited. Their presence was like a sign that, despite the storms and the struggles, the ocean always finds a way to offer something beautiful. And then, as if to fully embrace the spirit of the moment, we celebrated in the only way we knew how: by getting completely wasted. It wasn’t planned, and it was a messy ordeal, but we had a lot of post-sailing-overtired-and-exhausted-so-lets-forget-it-ever-happened-fun. Cheers to the dolphins, to the journey, and to everything that made it possible.

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