July 2001 PagoPago
Our visit to Nelson this season was a short and busy 10 weeks. After being out of town for nearly 2 years it was fun to return, renew old friendships and visit familiar places. Davey and Lori arrived a month early to help prepare Alvei for winter in the tropics. Kate finished a year on board before returning home to Australia. Arriving within two weeks of departure were the following crew: Anne, a rocket scientist from California, Hans a school teacher and his friend Tage a farmer from Denmark, Martin a German cook, Dean an American shopping for a yacht, Star a New Age hippie from Florida, Cambria a recent college graduate from Calif. and Hiroko a Japanese language student. Nigel a recently retired husband, returned from last years crew.
It was a calm and sunny Saturday morning when we bit farewell to a collection of friends on the dock, cast off the mooring lines and motored out into Tasman Bay. The first day we were slowed by head winds and so put into Croiselles Harbor and anchored for the night at Okiwi Bay. Everyone, me especially, was glad to get away from the distractions of leaving and to have a chance to get good nights sleep before the passage through the Marlborough Sounds and Cook Straits.
The next morning we were underway again, made French Pass with a fair tide about noon. The sounds were calm as a lake. Rounded Cape Jackson before dusk and met an opposing tide in Cook Strait. This slowed us down till just before midnight when the tide turned and pushed us out of the Strait. By dawn we were 12 miles to the east of Cape Paliser.
Becalmed under a cold, clear sky, the lighthouse at Cape Paliser was painted orange by the rising sun. We motored for half a day to get clear of the land. By evening that lighthouse was shining just on the horizon.
The first few days I didn’t get much sleep. Despite several mornings of sail training exercises in port before we left, the crew seemed mesmerized by the ship and the sea. If I ordered a sail change they would stand under the masts looking up at the maze of rigging as though there were some sign up there to tell them what to do. I would literally have to take them to the proper line and put it in their hand. I would say, “Haul, haul away”. They stare back at me wide eyed, dumbfounded. Then I say again, in lands man’s terms, “Pull! Pull-on-the-line! The message is transferred. They haul away frantically. (Then again, with our Japanese or Danish crew, who are not at-ease with the English language, would do the opposite and haul on lines that needed to be slacked.) So, I have to repeat and mime the order with gestures of hauling or slacking. Even simple maneuvers take 2 or 3 times longer than normal.
Cloudy days with light winds we slowly work our way off shore to the nor’east. By day 5 we are well clear of the land. The crew has picked up the basics of setting and furling sail. For the first time in weeks I can relax.
Here is a deck log entry for the evening of Day-7. 2000 hours. “The Fore Watch gets the “Bozo Award” for turning over the watch and leaving the deck with: 1. All the sails aback, 2. The ship headed in the opposite direction from the course ordered and 3. The gaff top’sls set for the opposite tack.” Initialed EL. It took me and the Main Watch about 20 minutes to get things sorted out. Later the Fore Watch said that when they get to Tahiti they plan to have T-shirts printed that read: Dumb Dumber Dumbest & Anne. Anne, by theway, is an aerospace engineer, a rocket scientist in real life.
By day thirteen we have moved on to plan “B” and I have come to a realization about finalities. Last year after we hauled out in Maryborough; we were embayed behind the river bar at Sandy Straits for weeks. Monitoring weather faxes I could see that, along with the sou’easterly gales that kept the river bar closed, there were easterly winds all the way across the Tasman Sea. We couldn’t have gone far, even if we could have crossed the bar.
One year later we have the same conditions. Caught in this stationary high we are pinned down with light to moderate nor’easterlies. Everyone wants to sail north into warm weather, but it will have to wait. We will have to sail farther south to find the westerlies. Running your Easting down in the roaring forties is the sort of thing one reads about in the great novels of the sea. Conrad, Melville and Villers all wrote about this cold, stormy highway across the Southern Ocean. Now it is our turn to follow the old sea route.
We will stay south of 40 degrees south until reaching 155 west longitude, then haul gradually to the north until reaching the sou’east trades, then sail direct for Tahiti.
