We had been held hostage in Palau by the US Postal Service for too long, despite not receiving our package – a new inverter, our visa stamps told us it was time to go. After indulging in a huge variety of western foods, loads of spectacular diving and getting to know the cruisers who had washed ashore here and might never leave, we packed our clean washing, bid a hearty farewell to Sam's Tours and the Royal Belau Yacht Club and headed for the east passage.
Contrary to the weather forecasts that we were reading before leaving Palau, we were rocketing south and east and within 2 days we were being treated like royalty by the sea and enjoying the 2 kt east setting current at 40 degrees longitude. Combine this counter current (so named because it runs opposite to the predominant current which sets slowly with the west bound trade winds) with 15-20kts of westerly winds and we were making an amazing 160nm a day which helped lift our spirits on this 2000nm journey to the Solomon Islands. The trip was not without its perils though; we were sailing through a low-pressure system that was forming into a tropical low further north. This meant that we were experiencing lots of squalls, some that we could see forming hours in advance and others that had the rigging singing before we know what was upon us. Most packed some hefty winds of up to 35kts, with rain and then they whipped up the seas often creating some mighty uncomfortable swell conditions. We used the wind vane steering feature on our auto pilot which made for some seriously lazy sailing, as our rudder would turn the boat when the wind shifted (which was extremely often and up to 1800 in the squally conditions) so we didn't have to continually gybe, which was handy when only one of us was on watch.
We spent the first few days getting into some sort of rhythm, with our 3 hour rotating shifts. It was certainly hard to wake up at 4am in a squall to take the helm. But there were bright features like the unspoilt sunrises, light glimmering on the horizon for the first time and spreading a pink blush with each minute that passed. We also had 'Ginger Beard' pay us a visit – a small brown finch with a burnt orange chest that sat on our jib block 400nm from the nearest land to have a snooze. He didn't like it much when I went to pat him and gave me a little nip on the finger. But we talked of the weather and philosophy together nonetheless. He bemoaned the strong westerly wind that kept him from traveling in that direction and I explained the synoptic chart. He nodded and chirped along. And it was a balm to a lonely soul to have such a visitor on those long solo shifts. These sea birds are such amazing creatures. To be able to survive that far from land when they were obviously not sea hunting birds and could not gain nourishment from diving for and eating fish.
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| The sky ablaze for a spectacular sunset |
At 2am on day 5 the heavens opened and sent a torrent of rain that would have had Noah running for his raincoat and gumboots. The rain turned our deck into a swimming pool, ably caught to fill our water tanks. The 6 hour long deluge ended and took with it our spirits and the wind. But as the grey day emerged we saw that we had chipped away at our total passage distance by almost one third.
Day 6 marked the end of our fresh beef stores, we had been spoiling ourselves with beef stews, curries and stroganoff, the memory of Palau lingering. The morning was wet and windy, and spirits may have been dark indeed if not for a visit by Ginger Beard and his girlfriend Red. They snuggled on the captain's seat and got some shuteye after their long journey. After their rest they were quite sociable and we had pats and they sat on my finger. Quite sweet really.
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| Ginger beard, docile and enjoying a back scratch |
Through the driving rain I could see a pod of dolphins having a right party in our bow wave and the swell. I imagine they did not want to pop their noses out of the ocean for too long, otherwise they might get a cold from the rain. The sea temperature was 29C, while the rain and wind made for a nippy time out of our nice protected cockpit.
Conditions? Well we had some reasonable swell, up to 3m and buffeting us from any which angle. It made for an uncomfortable trip and had me slinking into corners with a green tinge taking notable shape on my face. Hugh's long hours of studying the historical weather patterns and daily viewing of the counter current location on the US NOAA (National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration) website had really paid its dues. Averaging 6 kts of boat speed plus 2-3kts of favourable current meant that we were getting through the long isolated ocean part of the journey at pace. The wind was always blowing, at between 10-20kts, but the direction varied almost by the minute. Relying on our wind vane steering made life a bit easier.
Day 8 saw the end of the low pressure system and therefore the strong winds. The wind was being extremely temperamental and only routing near squally storms could we gain some wind to propel us forward. The wind was so light and variable that the sails would flap and the boom would bang, while the chop from the swell would roll the boat from side to side. The easing up of the wind did not correlate to a more comfortable ride. So using the motor we would make some distance and sail when the wind decided to join us. We were also slowly making a bit of southerly heading and were approaching the unattractive equator and its notoriously hot and wind-free conditions.
A few fish caught made for some lovely fresh dinners and I managed to stay below long enough to cook a cake one day which we gobbled up with custard and canned peaches. Meal times were definitely a punctuation point in the day and something to look forward to. Unfortunately while attempting to make little Spanish mackerel crumbed nuggets my hand got splashed by some jumping boiling oil and I spent the next few hours in the cockpit with an ice pack on my hand, thankfully barely a mark was there within a couple of days.
So what did we do to pass the time? Well, I was engrossed in the Harry Potter series on audio, while Hugh was lost in the 18th Century aboard some historical ships while listening to the Patrick O'Brian nautical series on audio as well. He would wander about the boat and make random ye olde English sayings, raising top-gallant sails and accusing me of being a (land) lubber at times when a sheet was not pulled just so. The start of the sail was too rough to do anything more taxing than listen to music or books. As the time wore on I was able to spend more time below making some tasty meals. 5pm marked the daily 'sundowners' event, which for me consisted of soda and cordial, while Hugh had a cold beer. With the sun down, it was time for our daily emails via the HF. So I stayed up top and steered while Hugh patiently worked the propagation on the radio to try and get a signal so we could receive weather and other inspiring messages from land folk. Hughs sister was sending us daily quirky and funny quotes from English literature from yesteryear which was always a great read.
On day 10 we bid the counter current adieu as it began to sweep northeast, weakening before disappearing below the surface entirely. Unfortunately our daily miles had dropped significantly to around the 100nm mark. The wind was still being fluky, but we were strategically planning our proposed arrival at Kapingamarangi Atoll, 250nm from the nearest atoll and 400nm from its mother-state island of Pohnpei (part of the Federate States of Micronesia), to ensure that we arrived at the best time of the day to make the tricky reef entry without incident. The atoll is a roughly squashed circular shape, an encircled lagoon ringed by reef with spotted sand bars located 1.5m above the high tide mark. We had some pretty poor information about the place and our maps left a lot to be desired.
The full moon and a spring tide would make for ideal entry conditions to the lagoon and on Day 12 we were 25nm away at 7am. It was a steady sail north to the atoll and we were getting very excited and apprehensive about our intended stopping point. We did not know if the locals were friendly (and were hoping not to have the 'welcoming' given to some Spanish explorers to the region – where they were all killed) or even if our boat would be able to cross the reef entry. But we thought we ought to give it a shot and visit one of the most isolated places on earth. Land-ho! It crept from below the horizon 8nm away; tall, dense groupings of trees, our anticipation mounting. Once we got closer we were faced with a long line of breaking waves over a shallow reef boundary (enough to give a sailor a nervous twitch). But then we spotted the channel, a route through the coral boundary that had been blasted to allow the entry of the tri-yearly cargo ship. Some nervous moments and we had made it through the channel, we were in the lagoon!
1200nm, 12 days at sea and this was our first sighting of land. Paradise found!
10/9/2014
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