s/v Grace -- Our Adventure

24 July 2008

SUWARROW ATOLL (Cook Islands):

Suwarrow Island is unlike anyplace we have ever been before. Upon arrival it appeared to us as the epitome of the idyllic south pacific atoll. Geographically, Suwarrow is several little islets, motus, clumps of land, interspersed with long, hidden and very malevolent reefs.

We arrived during an uncharacteristic period of very high winds. This tested our ability to withstand a gale a anchor, doing without much sleep or comfort, as GRACE pitched and swerved and moved constantly in the large swells in the lagoon. We anchored off Anchorage Island, which is where the atoll's only residents live, the "warden", his wife, and their four sons.

Eight boats were with us in the anchorage. One each from the Canada, Holland, New Zealand and Australia, two from France and two from the US. Amongst them, six kids, a professional crew couple, and a dog. Radio calls come in several languages, although English is the lingua franca. Courtesy and goodwill abound. Astounding to note that French sailors have heard of s/v Grace as an American boat that does speak/understand some French. Ha! We even got credit for another radio relay that was done by a Frenchwoman NOT by us.

When the seas died down a bit the brave crawled into their dinghies to hazard the crossing to visit other boats in the anchorage for some tea/coffee/scotch/ intellectual stimulation/games/books, magazine and DVD trading. A relatively recent Economist Magazine is a hot item.

You can’t help but wonder how many boats and gear etc. are eaten up by these reefs over the years, as they get mercilessly stolen by the seas as one clambers up and down from the dingy to the sailboat, with waves smashing you and boat and gear against the hull. Suwarrow lagoon is filled with sharks, rays, and large sea turtles. We were amazed at how the sharks would congregate around the boats, as if waiting for us to either jump into the water or to throw them some goodies. All they got from us was Sally’s rubber shoe.

We have loved Suwarrow. Not just a small bit, but alot. The atoll is gorgeous. There are more colors of blue in the water than one can possibly imagine. We have seen colonies of sea cucumbers, eels, lizards, and plenty of coconut crabs. The family living here is quite lovely. "John" is serious about protecting the atoll and its natural beauty. He is also a wonderful storyteller. One night, we all had a potluck ashore. John and Veronica's sons had caught some grouper, so Geoff helped grill those for everyone; they also made coconut pancakes, and had Sally slicing and then frying breadfruit -- like potato crisps. Veronica and Sally traded family stories in the "kitchen" while cooking together. During the time they are there, their protein source is either freshly caught fish or SPAM. (What a choice!)

We left an IHYC burgee at the "Suwarrow Yacht Club" with s/v Grace and our names, just in case any others come by and recognize it.

It was easy to feel part of a family here on this atoll. When we sailed off, we were given pleasant goodbyes via radio from the other boats in the anchorage, and Jeremiah, John and Veronica's 12 year old son, stood ashore blowing a conch horn in honor of our departure.

NEW: Passage to Tahiti (our thoughts)

GEOFF's COMMENTS:

Jimmy Cornell characterizes the passage from Auckland to Tahiti as a “tough windward passage” and that just about sums-up our experience. We departed Auckland with a not particularly good long-term forecast featuring squally weather and easterlies for the first few days. The forecast showed no improvement over the next ten days so we decided to make a dash for it as delaying seemed to offer no advantage. Our intention was to use the easterlies to work our way down to about 38/39 South and then to make most of our easting in that latitude. This turned out to be a very slow strategy with the boat close reaching at 55/60 degrees apparent at 5 knots or less with a lumpy sea about half the time (it would have helped to have a drifter or a Code 0). There were no Westerlies any where in sight for the first week and the whole thing was pretty tedious. We changed our strategy at around 38 South when, about a week out, we saw that we would experience a strong gale (40+ knots) in about a week’s time. Instead of staying South we

headed due North on a reasonably fast beam reach to a point where we planned to heave-to for a short while at roughly the NE corner of the low which was moving from the NW to the SE. We did so and waited about 20 hours until the easterlies backed into the North and we had a sailing breeze which we used for four days to make much of our easting. This set the basic pattern for the balance of the passage during which we played dodge-em with two more lows getting just

NE of them and completing our easting by riding the northerlies as the lows passed to the SouthWest of us. We had a rough beam reach in a final Easterly (28 to 40 knots) to make our Tahiti landfall.

