Axel Champloy
traveling painter
Japan without flying
In November 2024 I decided to realize an old dream: going to Japan without flying! My goal is to go following the sun, west, across the Atlantic, America and the Pacific. I travel hitchhiking, sailing, train, ferry, bus .... I chose slowness, out of ecological and artistic conviction, so this journey is not consumption but contemplation.
News from my journey !
After 20 days sailing across the Pacific, cliffs rise above the horizon. I've just arrived in the Marquesas Islands, on the island of Hiva Oa. New scents and vibrant flower colors greet us. The men and women have flower-adorned heads, their skin tanned and tattooed. They roll their r's on their ukuleles. They are musicians, sculptors, dancers. This is a land of artists. Faced with so much wonder, I decide to follow in the footsteps of good old Gauguin and stay a little longer.
Logbook
The departure,
France - Spain
On November 1, 2024, I meet Ludmilla in Montpellier. We give a thumbs up and in 1 week we cross a part of France and Spain!
Morocco
On November 9, 2024, we arrive in Rabat to meet Patrik, the captain of the Casba, the catamaran on which we will sail to the Canaries.
The crossing
Morocco - Canary Islands
On the 19th of November 2024 we leave Rabat aboard the Casba, heading for the Canaries. The program is about 500 nautical miles, 6 days of sailing, and not much wind!
Lanzarote
The Canary Islands
On November 23, we arrive in Lanzarote, the desert, the easternmost island of the Canaries. We discover volcanic landscapes which looks like Mars.
Gran Canaria
The Canary Islands
On December 7th we arrive in Las Palmas de Gran Canaria, the largest city in the Canary Islands. We discover an island contrasting between deserts and forests, and the city and nature.
Tenerife / Gomera
The Canary Islands
On December 13th Ludmilla leaves to volunteer on a farm. I continue sailing with Patrik to the island of Tenerife and La Gomera, where I discover splendid primary forests.
Boat-Hitchhiking
The Canary Islands
Ludmilla décide d'arrêter l'aventure ici. Je me lance à la recherche d'un voilier pour traverser l'Atlantique. Je passe 20 jours dans le port de Las Palmas avant de trouver.
The crossing
Canary Island-Capo Verde
On the first of February I boarded the Laurena IV, a 56-foot catamaran. We were heading for Cape Verde for a 6-day crossing. We were pushed by a strong wind and carried by the swell.
Capo verde
Here we are in Mindelo, the must-see stopover in Cape Verde. The architecture is colorful, it's a pleasure to paint. In the evening, it's party time in the favelas-style neighborhoods that are preparing for Carnival. What an atmosphere!
Transatlantic
We leave Mindelo on February 8th. We set off for a 2000 nm crossing towards Barbados. We let ourselves be carried by the trade winds, the wind is stable, the sea is calm, 13 days of sailing are on the agenda.
Barbados
We land on the island of Barbados, the easternmost of the Caribbean. The goal is to find a boat to continue the journey, but in the meantime I enjoy the tropics and the heavenly beaches.
Sailing
Barbados - Martinique
On March 8th, I boarded a catamaran belonging to the Caribbean Cetacean Society, heading for Martinique. We arrived safely after 15 hours of sailing.
Martinique
I had barely disembarked when I was greeted by Hugo, whom I barely knew. Here, I discovered the true meaning of hospitality. In total, I spent over two and a half months staying with locals. I took advantage of this stopover to fulfill a few paintings comissions and save up before setting sail again.
Sailing
Martinique - Aruba
In the port of Le Marin in Martinique, I met the Eastwest family. I had the job interview and was hired. Off to the ABC islands! For two weeks, I was the happy big brother to four little blond heads.
Aruba
I arrived in Aruba in early June. I started looking for a boat to Panama and met Karl, an old American sea dog. As soon as the weather permitted, we set sail! In the meantime, Tito, his Arubean friend, took us on a tour of the island to eat, drink, and dance—what an adventure!
Sailing
Aruba - Panama
We weigh anchor, heading for Panama! Six days of sailing are planned. The wind and swell are picking up, and the wheel breaks. Luckily, Karl always has a solution. At 70 years old, he handles his boat wonderfully, and despite the age difference, we get along very well.
