There have been plenty of days I would have happily lost in the last 2 weeks.
This 15 day voyage had more than the usual number, unfortunately we didn’t
get the choice.
But yesterday was Saturday, and today is Monday.
We’re in Fiji. We passed Welagilala (pronounced Wailangilala!) Island and entered
the Nanuku Passage late yesterday (Saturday) afternoon and at 5:32 am this morning,
as we entered the Koro Sea the chart plotter clicked over the 180 degree meridian,
which is both East and West, or if you’re travelling in our direction, West became East.
But not really, because we’re still travelling West, just in the East.
Electronics, navigation, voodoo, all closely related and need a high priest.
And a magnificent day it is too. There is not a breath of wind and we’re looking at the
reflection of the clouds on the sea. It’s a glassy mill pond, totally calm, apart from
the roar of the diesel churning us through the water at 5 knots.
We would normally just ghost along, but we need to get to Savu Savu on Vanua Levu
to clear into the country during working hours. We had considered going past and
clearing in at Lautoka in a day or 2, but a close study of the charts revealed reefs and
coral pinnacles scattered around with gay abandon and narrow passages to pick through.
Not a night time option at all!
We really are glad to be here. In many ways this passage has been harder than the 31
day voyage from Ecuador to the Marquesas. When the conditions have been good
they’ve been really good, but we’ve also had a lot of big seas and strong wind, when we start to wonder why we’re doing this.
We left Bora Bora in French Polynesia 15 days ago, heading for Tonga.
But “the best laid plans of mice and men..... “
The trip has actually had more really good trade wind sailing days than any stretch
so far, maybe half of them. Days when we had the cockpit opened right up with gently
rolling following seas and steady wind carrying us along at 5-6 knots. Days when we felt
so lucky to be out here.
These were the days when the boat smelt like freshly baked bread, plain, cheese and herb, cinnamon, CARAMEL... my best days are when Sandy is getting bored!
Her fishing filled the freezer again, and we’ve graduated from fish and chips to a baked
dish that is now a regular, and fish pie to die for.
These Dorado did not die in vain. In fact we landed her biggest one so far at 1.34 meters.
We won’t mention that she dropped the net overboard in her excitement!
Davy Jones does well out of us. I obviously didn’t have the dinghy fuel tank tied on well
enough and he got that too during one of the not so glorious sailing days. Fortunately we
have another one on board and I’ve managed to adapt the fittings so it should be useable.
Actually that particular day was one we wouldn’t have minded losing. We had the headsail (yankee) poled out with the wind from the aft quarter. It had been up for days and we needed
to make very little in the way of adjustments to the sails.
Now this pole was a thing of pride and beauty. It was made, and adjusted and adapted until we had it just right.
It was a strong pole, the same specs as the bought ones, but we got caught in a squall.
These squalls don’t last long but they can be violent. Once again it hit us from different sides
and in a gybe the main boom’s hasp that the sheet (rope) and preventer attach to, tore away
from the boom and mainsail and boom flew out to the shrouds.
We had a bit of green water tearing down the side decks and that was where I’d had the dinghy fuel tank tied. We didn’t even see it go, but then we did have our hands pretty full.
Suddenly the squall was over and the wind was quite calm. But the whipped up seas take a while to settle. We turned the boat into the wind and set about retrieving the boom. Fortunately there are
3 hasps so attaching everything to the next position was straight forward, if you ignore trying to balance on a rollercoaster while working.
It was only as the boom and sail came to the centre of the boat that the yankee came into view again and I saw it was flapping freely.
The pole was bent in half, still way up in the rigging and looking like a hanged mutineer left up there as a warning to others...
Fortunately it had let go the sheet in its death throes so the yankee could easily be reset. I pulled the pole back against the ratlines with its downhaul line and tied it out of the way.
Releasing it from its mast connection was going to be a trip up the ratlines,
but not in those seas!
Now we don’t always get caught by squalls. Most times we survive them without losing more than a bit of sleep and adrenalin. But on this passage I learnt something about whisker poles
(spinnaker poles... same thing).
Earlier on this passage we saw a serious looking rain squall approaching and decided to reduce sail. The fastest sails to get in are the yankee and the mizzen. The best sail to get in is the Main. The wind was building rapidly so I went for the yankee.
No time to get the pole down but I’d just let the pole pivot forward as the sail furled on previous
occasions, so did it again.
This time the wind whipped the top half of the sail open and twisted it around a couple of times,
so the sail was half unfurled and pinched in the middle.
After the squall had passed we eventually managed to free the pole and get it out of the way, but the sheets were caught up in a bunch with the sail, half way up the forestay.
