s/v Grace -- Our Adventure: IDYLLIC ISLAND ADVENTURES

16 August 2014

IDYLLIC ISLAND ADVENTURES

ADVENTURES IN PARADISE

Yes, this really is paradise!

This is THE stuff that people dream of and write about. The Tuatmotu Archipelago is made of up atolls with miles of empty sandy or coral beaches fringed with palm trees, warm sun softened by constant tropical breezes. Aquamarine water so clear that you can see 15 meters to the sand and coral below. Fish with colors to astonish and amaze. Sharks so blasé that you don’t really mind swimming with them as neighbors. Ashore there is every kind of tropical flower. People, when you actually see any, are courteous and always smile and wave or nod to say hello, and they are gorgeous too. Not just the young “vahine" with skin that looks so soft it could have been burnished with 1000 grit sandpaper, but also the men, often shirtless and muscular and brimming with good health.

Entering the lagoon at the South End of Fakarava was like passing through the gates of heaven — however, in this case, the path is perpetually strewn with coral and coral heads, making GRACE dance on tiptoes to be sure to avoid snagging any. We swam and snorkeled and explored and marveled at each sunrise and sunset being more spectacular than the one that preceded. At night, the Milky Way was a crowded highway indeed. Shooting stars just added to the experience.

Sea urchins did their best to work their way under our feet and fish and sharks were just a meter or so away from us. All they served us was fish, made three different ways. It seemed a bit unfeeling of us to sit amongst the fish and eat their brethren. With wet and salty ankles we eventually found our way back to the dinghy and then, in the dark back to GRACE.

Most boats cut straight through the lagoon in Fakarava and head straight for the North end in one day. We opted to go up the atoll hugging the Eastern shore. This was a memorable sight as motus (islets) formed a chain hung together with coral reef and forming the atoll of Fakarava. We dropped the anchor in pure sand in one bay about halfway up and were in a world by ourselves: our own beach, our own coral reef to explore.

We made it to the North of Fakarava the night before the weekly cargo ship arrived. What a sight. Every single soul on the island went to meet the boat and claim their shipment of everything from food to fuel to toilet paper. We went ashore and found the local store and were able to score some fresh vegetables and, of course, our ration of baguettes.

We then sailed through the northern pass of Fakarava, a bit like going through the tide rips in British Columbia or The Race at the East end of Long Island Sound, and once we were through, headed up to the mostly uninhabited atoll of Toau.

This atoll is now one of Sally’s favorite spots in the world. We spent alot of time in the water here and saw every kind of fish imaginable. We rode the tide through the pass, explored ashore and in the water. Strong winds kept the batteries topped up, so that was an extra bonus.

Our next stop was Apataki. Here, the village is in the lagoon just inside the pass and was picturesque built on motus and forming miniature thatched roofed Venice. The passage across the atoll was one where an eagle eye was required, as there are plenty of big hunks of coral, many not charted, as well as pearl farming buoys pockmarking the lagoon. Our favorite spot was an anchorage in the stunning uninhabited NE.

We did not see another boat nor human for 10 miles. We had an idyllic spot, all to ourselves. Ashore, saw more reef sharks, and had one of the best sunsets ever across the lagoon.

Our final stop in the Tuamotus was in Rangiroa. Our friend Dan had recommended several places to visit and we are very glad we heeded his advice. We traveled to the SE of the atoll and again, were totally alone and had only sharks, fish, birds, palm trees and sand to keep us company. Here we explored the “Haos” or lagoons between the fringing reef of the atoll and the small strip of land.

A really fast sail back to Papeete, 173 miles in 24 hours, and we were back to “civilization” — much to our consternation. However it was worthwhile as we were there to pick up our son Chris who flew in for a week’s visit.

We spent some time snorkeling and exploring Moorea with Chris and then did an overnight sail to Huahine, which we had enjoyed visiting 6 years ago. We were able to also visit Ta’haa and Raiatea with Chris. In one short week we ate many kinds of tropical fruit, a few more baguettes, downed a few “Hinano” Beers, visited vanilla and pineapple plantations, a pearl farm, saw waterfalls, and had an introduction to the useful properties of the botanicals here. It was beyond wonderful to have our son aboard. He was great fun, a big help with the sailing and day-to-day life aboard, and we already miss him. We look forward to Jessica and our son Peter's visit in a few weeks.

What a life!

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

16 August 2014

IDYLLIC ISLAND ADVENTURES

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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