Lat: 19 38.117 S
Lon: 178 56.617 W

Not long after writing about light winds, the wind started to pick up off of the starboard beam, and in no time we were sailing. With the wind came dense clouds and more rain. We did a bit of bashing to windward through the night as the winds built. We dropped the main and eventually had to reef the jib as well. Our crossing of the Tropic of Capricorn (23 degrees, 26 minutes South latitude) and formal entry back into the tropics was marked by rain, confused seas, and squally weather from a small but wet low.

The GRIB data had forecasted that we would start to enjoy more traditional tradewind sailing at about 22 degrees latitude, and yesterday morning the sun came up over mostly clear skies and a light SSE breeze was blowing from astern. After rigging the spinnaker sheets and then untangling the twisted sheets after the spinnaker was hoisted, we finally got the spinnaker set nicely for the first time in months and enjoyed an incredibly beautiful day of clear, sunny weather and downwind sailing. I was able to get several projects done, including finishing off the outboard recovery (I hope), and there was plenty of time for showers, drying out the boat, and lounging on deck in the gentle breeze. It wasn’t our fastest day, but we weren’t motoring and it was by far the most pleasant.

Always a beautiful sight

Lauren & Shiroma decided to try a new shower approach — holding onto the swim ladder while underway and dunking themselves in the ocean then climbing back onto the transom for lathering up. Lauren took her shower in about 2.5 knots of current and found it pretty strong. By time it was Shiroma’s turn we were doing about 3.5 knots and the force of the water rushing by the boat was too much for her to fully submerge and still be confident of being able to hold on and pull herself back on board, so she only got a partial dunking. I opted for a bucket on the transom. For some reason, we thought that we’d better buy tons of soap to take along before leaving the US. I can assure you that soap is readily available everywhere we’ve been, but we still have half a dozen bars or so of Zest. I’m not sure if it’s the brand or type of soap or just soap in general, but it won’t lather in salt water so we end up using shampoo as body wash for salt water bathing.

Oh yeah

I hate to ramble about sunset after doing it last blog and just spending a paragraph on showering, but it was really incredible last night. After the sun was completely below the horizon, you could look forward from the port side of the boat and see an orange glow near the horizon that faded into a beautiful dark blue and then into black as the brighter stars shone brightly overhead. The spinnaker was set nicely off the port bow to the right, with the moon just to the left a glowing a clear, bright white over a quarter of it’s surface and showing a pale white over the unlit three quarters. To the left of the moon and a bit lower in the sky, near where the sun had gone down, Venus was brilliant yellowish beacon against the darkening blue portion of the sky.

A brilliant night

This morning we had another wind change (I love it when it waits until morning instead of changing at 3 am). This time the wind was stronger and on the beam, so Ash and I dropped the spinnaker and set the main and jib. The non-sailors can skip this next part, but it ended up being a pretty good sequence, much better than our current level of practice would suggest. We first raised the jib with the spinnaker still up, blanketing it a bit to reduce the amount of wind it was getting while still sailing on the jib, then eased the leeward sheet, pulled the sock down, and lowered the whole thing into the leeward trampoline without a single hitch, which is not something that can be said for every spinnaker adventure. We used another trick to raise the main and avoid having to turn the engine on and motor into the wind. By sheeting the jib in all the way and easing the main out all the way to the edge of the traveller, we were able to sail close-hauled on the jib while the main, pointed directly into the wind, luffed and raised easily. We then fell off, and set the sails for a course10-12 miles east of the Great Astrolabe Reef. We’d managed to change sails without starting the engine or disturbing the autopilot — not much of an accomplishment for the real salty types, but good for us for our second morning back in the trades.

We’re now less than 100nm from Suva and plan to be hailing port control to enter the harbor at dawn. With any luck, we’ll be able to finish clearance tomorrow morning and enjoy the long anticipated landfall by afternoon.

