Tag: sailing

The Final Push Home

Imagine this – you are riding a wild bucking bronco, in your beloved home, on a steep incline and you are told to cling onto the saddle for four days, holding your best china in one hand, without breaking anything.  Now add to the mix the need to prepare food, wash and perform other duties without falling off the horse!   That’s what it felt like for us on the passage to NZ.   It all started quite differently……

We left Fiji early in beautiful sunshine with very little wind having prepared three days of meals, completed all the necessary pre-arrival requirements for NZ and carefully stowed things away for the anticipated nine-day passage.   Our weather router, John, sent us a synopsis of the weather we could expect for the next couple of days and provided us with lat/long co-ordinates for points we should try to aim for based on the forecast wind direction.   Each morning we were to send John our updated position via email, with details of the conditions we were experiencing, and he would then confirm our new waypoint or tell us how we were tracking and what weather we could expect over the next 24hrs.  It was a service we were glad to have bought, as John was able to predict windshifts and strength before some of the weather models had updated their data.  Also as a fellow sailor who regular sails between Fiji and NZ, John was a great knowledge bank we could draw on.

As soon as we were through the reef which borders Fiji’s main island of Vitu Levu, we were in the wind and heading for the first waypoint.   Our friends on SV Diva, Chris and Jenn, were following us but we had no doubt they would soon overtake us in their beautiful 60ft Deerfoot yacht.  This proved to be the case as the wind turned as we arrived at our first waypoint 24hrs later and they slid past us making the most of the gentle breeze and flat seas.   For the next few days, we remained within 10nm of each other, talking on VHF even when we couldn’t see each other on AIS and it felt comforting knowing another boat was close by if either of us needed help. 

Over the first few days we had to motor as the wind was fickle with the constant swell taking any wind that was in the sails and we soon grew tired of the constant banging of the main and jib as it filled and then was emptied again!   The weather was still warm, and we took it in turns to keep a watch out for any other boats or dark ominous clouds on the horizon, making the most of any wind that appeared and turning the engine off as quickly as we could.   The wind was always in front of us on our port side so, when the wind increased, we had to get used to living on a permanent lean! 

Each night we participated in a SSB (Single Side Band) Net run by Gulf Harbour Radio.  Patricia and David provide a nightly monitoring and communication service, free of charge, for any boats heading to NZ, Australia or anywhere in the Pacific.   They are fellow sailors who love to pass and receive information to help other sailors on passage.  It is a fabulous service, run from their home in Gulf Harbour with Patricia offering encouraging comments and taking position reports while David comments on weather.   Each night we were able to follow other yachts’ journey and get information from those not far ahead of us regarding the conditions they were experiencing so we could understand what we may expect as we approached their location.  

By the fourth day we were starting to head south west towards our third waypoint provided by John in strong winds and short sharp seas.  As I look back at the emails I sent and comments on the nightly Net, I was getting increasingly concerned about how far west we were heading.  At one point it looked like Australia was a more viable option than NZ as the south east winds continued to batter us.   In addition to the winds increasing, the waves were also building as we bashed into them on a continuous seesaw.  So now we were not only dealing with healing over, but we were also having to contend with the boat bashing into 3m swell every couple of seconds making the boat, and us, shudder each time we slammed down on a wave.   I needn’t tell you how unpleasant and concerning it was as we remembered a number of friends and fellow cruisers who had experienced rig issues recently!  

The weather was getting considerably cooler and in the evenings we wrapped up in warm clothes, woolly hat and a blanket to keep watch under dark, moonless skies while the one off watch snuggled under a duvet in our aft cabin.  Two of the features we love about Cerulean really came into play on this passage – our lovely cabin in the back of the boat and our deck saloon which meant we could stay warm and dry below when the weather turned for the worse.  Having our comfortable bed in the back of the boat meant we slept really well without the noise and bouncing at the front of the boat as Cerulean slammed down on a wave.  

On day eight, as if by magic, just as we were approaching the waypoint provided by our weather router, the wind turned more east, so we were able to start turning towards NZ.  With the change in wind direction came squalls and we contented with 30knot gusts right on the nose which, believe me, is not pleasant!   Steve had been feeling unwell for a few days and had developed a nasty cough and runny nose.  He was slowly starting to feel better when we noticed that the two strops that hold the bottom of our jib furler in place, had become loose and there was no alternative but to go forward and repair it.  With the boat crashing down on building winds we stopped the boat by heaving-to and letting Cerulean sit side on to the wind with the main sail filled but the jib backed.   Steve edged forward and worked stoically under huge pressure and in the worst conditions while feeling unwell.   He once again saved the day, and we were soon back sailing again.

The wind started to die at midnight on the eighth day and the calm and quiet of the boat moving through the water at 6knots was fabulous after the craziness of the last few days, however with the drop in wind, the direction had also changed so we were no longer heading east and, if we continued on this course we would now be heading down the west coast of the North Island!  However, the wind died a lot faster than we had anticipated so by 4am we were motoring, and this is when the advantage of having an aft cabin is cancelled out!  The noise from the engine is loud and trying to sleep with the constant drone of the motor and whirl of the prop is a challenge.  Our forward berth was filled with stowed items, so it was currently not an option to decamp to an alternative cabin.  We still had just over 200nm to get to Opua and this meant almost two full days of motoring, so our hope now was that, instead of just a few hours earlier when we hoped the wind would abate, we now wanted to have some more wind as we can usually sail faster than motor!   To make matters worse, as the sun came up, so did the waves so now the gentle rocking had become more intense as we continued our journey closer to land. 

By mid-morning we were sailing again heading south east at a sedate but comfortable speed until the wind died in the late afternoon and on came the iron sail again!   We motored throughout the night in a glassy sea, where the millions of stars were reflected in the water we cut through.   It was a magical last night at sea after a challenging passage, even if the motor was on.  

The wind increased a little during the day but not enough to turn off the engine while still maintaining speed to ensure we arrived in Opua in daylight.   We motor sailed, enjoying good speed, and cleared Cape Wiwiki on Purerua Peninsula and passed the historic town of Russell making 7knots under full jib, charging towards Opua in fading light.    As we furled the jib and continued motoring towards the dock, we heard a “Whoop Whoop” and cheering from the shore.   Steve and I were both surprised and over-joyed to see Steve’s mum and sister, rugged up against the chilly wind, standing on the bank close to the marina, waving furiously as we chugged by on our way to the quarantine dock.   Sadly we were unable to hug them as the quarantine dock is separated from the mainland and we had to remain there until check-in formalities were complete, which would start in the morning.

We had arrived.   Over 20,000nm under our keel, 37 countries visited and a lifetime of memories created.  As we stepped onto New Zealand soil for the first time, a huge sense of achievement and emotion overwhelmed us.    This marked the end of an almost four year adventure and we had achieved what we had originally set out to do, but now our future is uncertain except for the certainty that more long distance sailing will continue to be part of our lives with many more adventures to come!

Fiji – sisters and misters!

Our arrival in Fiji felt like our 3.5yr sailing journey was really coming to an end.  With only one more passage to reach New Zealand and the official start of Cyclone season only a matter of weeks away, we knew our time in Fiji would be short.  My sister, Lynn and her partner G, had already previously sailed to Fiji in their boat and had a wealth of experience and knowledge we could draw from while spending precious time with my wonderful sibling! 

The date of our long anticipated re-union arrived, but the strong winds we had raced to stay ahead of when we left Tonga, were still pounding the south coast of Vanua Levu, making it easier to stay a couple more nights in the marina before venturing out into less protected waters.    We spent a day exploring the island by car, venturing down unsealed potholed roads to find waterfalls, rainforest and other hidden treasures.   Fiji has a similar problem with Mongoose as NZ has with Possums and we saw plenty of the animals as they ran across the road into the grass verge.  They were introduced from Jamaica in 1883 to control a rat problem which was affecting the sugar plantations but, as is often the case when animals are introduced, those creatures become more of a problem, as they have no natural predators but get a taste for some of the native species!    

The winds eased a little and, on checking the forecast, realized the weather was not going to allow us to head to the isolated and beautiful Lau Group, as we had hoped, so we decided instead, to head to the northern part of the other main island in Fiji, Viti Levu, which would protect us from the strong southerly winds.   Along the way we stopped at a couple of islands, including Makogai – a small island surrounded by a reef with a traditional village hidden in the trees about 7km from where we were anchored.  

