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Fiji to New Zealand |
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Captain's Log: |
Janet jumped ship on me in Fiji. We had sailed SOLARA from Tonga to Fiji on a five day passage with three days of strong gales. While we were properly rigged and maintained good control of the boat, especially through the dangerous Lau Group reefs, it was a demanding sail. We had two beautiful initial days and then the gales came. We faced high, spewing waves and wet cold winds for the last three days of the sail. Visibility was poor, sometimes non-existent. One wave caved in our dodger! A seam in the dodger gave way and ripped open when the wave came over the boat and poured several tons of water onto the dodger. When I later examined the seam and completed a temporary repair, I found that the threads were rotting, perhaps from the incessant ultra violet rays of the tropics. We reached Suva, Fiji, at the end of the third day of gales and entered anchorage in fog at night. We were very careful coming through the Suva reef, but were happy to have a quiet sleep in a steady berth. Janet's sailing enthusiasm had reached a low point. Janet had her heart set on a visit home - the call of the grandchildren and other family. She had been talking about her visit for several months and we had decided that the best time for a trip would be in October or November, while I brought SOLARA down from Fiji to New Zealand. Janet was not only ready for a trip home, she was also nervous about a sail to New Zealand. There were so many stories. Every Kiwi sailor we met had his favourite horror story about a sail across these infamous waters. The sailing guides leave no doubt about the difficulties of the sail. The prevailing winds in October are from the south east in Fiji but switch to south-west near New Zealand. Currents are strong, and weather systems govern all routines and all decisions. On board boats on the passage, conversations focus on the weather. Terms like "front" and "low" have significant and foreboding meanings. So Janet was happy to leave by air for home and rejoin me in December in New Zealand, after I somehow got SOLARA down there. Anticipating her decision, I had previously searched through some crew exchange lists on the internet and matched up with an earnest young Englishman on his way to New Zealand to seek work. Glen Young had racing experience in England and was crewing on another boat in the South Pacific. In his resume Glen said he could cook. We met in Fiji, got on well and agreed to do the sail together. SOLARA was in good shape and I had confidence in Glen, but we needed some experience sailing together. We therefore took the boat for a one week sail up to the Yasawas, primitive out-islands surrounded by reefs off the north western coast of Fiji. The weather was clear and beautiful on our sail up to the Yasawas. We had a beautiful first night at anchorage in the first of the chain of the islands comprising the Yasawas and the next morning proceeded out of the anchorage to explore the west and north sides of the island. Then we had a little excitement. We were sailing nicely in the narrow passage between the reef and the high cliffs of the island when a sudden gust hit the boat and SOLARA heeled over almost to a broaching point. I was turning the wheel but without getting any steering reaction in the boat. I saw the gauge read 45 knots! I saw the rocks! I shouted and Glen released the main sheet and perhaps the traveller, and the boat steadied up and we were back on course through the passage. The rocks were too close for comfort. Relearning skills over and over is part of what sailing is about, at least for me. I should have watched more carefully for gusty conditions close to the high cliffs on the island shore. The next island was several hours away, so we found another beautiful isolated anchorage and enjoyed the south Pacific in its original unspoiled pristine condition. On our third day, we moved out into the open water between the islands and immediately encountered high winds and uncomfortable waves. We returned to the security of the anchorage. The remaining days were idyllic and perfect sailing weather, gorgeous anchorages and beaches, breathtaking scenery, coconuts, crabs, manta rays, incredible snorkeling (and one SCUBA dive to free an anchor chain caught on an old abandoned cable), pleasant strolls along white deserted beaches, and interesting conversations with excellent Australian wines. After a week we returned to our original anchorage off the Fiji mainland and provisioned the boat for our passage to New Zealand. I cleared out with customs and immigration, a process requiring a ferry ride, a bus trip, and an over night stay in the mainland town of Lautaka, and the completion of dozens of intricate forms in front of several uniformed government officers. We watched for the weather window. Sailors always wait for weather, and there is always supposed to be a window, at least for the commencement of a passage. I contacted Des Renner from Russell Radio in New Zealand and joined his twice daily SSB radio 'scheds', providing valuable weather information and advice to hapless sailors in the south pacific. Although SOLARA