Author: Scott
As I sit here writing this journal entry it is around 1400 local time, the sun is scorching down on us, and we are making a little over one knot of boat speed. I just asked out of nowhere where the ice cream was. Pam looked at me as though I was from Mars but now we can’t get the idea out of our heads. Pam will have the chocolate chip and I will have my old La Paz standby of coconut and chocolate please. How is it possible that we are traveling so slowly today when this entire trip has been such a wild high speed whirlwind?
Early yesterday morning we made the decision to “go for it”! We had originally planned to skirt the entire Tuomoto island group because of the many low atolls. Atolls are formed when volcanic activity that has produced an island or dome ceases and very slowly erosion breaks down the island structure back down to the sea. This process takes so long to occur that while the island thrives, above the surface reefs made from millions of sea creatures including coral polyps build to surround the island. As the island continues to decay and sink under the surface it leaves a lagoon in the middle of the reefs that had surrounded the island. This sometimes complete and often partial ring that is left behind is an island atoll. These atolls are often covered with rich soil and make a perfect home for the growth of the coconut palm tree. To a sighted sailor, waves crashing on the low lying reefs of the atoll and coconut trees rising out of the ocean are often the only signs to indicate they are approaching an atoll island, and neither of these visual signs are visible to us. Therefore, we are very cautions of atolls. After carefully assessing the charts and talking to cruisers in Nuku Hiva, I learned there was a twenty mile channel between the island atolls of Rangiroa and Arutua that would literally serve as a clear path through the center of the Tuamotu group and save us at least a day at sea and provide far superior winds on our way to Tahiti. Twenty miles sounds like a lot but when you are legally blind, have no local knowledge, and only hare charts and a few cruising guides to help direct your decision, you don’t make any decision lightly. Another factor to consider was the very limited use of our radar while we are on such a power budget due to our sick engine. On the positive side we have a great GPS plotter, and we could use our engine if it was absolutely necessary to continuously use radar or to avoid anything if we got too close. Taking all of this into consideration we decided it would be safe to take the twenty mile pass. The wind was blowing near twenty knots and we were sailing a close hulled under a single reefed main with our gennoa reefed down to about 60%. Almost immediately we started to wonder if we could endure the barrage of noises and pounding that would be necessary to navigate the pass up wind. I fell off the wind slightly after an hour and this minimized the noises and ruckus caused from beating into the wind. Most of the trip was sailed well over six knots with almost constant vigilance given to the GPS. The result was a perfect sail through the Tuamotu Archipelago under a blazing full moon without even a single tack needed to shoot the channel. We were thrilled. Even though this might be only a minor navigational accomplishment for most sailors, for us it was nail biting triumph. When and if we sail to Tonga or Fiji, our challenges will be far greater and require rock solid navigation, but for us our trip through the Tuamotus was a great confidence builder.
To crown our victory or maybe it was to quell our ego a bit Neptune then threw out our most challenging weather to date. As we came tearing through the pass our pace continued into morning. As dawn broke the surrounding clouds massed behind us in huge heaps of dreary murk, our boat speed increased with the signs usually associated with a squall, but this was no squall coming. We were already sailing under a conservative sail plan and did not feel a sail change would be necessary. Soon we were enveloped in rain, wind, and spookiness of all, large waves that were hammering against the port bow. We had checked the weather the prior day using software that allows us to see both a weather chart and gives us a textual weather report, and though I saw a stationary front, I saw nothing to indicate what we were currently having dished out to us. We had the good sense to move the computer from the nav station but since we had never had a good swamping we still left a number of other items sitting out in the open. Before we knew it we had waves breaking over the cap rails, and finally over the dog house and we had to close up our companionway with our hatch boards due to weather for the first time ever. A large wave hit on the port side and caused the wind vane to jibe the boat, which was mercifully minimized with our boom brake, but it was time to let Hans take a break and I suited up in PFD, tether, and harness to brave the wind and rain. No sooner had I come on deck and taken over the steering than we got our biggest swamping ever. A wall of warm green water hit me above the head and crashed down into the cockpit sending me sprawling forward. I managed to catch on the combing on the opposite side of the cockpit, and the emotion my body chose to serve up to handle this experience was a cackle. It hit me that I was both a little scared and having the time of my life at the same instant. Thank goodness for my tether. The next thirty minutes spent at the wheel felt like two hours with wave after wave breaking on the boat and water either sloshing in the cockpit or showering down over the dodger. Pam was down below providing water triage to the soaked interior of Tournesol. Eventually the weather subsided to a fresh and steady breeze and I was able to relinquish control back to the wind vane. Just prior to arrival of the storm, I had made a cup of tea that I was not able to bring outside with me. As I reentered the cabin I was treated to my warm and soothing drink that I had no way of knowing while I prepared it, just how wonderful it would eventually be.
The remainder of the day was spent under cloudy skies insulting our need to charge our batteries with our solar panels. I made an early dinner of clam chowder while Pam read out loud. When dinner and dishes were complete I headed to bed early, exhausted from our triumph of the Tuamotus and our stormy morning.
So here I am today at the computer amazed at how fickle the weather can be. All day it has been hot with teasingly little wind and flat seas. There is a bug shower in today’s future, though the name bug shower now creeps me out a little with Pam’s visit from our I’m sure one and only friend the other day. If anything our bug visitor has made us even more fanatical about keeping Tournesol clean, even if our friend originated as hitchhiker on a piece of fruit from Nuku Hiva. So I will sign off now with only 60 miles to go and hoping our next Journal entry will be from the exciting and unknown to us port of Pepeete Tahita.
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