Fiji to Vanuatu
Harmonie
Don and Anne Myers
Tue 15 Jul 2008 00:15
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19:31.549S 169:29.694E
Before I share the incredible experiences we've had
so far in Vanuatu, below are a few more notes on the passage from
Fiji to Vanuatu.
You may have noticed that Don was the author of the
previous two blog entries. Being the general Rock of Gibraltar that Don
is, he always steps in when the regular blog operator is out of
commission. As Don said, our passage from Fiji was windy, windy, windy and
fast. First, about the windy, windy, windy. We delayed our departure
from Fiji because we wanted to wait for the trade winds to fill in. And
trade winds were what we
got. Initially, however, as we wound our way through the reefs
surrounding Malolo Lailai and Malolo islands, and then through the pass in the
larger reef that surrounds the big island of Viti Levu, the sun was shining and
the breeze was light. We motored the first three hours of the trip.
As soon as we got outside of the Viti Levu reef and away from the lee of the
island, the wind started to pick up. The motor went off and the sails came
out. The next four hours were extremely pleasant - a nice sail with the
wind just forward of the beam.
Just before dark on the first day, the wind picked
up from 15 knots to 26, and basically stayed there until we reached the island
of Tanna two full days later. Twenty-six knots in and of itself is not
that bad, but 26 knots for two solid days regularly gusting up to 30, 35 and a
high of 40 knots is something else altogether. Even the wind on its own
would not have been that bad, but on the open sea, wind does not come without
its buddy, big waves.
None of this was unexpected. We had a good
weather forecast that indicated there would be a 'trade wind surge' and the
winds would remain steady at 23 to 28 knots with gusts as high as 35. But
when you are actually experiencing the trade wind surge and not just reading
about it in the forecast, it's a whole different thing. That first night,
the winds were the strongest - sustained winds were as high as 31 knots with
gusts to 40. The gusts didn't happen just once every so often, they
happened every few minutes, and usually in conjunction with a particularly nasty
wave. The waves wouldn't have been too bad if they were coming
from just one direction. Unfortunately, other weather systems at work
miles from our location were sending residual waves our way. As a result,
we were dealing with at least two waves trains - one caused by the
winds on our port beam and one caused by some distant weather system that was
sending waves into our starboard back quarter. The wind was on our beam,
so the waves from the wind were perpendicular to the boat. This meant that
we sailed sideways up and down them - most of the time. Sometimes a
wave would crash into the side of the boat with a bang, sending a shower of
sea water up high, which then came pounding down on the decks and into the
cockpit. The waves hitting our starboard back quarter were not as fierce,
but they did seem to enjoy making the boat lurch and bobble in a way
new and different from all the other lurching and bobbling that was going
on.
So there we were on that first night. Wind
howling, waves throwing water over the bow, over the port side and occasionally
over the back. The boat rolling, lurching, creaking. The night
completely dark. No moon, the sky completely clouded over, no stars, no
horizon. I was sick and mostly useless. I stood my watches and slept
and that was about it. Don prepared our dinner, reefed the sails and
did anything else that needed doing. We could see Lady Kay's navigation
lights behind us, so that was a comfort. The boat did well as we knew it
would - it probably enjoyed the extra wind that it hasn't seen in so
long. The few times we rolled more than we probably ever have before when
a wave caught us on the side in just the wrong way, the boat didn't seem to mind
and simply righted itself and kept going. It was the first time all the
books flew out of the bookcases - no flying pears this time, just flying
books. The beer and tonic bottles that were stored in one of the bilges
with not enough padding made it through the trip without breaking. Both
Don and I could hear the bottles rolling around each time we rolled with a wave,
but neither one of us had the energy at the time to try and fix the
situation. When we finally got into port and looked under the floor
boards, we were happy not to find a nasty mix of beer and tonic fizzing in the
bilge. Amazingly, we never got wet throughout the two rough days and
nights. The helm on our boat is a bit unusual because it is located
non-traditionally in the front of the cockpit on the port side where it is well
protected by the hard dodger and a side curtain. The helm on most
sailboats is located in the more traditional position at the back of the cockpit
- the perfect place for waves coming over the bow to land. Each time a
wave crashed into the side of the boat, we would duck but the wall of
seawater never touched us. Once again we congratulated ourselves on
choosing the boat we did (actually, Don should take full credit since he did all
the research back when we were boat shopping).