Makogai was used as a leper colony from 1911 until 1950, accommodating upto 700 patients shipped there from the British colonies of the Pacific, including NZ.  Sadly it was a one way trip for the patients and the neglected graveyard we walked through, is testament of the many nationalities that were housed on this small island.    In 2016 cyclone Winston destroyed most of the old Leprosarium buildings but the foundations and old walls are now used to house a breeding programme for Giant Clams and we were given a quick tour of the various ponds accommodating different ages/sizes of Clams, some with vivid colours.

Lynn and G had visited the island before and remembered the Chief, so we set off, armed with a small bundle of Kava roots, to present a gift to the village.   The ceremony of Savusavu consists of sharing a cup of kava, lots of clapping of hands and listening to the Chief speak.   At the end, he thanked us for the gift and for honoring their tradition, saying we could stay as long as we wished and gave us permission to swim, snorkel or roam the island.    Sadly, the weather dictated we needed to once again keep ahead of the next front that was approaching, bringing more strong winds from the south, so we headed to the sheltered northern anchorages of Viti Levu, with a surrounding reef protecting us from the rolly seas.   As we sailed the well marked channel we put out our fishing line and much to our surprise and delight, caught a beautiful Spanish Mackerel and, with G’s fishing expertise, he and Steve managed to haul it on deck – our first catch of the Pacific and one that fed us for three meals!   What a gift!

Now in the shelter of the island, we headed out to explore the Yasawa Group of islands, popular with holidaymakers from Australia and NZ.   Most of the islands have resorts, or cater for day trippers, and have been given names to entice those wanting to experience tropical paradise – names like Robinson Crusoe Island, Treasure Island, Survivor Island, Castaway Island and Blue Lagoon.   We were now in tourist central, the busiest place we had been since leaving Europe, but it didn’t feel over-run or too commercialized, probably because the local people are just so amazingly friendly and welcoming!   Everywhere we went we were met with a loud “Bula!” and cheerful, genuine smile so you couldn’t help but smile back and feel the warmth of their welcome.

We sailed as far north as Drawaqa Island, which is in the middle of the Yasawa Island chain.   There is a channel on the northern side of the island where Mantarays pass through as the tide falls.   Leaving Steve on the boat to recover from a pulled muscle, Lynn, G and I went in search of Manta’s.   Eventually we found one, swimming underneath us as it kept a wary eye on the numerous tourists who had joined us in the water.   They are such beautiful, graceful animals gliding with effortless ease as they feed on invisible plankton.   Some interesting facts about Mantarays.   They are often seen in “trains” where one female is chased by several males in a mating ritual;  Female Mantas reach sexual maturity between 8-10yrs old;  They give birth to one pup once every 2-3yrs;  They don’t lay eggs, but the eggs are kept inside the female for 12-13 months before hatching internally when the female gives birth to a pup. 

Lynn and G had booked flights home so, after three wonderful weeks together, we headed to the marina in Denerau for a last night together.   G and Steve gave it more of a nudge than Lynn and me, staying up all night talking rubbish and drinking the remains of all our alcohol!   It was a perfect send-off to the crazy-adult-kids who left us with heavy hearts and lots of washing up!!! 

Now things were going to get real as we started to prepare for our hardest passage to date, our final journey to New Zealand with unpredictable winds and changeable weather conditions during the 1200nm, eight-day passage.  Things were starting to get interesting!

Vava’u quick stop. Bula Fiji!

Twelve years ago, just after the first Christchurch earthquake, I chartered a catamaran in Vava’u with seven friends. I remembered it as a very special time and particularly significant as it was the first time I had chartered, or captained, a yacht bigger than 22ft! My return to Vava’u would be the first time since leaving the UK that we were sailing in a location I had previously visited on a boat, so I was excited about going back.

After spending a week on the small, friendly island of Nuiatoputapu, we entered the pass through the protective reef at 10am on a Saturday morning, ready for the 180nm sail to Vava’u, a group of islands to the south of us.   The conditions were pretty sketchy with Cerulean slamming into the heavy seas, until we rounded the northern most part of the island and were able to head south.   We were once again sailing in the company of Freya and we kept in regular radio contact with Susan and Todd throughout the passage, which turned out to be in perfect weather conditions.  After a fast and enjoyable overnight sail, we arrived at the entrance to Vava’u on Sunday morning, dropping the sails as a large whale breached beside us with a now very familiar heavy breathing sound, and headed up the well-marked channel to Neiafu where we picked up a mooring close to the dinghy dock.  

The next day we checked in to Vava’u, a quick process as we were already checked into the country.   Other boats arriving in Tonga from another country have to first head to a fisherman’s dock near the container terminal, aptly nicknamed the “Dock of Doom” as there is a sunken vessel at one end of the wharf and a shallow patch at the other which need to be avoided on approach. We were thankful we were able to miss out on that adventure, for now!   

Very little had changed in Neiafu over the 12yrs since I was last there. It still had the feel of a sleepy town while being the main centre for people living on the surrounding islands. The low level structures along the waterfront were mostly commercial buildings with small houses further up the hillside. A large church, selection of schools and produce market seemed to be the main focus of the town. The cheerful children were dressed in smart school uniform, with the boys wearing a tupenu or sarong, giving us a cheerful “Malo e lelei” as they past us.

Surprisingly, the once bustling charter boat business now comprised of only two boats, both of which were not being used for the period of our stay.  Covid had destroyed the charter boat industry and, together with the erratic and unreliable flights from Nukualofa, had made the business untenable.  Such a shame, as the area is a beautiful cruising ground, but a bonus for us as it meant the anchorages were empty except for our friends! 

The anchorages have been given numbers by previous charter boat companies, and this system of naming them has continued with even locals referring to the number when identifying them on the busy daily cruisers radio Net. We headed out to a nearby bay with our Swedish friend, Tomas who had been joined by his son, Daniel. They picked us up in their dinghy and we headed to Swallow Cave in the early afternoon – the best time to visit to allow the lowering sun to emphasize the blue water while swimming through the tall cave entrance.   We waited for tour boats to leave before jumping in the deep water and swimming through bright sun rays as they played with the blue of the clear water.

One afternoon we took a long dinghy ride with Tomas and Daniel to find Mariners Cave, an underwater entrance to a large cave hidden in the cliffs.   We had a vague idea where the entrance was, but Steve boldly swam close to the rocks to find it.  He found a dark hole about 2m below the surface, so Tomas and Daniel joined Steve in the water to investigate.   I stayed on the dinghy as diving into a dark hole through an underwater tunnel into a cave, not knowing how far you had to swim, was way beyond my comfort levels, so left it to the boys to tell me about it afterwards!   I watched as first Tomas, then Steve and finally Daniel all duck dived and didn’t reappear for several minutes.  I could only assume they had found the way into the cave as I sat watching fruit bats soar above me!   Finally they appeared again, all full of excitement and satisfaction at what they had achieved.  

We were watching the weather again as we were meeting my sister in Fiji in 10 days time and wanted to make sure we allowed plenty of time to make the two and a half day passage.   One afternoon friends on SV Diva told us they were leaving the next day for Fiji as the weather was going to close in by the end of the week.   We had arranged to go swimming with whales with a group of friends in two days, so were reluctant to consider leaving before that, but on looking at the weather it started to look clear we would need to leave the next day too otherwise we could be stuck in Tonga for a little while – not a bad thing normally, but when family is visiting, it does become a problem.    We talked to our weather router and made the decision to leave that afternoon so spent a busy morning preparing food, us and the boat for the 417nm passage in between friends calling by to say a hurried goodbye.   We were told we needed to take the boat to the “dock of doom” close to where immigration has an office in a large warehouse.  We aimed for the middle of the dock, putting lots of fenders in place while we rushed to check out, hoping the process would be quick as Cerulean was blown against large black tyres on the dock.   The officials were in no hurry and trying to make them increase their speed is futile so we had to practice patience in between Steve running back to check on the boat!  It appears the reason they want the boat at the dock is to ensure you leave as soon as the check out procedure is complete and no amount of reasoning, and we heard a number, seems to make any difference! Eventually we were free to go and the warm smiles from the previously sullen officials, made our early impatience seem petty as we headed back to Cerulean and pushed off the dock.    SV Diva called us on the radio, surprised to see us joining them as we both exited the pass out of Vava’u together.   We were sad to leave but also happy to be starting our last multi-day sail before our final journey to New Zealand.

Leaving Tonga behind us we were keen to get into a rhythm as quickly as possible.   This passage was straight forward accept for navigating through a group of small islands about 80nm from our destination in Fiji, Savusavu.   We had calculated that, if we averaged 5knots, we would arrive at the first island in the dark and have to navigate our way through the shallows and small islands in very little light.   If we could increase our speed and arrive in the late morning, instead of early evening, we would be able to get through the worst of the obstacles in daylight.

