"The pandemic caused serious worries for those traveling the world's oceans on sailboats, and also silly ones.
Australian Guy Chester, alone on the 52-foot GC Sanctuary somewhere in the Pacific Ocean, had just finished season six of "Game of Thrones," and really wanted the final two seasons.
Mr. Chester broadcast a TV-related SOS. In French Polynesia, where the 58-year-old environmental and eco-tourism consultant wasn't allowed to disembark until going through quarantine, another Australian craft sailed close and dropped off a flash drive with the missing episodes. "I binge-watched" them, he said.
When countries closed borders, imposed quarantines and changed yachting protocols, waters got choppy for the thousands of sailors who crisscross oceans in small vessels. Normally they hop from port to port, following routines based on weather, currents and other things, docking to enjoy tropical islands or city offerings.
Instead, many were forced to quarantine aboard, or stay put in a port because their journey's next leg was blocked. Some abandoned their boats in distant marinas and flew home.
While conditions have eased lately, port and border rules continue to change constantly, forcing boats to navigate detours and obstructions.
"We are sailors. We are not meant to be in one place for this long," said Johanna Vesalainen, a Finn who has been waylaid in New Zealand with her husband for more than two years because their next destination, Australia, only recently began allowing foreign sailors to again dock.
The 48-year-old and her husband have been spending their time making repairs on their boat, the Iiris, and sailing along New Zealand's coast. They plan to begin the voyage to Australia -- stopping in Fiji -- this month.
Phil and Debra Perfitt left their boat in Tonga in early 2020 for a trip to New Zealand by plane. Then the pandemic broke out, and borders closed. Two years later the Canadian retirees are still in New Zealand, and their boat, the Coastal Drifter, is still in Tonga, which doesn't yet allow international visitors.
The Perfitts tried to pay a crew to sail the boat into international waters and stage a handover, but Tongan authorities wouldn't agree to the maneuver, according to Ms. Perfitt, a former steward in the Royal Canadian Air Force.
For now, they're making the best of their landlocked status. They house sit, which at their current home means taking care of the owner's three dogs.
Most Thursdays, Ms. Perfitt does a lady's lunch with other cruisers stuck in nearby marinas, while Mr. Perfitt, a retired engineering maintenance officer for the Canadian air force, plays cards with the male counterparts.
In December, the Perfitts hosted a "Cruisers Orphan Christmas Party" -- more than 20 people showed up -- and had another get-together for stuck sailors this Easter.
They've had worrisome reports from the local man keeping an eye on their vessel. First it was infested with cockroaches. Then termites took over.
"We don't know what we're going to be facing once we get back to Tonga," Ms. Perfitt said.
On Ireland's remote West Coast, Daria Blackwell, vice commodore of the Ocean Cruising Club, and her husband, Alex, turned their home into a de facto international command center for long-distance sailors trying to reroute during the first year of pandemic shutdowns. They were often called to help negotiate with border officials who wouldn't let sailors dock because of the pandemic.
"It was more than a full-time job," Ms. Blackwell said. "From the time we got up in the morning, the first thing we did was check our computers to see if anything [was] going on."
Mariska Woertman and her family have been in limbo in the waters of British Columbia.
The Dutch native ditched her career as a marketing executive, took her two daughters out of school and set sail around the world with her partner in 2018, thinking she would be gone a year or two. Instead, when borders closed early in the pandemic the family was stuck off the Pearl Islands near Panama's Pacific coast for more than two months, unable to disembark.
They busied themselves on the 42-foot-long two-masted sailboat baking bread and making seawater drinkable through desalination. A restaurant owner -- for a markup -- would leave boxes of groceries at an abandoned beach for the family to pick up, on unseen quick visits to shore.
They played card games like Uno and rewatched Adam Sandler movies, and entertained themselves with quiz games over the ship's radio, answering pop culture and science questions with other stuck boats nearby. Prizes included a partly used Sudoku booklet or an airplane-size bottle of whiskey.
Eventually the family was able to set sail for French Polynesia when the territory resumed inter-island travel for sailors. In the South Pacific, they climbed mountains, went snorkeling, and ate fruit off trees on islands free of tourists. They home-schooled their daughters, now age 6 and 15.
But then they found the route west blocked because of New Zealand's no-visitor rules. They maneuvered back north and east to the Pacific Northwest. The kids spent last Halloween, dressed as a witch and a fortuneteller, eating their own candy because they couldn't go ashore to trick-or-treat. Eventually they were allowed to make port on Vancouver Island.
Now, the problem is getting across North America. Sailing south to cut through the Panama Canal is a problem, because backlogs at the U.S. consulate make it impossible to get a visa for needed stops along the way at U.S. ports, Ms. Woertman said.
The plan, to begin this week: Portage across Canada by truck, and then set sail for Europe from the Atlantic coast. It will cost about $19,000.
The goal, Ms. Woertman said, is to become one of the few who make it home despite the pandemic. "We will be sailing back into the harbor where we set off from, and family and friends will be on the docks and waving at us," Ms. Woertman said. "That feels like the best thing for us to do."" [1]
1. How Sailing Around the World Became a Yearslong Odyssey --- Closed borders put boaters in limbo; quarantine delivery of 'Game of Thrones'
Putzier, Konrad.
Wall Street Journal, Eastern edition; New York, N.Y. [New York, N.Y]. 04 May 2022: A.1.