Lat: 24 11.380′ S
Lon: 179 39.244′ W

After an unexpectedly good day of sailing on our first day out from Raoul, we’ve encountered the light winds we anticipated. We spent most of the second day motoring or motorsailing. Things were calm enough that Shiroma was feeling well, everyone was able to relax, and I was able to spend some time working on the outboard. I removed the carburetor, drained the sea water from it and then totally disassembled, cleaned, and reassembled it. By doing it in steps, I was able to get it back together with no “extra” or lost parts. After reinstalling it, I was able to start and run the outboard for a few seconds, so that’s good news. The carb does leak now and the choke is stuck, but those problems should be pretty easy to fix once we have another spell of good weather.

The night before last, we finally got some good wind, but it was more or less on the nose, forcing us to sail off course and pound into confused seas. While it was a bit uncomfortable, at least we were able to make some progress with the engines off. We spent much of yesterday surrounded by squalls, but didn’t actually get too much rain. The wind moved from the north to the west and lightened until eventually we were barely making 2.5 knots with the sails slapping and banging. Eventually we gave in and started an engine again. We’re now surrounded by more squalls and getting a bit of rain. I think we’re all dreaming of sunny days as we slowly make our way north.

Having just come from New Zealand, we have a reasonably good stock of supplies, and Lauren, Ash, and Shiroma have been using it to cook up some really great meals. The other night Ash made a delicious shepherd’s pie and last night Lauren topped our homemade burrito shells with pasta sauce, mushroom, cheese, asparagus, pineapple, green olives, and chicken to make some delicious Italian-style pizzas in a skillet.

Pizza!!

There hasn’t been much to see at sea aside from the Kermadecs, but we did have a good sighting the other day. Mahi mahi (aka Dorado, dolphin) are known to hang out around objects that are floating in the water. Once we had one check out the boat on a Pacific passage when we were drifting. We were all on deck when a good sized log floated by off to starboard. We didn’t have a line in the water, but I was about to open my mouth and say that it would be a good time to find a mahi mahi when one 2-3 feet long shot out of the water near the log and made an arc about 3 feet high in a jump to escape a predator below or the perceived threat of our boat passing nearby.

With all the cloudy weather of late, sunrises and sunsets haven’t been much to look at, but last night was an exception. The sky had slowly started to clear throughout the day, especially to the west, leaving a partly cloudy sky with a healthy scattering of cirrus and cumulus clouds in the direction of the sunset. As the sun neared the horizon, it became a glowing orange. The clouds near the horizon were intense shades of orange, and the many breaks among the clouds allowed the light to shine through and reflect off of clouds much higher in the sky so that even clouds that were almost overhead were glowing in almost transparent shades of bright pink, yellow, and orange. Very nice.

The photo almost does it justice

Lat: 27 17 57
Long: 178 38 50

After four days of being stuck on the boat in the Kermadecs without the possibility of going ashore (the NZ Department of Conservation is very strict about this), we were all getting restless to the point of craziness. It didn’t help that the sun never came out, and with winds gusting to ~60 knots each night from all directions, we were on shifts all night long to assure ourselves that our anchor wasn’t dragging toward the volcanic cliffs. Even so, we got enough sleep to have energy to burn during the day and had to find something to do with it. Beyond the boat maintenance and repairs that Dallas discussed, we ended up doing some cleaning (apparently vinegar works really well to break down salt and mildew), lots of cooking (mmmm, pumpkin bread), a bit of dancing in the cockpit to Ash’s eclectic playlist of highlights from the last two decades (OK, that was just me), and a bit of explaining lyrics from the songs to Shiroma, who just started speaking fluent English 7 months ago while in NZ (very impressive!).

One of the best uses of restless energy for Shiroma and I was taking a bath in the sea in the midst of winds strong enough to flip over the dinghy and dislodge the solar panels. The water temperature was just right, and we just had to hang on to the swim ladder so that we wouldn’t get carried out to sea! Shiroma thought it was especially funny that I decided to shave….”you took your shaver into a hurricane?!” Why not?

Thursday morning we awoke to a sunny, blue sky and calm seas (finally!). The anchor pulled up without too much difficulty considering how dug in it must have been, and we were out of the bay by 7 a.m.. Raul Island looked especially gorgeous as we were leaving, and the large dolphins and sea birds that had welcomed us in came back to see us off.

Good bye Kermadecs!