The wind was perfect and we set our two headsails, gathering speed as we left behind the shadow of the islands, racing SV Diva as we slowly overtook them.   It’s always very satisfying to see how well Cerulean performs when pitched against another, bigger boat.    The wind and conditions continued to be excellent and we broke our record for distance covered in a 24hr period, making 170nm on our first day.   We were now sure we would make landfall at the islands in daylight and on the morning of the third day we spotted the first island in the Lau group.   We would have loved to have stopped here but it is not possible to check into the country in The Lau islands and many boats have been handed heavy penalties for spending a few days exploring before checking in at Savusavu and the thought of a heavy fine was a big incentive to keep going!

On our last night we had to slow the boat down to ensure we arrived in daylight.   We rounded the headland close to Savusavu with SV Diva beside us as we sailed up the harbour together.  

Our friends on SV Carina, whom we had met in Nuiatoputapu, called on the radio as they spotted us approaching the mooring buoys.   They gave us sound advice about the strict immigration process, waiting until we are properly processed before leaving the boat or allowing anyone to visit, warning us that the customs official are very proactive in ensuring boats comply with their process and heavy fines are administered for those who ignore them.   We had already completed an extensive 13 page pre-arrival form, complete with photographs of the boat and boat papers, so hoped everything was in order to speed up the process.   Four boats, including us, waited for the officials to come on board, using the time to tidy up Cerulean and ourselves!   It didn’t take long for customs, health and immigration to visit and, after taping up our honey and garbage (with instructions not to dispose of it until we reached Nadi or Suva, we were given permission to leave the boat. However, our cruising permit would not be available until three working days and, as we had arrived on a Friday, this meant Tuesday would be the earliest we could leave SavuSavu.   

We moved into Nawi Island Marina as we had some repairs to organise and needed easy access for the tradespeople. The marina was so new it was still being built. so we were one of just 15 boats able to enjoy the facilities including fabulous showers which were quite luxurious, while waiting for my sister, Lynn, and G to arrive – and boy did we make use of the long showers!!   We snorkelled “Split Rock” with friends, feeding the fish stale bread and were amazed by the number of Soldier fish that surrounded us, nipping at our limbs as we quickly fed them!   In the evening we ate out, trying many different places including one that came highly recommended by a number of friends, as it was cheap and excellent Indian cuisine.   We arrived with friends and quickly ordered from their extensive menu.  While we were waiting for the food to arrive a rat ran across the roof rafters over our heads.   Sadly it was all over for me after that as I am terrified of rats in any shape or form – alive, dead, squashed or tame!  I could not take my eyes off the hole in the roof that the rat had disappeared into, its vial tail making several appearances as I squirmed in my seat, desperate to get out of the place!   

Over 34% of Fiji’s population is Indian.   A military coup in 2006 removed the democratically elected PM who was of Indian decent.  Frank Bainimarama led the coup, which arose due the fear that Fiji could become less “Fijian”,  and declared himself PM soon afterwards.   He has remained in power ever since, although ‘democratic” elections have taken place they are heavily favoured to the large political parties, making it extremely hard for those of Indian descent to win an election.   You get a small sense of the cultural differences when walking around the large produce markets, as the Polynesian Fijians have a very laid back approach to sales, welcoming you with a friendly “Bula!” and warm smile while allowing you to make up your own mind whether you want to buy anything from their stall. In contrast, those of Indian descent are, in general, alot more proactive in ensuring you spend your money with them, often going out of their way to be helpful, while ensuring sales are made with them, or within their community of market stalls.

At last it was time for Lynn and G to arrive. We had added them to our crew list and sent them all the relevant forms so they would not have any issues arriving in Fiji on a one-way ticket. They had spent time sailing in Fiji on their boat pre-covid so we were looking forward to having, not only experienced sailors on board, but family who knew the country and the challenges of navigating in Fiji waters. It was time to start exploring!

Talofa Samoa!

The sail had been a mixed bag of fast and slow sailing, rolly seas, sail changes, sunshine and rain!    As we converged on Apia, SY Sonny – a catamaran that left Suwarrow at a similar time – came into view and we made the final approach together, both being instructed to wait outside the entrance to the harbour for an hour while the World Outrigger championships raced in the protected waters of the bay.   Eventually we were allowed to enter, giving us refuge from the blustery wind and waves which both dissipated as we entered the sheltered waters of the country’s capital, Apia.

Check-in was quick and easy with officials visiting the boat, drinking most of our orange juice, and guiding us into the very small marina.   The officials remained business like and stern until we were checked in and then the veil lifted and they smiled, welcomed us, chatted, drank more juice and reluctantly left!   We had been told of boats being refused entry if their departure papers from the previous port did not mention Apia as the next port of call.  Fortunately we had amended our papers, changing the next port from Niue to Apia, before departing Suwarrow.  The change was made by the Ranger at Suwarrow and I was so concerned this crossed out amendment would not be accepted, I had taken photos of Ranger Harry with the amended document as proof we had not done it ourselves!   Fortunately everything was in order and a couple of hours after arriving, we were free to explore. 

Samoa consists of two main islands and several small, mostly uninhabited ones.  The international dateline runs between American Samoa and Samoa (previously known as Western Samoa) so 23hrs and 65nm separates the two countries!   But the main separation came when Samoa was fought over with Germany, UK and USA tussling each other for controlling rights over the country.   In 1900 it was agreed that the Eastern part of Samoa would split away to be controlled by USA, and the rest would belong to Germany.   During WW1, New Zealand were tasked with performing “a great and urgent imperial service” to seize control of Samoa, which they continued to rule over until 1962 when independence was awarded.

The Scottish author, Robert Louis Stevenson, chose to live in Samoa in 1890 until his death in 1894.     We visited the beautiful home he built in lovely grounds above Apia and had an excellent talk describing his life in Samoa and the history of the house since his death.   We made a pilgrimage to his grave at the top of a nearby hill which had been his wish and probably final challenge for his understanding wife.   The steep hill was covered in forest and had no pathway to the summit so locals lined up and carried the coffin over their heads, passing it from hand to hand in a river of people.   Although he only lived in Samoa for four years, he made a lasting impression on the small country and is still revered and respected.

Samoa has some beautiful and impressive waterfalls and we hired a car together with our friends on SY Skyfall, visiting a few of the spectacular cascades, swimming above one before the water tumbled over a high ravine to a deep circular pool far below.  

While driving through the countryside we noticed houses with large tombs in their gardens housing parents or loved ones who remain a centre of the family even after death.   Mothers are respected, honoured and held in high regard in Samoan culture and, although male and female have definite roles, women are treated well and are usually the leader of the family.   Houses have an “Open House” either connected to a home or in the centre of a community of houses.  These are buildings without walls that are meeting spaces, a place for people to gather, eat, talk or celebrate.   In the evenings you see families gathering to share food and in the day women sit on the floor and weave together.   Everywhere we went we were greeted with a cheerful “Talofa” and beautiful welcoming smile, which was normally followed with questions and genuine interest in getting to know us. The people are just wonderful and we really enjoyed stopping to talk and spending time asking questions and answering theirs!

On the northern side of the island is the large To-Sua Ocean Trench, accessed by a long wooden ladder which lowers you 15m into the ground.   Climbing onto the ladder is a feat in itself as you need to commit to climbing over a steep cliff onto the first rung and then lower yourself, in my case slowly, to the platform at sea level.  I was not overly confident but managed it and was glad I had when we cooled off in the beautiful water at the bottom.  

Every morning at 0845hrs the police force march from their central police station in Apia to the Government Buildings to raise the flag at 0900hrs. It was a great spectacle to watch with the police band playing, on this occasion, Waltzing Matilda (don’t ask me why they chose that piece of music!) as the men and women marched in unison through the busy streets.

Just beside the Government Buildings is a Cultural Village with an excellent daily programme demonstrating traditional weaving, cooking and tattooing. We watched a young man getting his torso and legs tattooed, where black dye was tapped into his skin by a sharp stick struck hard by an expert artist. The man had no say in the final design as the tattooist created the young man’s story in traditional designs, starting with his shoulders and continuing to his back, stomach, buttocks and legs, finishing above the knees. The role of a tattooist is one passed down through generations and there are very few Samoans now trained in this specialist skill. The young man being tattooed was supported by family as he lay perfectly still and very quiet during the process, while the tattooist was supported by two young men, possibly his sons, who carefully watched the design taking place and learned from their master. By the time we saw him, the tattoo had already taken four days with another nine until it was complete and, judging by the big bruisers spreading across his body, a number of painful hours lay ahead, all of which he had to endure without making a sound. The process is considered a right of passage to manhood, although less young men are having traditional tattoos due to the cost – thousands of US$ – and time taken.