was ready to sail on October 8, the local radio forecasts and the reports from Des were all negative. The trades were blowing a steady 35 knots in the seas south of Fiji. We didn't need forecasts to know that we should not leave that day, because our protected Fiji lagoon anchorage was being rocked by unusually high winds and waves. High wind warnings were posted all over Fiji. We could see huge white caps outside the reef. We were therefore content to remain in the anchorage in the company of fellow boaters, and enjoy wonderful meals with excellent Australian wines and beer. We sat for another day in the Fiji lagoon, listening to weather reports. While we were in a place close to paradise, however, both Glen and I were becoming impatient. We had done our preparations and said goodbyes and were anxious to get on our way. The forecasts on the morning of October 9 were highly promising. Des confirmed in his radio transmissions that the weather forecasts for Fiji showed winds would drop to between 20 and 25 knots in the evening. A few boats began to leave. We discussed the situation and about 1400 hours decided to leave. We knew that we would have high afternoon winds, but I thought that they would give us good speed and distance and a good start for our trip. They would lighten in the evening. We departed too soon. I was too impatient. It took us a several hours to clear the reefs and get into the open ocean. We were fully reefed and the boat handled well. We had the forecasts and expected the wind to die down in the evening, if not before. Unfortunately the forecasts were wrong. The winds did not die down that afternoon or that evening. Nor the next day. In fact, we started our passage in more than 35 knots of wind and, outside the reefs in open seas, in twelve foot waves. We debated whether or not we should return to the protected Fiji lagoon, but we were making fantastic sailing distances; we were on our planned route; and we had expectations of the winds dropping to between 20 and 25 knots. The high winds continued unabated all through the night and the next day. I felt good about our speed and our course and about the boat's performance, but I noticed that the seas were becoming higher; some waves were monstrous!! We were sailing on a downwind course with following seas. We had planned to sail west for at least one day and then turn south. We therefore started from Fiji in a westerly direction, in the lee of the main Fiji mainland, but as we preceded far out in the ocean, the fetch got longer and the waves peaked into the heights of high buildings. Eventually, after heading a day and a half in a westerly direction downwind I decided that we had to turn south to New Zealand, otherwise we would have ended up in Australia. Although our initial course was westward and downwind, giving us easier sailing, we had to turn south to get to New Zealand. When we turned south the waves began to hit us on the forward port bow quarter. I had often experienced high waves, and I have rarely needed wash boards over the companionway in SOLARA. I have them handy, but SOLARA has so often buoyed up and held herself on course regardless of wave height and direction that I had become complacent or over confident. I did not think that my washboards would be necessary. We were dry and the boat was sailing well. I was therefore unprepared for the waves that suddenly came high over SOLARA. A rogue wave? If so, I got hit with a whole set of rogue waves. One large wave roared up high over the bow of SOLARA. When it crashed down over us, it ripped out my temporary dodger repair and opened up the front of the dodger as if the dodger had never existed. I remember thinking in my earlier days that dodgers must be removed in ocean weather, but rain and wind make very uncomfortable sailing on a dodgerless boat. Almost all cruisers have them and I had never had problems, except on the one sail from Tonga to Fiji. Then a second wave buried SOLARA, filling both the cockpit and the cockpit lockers, supposedly water protected. Moreover, another spectacularly high wave again buried SOLARA, filled the cockpit and cascaded down the open companionway into the cabin before I could get the washboards in place. I was in the cabin when the big wave hit us and I watched from below as that wave poured water down the stairway like Niagara Falls. I watched the water build up on the cabin sole. I felt as if I were in a surrealist action movie in slow motion. As the boat eventually pitched forward, the water on the floor reversed flow and moved forward toward the bow, only to reverse and flow backwards toward the stern as the bow raised up on the next wave. At the same time, there was a sideways rolling, so that, my floor was covered by foam and waves going forward, backward and sidewards at the same time. In slow motion time, probably two or three minutes, the waves drained into the bilges and I inserted the washboards to prevent a recurrence. I grabbed towels and more towels which we keep handy to soak up and clean off the salt water. With the washboards up, and the salt water in the cockpit and the cabin water drained into the bilge, SOLARA, was secure and safe. Darkness came and the boat continued on course, safe and sound. We