Panama Canal
A sailboat slips past the steel giants. Immense cargo ships float on the calm waters of the bay, patiently waiting their turn to plunge into the jungle. Panama, here we come! I arrive with Karl on June 16th. We'll stay together for another two weeks. I take advantage of being near the marina to look for the sailboat that will carry me across the Pacific. Between trips to Colón, the neighboring city, where I spend hours sketching children in the streets, I meet the Alaventour family, who are looking for a crew member. I have the job interview; I'll get an answer in a few days. In the meantime, I sign on as a handliner on another sailboat to cross the canal! Wedged between the cargo ships, we snake through the jungle. The great steel gates close, millions of tons of cargo slide through the locks as lightly as a cork. And there we are, just a few meters above the sea, sailing on Gatun Lake. Further on, tall glass towers rise above the trees; it's the silhouette of the City taking shape, the river widens, the horizon opens up, we're sailing on the Pacific!
Panama City
I've found a sailboat to cross the Pacific. The Alaventour family just told me the news: we're leaving in a few days. I'm taking a walk around the city: the City is a dehumanized place, nothing but cars, shopping malls, buildings, and concrete. Life and culture have deserted the streets; globalization and uniformity have won. Yet, just a stone's throw away, kids are playing soccer. The houses are crammed together, the walls covered in graffiti, old people chat on their doorsteps, salsa music echoes through the streets. Here I breathe and find inspiration; I've found my playground. I take dozens of portraits of children; I'm happy. I learn that the Lady Blue, the catamaran I'm supposed to be on, has just been struck by lightning; all the electronics are dead. The departure is postponed. I then decided to embark on an adventure, going to paint in the jungle, in the San Blas Islands, in the mountains. I discovered sublime landscapes, and I enjoyed dry land one last time before the immense ocean.
The great departure
Pacific Ocean
Goodbye Panama! On August 10th, we set sail for the Pearl Islands. We stopped in the archipelago to wait for favorable winds before heading out to sea. One morning, the crew was awakened by the high-pitched voice of Lulu, the youngest: "Oh! Oh! Whale! Whale!" In the distance, we spotted geysers, and suddenly, a huge whale leaped into the air and crashed back down in large waves. This spectacle continued until our departure. On the 15th, the wind picked up, we weighed anchor, and hoisted the mainsail! We set a southwest course for Polynesia. On the agenda: 30 days of sailing across the Pacific. We were ready; the boat was crammed full of food. Bunches of bananas hung in the cockpit. The first few days of sailing were difficult; we were in the doldrums, or the Intertropical Convergence Zone. It's a windless region, filled with squalls that hammer the sea with lightning and blow in great gusts. The further we sail, the stronger the wind becomes; soon we're close-hauled, facing the wind and waves head-on. It's even worse; the boat is being tossed about violently. On the seventh day of sailing, the Lady Blue is struck by a large wave. The starboard shroud snaps, the mast falls. It's a real shock. We have to react quickly; the mast is hitting the hull and threatening to sink the boat. Alex, the captain, decides to cut everything and abandon the rigging to the depths. Luckily, we're 200 miles from the Galapagos, and miraculously, we have enough fuel to reach the archipelago under engine power. On the night of August 23rd, we drop anchor on Genovesa Island in the northern Galapagos; we're saved!
Galapagos
In the Galapagos, we were welcomed aboard his large cruise ship by Captain Nay. He gave us enough fuel to reach Santa Cruz, the main island, and treated us to a good meal before we left. That same evening, we crossed the equator between two islands in the archipelago; it was the first time in my life I'd ever set foot in the Southern Hemisphere. In Santa Cruz, Viko was waiting for us. He's the old sea dog who knows all the harbor's secrets. He immediately took me under his wing, took me around the bay in his dinghy, introduced me to his niece, had me clean boat hulls in the icy waters, and in the evenings dragged me to the bars. With all that, my Spanish improved quickly. I left my new family with great regret; they would be staying there for several more months while they waited for a new mast, and I joined Soa, a French sailboat that I would be staying on for a month. Every day I set off with my paints in search of subjects: giant tortoises, blue-footed boobies, pelicans, sea lions, marine iguanas... It's paradise! But the wind picks up, and it's time to leave! I meet Thomas and Anna, who agree to take me with them aboard their sailboat, Altaïr. Off to the Marquesas Islands!
Pacific crossing
I listen to one last salsa, my heart heavy, the wind pushing us out to sea. Goodbye Latin America!
Altaïr is a beautiful boat, an Ovni 45, an aluminum monohull. It's sturdy and fast. We're heading back into the Northern Hemisphere to catch an ocean current, gaining 3 knots, averaging 10 knots—it's incredible! The atmosphere on board is great; the three of us get along well. Time flies between watches, my watercolors, and video editing. After 20 days at sea: Land! Land ahoy! Towering cliffs rise above the horizon; the Marquesas Islands beckon.