After a week of sightseeing, socializing, enjoying the fabulous cafes/food and watching the World Outrigger Competition, it was time to go.  We cleared out the day before we were leaving as we wanted an early start, paid for the marina and prepared food for the 30hr sail to Niutoputapu, a small island in the north of Tonga and about 170nm sail south. Once again we would be sailing with Freya on the next leg of our journey. Samoa was a lovely surprise. The people, reasonable prices, excellent food and interesting culture made it one of Steve’s favourite destinations in the Pacific to date. Tonga lay ahead of us to the South which is often the direction of the wind, but we were choosing a weather window with more westerly in it – or so we thought!

Hiva Oa – Finding our land legs

The small island of Hiva Oa has a population of just over 2000 and covers an area of 326 sqkm.   The majority of the population live in the main town of Atuona which is dwarfed by a spectacular tree covered mountain that rises sharply from a valley where the small town sits, nestled against a sweeping beach.   The sweet smell of perfumed flowers and citrus trees fills the air and, together with the beautiful scenery creates a senses overload for anyone but particularly for land starved crusty sailors who have been at sea for over a month!

Our first formality was to check in to French Polynesia at the local gendarmerie, which involved a long walk along a sealed road with little shade to give us some respite from the hot sun.   We had been told to make sure we arrived at the Gendarmerie in the morning as they are often closed in the afternoon, so armed with our boat papers, proof of a flight booking out of French Polynesia to NZ and passports we were buzzed into the police station.    The procedure was quick and easy with the final step being us mailing one part of our entry permit to Papeete from the local post office, a distinctive yellow building across the road from the gendarmerie.  While there we purchased a local SIM card which came complete with data and across the road we managed to buy a few groceries including baguettes and some very expensive vegetables (red cabbage US$17), chosen from a very small selection.  We soon realized that items with red price stickers were considerably cheaper than other similar products and learned that these items were subsidized by the French.   Crazily you could find several different brands of milk but only one was subsidized, making it at least three times cheaper. 

The French artist, Paul Gaugin moved to Hiva Oa and became part of this small community, spending the rest of his life painting scenes from the island.  He, along with Belgian legendary singer, Jacques Brel, is buried in a small cemetery overlooking the spectacular volcanic peak of Temetiu and the main town nestled at its foot.   We paid our respects, admired the incredible view and started the long walk back to Cerulean, having been told of a precarious shortcut down a steep path and across a small black beach at the head of the bay.

As we walked around the town, watching a wedding take place, we were struck with how familiar everything felt.   From the carvings of tiki’s, to the meeting house and karanga that was performed when the bride walked down the road towards her groom, it all felt like Maori culture, which we shouldn’t have been surprised about but we were amazed by the similarities.   The language was also very familiar and we later discovered that when Maori speakers have visited the islands, they can understand each other’s language although but only barely. 

Back at the boat we started cleaning.   We had been shocked when we had seen Cerulean after our passage as her white gelcoat was now a tone of green and brown with long goose barnacles hanging off the red antifoul just below the water surface.   We looked like a boat that had been abandoned, so we jumped in the warm water and started scrubbing.  

Over the next few days other boats we knew started arriving, similarly dirty, and the anchorage became a social buzz as we celebrated our achievements and discussed plans.   We were keen to move out of the rolly anchorage as it was getting busy with some large boats arriving and squeezing themselves into any spot that looked vaguely large enough for them with few using a stern anchor to prevent turning and potentially hitting other boats.   We knew a supply ship was due to arrive soon and when that happens all boats anchored within an area indicated by yellow markings on the shoreline, had to move.   We were within that designated area so, together with our friends on Freya and DanceMe, we sailed out of the sweeping bay and back into the SE tradewinds that blow pretty consistently around the islands.    DanceMe peeled away to a different anchorage while we and Freya sailed around to the north side of Hiva Oa, entering the quiet bay of Hanamenu, surrounded by high, jaggered red cliffs with ridges that came to a thin sheer pinnacle.   The bay was deep with a black sand beach, fringed with palm trees at the end of the cove.   We anchored in front of the beach, hoping for protection from the swell that swept into the bay, but failing as we rolled in the anchorage we shared with Todd and Susan from Freya, the only boats that day adventurous enough to get off the beaten path of the popular, protected bays closer to Atuona.  

Ashore we left the dinghy on the beach and found a man in one of the lived-in huts on the beach.    AwJuan had lived at Hanamenu for three years, with only one other family as a neighbour, looking after the property for his uncle.   He spoke no English but had a gentle face and ready smile, speaking slowly for us to understand as he guided us towards the footpath that led to the plateau and inviting us to eat with him later.    The four of us walked up the well trodden stoney path to the top of the hill and looked down on the bay and lush valley below, surrounded by baron cliffs on each side.   It was a magnificent view as we looked down on our two boats anchored below us as we watched the surf pound on the beach in front of our yachts.   No roads led into the little settlement of Hanamenu, and the hills behind looked beautiful in the mid-day light acting as a barrier between the settlement and the main town of Atuona.    Wild horses roamed the hills and some days later we watched as attempts were made to tame those caught by taking them to the beach and into the sea, calming them so they became used to human contact.  Horses are still a regular, and often only, form of transport and it takes a week to break in a wild horse, getting them accustomed to wearing a basic wooden saddle and being around the rider. 

A small, spring-fed oasis on the western side of the bay, provided a welcome refreshing cool-down swim after the hot climb where we washed ourselves under a pipe that diverted a strong flow of water into the pool from a waterfall that cascaded down the fern clad hill.    

Later, we sat with AwJuan as he prepared a meal for us, earlier being insistent that we return at 3pm to eat with him.   His kitchen was sheltered by just a sheet of corrugated iron over the open fire.   A sink and metal bench doubled as one of the kitchen walls, separating the cooking area from his garden and working area.  He masterly moved a large breadfruit he had been roasting in the fire by using two long sticks and transferring it onto a work surface using large leaves to handle the hot vegetable.   He then peeled and mashed the fruit, adding water and kneading it into a dough like consistency.   Todd was put to work, squeezing fresh grated coconut through a cloth and extracting coconut cream which was poured over the breadfruit dough.   A table was laid under the shade of a large tree with several dogs lazily lying close by, hoping for a morsel of food to be thrown to them.   The table almost sagged under the food – wild boar, shot in the hills, breadfruit done two ways, fried bread, fresh coconut milk to drink and lots of fruit.    It was a wonderful treat and we were overwhelmed by AwJuan’s generosity, not wanting anything in return except our company.  As we prepared to leave, we were given hands of bananas, buckets of limes, grapefruit and mangos, all grown on his property.   It was a very special day.

Wanting to get out of the swell and longing for a calm anchorage, we headed for the island of Tahuata, to the south of Hiva Oa.   Here we found calm water and many friends, enjoying the anchorages of Hanamoenoa where mantaray feed and fearlessly allowed us to swim with them, getting so close they even nudged a friend of ours out of the way!    Early morning or evening, they would swim around the boat, staying for over an hour doing acrobatic turns below us before coming back towards the surface, allowing us to see right into their body through their large open mouths as they fed on plankton. 

Hapatoni is in the south of the island and we anchored in sand under impressive high cliffs in the north of the bay just as a small pod of dolphins entered the anchorage.   Spinner dolphins regularly visit the area, often in small groups where adults teach babies how to jump and spin.  The small quiet settlement of Hapatoni is a very traditional village with a lovely stone church, large impressive community space and well kept houses beside a clean sandy beach and rutted road.   A community of artists and craftspeople live here, keeping alive the tradition of wood and bone carving, passing down skills to the children at a small school.   On recommendation, a small group of us attended a church service, delivered in Polynesian with enthusiastic and uplifting singing from the small congregation.   An impressive looking man played a traditional drum which was over a meter tall with goat skin tightly stretched across the top.   He struck an impressive figure with every inch of his body tattooed, including his face and we later discovered he was the chief during the island festival, held every two years.   When the missionaries first came to The Marquesas they banned tattooing which had long been in the Marquesan culture, telling stories of important/significant events and being a right of passage from puberty to adulthood.   Although not done in the traditional way, most men will have a tattoo – always just in black and a traditional design.