Somehow we had to get the sail untwisted and it was still pretty windy. When all else failed I decided to go out to the end of the bowsprit and manually turn the furling drum until it all aligned
again. I got half the job done and tied it off because it was getting dark.
The rest would wait until morning.
We could hear the sail flapping in the wind and it really bothered us. I was just dozing off on Sandy’s watch when she noticed the sail was unfurling and untwisting! The tying off I’d done was
stopping it opening right out.
It was windy and full of bounce but a full moon night, so we decided to have one more try. It is a unique experience, perched on the end of the bowsprit in the moonlight, wrestling with lines and a flapping sail and getting dunked by the sea, fortunately with warm water.
Eventually the sail rolled out perfectly and the flapping stopped.
Everything suddenly seemed so peaceful in the moonlight.
Now those weren’t the only days we could have done without.
Two days out from Bora Bora and the generator packed in. On passage we run it a couple of hours a night to keep the batteries up with the auto pilot and radar drawing constantly.
Our back up is to run the big engine for about 4 hours per night in 2 sessions. Just as well we took on more diesel in Bora Bora.
A flurry of emails established that Tonga doesn't have an agent but they have a Moorings Charter
operation based there so we could probably work something out. As the trip progressed we decided we wouldn't have enough time in Tonga to actually see anything if all we were doing was repairs, so we decided to push through to Fiji where there is an Onan generator agent.
In the mean time the main engine which we were now really relying on, started overheating.
We figured we could survive on the solar panels if we turned off all the refrigeration at night and only use the watermaker for an hour or 2 at high noon.
It looked like we'd be best off going to Rarotonga in the Cook Islands.
Nearer, but way south of our track.
I got into the bilge and checked belts, hoses and fittings... no water leaks. I decided to check the raw water impeller and if it was good, take out the thermostat. We can live without
one in the tropics.
I grabbed the manual to find a few drawings, and discovered these engines have a fresh water cooling system that can be bled!
Bled the bleeding thing and keep it topped up and all is fine, so on to Fiji.
Then the other day we could have lost...
Overtired one morning I reached to turn on the watermaker as the boat lurched, and I missed and turned off the autopilot! The breaker switches are right next to each other. Flicking
it back on didn’t fix it. All we got was a gyro fail message.
I started hand steering while Sandy grabbed the manuals and started searching for solutions. There aren't any! Once before when this happened we went through the same strife, but
found the AP reset itself if turned off and left for an hour or 2.
This didn't work this time.
While I steered Sandy looked for our nearest landfall. Niue, the smallest independent nation in the Pacific with poor anchorage and very few facilities and just 300 miles away! That's close to 3 days non stop hand steering.
With the big seas and the sheer weight of this boat Sandy was having a hard time hand steering,
so I steered and she did everything else from 6am until 8:30pm when I just had to
have a break, so we hove to. For landlubbers, it’s a way to park the boat on the ocean.
I took the opportunity to look for options and found US Samoa was only 30 miles further, but NW instead of WSW, with a big fishing fleet and all kinds of facilities.
Up again at 4:30am and motored on towards Pago Pago, Samoa. This direction was hard because we had a following sea pushing us around and wind almost directly aft.
Around mid morning the temperature on the main engine was starting to climb a bit so we decided to get the yankee out.
Not that easy.
With all our bouncing around and the strong wind the starboard sheet had got itself twisted around the inner stay and right out to loop around the anchor on the bowsprit. It also managed to
hook a couple of small fishing rods stowed up there.
Well, that was enough to get Sandy out there. I couldn’t leave the helm.
On went her harness and she earned her stripes that day!
Not only did she rescue the rods but managed to free up the yankee sheet. Out on the bowsprit battling the elements, and the boat. She even got her feet drenched out there.
But it meant we could sail and give the engine a chance to cool down. All it needed was to
be bled again.
Well, she did the lot while I called out instructions from the cockpit.
I guess I can’t make such a big deal of it when I do guy stuff on the boat now.
We wrestled the boat for the whole day, and as evening approached I asked Sandy to turn on the AP because it also activates the wind direction indicator which I need at night.
Well, the autopilot came roaring back to life as though nothing had happened!
After a few yeeeehaas and high fives we altered course for Fiji again.
I pointed the AP to the spinnaker pole still hanging in the rigging and made sure the message struck home, then died for 6 hours solid sleep.
Got up the next morning feeling alright about the state of the world, and discovered a 4ft rip
in the yankee, right next to the last repair we had done in the Marquesas. It didn’t
seem to be going any further than a seam at each end and so we nursed it and
it’s held up all the way here.
It still beats working, but sometimes, only just.
We’re about 3 hours from Savu Savu so I guess I‘d better start paying attention
to the boat, put the quarantine flag etc.
Until next time...