Pacific cruising
p. 47 · Read in the full issue
The seaweed roots of Pacific cruising
Some day, in some ivory tower, an academic will decide that there is kudos to be gained in writing a scholarly treatise about the contribution the often-despised yachtie has made to the literature about the Pacific Islands.
Perhaps he will start with the Earl and the Doctor and their South Sea Bubbles; he will look to Joshua Slocum, to Erling Tambs, to Frank Rebell, to moderns like Lee Graham and David Lewis.
Hopefully, he will acknowledge the ex tent to which the amateur seafaring man has often provided unexpected and fre quently perceptive accounts of the cultures and life-styles of the inhabitants of the out of-the-way islands that sprinkle the surface of the Pacific. I know that in my own case many of my early visions of the advent ureland of the southern seas came to me from a battered copy of Johnny Wray’s South Seas Vagabonds.
The Pacific-yachtie literature seems to fall into several categories there are those voyages which seem to have started from the idea of writing a book, or making a film, or proving an academic theory and the resultant account has parameters set by the author’s specific intentions.
These books certainly have great merit and I do not decry them at all for being built upon carefully laid plans. The second group emerges after the adventurer has made his way about the islands and battled the storms, and met and loved the Island girls and then either settled upon a coral beach, or perhaps has returned to some humdrum, civilised occupation and finds his vision returning him to the South Seas.
Often, it is these books which give out the breath of spontaneity, that lead us into
the unfrequented out-of-the-way places
and which may really let us know that to be a South Seas wanderer across the ocean has its pleasures and its discomforts; that there may be the exhilaration of meeting new peoples and seeing strange places, but that there is boredom at sea, physical dangers to be faced, and occasionally un certainty about what lies ahead.
John Neal in his Log of the Mahina has given us such a book.
Here is a young American who sets out from Seattle and sails through Polynesia,
often single-handed, and successfully
returns to his home some 18 months later.
His nautical preparation for his adventure of a lifetime was scanty, that of his com panions even less; he relies upon his own ingenuity to as great an extent as possible and through his own efforts he diminishes
the stigma frequently but often un deservedly laid upon the yachties as being “bludgers”.
This is a grass-roots (or perhaps a seaweed roots) book about cruising the Pacific. The man is no polished writer. In fact, sometimes, his book makes the reader almost admire the naively of his whole enterprise.
There is provisioning of the boat, his dealings with sundry Island representatives of officialdom and his courage in recording his adventures and then publishing them at his own expense. Neal tells his story in a matter-of-fact manner, often stringing together the laconic remarks of his log about the stories he wants to tell them about his sojourns offshore.
He tells it about Polynesia as it is and he does not waffle on or make social value judgments, nor does he conjure up the great romantic adventures of some of his
predecessors.
But he does fall, for a time at least, for the the charms of the Polynesian girl. His stay at Aitutaki and his heartfelt but, seemingly, soon-forgotten devotion for Nana put into words the dilemma into which many of the seafaring transients of the Pacific have fallen.
The descriptions of places are straight forward but filled with detail and lake us to places that do not often receive the attention that they deserve. For instance, Neal’s account of his visit to Christmas Island provides an up-to-date view of the way that island has developed and how its present inhabitants are making it their per manent home.
Above all, the Log of the Mahina is a practical book, which should be required reading for all yachties venturing into the dangers and pleasures, physical and romantic, that lie in wait in Polynesia. The book abounds with information about passes and beacons and port requirements; it provides detailed pen pictures about many of the less-frequented ports-of-call and it includes a how-to-do-it-yourseJf primer on preparing a yacht for off-shore cruising.
Although it does not appear under the banner of some distinguished publishing house, the Log of Mahina has been chosen in the States as a “book of the month”, an
honour it quite rightly deserves
W. G.
Coppell. (LOG OF THE MAHINA, by John Neal. Published by the author. Distributed in Australia and the Islands by Pacific Publications (Aust) Pty Ltd, Box 3408, Sydney.