Was the strategy we adopted appropriate for the passage? Well, given the weather we experienced (lots of Easterlies) I’d have to say yes, it was. However, it was very, very slow, wet and rough. It turns out that delaying our departure for a week would have given us more in the way of reaching conditions and a much faster ride East in about 38 South. Unfortunately, the latter was not clear from the forecasts we had available before leaving Auckland and was only evident after our landfall and conversations with another yacht that departed Auckland a week after we did.

The lesson for me is an old one reemphasized - other things being equal, a fast, comfortable passage is likely to depend more upon having a good departure window than a good routing strategy once at sea. The latter can make an indifferent window better at the margin, but likely won’t yield the sort of experience most of us want while on passage. While the weather forecast just prior to our departure didn’t show much improvement the following week, the weather was

in fact better than the forecast would have had us believe and would have given us a much nicer trip had we delayed and taken a chance that the forecast would prove less than fully accurate. Next time, and given the uncertainties of weather forecasting, I’d consider postponing the departure for another week or two even if there were no great improvement in the weather showing during that time. There’s a reasonable chance that the forecast will be wrong, in a good way, and that the resulting passage will be improved by the wait.

SALLY's PERSPECTIVE:

I, too, had read Jimmy Cornell’s overview of the trip from Auckland to French Polynesia. Although I have sailed thousands of blue water miles by now, I am also smart enough to know that this was NOT a passage I particularly wanted to make. I do not respond well to cold weather and was very happy when my husband found two friends to make the trip with him. It also gave me the opportunity to take care of other critical non-sailing obligations. Unfortunately, in sailing, as in life, things often change at the last minute. With 5 days to go before the planned departure date one of the friends had a family crisis and could not go. In such a short time, it was not reasonable or nor would it be sensible to just “find” a stranger to make the passage, so I offered to go after all. In many ways it was the easiest for my husband, as I had already done all the provisioning, know the boat well, manage the log and communications, and am a competent watch stander. In this

lifestyle, one must be flexible about everything. It is a trait sometimes acquired

under duress. We were lucky that the third man aboard had a great attitude and was cheerful and gentlemanly thoughout the trip. While the weather out of Auckland was not perfect, I had no expectation that it would be anyway. We were able to see quite a few gorgeous albatross flying around as we left NZ waters — they seemed to play with us as we marched up and down the waves. We were also treated to a grouping of some hundreds or even more dolphins swimming in unison away from our boat, like a newly released train of commuters.

As the conditions deteriorated, the skipper assured us that all was under control and that the boat was never at risk, but he did not fully appreciate how debilitating and violent the noise and motions aboard could be to others. I have been in situations aboard before where the boat goes screaming into the black pitch of night without any idea whatsoever if there is anything or anyone in the water ahead of you. Luckily in the Southern Ocean, there was not a soul within a

thousand miles. Often with triple-reefed main and little else, we galloped over mountainous waves. When off watch, I would try to ‘rest’ in my sea berth, but would hear and feel the force of the water crashing against the hull — only a few inches of fiberglass between me and the seas, or the fuel gurgling around in the tank underneath me. There was no way to drown out the noise. The starboard gunnel seemed to spend much time submerged, with water rushing past port lights. At some point, I made my peace with the world, and decided that if this was “it” then

at least I would have lived a life of adventure. You get into a mental “zone” where you just wake up, throw your foul weather gear on, go on watch, keep turning your head like an owl to look in all directions, try to think of relaxing or nice things instead of the angry ocean throwing up waves from all sides around you. You check your watch every 10 minutes to see if time is up yet, belt out every song you know how to sing, and almost get elated when your watch is finally over and you can strip off all the gear and climb into your berth again for a short attempt at

sleep. You stop thinking, you barely eat or drink, and you turn into an automaton, just doing what is required to keep afloat, to keep moving ahead and to keep alive. Only the very basic things needed can be done: watch, sleep, occasionally drink water, and even less often, eat. But then, unexpectedly, the weather changes. Your next night watch turns into a magical voyage amidst a night filled with more stars than sky. The waves formed by your boat as it slides through the water, erupt like champagne bubbles dyed with bio-lumisescence. There is the kind of peace and tranquility and heart-stopping beauty such that you cannot believe how

lucky you are to be there. There are more colours of blue in the deep ocean than one can possibly imagine. You start to forget about your sodden outer and inner wear. You begin to laugh when an unexpected wave splashes everyone who is in the cockpit. You start to get a little bit insane.