were fully reefed and well on our way to New Zealand far beyond any returning point. We did our shared watches and slept well. Early on the following day, with daylight vision and in the forecasted reduced winds and relatively calm seas, I began a thorough damage inspection. I first checked the bilge and lower lockers and immediately found salt water in all of the lower lockers. More unnerving, I found two inches of water in my battery box! I have three batteries in a supposedly watertight battery box under a starboard saloon seat and they were quietly resting in two inches of sea water. It must have seeped through the fibre glass walls of the battery box or through a microscopic crack in the walls. In any event, it existed but I quickly grabbed my dingy pump and pumped it out into a pail and threw the water overboard. Glen then spotted a tear in the main sail. His eyes were better than mine but it was big and obvious. We lowered the sail and taped over the tear. It was quite large and the repair job looked amateur and messy. Later, I concluded that a batten car had caught on a loosened screw on the mast track and that I had probably put too much force on the sail when winding it up while reefing. The batten car in the sail had caught on the mast track screw and torn the sail. My inspection took me into my cockpit lockers. I had seen, and felt, the cockpit filling with salt water. I had been in the cockpit when the initial wave covered us. I had gone through the experience of water rising up my legs, over the boots, and up to the thighs, and then watching it, over a period of seconds, subside and drain down and out the cockpit drains. I expected some water to have overflowed into my cockpit lockers. So I opened the lockers and began to wipe off salt water soaked items. I saw no damage or problems, but I thought that I should also test equipment that is located or wired below those lockers. My vaunted B&G electronic autopilot is located below deck, in the dry area beneath my cockpit lockers. I do not use it, except as a back-up for my mechanical wind-vane steering but an electronic autopilot is valuable when motoring in calms, so I wanted to test it and ensure that the water had not damaged it. It had worked in Fiji, but I have had previous horrible experiences with B&G electronic products and I no longer trust their equipment in wet weather. Guess what! When I flicked the autopilot switch I heard a mumbling noise, but I got no steering movement. It didn't work. I later had it repaired in New Zealand but that is a B&G story for another log. For the next several days, we sailed steadily southward towards New Zealand in pleasant weather. We sensed a cooling off in temperature and the winds, predictably, switched from south east to south west! We knew we were in New Zealand waters. A New Zealand Air Force Orion plane buzzed me about 400 miles north of New Zealand and I had a pleasant conversation on the radio with the plane crew. The pleasantness did not last. On October 18, on a routine radio conversation on one of his schedules, Des warned us about an approaching "front". Winds would get to 35 knots. There would be lightning and heavy rains. It would hit us sometime during the night. We were close hauled all that night with winds on the nose. I came up at 01:00 to relieve Glen and, as he sleepily headed down below into his berth he reported lightning to the south west. I reefed and watched the lightning get closer and closer. I turned on the radar and watched the blackness gradually begin to cover the screen. I donned my heaviest rain gear. I saw the blackness completely cover the radar screen. It was awesome. The rain hit at about 0200 hours. It was torrential, but I could see pretty well because of the lightning. The lightning was spectacular. I watched the storm in wonderment as it approached and passed over. The winds were severe, but we were fully prepared for it. The sky was magnificent and the high waves and the forceful winds rocked the boat back and forth and up and down. When I plotted our position at the end of my watch, we had moved 20 miles east of our route. The winds or current had blown us 20 miles east of our expected course line. Instead of hitting New Zealand on its northern tip and cruising easterly downwind to Opua, our final objective, we had been blown east to a point just north of Opua. The wind actually blew us closer to our objective. I have often wondered what I would have done if I had been on a lee shore. As it was, I had miles of open water available to me. In the morning, Des spoke about the storm as it appeared to him from his home near Opua, and he described the lightning as one of the strongest, most wild lightning storms that he had ever seen. Topping everything, my genoa sail had torn during the storm. The foils on the furling had separated and had cut and torn the genoa open. We arrived at the famous New Zealand Bay of Islands at dusk on October 20. We enjoyed and incredibly beautiful and peaceful 20 mile sail through the lights on the shores of the bay and tied up at the customs dock fifteen minutes after midnight. The sail was fun. It was more exciting than scary. But Janet was right in leaving it to me. Gulf Harbour, New Zealand December, 2002 |