Noon Position: 18 48.9 S 160 14.8 W
Course: West nor' west, Speed: 6 knots
Wind: East sou' east, F5-6 fresh
to strong breeze
Weather: Overcast, occasional rain squalls, warm, moderate
seas
Day's run: 101 miles (127 sailed)
Last night was
definitely one of those times I was grateful for the modern technology of GPS as
there was no way I would have made landfall safely using celestial navigation.
Since leaving Tahiti I have had only fleeting glimpses of the sun maybe two or
three times and the opportunity for star sights have been nil, not to mention
the hazard to life and limb trying to take a sextant altitude with old Sylph
continuously rolling from one side to the other, at times violently. As it was
as we closed Aitutaki I peered anxiously into the gloom willing a light to
appear where it was supposed to be. Eventually the lights did appear but I have
sometimes found that it is easy for my eyes to trick me, seeing things like dark
masses of land and glimmers of lights when there actually is nothing at all,
maybe a cloud and a glint of reflected light on the stainless steel pulpit. But
all went smoothly and by midnight we had Sylph tucked in behind the lee of
Aitutaki under a double reefed mainsail. It was good to be out of the sea and
swell even though the wind was as strong as ever, the low lying island and atoll
doing little to break its force. Running towards the south took us to the end of
our shelter quite quickly, in about an hour, but turning around to retrace our
path the wind was forward of the beam and we made slower progress which suited
me fine, taking about two hours to get back to where we had started from. During
the night we completed two runs up and down the length of the atoll, and while I
could only cat nap for about 20 minute stretches during this time, the
moderation in Sylph's motion was very welcome. I even took the opportunity to
have a shave.
This morning
dawned as windy as ever, I pulled my little windometer out, a gift from some
dear Annapolitan friends, and measured the wind speed, a steady 25 knots at deck
level, a little more than I expected. I did not like the look of the scene at
all; the narrow shallow reef strewn channel, strong wind and overcast conditions
did not bode well for an easy entry into the very confined anchorage reported to
be inside the reef. As daylight grew brighter I made a call on the VHF radio.
“Any station, any station, any station. This is sailing yacht Sylph VI, Sylph
VI, Sylph VI. Over.” I immediately received a response from Pelican Pat, an
Australian yacht at anchor off the reef just outside the channel. He had been
there for three days and advised me that the channel was not safe to enter in
these conditions, that in any event locals had advised him that the anchorage
inside the reef was too shallow at low tide and had very limited swinging room.
The anchorage where he was was safe but required 70 meters of cable and was not
very comfortable. Overall this did not sound at all appealing. After sailing
closer to the channel entrance and looking over the anchorage where Pelican Pat
lay, I decided the safest thing to do was to simply continue on our way.
I pondered my
options. Initially I set course for Tonga but I sat looking at the Cook Island
flag I had laboured for much of yesterday to make, thinking what a waste. A
Union Jack in the canton, which I had salvaged from a worn out Australian flag,
on a blue field with 15 small stars in a circle on the fly. Now I was quite
proud of this achievement, sewn together in very difficult conditions on my
antique hand operated Singer sewing machine. 30 small stars, 15 on each side,
had taken quite a bit of patience, it wanted to be
flown.
I looked at the
chart. Palmerston is only a little out of the way, 180 miles to the west nor'
west. I checked my information and while not a port of entry I could stay there
for three days without formally clearing in to the Cook Islands. They have
moorings and the Marsters family which occupies the islands have a reputation
for hospitality (though with some tarnish of late due to some factional
rivalry). A rest for a few days would be very welcome and the solar panels have
stopped charging, undoubtedly a broken connection again, so a stop here would
allow me to fix them. And maybe if we sit still for a couple of days this
horrible weather will move past us.
I have adjusted
the wind vane and gybed the jib. Next stop Palmerston – I
hope.
All is
well.