Day 17, gray skies and drizzle, making fair headway ‘full and by’ across a cool Northerly breeze. The end of the booms sheeted out over the rail as Alvei rolls and dips her lee rail into the foaming sea. A couple days ago we had our Saturday Field Day, where we all spend the morning scrubbing the galley and then the rest of the ship. There had been some issues about cleanliness and late meals, so I started our weekly meeting with a talk about our galley routine and how it works, (in this case good tasting food) or in some cases doesn’t work (on the other hand, late meals, wasted food and poor hygiene).
Lao Tsu says, “The successful leader is seldom seen or heard, but when the job is finally accomplished, the people say, “See we did it all ourselves.” I prefer this type of leadership. It works when there is some of the former crew along to show the way. However, this time they are all new and the routine is faltering.
My pep talk centered on being responsible for yourself (cleaning up after yourself). And team work between the watches and the cook(s) to keep the galley uncluttered and with hot soapy water in the sinks. Three of the girls, Cambria, Lori and Star, offered to help make and post reminder notices to clean the stove and mop the cabin sole after dinner etc. It all seemed to go well enough, everyone was smiling at the end.
Becalmed 900 miles east of Cook Straits. By day 20 we had been motoring for the past 30 hours through a calm sea. Lori and Cambria announced it was time for a party. Just after dark we shut off the engine, furled all the sails and drifted in this gray foggy sea. A case of beer was produced and a noisy card game got started in the galley, however, by 2100 most of the crew had gone to sleep. We put the watches on anchor watch status and everyone got full nights sleep.
Since leaving Cook Strait we have been caught under the same high-pressure cell. It changes shape and intensity, but it is slowly moving with us across the Pacific. The weather people say it is stationary. Some times I feels like we are as well. We have had light northerlies the past 3 weeks, now we are in the side of the high that gives us southerlies. It’s nice to have favorable winds for a change. We’ve set a coupleof square sails and are starting to make our way north.
The 26th day of this passage and we are still south of 40 south. We have almost reached 155 degrees west, the point where we should start making our way north. But we have fresh northerlies and rough seas keeping us from making any headway to the north. Gray skies, gray seas and cold, humid weather. The sun came out for a few hours about mid day yesterday; it was a real treat. Everyone is holding on waiting for a windshift. We caught our 8th tuna yesterday, another BlueFin 80 centimeters long. After cleaning and filleting the fish I have them save the rest of it so I can feed the leftovers to the sea birds. The little Shearwaters and Petrels learn to find the food first, then the large albatrosses move in and take over.
Day 29 of our passage to Tahiti is Dogwatch day. Every two weeks we break the afternoon watch into two parts and thus set the watches back one 4-hour period. This way everyone gets to try all the watches. We are also in time zone 10 west, so we set the clocks ahead one-hour tonight. After 5 days of rain and a 2-day gale; we have our first sunny first full day of sunshine in weeks. About half the crew did laundry today; the lazy jacks are decorated with drying clothing.
That high-pressure cell, that has had us pinned down with northerlies for the past 3 weeks, has finally wandered off to the east, (hooray hooray). Now we are becalmed between a high and a low. There was a 4 meter sea still running from the gale yesterday, without much wind we were rolling around a lot. It wouldn’t have done much good to try to motor into that size swell anyway. Then in the afternoon, one of the Danes brought out his copy of our itinerary and reminded me we are supposed to be there by the first of June, so we are motoring today.
Day 30 we have drifted together with a low we have showers and a confused lumpy sea but there is a gentle southerly breeze. Tahiti is 1240 miles to the north and we are finally headed that way.
Day 33, the westerlies have returned to the Southwest Pacific our third day of fair winds, we are sailing north at the rate of a couple degrees a day. Each day seems a little warmer. Now 1500 miles east of Auckland we are entering an area of disappearing islands (Maria Teresa no longer exists) and breakers (reported in 1837) in what should be deep water. Need to keep a good lookout. Hans, one of our two Danes, was been hibernating in his cabin for weeks. He occasionally comes out of is cabin looking gaunt and solemn. He says he needs sunshine and warm weather. I’ll have to have a chat with him about how he’s feeling.
Day 38. I checked in with Pentacomstat a few days ago. Told them we were 1200 miles south of Tahiti and gave them an ETA of 7 June. Two days later we are set upon by another northerly blow and we find ourselves slogging away to the east through the rain and a gray lumpy sea. That ETA I gave them is looking like wishful thinking. This will be the longest passage I have ever made. The previous record being 41 days.