We were surprised at the size of the dolphins

We weren’t expecting any wind but ended up able to sail along the rhumb line most of the day. We’ve had the bimini rolled up since we almost lost it in the wind, and sitting alone in the cockpit under blue skies with wispy white clouds, surrounded by calm but undulating seas, I decided that sailing is not the worst way to travel after all!

Today (Friday) is overcast and the wind has virtually died, so we are motoring, but we are moving forward. Shiroma hasn’t been too queasy since leaving the Kermadecs and has started doing night watches, which is really good for her morale. She and Ash seem to have called a truce for the moment, but I have a feeling that both of them will be leaping to the dock to get a break from the boat and each other when we get to Fiji. Only 580 miles to go…

Lat: 29 15.968′ S
Lon: 177 56.923′ W

The front that we were trying to weather here in Denham Bay finally arrived with lots of rain and wind. Our anchor has held well, but it’s been a long few days. Yesterday in particular was one that we won’t forget anytime soon.

My anchor watch started about 5am. After a night of intense rain, the dinghy was full of water, so after breakfast, Ash bailed it out, and I jumped in to work on the outboard engine a bit. It wasn’t running well at all and there was a leak in the fuel line on the fuel bulb output, so I drained the fuel and the seawater that had washed into the line, replaced the crimp clamp on the bulb with a good hose clamp, and started it up again. The leak was fixed and it seemed to run better, but we probably need some fresh fuel and a little work with the throttle (more to come with the outboard). This was also in preparation for taking the engine off the dinghy and stowing it so that it wouldn’t be damaged by the strong gusts of wind off of the mountains.

While back on board discussing the dinghy engine improvement, and getting ready to hoist it aboard, a particularly strong and sustained gust of wind blew over the boat and lifted the solar panels from their horizontal position, where they were attached on one side, to a vertical position and held them there. The gust must have been over 50 knots, and it held them there for a couple of seconds. I stared at them for a second or two and then jumped up to brace them before they crashed down, but it was too late and they crashed back down, splitting the frames apart at the corners. We managed to take them off during a lull in the wind and started repairs immediately in the drizzle. I have a suitable piece of right angle aluminum on board and we started hack-sawing pieces to reinforce the corners.

Hacking away

The gusts kept coming with incredible strength. The stronger ones would lift the water off of the choppy whitecaps and blow a white cloud of spray across the water and then up into the air as a cloud of mist that was often over 100 feet high. We were in the middle of solar panel repairs when another ferocious gust caught the dinghy and capsized it as it was tied behind the boat. The oars and fuel tank were floating in the chop and the outboard was nowhere to be seen. I was working in swimming trunks and a foul weather jacket, so I quickly tossed off the jacket and jumped in to grab the oars and fuel jug. With them stowed on board, we started the job of getting the dinghy flipped back upright. We could then see that the outboard was still firmly attached to the transom, but fully submerged of course. Once the dinghy was flipped back upright, we finished the job that was interrupted by the solar panel incident, hoisting the outboard onto its mount. We stowed the bimini to avoid ripping or damaging it in the gusts and then had an hour or so to work on the outboard as the sun was setting, rinsing it with fresh water, draining the water from the cylinders and generally starting the process of trying to recover it.

We were tired and a little down when we sat down for a dinner in the dark and windy evening. We’d barely started eating when an unmistakable sound started — hail. Pea sized hail was raining down on the boat as lightning flashed nearby. I pulled a jacket over my head and went out to cover the chartplotter. We could only laugh. What a day.

Damage control with a smile

Last night the wind blew strong a lot of the night, with sustained speeds as strong as the earlier gusts. We were so busy yesterday that we didn’t notice that the anchor bridle had tangled itself with the chain while the boat was moving about at anchor the night before. The movement is pretty strange. Gusts come from almost any direction, although they seem to come from a couple of dominant directions over any given period. In the calms between the gusts, the boat starts to set to the tide or current and often in a completely different direction from the wind. When the next gust comes, the boat is quickly pushed over the water until the anchor chain pulls tight against the bridle and the boat turns into the wind. I was concerned that the chain being tangled in the bridle would chafe through in the night, but we sorted it out this morning and it was in pretty good shape. We slowly drag a little with the strong, shifting winds, but not nearly enough to be concerned about in the large, empty bay.

