A SOUTH PACIFIC CROSSING STRETCHES THE LIMITS OF INTUITION AND ENDURANCE STORY AND PHOTOS BY JON TURK


Paddling on Faith I


WAS PADDLING AS HARD as I could, but my bow kept falling off the wind. I looked nervously at the GPS, and then turned it off so I could concentrate on the sea. Fifteen minutes later I turned it back on, to confirm my fears that I was drifting inexorably downwind. I was alone in the vastness, where


I wanted to be, except that I would have been so much happier if I were on course. A flying fish leapt out of the water and skimmed over the waves, bright and silvery in the morning sunlight. Gaua Island was still 40 miles away, and if I missed that tiny spot of terra firma, I would die. The next landfall was Australia, 1,500 miles to the west. I turned the GPS off again and put it in my pocket, because the digital read-


out couldn’t save me—it would only quantify my doom. When my boat slid off the next wave, my outrigger caught in the trough and the kayak rotated 30 degrees, as if I were dancing with one foot nailed to the floor. »»


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