After church we headed to a nearby house and ate a traditional meal of fish, breadfruit and bananas while chatting with a visiting artist who had helped set up the community many years earlier and now teaches at the school.   It was fascinating talking to him about art, politics, life in the village, the connection with Maori and having him play us a tune on a pipe, played by breathing out through his nose.   He explained that in the bible, life is given to Adam by God breathing into his nose and likewise, in death it is believed the last breath out is through the nose, so playing a nose pipe is a deeply spiritual thing.   It certainly was a memorable end to our time in Hiva Oa, a beautiful island with genuine, interesting, happy people who enjoy a simple life in a stunning location, tucked away in a forgotten corner of The Pacific.

Panama Pacific Side – Friends and Fixes

Kim was our first NZ friend to come on board Cerulean and we had both been looking forward to her arrival and visit.   Not only is Kim fantastic company, who I love dearly, but she was a regular sailing partner on my first boat, EJ and brought with her some much needed supplies which she triumphantly deposited on the salon table!   Amongst the many treasures were the required stainless steel bolts needed to repair the hydrovane, one of which had snapped on our passage from Bocas to Shelter Bay a few weeks earlier and had been impossible to source locally.  

With one job done we now turned our attention to the most important, fixing the watermaker.   We had been in regular contact with the manufacturers who had recommended the list of replacement parts we needed to rebuild the high pressure pump (an essential part of the watermaking process).   The diagrams provided to complete the jigsaw were not clear and after failing to get the pump to build pressure and, even with the help of friends, we were unable to resolve the problem.    I had so desperately hoped we could have the watermaker working while Kim was with us so she wouldn’t have to put up with minimal showers and strict water conservation measures but, with time pressing, we did not want to stay anchored in Panama city for the duration of her stay.   A few days after coming through the canal, having explored some of the old city together, we set sail to a small island just south of the city called Toboga which would be a good overnight stay before leaving early the next morning to sail to Las Perlas islands, about 40NM to the south east.   Named after the pearls found in abundance there, the small group of islands are a popular cruising ground and we were keen to explore them with Kim.  

On arriving in Toboga we found the deep main bay was scattered with mooring buoys and the only anchoring spot was very close to the ferry terminal bringing regular boatloads of tourists to the island.   We decided to pick up a buoy next to a lovely looking American yacht on a mooring in the next row over from them.   Usually boats of similar size and shape will respond to wind and current in the same way so when one turns, the other usually follows so I wasn’t too concerned that the buoys were close to each other – certainly no closer together than in other places we have been.   We settled in for the night, enjoying the calm, clear evening.   At around 1am we were woken to someone banging on the boat and to our horror, found that we were T-boning our neighbour’s boat.    They were on board trying to keep us from hitting them again and knocking furiously on our boat to alert us to what was happening.   In the process our lower navigation light got smashed but fortunately that was the only damage done to both boats.   We started our engine and backed away and they very generously offered to move moorings while we sorted things out on board.  

After a quick visit to make sure there was no other damage to our neighbour’s boat, we left in the morning to sail to San Jose Island, the most southerly of the Las Perlas group.    We arrived in the late afternoon and joined one other boat in the protected anchorage.   The other boat turned out to be Free Spirit, who we had met in Bocas with Ruffian and sailed back in their company to Shelter Bay.   They were leaving the next morning to start their Pacific crossing and we gave them a loud send off as they left the bay.  

We had hoped we would see whale sharks in the bay, as we had been told of other boats who had enjoyed diving with them there, but we were not lucky enough to experience that.  We did however have several huge flocks of Cormorants and Pelicans fly in formations overhead and around us.   The sky was almost black with birdlife as different flocks circled the island numerous times.  

It was lovely exploring the islands with Kim.   We sailed, fished (unsuccessfully), saw big swarms of stingrays and even had one jump out the water infront of us, had dolphins play in our bow wave, celebrated Steves 60th birthday and watched a whale breach and then spyhole as we sailed back to Panama City.   All this was done with lots of laughter with the wonderful comfortable calm that good friendship brings, although it would have been great if we could’ve showered more!!!!    All too soon, it was time for Kim to leave us and we returned to Panama anchoring in La Playita so we could catch up with our friends on Zelda before they left for Galapagos.   We were both sad to see Kim go, not only because we had loved having her on board but it also it felt like a little bit of home was leaving us too!  

After experiencing a couple of unpleasant nights on anchor in La Playita we decided to move around the corner to Las Brisas which is more sheltered from the roll of wake from canal traffic.  The big disadvantage of Las Brisas is the dinghy dock which is very busy and, if the conditions and tide dictate, could cause damage to your dinghy – and dinghies are essential and valuable assets when you live on a boat!   However, having a comfortable anchorage outweighed the possible dramas of the dinghy dock, which cost $1 per day compared to $50 a week in La Playita!   Once we understood that the best place to leave the dinghy was behind the dock on a long line, we had only one drama when a friend called us while we were in the city to inform us that our dinghy was high and dry on the rocks.   We had miscalculated the spring tide, but fortunately it was afloat when we returned and some kind sole had raised our outboard to ensure there would be no damage.

We were now waiting for more spare parts to arrive, including a replacement navigation light which we had been unable to find in Panama.  Repairing the watermaker was now a very high priority and we were in contact with the manufacturer and had video calls with a knowledgeable and patient friend to get advice.   In fact, it was our friend who suggested what the problem may be and much to our relief and delight, Steve serviced the parts (replacements had not been provided for this particular part) and all of a sudden we had a working pump!

Panama is a big modern city and thousands of yachts pass through it each year, but sourcing parts and getting professional work done in Panama is extremely hard, if not impossible!   Several attempts have apparently been made to set up well equipped stores for sailors, but on-line shopping has killed them and it is usually cheaper to purchase the parts needed in the US and have them shipped through an agent.   We did visit one store which was located in, what turned out to be, a rough area of the city.   We had found our way there using public transport, which is only 35c for a bus or subway ride.   Needing to stretch our legs, we decided to walk back to Albrook bus station, completely unaware that our route would take us through the unsafe ghetto!   I became very nervous as Steve led the way, reluctantly following him as I stuffed dollar notes down my bra and voiced my concern about the route googlemaps was taking us.   When we found ourselves in the middle of a rundown housing area with rubble in the road and apartments with broken windows, boarded up doors and men with bandanas spilling onto the street, calling after us, I was terrified!   We reached the end of the street, thinking it would be a main road but it was another frightening looking area and Steve was blindly following the directions Siri was confidently giving, to take us down a road with a bend under a bridge.   I stopped and refused to continue, just as I heard a voice behind me yelling, “Hey!”   I turned around and two heavily armed policemen with bullet proof vests, helmets and large guns in their hands called us back.   We had no idea where they came from but had obviously seen two naïve gringos wandering in a place they shouldn’t, telling us we were in great danger and needed to leave!   With our Spanish and their English being very limited, we were told to wait by the side of the road.   A taxi came into view and, unsure whether we were under arrest or not, we hailed it and jumped in before the police could translate any more instructions and left two bewildered policemen on the side of the road!   Lesson learned – trust your instincts – Steve obviously doesn’t have any!  

While waiting for our packages to arrive we serviced and worked on a number of items on board.   The autohelm was working well but had not been serviced for two years, so we removed it, checked and cleaned it and re-installed, only to find it no longer worked!   With the watermaker now fixed, it was the next priority item and Steve soon discovered some loose connections and resolved that issue too!   He was on a roll – could he make it a tri-factor and repair the generator which had last worked at Christmas?   No!   Sadly that was going to take a bit more skill than we had and, even calling in help from our canal French buddy boat who happened to be a diesel mechanic, proved successful in getting the engine working but unsuccessful in generating power – and before anyone suggests it, we did check the capacitor!  

Our friends who were on ARC Pacific (a rally of about 40 boats), arrived in Shelter Bay and Steve offered his services as a linehandler through the canal for our friends on Escapade of London.  I welcomed the boats as they arrived in La Playita marina, enjoying catching up with our friends on Escapade, Walkabout and Casamara.   We all went out for a lovely meal together, having last been together in Grenada nine months ago. 

There was a weather window forming and, as there had been no wind between Panama and The Galapagos for a couple of weeks, we were determined to join the flotilla of boats leaving to cross the Pacific.   We collected our packages, said our farewells, did the last of our provisioning, filled up with fuel, cleared out with immigration and customs, and headed to Toboga for our last night in Panama.

The next morning we motored around to a lovely protected anchorage on the south side of the island and Steve spent a couple of hours scrubbing the bottom of the boat in the clear water while I prepared food for the crossing and stowed everything away.

At 1330 on Thursday 23 March 2023, we pulled up the anchor and set our sails, heading southwest as we bade farewell to land and civilization for the next 30+ days.

