Bananas in Heaven

by Nancy Knudsen on 27 May 2007 Cruising Editor Nancy Knudsen reports from the Pacific – ‘if here, between the Galapagos and the Marquesas, is sailing heaven, I am going to seriously reconsider my ambitions in relation to heaven.’

We've been hearing about this wonderful sailing leg since we were in the Indian Ocean, and the experienced American and European sailors, who were three quarters of their way round the world would extol its virtues in many an inebriated sundowner celebration.

'Besht sailing in the world.'

'We didn't have to change a sail for three weeksh!'

'There's nothing like that shail from the Galapagos to the Marquesas!' and of course:

'Now THAT's sailing heaven!'

...and we believed them, raw, inexperienced, we believed everything these old experts told us.

So what's the matter? We have just the conditions they described – 15-20 knots from 60 degrees off the stern, serene seas, vast gentle swell rollicking under us away to the north west.

There's at least a knot and a half of current with us, giving us a fast 6-7 knots over the ground, excellent for this boat.

We're zooming along in 140-150 mile days, and we couldn't ask for anything better. Even the weather is perfect – not too hot, still cooled by a comparatively cool sea.

Moist looking clouds waft over us in great innocent swathes of white, and even the rain they drop is misty and light, and gone soon. ....and they were right – after a bit of experimentation in the beginning, we hardly have to touch a sail.

And ya know what? It's dead boring. I remember with nostalgia the nights we ran from storms in the Indian Ocean, the challenges of constant wind on the nose in the Red Sea, the capriciousness of the Mediterranean meltemi. I remember those and other passages where surprise and exhilaration came in equal mixture, and adrenaline flow was a frequent friend to expand our abilities.

Now? Well, we sit here like a couple of comical afterthoughts, with nothing to do but attend to our selfish and homely needs, while Blackwattle does her stuff like the well trained performer that she is.

Of course at first we liked it. After motoring a few hours to get away from the Islands the wind picked up and we grinned at each other – 'This is what we have been waiting for' was the unspoken shared thought. So we busied ourselves about other tasks, a little repairing, organising, sending emails, reading or fishing. These tasks are pleasant on a boat – the ordinary cottage tasks that apply in their own way to any of the simple lifestyles, be you farmer or fisherman. Catching, filleting, cooking and eating the mahi mahi can become the highlight of a day.'

[Sorry, this content could not be displayed] But after a few days, we found ourselves gazing more and more at the horizon, wishing for something – anything – to happen. Only five days into our journey, and here we are, longing for a challenge of sorts – any sort!

And if all that hasn't been enough to drive you bananas, then there was the episode of the bananas.

Now Ted and I may not know our onions, but we sure thought that we knew our bananas. We know how to hang a bunch so they last, how to ripen a few quickly on demand. However, what do you do with a bunch of bananas that some seeming honest innocent marketeer has assured you will be green for two weeks, and then it starts ripening rapidly after two days!

So here we were with all these suddenly yellowing bananas, and an upbringing that had a lot to do with thinking about starving children in a place called India, which I thought at the time must be down the road a bit, and was quite shocked to find in my first geography lessons at school that my mother had been pining for somebody's children somewhere on the other side of the world.

So, with thoughts of starving children in India hardwired into my over filled brain, which could have been otherwise more productively used, I set out to make sure that we didn't waste the bananas.

It all worked very well for a time. Ted quite liked the idea of mashed bananas for breakfast instead of cereal for a while, so I could get rid of half a dozen every morning.

Then, fried bananas go very well with fresh caught fish, and pork chops. You hardly taste them in a stew, and salads are enhanced by the addition of a couple of bananas before you add the dressing. Banana bread is a firm favourite, and it wasn't until I introduced banana sandwiches for lunch that I found Ted looking at me with something that you couldn't quite call adoration.
However, the situation changed radically yesterday, when the shackle on the main sheet unhitched itself without warning. The boom went hairing out to starboard, and the mainsheet shot after it, carrying the swinging block with it.

The block swiped the bunch of bananas full on across the abdomen, sending squelched bananas all over the deck, and detaching most of the rest, some of which ended up as soup for Neptune and the others belched into the gunwales like a flock of flying fish.

We both stared for an instant at the melee, before rushing to replace the lost shackle, as the main was now reaching straight from the winch to the boom and seesawing the rest of the banana bunch in half, mulching wet banana skins onto the cabin top.

In a couple of minutes, the main was together again, and we set about cleaning the deck of banana mulch.

'Well,' says Ted, while picking up sloppy banana innards, 'At least I don't have to eat the !*!* ing things!'