【Eagle & Whale】 Wander On — Setting Sail with the Kuroshio Current to Okinawa: The Sailing Voyage, Part 1

Okinawa, Japan, sits along the Ryukyu Island chain that connects the island of Taiwan to the Japanese mainland.

A budget airline round-trip ticket costs under NT$4,000, and the flight takes less than 1.5 hours — yet here we were, stubbornly choosing to skipper a 45-foot (approximately 13-metre) heavy sailboat across the Ryukyu Trench, spending a full three days riding the wind and the Kuroshio Current, counting the days and nights, calling roll beneath the Milky Way each evening, drifting all the way to Okinawa. We wanted to find out for ourselves whether this bone-deep, soul-searing way of travelling could confirm what Taiwanese media has been proclaiming — that Okinawa is so breathtaking and so hard to leave behind that going to Kenting simply cannot compare.

When I set out on long passages with friends or senior sailors, the usual routine is: get the briefing, wait for a weather window, and cast off — rarely do we draw up a schedule and sail by the calendar. By late September, sea conditions are already as unpredictable as a girlfriend's mood, so this Okinawa trip followed the same playbook: maximum efficiency, gather up, and go. Everyone aboard is a seasoned mariner with a ready-to-grab go-bag at home at all times. Sailing with people you trust means the voyage should be easy and enjoyable — whatever the ocean throws at us, we'll deal with it out there.

Departing from Houbihu in Kenting, the course is approximately 55 degrees over 450 nautical miles. If the Kuroshio Current pushed us along as planned, we could make better speed — optimistically calculating at 7 knots, that's 65 hours, or 2 days and 17 hours to reach the waters near Naha, Okinawa. We confirmed both weather and vessel conditions were ideal for departure. The only remaining thing to figure out was estimating fuel and provisioning for four people. Three days of light to no wind meant fuel — we'd need to carry plenty. As for four big men eating and drinking: when we checked out at the PX Mart, we racked up 77 reward points. That should tell you everything about our appetites.

Life at sea is nothing like the comfort of shore. Knowing we'd be spending three consecutive days on the water after departure, we kept food and freshwater consumption strictly rationed — no lavish meals every sitting, and no daily showers. So on the morning of departure I woke early, enjoyed one last precious wash on land, and arrived at the dock refreshed and ready to complete the final preparations before casting off.

A three-day passage is no great hardship for us, but sailing is still a rare pursuit for most Taiwanese families. So beyond our four-person crew, friends from Hengchun all showed up at the dock to wave us off and wish us safe passage.

Eluanbi, at the southeastern tip of Taiwan, is notorious for treacherous waters. The outer circulation bands of a typhoon had still been affecting the area a few days before we left, so rounding Cape Eluanbi was the most harrowing stretch of the entire voyage — but it lasted only about half an hour, hardly worth dwelling on. Once we cleared Taiwan's southeastern headland, we watched the island slowly recede behind us, turned to face the Pacific, set our heading for the Okinawa island group, and began counting down the nautical miles.

Green Island and Orchid Island off Taiwan, and Miyako-jima in Okinawa Prefecture, Japan — these were the islands we would pass close enough to pick up a signal and reconnect with the world. After spending consecutive days and nights alone with yourself on the open ocean, learning to read the wind and the waves, I had no great urge to reconnect with everything at once. I sent a quick safety update, downloaded a few favourite songs, then rolled over and returned my focus to the sea.

The sailing conditions on Taiwan's east coast, in the open Pacific, differ completely from those on the west coast along the Taiwan Strait. The western shore sits right alongside mainland China, with constant traffic from large commercial vessels and fishing boats. Taiwan's development is concentrated in the west, so at night the light pollution is intense enough to cast the silhouette of a boat onto the sea surface. The east is the complete opposite. A hundred metres from the coastline, the seabed plunges sharply to depths of 500 metres; only large migratory species venture here. Unless you're crossing all the way to the US West Coast, there is virtually no land on Taiwan's eastern Pacific horizon, so commercial shipping is comparatively sparse. Night sailing is more relaxed, if slightly solitary — but being wrapped in a clear, brilliant Milky Way overhead made it feel far more peaceful than lonely.

In the darkness, with vision reduced, my instincts kick in and I let my other senses expand. In that moment I become sharper. Humanity is infinitesimally small — yet standing inside the whole universe, I feel like I am infinite.

It was not my watch when we reached the waters near Okinawa early that morning, so what woke me was the noise of my seniors working on deck. I'll admit I was a little grumpy inside — sighting land is something everyone looks forward to, and I thought: how could they not have woken me for this special sunrise? But I snapped awake efficiently, with no time to sulk. I grabbed the drone and launched it into the sky.

This was a special shot. Going aloft on the mast for rigging work is not unusual in sailboat maintenance, but doing so on the open ocean with the sails actively drawing is a different matter — it takes experience and skill. Being able to capture this moment of perfect teamwork and technique from the air gave us all a real sense of pride and satisfaction.

On the afternoon we arrived in Okinawa, after we had docked and secured the lines, Japanese customs and coast guard officers were warm and helpful in processing our entry. The excellent marina facilities and friendly officials were a genuinely heartwarming welcome for a crew that had just completed a long ocean passage. The feeling of solid ground beneath our feet again released all the accumulated tension. After a dinner of Japanese specialties, everyone quickly cleaned up, cracked open an Orion beer, toasted the safe completion of the passage — then, barely able to hide our exhaustion, retreated to our bunks and promptly fell fast asleep.

After completing the passage, we had planned several days of island-hopping around the Okinawa outlying islands aboard the sailboat — I'll share all of that in the next article. And as for whether Okinawa truly possesses some magical quality that compels Taiwanese people to loudly declare "Kenting can't hold a candle to Okinawa" — my personal verdict will be revealed there as well!

Related links:

• OFFSHORE LIFE STUDIO 離岸生活工作室

• 【Follow the Young Captain and Fall in Love with Sailing】Confidently Say "I'm an Open Water Pilot!" — Drone Flying Practical Tutorial

• 【Follow the Young Captain and Fall in Love with Sailing】Offshore Life — Sailing to the South Penghu Marine National Park, Dongyu Ping Section

• 【Follow the Young Captain and Fall in Love with Sailing】Sailboats — What Is a Sailboat?

• OFFSHORE Life Studio — A Romantic Sailing Trip in Keelung