Colourful Curacao

We pulled out of Bonaire mooring field, waving goodbye to friends in the warm morning sunlight.   Zen Again had left already and we could see the fading triangle of their sail as they headed towards a large bank of cloud on the horizon.   After a year of island hopping on both sides of the Atlantic, we were now heading to explore our final island nation in the Caribbean.

We quickly set our sails and turned off the engine as we picked up speed on a nice reach, heading south west as we edged passed Klein Bonaire and gave a mental wave goodbye to the fabulous snorkelling and underwater paradise that is hidden below the shallow blue waters.  To avoid using the steering as much as possible, due to our failing bearing which had caused our wheel to jam a day earlier, we set up Hilda the Hydrovane so we could lock off the wheel.

We were only about five miles out when lightning and thunder started crashing in front of us and, on looking at the radar, it was clear we were not going to avoid it if we continued on the same course.   Zen Again had already gybed to avoid the heavy black cloud that loomed ahead and we followed suit, heading north west to try and get infront of the storm clouds and avoid the bolts of lightning that lit up the mid-morning darkness.    When we were about halfway between Bonaire and Curacao on our 40NM journey, we gybed again as the clouds disappeared and we made good speed to our destination on the south west coast of the island.   Zen Again were not far behind us as we turned into the narrow entrance leading to Spanish Waters, a protected area of bays offering excellent shelter in several different bays in a relatively quiet setting. 

We anchored in the western most area and shared a celebratory sundowner with Zen Again who anchored next to us.   We had arrived on Independence Day – 10/ 10 (10 October) the day that Curacao became a nation inside the Dutch Kingdom in 2010 when the Dutch Antilles were dissolved after a referendum.   Everything was shut so we didn’t attempt to navigate the 7kms into the capital, Willemstad, to check in, but decided to wait until the next day.  

Early the next morning we set out to start the process of checking in by first finding the immigration office which was well tucked away in a small non-descript building with a temporary looking sign on the door giving the only clue what was inside.   We were processed quite quickly and then walked into the town of Willemstad to complete the customs clearance, crossing the long floating swingbridge that opens on request for all traffic going up the river towards the port and marina.   As we walked across the bridge, the colourful, historic waterfront buildings on the eastern side of the river reminded us of a child’s drawing of houses as the picturesque tall, coloured rectangular buildings dominated the waterfront.    Once cleared in with customs the check-in procedure was complete and we enjoyed a coffee and cake at a waterside café before wandering through the narrow streets and exploring the town.  There are two things that immediately stand out in Willemstad, the colourful houses on the waterfront and the beautiful street art that adorns alot of the walls and shops in the town.

Curacao has a population of approx. 150,000 and Willemstad is the capital with the majority of the population living within the confines of the city.   It is the largest of the ABC islands and has a very different feel to Bonaire, not only because of the colour of the water in the anchorage, but the size of the town and general Hussle and Bussell of being in a larger community.    The history of Curacao is interesting with the original inhabitants coming from South America hundreds of years before the first Europeans arrived.   The Spanish arrived in Curacao in 1499 and enslaved most of the natives, transporting them to other Spanish colonies for forced labour.   The Spanish used Curacao as a bridge for exploring northern South America and eventually built a settlement in 1527 which was then governed by Venezuela as the Spanish continued to colonise South America, eventually abandoning the island in favour of building communities on the mainland.    The Dutch took over the island in 1634 following the Eighty Years’ War of independence between The Netherlands and Spain.   They used the island as the main centre for slaves, transporting them to Curacao before selling them elsewhere in the Caribbean and South America.  Many Dutch colonists prospered from the slave trade and built the colourful houses on the waterfront in Willemstad.

We decided to rent a car for a couple of days and explore the northern parts of the island that are hard to get to by bus.   After attempting, and failing, to find a place to purchase our required bearing, we headed north, first to Santa Cruz and then on to Playa Lagun.   The small beach was quite busy with restaurants accessed by steep steps on the northern side of the bay.    It was a hot day, so we all went for a snorkel before lunch.   There were lots of turtles feeding, surprisingly on fish, which I’d never seen before, and as I swam into the rocky shallows, more turtles were lazily scavenging in the rocks, not bothered by my presence as they occasionally pushed themselves up to the surface and took two breaths before continuing their leisurely swim.  

We walked along the coastal path in the National Park and watched the waves break on the rugged coastline, sending water high above our heads from the viewing platform.   Lizards scurried for shelter as we continued our walk to a small beach which, in season is a turtle laying reserve.   It saddened me hugely to see the beach covered in rubbish.   I’m not sure whether it had been washed up there or whether visitors had dropped it but it certainly looked as if it had come from the sea.  What frustrated me further was that we had paid an entrance fee into the park and rangers were parked at most of the areas identified as “of interest” yet they did nothing except sit in their cars playing music and giving visitors a cursory nod.   Why could they not start picking up the rubbish???

Back at the boat we ordered our new bearing and casing from the UK and, after a false start where the bearing ended up in Exeter and then didn’t move for a week, we waited expectantly for our parcel to arrive.   While we waited we visited a slave museum in Willemstad and the oldest synagogue in continuous use in the Americas which was in an inconspicuous looking building but hidden behind the walls was the lovely Mikve Israel-Emanuel Synagogue which was built in 1732.  The most noticeable feature was sand on the floor which depicts the Sinai Desert.  It also remembers those who put sand on the floor of secret rooms so early Jews in Curacao could continue to worship and the sand helped muffle the sound of their service.  

With our parcel still days away we explored a few dive spots close to our anchorage and snorkelled over a wreck of a tug boat which was now home to new coral and lots of colourful fish and conga eels.   One evening we tried our hand at dance lessons, attempting to learn one of the many beautiful (when done properly!) South American dance styles.  

Eventually our courier parcel arrived and Steve immediately set to work installing the new bearing – it was a huge relief when it slid into place relatively easily – well, nothing a bit of banging wouldn’t fix – and we took the boat on a test drive around the crowded anchorage to make sure the steering felt good and everything worked as it should!   Fortunately all went well, which was just as well, as we planned to leave the next day.   There had been very few weather windows for our passage to Colombia while we had been waiting for our parcel, so we wanted to take the first opportunity as we knew bad weather was coming and there would not be another window for at least a week. 

On a very wet morning we set off to complete the check out procedures with our planned sailing passage posse of ZenAgain and Seraphina.  By the time we reached immigration we were all soaked through and crammed into the small busy office to await our turn.  The people infront of us were asking if they could check out on behalf of a captain who had broken both his ankles attempting to perform a backflip on land – it hadn’t ended well!   Friends had met him a few days earlier when he was literally crawling back to his dinghy to return to his boat.   Immigration would not concede and instructed the two attempting to check out, that they needed to bring him in a car to the office and then the officers would kindly allow him to stay in the car while they completed the paperwork!   We had been told of a number of boats that had been turned away by immigration when they had attempted to check in.  Two boats had visited Venezuela prior to arriving in Curacao and one South African boat who did not have the appropriate visa.   Fortunately Bonaire are much more accommodating!   Our check out went smoothly for the three boats, and we were soon back in the rain heading to customs to complete the procedure.   Now we were checked out and soaking wet, we all contemplated whether it was a good idea to leave that afternoon, as planned, or wait until the morning.    Fred, an 81 year old solo sailor who was on his 3rd circumnavigation, announced he was going to wait until the morning while ZenAgain and we continued to discuss the merits of the best time to leave.   Steve and I were still trying to decide when ZenAgain pulled up their anchor and motored over to say goodbye.   We decided to wait an hour and follow them out, letting Fred know so he could follow behind us.    We were expecting rain and wind for the whole passage and when we heard Fred on the radio about 3hrs later stating he was considering stopping in Aruba as there wasn’t enough wind, we started to question whether the forecast was going to be accurate after-all.  

Out of Europe and in to Africa

The relaxed friendly vibe of Estaca marina was an easy atmosphere to get used to, so it was not surprising to have met several people who had decided to stay long-term there.   Not wanting to wait another week before starting our next passage, we decided to commence the seven day journey south to Bajul in The Gambia, leaving ahead of some nasty weather which was due to hit El Hierro in three days.   We felt that, providing the forecast was correct, we could stay ahead of the strong winds and lightening that were predicted to arrive from the north on Saturday.

Several people came to say goodbye and wave us and Ruffian off as we slowly made our way out to sea.   It felt good to be moving again and we were excited about the 900 mile passage that lay ahead of us, our longest non-stop sail to date and a good pre-cursor for crossing the Atlantic in a few weeks.   We were ladened down with full diesel, water, food and anticipation, happy to be in the company of the experienced team on Ruffian again as we prepared to share the seas and next adventure together.  