That first night we sailed cautiously with only a
little bit of head sail and mizzen sail out, never allowing our speed to get
much over 8.5 knots. By the end of the second day, we had all three sails out
with only the main reefed down, and were rollicking along at an average of 9
knots. It's amazing how after 40 knots, 27 seems like a light
breeze. Once we got used to the idea of big wind and waves, we found that
the faster we sailed, the smoother the ride was. We saw 10 and 11 knots
occasionally, and as Don said, we could have easily sailed faster than we did
even on the second day, but we weren't feeling quite that cocky.
We arrived in Port Resolution on the island of
Tanna late in the afternoon of the second day after dodging the reefs on either
side of the channel, and according to our electronic charts, anchoring well up
on dry land (like Tonga and Fiji, the accuracy of the charts is a bit
questionable). Port Resolution Bay was churned up with lots of swell
coming in making all the boats rock side-to-side in a none too comfortable
manner, but it was still a relief to be there after our wild ride from
Fiji. Everyone we spoke to in Port Resolution had similar stories to tell
and all said that they sailed cautiously the first night, but really let the
boats fly by the second day. Many claimed it was the fastest they had ever
seen their boats go.
For others in our group, the trip was not so
easy. On the second day, Northern Sky reported engine failure. This
wouldn't have been so bad if they had a generator on board with which to
charge their batteries, but they didn't. No engine meant no battery
charging. No battery charging meant dead batteries and no
power. No power meant no autopilot, no radar, no instruments, no
refrigeration, no lights, no electronic charts. They did conserve
enough power to run the electronic charts and radar for a few minutes every once
and while, but that was about it. Without power, they were
suddenly thrown back a good thirty to forty years to
the time when sailors didn't have the fancy equipment we have
today. Gerry and his wife Esolda took turns at the helm hand steering the
boat by compass through the black nights towards Port Villa, the capital of
Vanuatu. They sailed all the way to the harbor entrance where a couple of
other rally boaters who had also diverted to Port Villa met them with their
dinghies and towed Northern Sky in. The engine problem has since been
fixed and Northern Sky is ready for more. Esolda told me yesterday that
she feels like she can handle pretty much anything now (and she did admit that
the first thing she and Gerry did once they were safely moored was chug a
couple of warm beers).
If Northern Sky's story wasn't exciting enough for
you, then you'll enjoy reading about Calle Due's ordeal. On the afternoon
of the second big wind day, Calle Due, an Italian boat with a husband and wife
crew, lost control of their boat's rudder. They quickly tried to
employ the emergency steering mechanism, but that didn't work either. The
rudder was still attached to the boat (a good thing), but was not responding to
any of their attempts to turn it. This situation would not have been
so bad if the seas were calm and the winds light, but of course they
weren't. We can only imagine the panic the couple aboard Calle Due must
have felt when this first happened and they were being tossed about by the wind
and waves. Via the long range radio, we learned that Williwaw, a French
catamaran rally boat, was nearby and planned to stay in sight of Calle
Due. That first afternoon, Calle Due attempted to gain control of their
rudder, but were unsuccessful. No other rally boats could approach Calle
Due safely in the rough seas to help, so most listened to radio updates while
Williwaw stayed nearby bouncing in the angry waves. New Zealand, New
Caledonia and Vanuatu rescue offices were contacted, but all claimed they either
did not have or could not deploy a ship to come and tow Calle Due to
safety. The only thing that was offered was an observation aircraft, but
with Williwaw nearby, that wasn't necessary.
The first night of their ordeal was spent hove-to
so Oscar and his wife could rest (hove-to means the sails were set such that the
boat would basically stay in the same place, tossing in the waves and maybe
drifting a bit, but not much). The next day, Oscar was able to determine
that the pin connecting the rudder to the shaft was missing. Oscar
fashioned a temporary pin out of some aluminum he had on board and once that was
in place, they were able to slowly make way toward Port Villa, 140 miles
away. Several days and another aluminum key fix later (the first fix
broke), Calle Due arrived safely in Port Villa - along with their guardian
angels Eric and Grazyna on Williwaw. Another potential disaster
averted.
Northern Sky's and Calle Due's adventures made our
trip from Fiji seem like nothing more than a windy afternoon sail on Lake
Ontario, but their stories did highlight once again that just about any
adversity experienced at sea can be overcome. Later, over a glass of
wine with Lady Kay, we decided that we wouldn't enjoy the pleasant and fun
things nearly as much without the occasional passage from hell
complete with bumpy seas, big winds, losing lunch over the rail, no
shower for several days and eating warmed over tuna fish casserole four times in
a row.
The picture below was taken the morning
after our arrival in Port Resolution. Although it looks like Don is
preparing for a yard sale, he was really just drying out all the lockers
that got a bit of seawater in them as a result of the many waves we took
over the bow.
Anne
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