In retrospect, I still wish I did not make this particular trip. I know I get “bragging rights”, and I should be proud of that. It tested my mettle, my strength, my ability to sustain bruises and broken digits, my usual cheerfulness as well as my marriage. Yes, we got to Tahiti safely. But I would much rather have made this particular trip by plane.

First Passage to New Zealand

According to Sally:
We left Fiji, were sweltering in the heat, drenched in sweat. No wind for the first two days. Then, too much wind – gales on and off for 5 days in a row. Boat is wet wet wet. Standing is impossible without holding on with both hands as boat heels at 15 degrees and likes to roll up to 30 degrees. Winds on our nose. Waves of up to 4 meters pounding on GRACE as we try to head into them. Current trying its best to send us back to Fiji. By the end of the 9th day I was wondering what it would be like to stand up straight without holding on to anything. This was not an easy passage, but far from the worst we have had. Daily radio check-ins with s/v Sabbatical and s/v Bear made it almost fun.
According to Geoff:
As passages to New Zealand go, ours was slow and uneventful. Thirty hours of motoring in calms before a SSE wind filled-in with about a 2 meter sea. South to SSE winds held for the balance of the passage with gales at times and seas of up to 4 meters on occasion. Given the nasty weather for which this passage is famous, not bad at all. The worst thing about this trip was that we had to slow the boat to minimize pounding. So, this was the slowest passage we have yet made with GRACE taking nine days to travel about 1,100 nautical miles. For us, a fast passage is just about an essential. The day-to-day routine while offshore is not exciting and pushing the boat along at a good clip keeps things a bit more interesting while reducing passage time.

Our friend/enemy: THE WEATHER

Trip Scheduling:
For those not familiar with sailing, you can’t just decide to go someplace and then point the boat in the right direction and “go”; you have to pay close attention on a daily basis to the weather. (Which is only available via single sideband radio – and not necessarily whenever you want it). We left San Diego right at the end of the hurricane season, to avoid really rough weather on our way down the Baja Peninsula. Now, we cannot leave Mexico to go West until late March due to the risk of Tropical Cyclones in the South Pacific and the need to await the building of the South West Trade winds. While our current intention is to head West, please keep in mind that our plans may change at any step of the way. Sailors say their travel plans are “written in sand at low tide”.

You might want to know...

The parts of cruising on a sailboat that you DO want other people to see/hear:
*You really can do without most “stuff”!
*There is a majesty in the world that you miss if you move too quickly.
*There are parts of the world where wildlife is really wild and those who live on the edge are really heroes.
*We are not necessarily at the top of the food chain.
*Your profession doesn’t matter one iota while living on a boat.
*People are nice, no matter where you go.
*It is pretty easy to get along with each other all day every day.
*No matter how much you’d like to think you can control her, Mother Nature is really the one in charge.
*Almost any food tastes good on a boat.
*It is not as easy to find wireless sites or internet café’s as one might imagine.
*There is no sleep as sweet as what you get on a securely-set anchor.

You might NOT want to know...

The parts of cruising on a sailboat that you DON'T want other people to see/hear:

*How awkward it is to pee in a toilet that keeps moving underneath you, and how many times you have to pump to empty the bowl.(either 10 or 37 depending…)
*How contorted and limber one must be to actually make up the sheets in a berth.
*The skinned knuckles, and severe, very colorful bruising and lacerations which occur all-too-regularly, and which resemble the results of domestic violence.
*That a black hole exists in the bilge creating a magnetic attraction for specialized small bolts, screws and small tools.
*How much one conifer starts to look like another conifer in the Pacific NW.
*How you start to find it amusing when you discover that your drinking water seems to have little living creatures in it, and you still drink it.
*That maybe a sailboat is not the best venue to begin to learn and practice how to play the viola.
*That sometimes you actually really prefer to rely on the GPS rather than your dead-reckoning.
*How very un-appealing it is to wear seven layers of polar fleece and long underwear every single day.
*How much dog hair, despite all our best efforts, finds its way into the food.
*How much you look forward to a glass of wine or scotch at the end of a long day of sailing when the anchor is finally set.

s/v Grace -- Our Adventure

24 July 2008

WHERE IS GRACE NOW? (note that format is dd/mm/yr)

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NEW: Passage to Tahiti (our thoughts)

How to read our "blog"

First Passage to New Zealand

Pacific Crossing Musings

Our friend/enemy: THE WEATHER

You might want to know...

You might NOT want to know...

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