We were soon under full sail heading due south with clear skies and flat seas in a comfortable 10-15 knots of wind.   We watched land disappear from sight, preparing for the next six to seven days of seeing nothing but water, skies, passing ships/boats and whatever wildlife we may chance upon!    The first few days were spent getting used to being on the water as the sea state became a little rolly and sea legs were certainly tested as we adapted to life on the lean and being bounced around.   Nothing was easy.  Making a hot drink would have broken every health and safety guideline in NZ as moving from the galley to the cockpit took courage, dexterity and determination to avoid spillage or scalding!   Eating on passage in rough seas, also comes with new skills and fortitude.   Fortunately we had prepared several meals beforehand but getting the food out the fridge was a challenge in itself.   We have a front loading fridge and a big top loading chiller.   Opening the fridge when the boat was leaning with the fridge on the top side, meant food could, and did, tumble out no matter how well we had stored it!   It became a challenge between the fridge and us as to how quickly we could grab what we needed before the contents deposited themselves on the work surface!   Our chiller presented different challenges.   As we were at the start of a long passage it was very full, so containers were stacked on top of each other.   We had tried being organised and having things like our butter, yoghurt and cheese stores at the bottom so we could re-stock the fridge as needed later in the journey.   On top of these we had our pre-prepared dinners and fruit and vegetable stocks while drink bottles were used as fillers to prevent containers moving around.   The problem came when we wanted to get an item that wasn’t immediately accessible and containers needed to be removed, balanced and returned in the correct order, while wedging yourself in and trying to stop the containers flying onto the floor with you closely following them!  We both have a number of bruisers caused by us being flung across the saloon by an unexpected wave which hurls the boat over to one side, and us with it.   Eating can look like one of those crazy Japanese game shows where contestants are told to do impossible tasks for the sake of entertainment.   For us it was saving the food from ending up in your lap, on the floor or scooting across the table and acting like a missile as it is hurled towards a head/chair/floor.  

After three days at sea we were still within sight of Ruffian, which was both comforting and unexpected.   The stronger winds of up to 20 knots, was in our sweet spot of sailing and the wind direction was ideal for Cerulean to kick up her heels and give us some memorable sails.   On day three the wind died completely so we decided to try different downwind sailing options – the cruising chute came out but that did nothing to increase our speed or lessen the frustration as it filled and emptied again, requiring constant adjustment and attention.   The chute came down and we changed direction to go directly downwind and poled out the jib.   This worked better but the sails were constantly flogging as the swell hit us.   With dusk approaching we thought we’d try changing direction again and seeing if we could find any wind on our side to pick up speed.   This failed too, so wanting to keep ahead of the weather system that was heading south, we turned on the “iron sail” and stowed away the sails.   We decided to change our direction and head south east which was where Ruffian were heading and we were now over 25 miles apart due to our unsuccessful attempts to find speed while Ruffian seems to love the lower wind conditions.   We motored through the night and I have to admit, it was the most restful and best sleep I’d had yet!  Usually while on watch, we sit outside under the protective sprayhood and enjoy being under clear skies, particularly with a bright moon to guide us through the long dark nights.   We look out for traffic as not all boats appear on our GPS, make sure we stay on course and the sails are trimmed correctly.   With the engine on we can’t use our hydrovane so we put on the autopilot, which frees us from having to handsteer the boat.   Surprisingly the temperature dropped as we continued south and it was getting quite damp in the evenings so being outside at night was not as pleasant!   We are lucky on Cerulean as our deck saloon layout gives clear 360 degrees vision from below so we can stay dry and comfortable, while keeping a good lookout and having access to all the instruments needed, including being able to alter course using a remote control for the autopilot.    I was down below looking at the empty seas around us when I saw a sudden movement beside me.   Much to my surprise, another bird had flown into the saloon, this time a very confused Storm Petrel.   I’m not sure who was more shocked by the unexpected company but I’m guessing it was the bird, as the poor thing sat with its beautiful blue/black wings spread out on our internal engine console looking around with a look of “Well this is new…. What now?”.   It allowed me to gently pick it up and place it outside where I hoped it would do a running start and fly away.   When the bird just wobbled and sat down I thought it had been injured but then discovered that Storm Petrel’s can’t support their weight on their tiny legs and feet, usually spending all their time on flight or in the water.   I moved it closer to the side of the boat and that was enough for it to get the energy to slip off the boat and fly away.   It was a lovely, brief distraction!

At 4.30am on day four, after about 10 hours of motoring, the wind started to pick up so we hoisted the sails and had one of the best sails of my life!   The sea was flat and I happily hand steered as the sun came up and wind built throughout the day.   We were flying at 8knots in great conditions and soon caught up with Ruffian again.   The wind continued to build, as we downloaded an updated forecast, using our satellite phone, to discover the wind and seas were going to continue to increase in strength and height over the next few days.  The weather system we were hoping to keep ahead of, had caught us up.   As the wind speed increased to over 25knots, we took down our main sail and reefed the jib to prepare for an uncomfortable night sailing downwind with confused seas and growing waves.   

That night was the first, and worst of three nights riding out the strong winds and big seas.   We were now heading south along the west coast of Africa but still over 100 miles from land.  Shipping traffic had increased with very few other sailing boats as most yachts head further west to Cape Verde.  Waves were crashing into the side of the boat, sending water flying into the cockpit and over the top of us, so we put the autopilot on and hunkered up down below.   We sped along at 6 knots under one small sail, talking to Ruffian on the VHF and maintaining regular contact with our friends on Zen Again on the SSB radio which allows us to speak to people much further away than on the VHF.   In fact, Zen Again were on passage from Madeira to Lanzarote so it was amazing we could hear them clearly and have a quick catch up.  

After enduring the strong winds and big waves for over 24hrs, Ruffian contacted us and suggested we break our journey in Dakar, Senegal and wait out the weather system.   We were all tired and concerned about the stresses we were putting our boats under after having waves bounce into and over us for many hours.    We agreed and slightly altered our heading to pass closer to the headland at Dakar.  Ruffian were about five miles ahead of us, always on sight on the GPS but not visible, as a haze was engulfing us, restricting visibility to about two miles.   We think the haze was from a sand storm in the Sahara which was only a few miles north of where we were.    We continued at pace estimating we would arrive at the identified anchorage in Senegal in approx 36 hours.    We had broken our previous record of distance sailed in 24 hours, which now stands at 165 miles and, to be honest, I’ll be happy if we don’t break that again, if it means avoiding the heavy conditions we experienced on this passage!

Each morning we did a number of checks on both the inside and outside of the boat.   One of those was looking for flying fish which had come to their demise on our deck overnight.   We managed quite a haul of these fish but were not tempted to fry them up for breakfast, as had been recommended by another sailor.  By the time we found them they were stiff with salt and looked very unappetising so threw them overboard in the hope that a bird or dolphin would enjoy them more!  

Through all of these testing conditions, Steve has once again amazed me.   He remained positive and happy, throwing himself into a project to make a new food hammock.   It became as addictive as doing a jigsaw puzzle and he spent his downtime creating a knotted string masterpiece – we calculated he had tied one knot for each mile we sailed on this passage, so a great memento of our first seven day passage!    Steve copes better at sea for the first three days than I do.  He has no problem being below and preparing food, drinks etc, where as it takes me a couple of days to get my sea legs and not feel ill when focusing on anything other than sailing!  

When the heavy weather had abated a little, Ruffian let us know they had experienced a number of issues and gear failure which they needed to sort out before the next long passage.  They felt they had no hope of getting repairs done in Bajul, but Dekar in Senegal, just 100 miles north of Gambia, could be an option.   We agreed to alter our course and head to Dekar, wait out the bad weather and see if they could cobble together repairs or even get replacement parts.   As the sun went down on day six, we approached landfall, sailing side by side.   It was amazing that we had sailed over 800 miles together and were arriving in a new country on a new continent, at the same time.   Cerulean had looked after us well with only a few minor repairs to be done before the next big passage.   Senegal had not been on our radar to visit but we were intrigued and excited to make landfall and start exploring.

Swapping Mainland Europe for Island Life

I’ve already mentioned the enjoyable social side of sailing, often repeatedly meeting up with fellow sailors in different locations, but there is also a huge selection of very good social media sites dedicated to sailing and, as Steve will confirmed with a huge sigh, I am an active member of most of them!   Through these groups we have been fortunate enough to meet some inspirational and lovely people, including Fi and Iain who we met up with in Culatra and then again in Portimao before leaving mainland Portugal with them to sail under the same skies to Madeira.

