Sailing alone across the Pacific Ocean – Part 2. French Polynesia under sail.

Intact islands, stunning landscapes. In the middle of the Pacific. This is the best country I have seen – so far. I meet friendly people, search for weathered tikis, marvel at enigmatic fish and screeching birds. And learn how to navigate the atoll: strong currents in the passes, nasty coral reefs in the unmapped lagoon. My route: From Hiva Oa in the Marquesan archipelago to Tahiti, Fakrarava and Tikehau in the Tuamotu archipelago.

Oh how beautiful is Panama

Panama, that is colorful birds with garish whistling tones. Panama, that is shameless extortion by immigration officials, high canal fees, latent criminality. Gladly I left, never to come back. But for three weeks I was happy to be in Panama. “Who is your agent?” is the standard question in the marina. No normal traveler, the … Read more

Living with uncertainty

Motiva 39 Kabelsalat

Tomorrow I want to cast off the lines in Tazacorte. Dominica is calling: 5,000 kilometres, four weeks at sea. I am looking forward – and not looking forward. Because I can’t estimate what’s in store for me. Living with uncertainty is an ambivalent state. REYKJA lay in the harbour of Tazacorte for four months. My … Read more


Cumbra Vieja

“What are your plans?” everyone asks everyone at the jetty in Tazacorte. “Grenada” it answers, or “Gambia”, or “Greece”. Country names like bubbles. They glitter, reflect something of the travellers self and often burst with clichés. What are you looking for, in Grenada, Gambia or Greece? would perhaps be a better question. Why are you … Read more

Experiments with tradewinds sailing. The video

Just under six days sailing alone across the Atlantic. It’s 500 nautical miles, 900 kilometres. At first the waves are high. When they calm down, I can experiment. How can I sail in a trade wind? Deploy the two headsails? One headsail and the mainsail? Only one headsail? I find a setting that convinces. And then I have to make another big decision…

In the parallel world

Men in flowing caftans, women covered with shawls. Scarred, horrible wounds, beggars with hollow hands, black eyes and hair, running children, praying men on the jetty, the smell of decay and barbecue, buses on the opposite lane. Morocco is one sensory overload. For three weeks I dive into a parallel world to Europe’s boring predictability. … Read more