We’d definitely rather be on our way to Fiji, but there’s also a nasty low that is going to be sitting right in our path in a few days. For now we’re trying to finish up repairs in the less rainy spells and get to the point that we’re just waiting on weather.

Lat: 29 15.591′ S
Lon: 177 57.388′ W

Every couple of days, we post a blog and get a weather update via our satellite phone. When we posted the last blog, and took a look at the weather, it didn’t look good. After 4 days of great sailing, our weather window was closing and we were due for some strong and/or contrary winds for several days. Fortunately, by making our easting near the Kermadec Islands, we had an opportunity to stop at the Kermadecs and wait for a better window to finish the passage to Fiji. We all agreed that even though the anchorages aren’t great, visiting a rare and remote location would be better than bashing to windward, so we motor-sailed to maintain our speed and get into Raoul Island before sunset.

Along the way, the weather was nice enough that we spent a lot of time on deck and were treated to a large pod of whales off to starboard as we sailed along the Kermadec Ridge. They were a bit too far off to identify the species, but their large, repeated blows stayed with us half an hour or so. We estimated that there were at least 10-20 and the occasional glimpses of their large grey bodies that we got through the binoculars were pretty impressive.

We radioed ahead to Raoul Island and they provided some advice on an anchoring location that agreed with our review of the chart — Denham Bay, a large bay with dangerous breaking surf along a mile-long beach should provide the best opportunity for protection from the north and east. As we sailed into the bay, which is the caldera of an old volcano, the water depth decreased to several hundred feet and we were joined by a pod of dolphins. They looked to be common dolphins and a couple were quite large. We were already happy to be taking a short break, but the large, playful dolphins added to the good spirits.

Approaching Raoul Island

Like many volcanic islands, Raoul Island is rugged and beautiful. Denham Bay is deceptively large. It doesn’t seem so large with the large cliffs that partially encircle it and the long, wide beach made of volcanic sand. There’s a rather large, rusted shipwreck on the beach that in context seems to be a rather small feature. We were getting ready to drop anchor in about 30 feet of water when we noticed a small figure on the beach that looked like it might be a person (or a turkey, according to Ash). A look through the binoculars confirmed that it was a person. After setting anchor, we radioed ashore and the figure on the beach answered. His name was Mike and he accepted our dinner invitation, so Ash and I readied the dinghy and paddled toward the shore to pick him up.

Even though weather was relatively calm, there was a large swell running from the ESE whose remnants wrapped around the point a bit and crashed on the beach. To avoid landing the dinghy, Mike swam out from the shore and climbed into the dinghy for the long paddle back to the boat. Lauren treated us all to delightful pasta and salad while Mike told us a bit about the island. It has a long and interesting history, but is now a nature and marine reserve with very strict rules. Without a permit, which we of course don’t have, it won’t be possible to land on the island. There are eight people on the island, four full-time staff that do a one year tour and four volunteers that are here for 6 months. Resupply by ship is typically at 6 month intervals. The work on the island is pretty varied. There is a weather station on the base where daily weather balloons have been launched since 1940, and much of the work now relates to freeing the island of non-native weeds (including rappelling down cliffs to pull out non-native vines). The island is still an active volcano which is carefully monitored after an unexpected death in the caldera in 2006. In general, it sounds like the accommodations and supplies are pretty good, but it is a bit of a solitary outpost. It is a pretty impressive and professional operation given the small staff size.

Getting to know Mike from the DOC

We thoroughly enjoyed our visit with Mike and wish him the best during the rest of his stay on the island. This morning we picked him up from the beach again to sign the guestbook and he brought us a nice gift of citrus fruit (saved from scurvy for another week).

Thanks to Tim as well for helping us out with the chartplotter problem. He contacted Raymarine and e-mailed us a fix that worked, so we’re pretty much all sorted except for the engine starting batteries, which will need to be replaced in Fiji.

The wind off the cliffs is strong here, so we’ll most likely be on anchor watch some nights until the weather is good for leaving. The water is really warm and clear, so we’re hoping for a swim during our stay. We do have to be a bit careful, as the island is well-known for having a lot of sharks and a couple were swimming under the boat within minutes of anchoring. Most are a bit curious but harmless and the guys here surf with them in plain sight under and around their boards.