I had also been in contact with an Australian guy, Mark, who was heading to Madeira at the same time, but leaving from Lisbon.   We were in touch several times to organise daily radio checks, discuss weather windows as well as touching on the recent spate of Orca attacks and sharing advice.   Mark let me know he was leaving Lisbon 12hrs before we were due to leave Portimao so we should be arriving in Porto Santo at around the same time.  

The number of Orca attacks has intensified recently with four boats being involved in incidents close to Lagos and Portimao in one day.  These attacks usually resulted in the boats rudder being bitten off or partially broken while the yacht is spun around by a group of orcas.   The reason for these attacks is unclear, with whales only targeting sailing boats in a frightening display of force and violence.   There are two active pods of orca who are involved in this behaviour, which first started in early summer 2020.   Since then there have been over 100 incidents off the coast of Portugal and Spain, with so many in The Straits of Gibraltar that a restriction zone was created to encourage boats to stay close to the shore when passing through the area.  

We left Portimao with Fi and Iain on Ruffian, the two boats cutting through the still, flat seas as we headed SW towards a bank of fog.   I made use of the last of our internet to check on Mark’s progress from Lisbon and was surprised to see it looked as if he was making very slow progress East close to Sines, instead of a SW course to Madeira.   I sent him a message as we continued motoring in no wind with Ruffian a short distance behind us.   The fog thickened and we lost sight of Ruffian through the thick, damp mist.   Suddenly there was a break in the fog and we noticed a large school of fish jumping out the flat water beside us, skimming along the surface.  My heart went in my mouth as I realised this meant one thing – they were being chased.   My first thought was Orcas – I had a minds eye of a cartoon whale with a nasty grin and big teeth looking at me with a, “Here’s Johnny” evil look in it’s eye!   Fortunately, when the fins broke the water it was a large pod of dolphins which greeted us, so it was with relief that I radioed Ruffian to let them know about the dolphins.   Iain said he had seen something behind us and was also very worried but had heard there had been another Orca attack near Sines this morning.   My heart dropped as Iain proceeded to tell me it was an Australian boat that had been damaged.   When I told him the name of Mark’s boat, he confirmed that was the one involved.   I felt terrible for Mark who was now trying to get to Lagos with a broken rudder.   We later discovered his rudder had been completely removed by the Orca, and in a message to us describing the 2 hour attack in darkness at 2am, with one very large whale and several smaller ones playing with the boat, sounded like the most frightening thing you can imagine.

As the fog lifted the wind increased enough for us to sail and, with Hilda the Hydrovane set we settled into a relaxed routine on board.   The wind was very light and Cerulean felt like an old heavy bus, not performing as well as we had grown used to.   After a frustrating couple of hours Steve and I agreed that, if the light winds continued as forecast, we needed to evaluate whether it was worth continuing to Madeira as something was obviously amiss and maybe we should consider turning around.    We radioed Ruffian who were well ahead of us.   Iain suggested we take his GoPro and look under the boat, so we turned on the motor and caught up with them, catching the GoPro in a throwbag they hurled across to us.   Hero Steve, attached to a line, jumped into the deep, still waters and pointed the camera under the boat to try and understand why we were making such slow progress.   Fortunately he could not see anything tangled around the keel but there was plenty of furry growth on Cerulean’s bottom from weeks of inactivity on anchor.   We decided to keep going and deal with her dirty bottom once we arrived in Madeira.   It was the right decision.  

We crossed the busy shipping lane that is the main thoroughfare for ships entering and leaving the Mediterranean, finding a perfect gap in the traffic for us to slide through, avoiding a tug pulling a large oil rig (we had a discussion on what lights would have been displayed, if we’d seen it at night!).   The wind increased and we enjoyed some lovely sailing in flat, calm seas for two days.

At 3am early in the morning of day three, we turned the engine on as we were wallowing in no wind making 2knots with sails flapping.   This followed a glorious day where we had flown the cruising chute with Hilda steering beautifully throughout the day.

We saw very little wildlife during the passage – a few dolphins, a shark and, on day three we were joined by a little bird that hitched a ride with us for a while.   It’s funny because the same thing happened when we crossed the Bay of Biscay.    

My mum was a keen birdwatcher.   She had a bird table in front of the dining room window and she took huge pleasure watching the many and varied birds that visited the well-stocked bird feeder.   When mum was bed-ridden we put her bed beside the window so she could still see the birds and, when she passed away, we had the window open.   A little bird came and sat on the windowsill and looked in at us all standing around mum’s bed, trying to come to terms with what had just happened.   The bird sat for some time observing the scene and my sister, Judy and I took comfort in thinking this was mum looking in on us.    When the bird came to the boat and found its way inside the cabin, three times (even when we put netting across the entrance way), it allowed me to pick it up and take it outside each time.    When it flew away, it did a circuit of the boat, returned and landed on my head, before eventually leaving us for good.     I took comfort thinking of mum and knowing how much she would approve of this adventure we are on.

All day on day three we motored.  We took advantage of the engine being on and made fresh water so enjoyed showers.  As we headed further south, the temperatures increased and even wearing clothes was too much during the day!    At night we made up a bed in the forward cabin and took three hour shifts sharing the sleeping while the other stayed on lookout in the cockpit under the huge moonless sky of stars.   At one point we were both in the saloon, talking while the autopilot steered us towards Porto Santo.  The large chartplotter was in between the two of us as we sat either side of the chart table chatting.   At some point I decided to adjust the autopilot course and picked up the (seldom used) remote control unit, adjusting our direction by just a couple of clicks to port.   As I had turned it on to make this adjustment, I then turned the remote off again and continued our discussion.   About ten minutes later I looked at the chartplotter and saw with dismay that we were tracking in completely the wrong direction.  I rushed on deck and realised that, instead of turning off the remote control, I had turned off the autopilot and we had been doing circles for the last ten minutes!      Later that evening we had a catch up with Ruffian on the radio and, just as we were finishing, Iain commented on the two circles we had performed earlier.   I hung my head in shame – even when 200 miles from land, there is no hiding from stupid mistakes!

Steve decided to have a haircut while we had no wind.   He powered up his electric razor and proceeded to give himself a number 2 while hanging over the transom.    When he had completed the front he asked for help as he could not reach the back of his head.   By the time I joined in the fun he had a perfect Mullet which, after much hilarity and threats if photos being taken, I set about trying to complete the coiffeur.  Sadly, I am no hairdresser and just mastering how to use the razor properly proved a long and tedious task which resulted in me shaving Steve’s hair above his right ear, clean off!    First I was mortified when I saw I had given him half a Mohawk, quickly followed by me dissolving into fits of laughter which was not matched by a pissed off looking Steve!     Needless to say, he took the razor from me, vowing never to let me near it again and not allowing any photographic evidence of the event!

By the evening of day three the wind had started to pick up, all be it from the wrong direction, so we decided to turn off the engine and start tacking into the wind.   The peace and quiet after hours of hearing the motor was a huge relief and we made reasonable progress for a while, giving ourselves targets and rewards when those milestones were reached.    Our aim was to get within 50 miles of land and then, if the wind was still on the nose we would motorsail again.    With about 70 miles to go we noticed a big flash on the horizon.   Lightening.    Lightening fills all sailors with dread.   Being a singular metal pole in the middle of an ocean is similar to walking down the middle of a busy motorway and hoping not to be run over!    As the lightening intensified and moved towards us, we put all our electrics into the microwave to protect them and turned off as many electrical items as possible.   With sheet lightening flashing all around us we continued sailing with a reef in the main and smaller jib only.   The boat was not performing well and I was getting really frustrated as I tried to work out why she wasn’t responding in the way we have become used to.   The sails were trimmed, but Cerulean felt like she had a handbrake on still.  

Eventually the storm passed and, with the high volcanic peaks of Porto Santo in sight and only 20 miles left, we turned on the engine.   The sea was rough with wind against us, blowing upto 28knots, so progress was slow!    We were both tired, were not enjoying this last part of the passage, had not eaten properly as trying to prepare food while the boat is being lurched from side to side is not easy and we were hot and dirty after two days of heat and no showers!     To say it was a relief to round the tall, rugged Ilheu de Cima and see the small town of Vila Baleira with its long sandy beach, was an understatement!   We turned into the protected harbour and dropped our anchor next to Ruffian.  Tall barren, rugged mountains formed a backdrop to the small marina and it was with huge relief and a sense of achievement that we turned off the engine, made a decent meal and collapsed into bed for a much needed, long and peaceful nights sleep after a four and a half day passage covering 522 miles!