Tahiti is still 900 miles to the north.
Day 44 of our passage to Tahiti. The Horse Latitudes. I should have thought of that. They don’t call this area by that name; there isn’t much traffic in this part of the planet anyway. (We have seen 3 ships, a container ship, a tanker and a long liner, since leaving New Zealand.) However, it stands to reason that between the Westerlies in the south and the tropical trade winds, there would be an area in between with light variables. And sure enough here we are motoring for several days now. I checked in with Pentacomstat and gave them a new ETA of 12 June, still 10 days and 560 miles away.
A couple days ago I had just come on deck after logging our noon position and daily run. Everyone was standing on the aft settee looking aft. Two hundred meters off the starboard quarter a fin whale breached the surface and blew. Judging from the width of the back it looked like a big one. We shut down the engine and began setting more sail. The whale stayed with us for an hour and a half. Sounding, then surfacing and coming almost close enough to touch. Comparing it to the length of the jib boom, it would be 15 or 16 meters long.
Day 49. Just as I finished the previous paragraph a sou’easterly breeze was puffing gently on the starboard quarter, so, shut down the main engine and set all 6 square sails. The peace and quiet was wonderful. The fair breeze died away by mid afternoon.We were ghosting along at a knot more or less, barely enough wind to hold the course. I left the engine off the rest of the afternoon and evening, expecting to have to start it again when I got up for the midnight watch. Woke up at 23:30 with the pleasant sound of water sluicing along the side of the hull. After that we had the four best days sailing of the whole passage.
After spending the past month hobby horsing along at 2.7 knots we finally found a fair breeze sailing 5 to 6 knots with a ‘bone in her teeth’ on course and headed for Tahiti. This new development tended to generate lots of smiles among the crew. I have sailed into Tahiti many times since the 1970’s, but this is the first time I have made landfall from the south. The view from the south is of volcanic spires and cloud hidden peaks, a truly enchanting view.
Still 10 miles off shore a fast tuna trolling boat comes alongside to say hello. A couple of smiling Tahitians come close along the starboard side and toss a large Yellow Fin tuna on deck.
Day 51, 23:30 dropped the hook off the beach in Papeete harbor. Being Saturday night we will have to wait till Monday morning to clear in. We’ll be here till the first part of next week. We went to the dock of honor at Papeete to take on fuel and water, then set sail for Moorea. After a couple of days there we did the overnight sail to Huahine. By the end of the week we were in Faaroa Bay in Raiatea. It was a good time and place to have one of our community PotLuck socials. We are usually the largest boat in the anchorage and can accommodate over a hundred people without getting too crowded. We provide a hot bar-b-que, a couple of salads and a large rum punch. The rule of thumb for these events to bring twice as much as you expect to eat and drink and arrive any time after sunset. We arrange all the platters of food buffet style and usually manage to assemble quite a feast.
This party was a good collection of yachts and Tahitians from around the Bay. We traded a bottle of gin for 5 stalks of bananas. Three guys with Ukulele’s arrived in their outrigger canoe. The crew from a mega yacht arrived with matching flower print shirts. There was noise, laughter and song till after two in the morning.
The next morning we set sail for Bora Bora, arriving to anchor near the yacht club just before sunset. Not long after dropping the hook a boatload of local guys arrived with a case of beer. This impromptu party lasted till midnight. With Bastille Day only 2 weeks away there is much dancing and parties around town.
Our 5 days here was over too soon, but we set sail for American Samoa on the 4th of July. With 14 on the crew, it was a fun sail. We only had 3 good trade wind sailing days with over a hundred mile runs, the rest of the time was light airs and calms. We had to motor the last 3 days to get Dominic here in time for his flight back to London.
Now anchored in Pago Pago, American Samoa, we will buy food stores for the rest of the season. Tutuila is a comparatively small island; traditional Samoan culture is still strong here. The people are relaxed and friendly.
Next stop will be Apia, Western Samoa, then to Vava’u, Tonga.
It was a calm and sunny Saturday morning when we bit farewell to a collection of friends on the dock, cast off the mooring lines and motored out into Tasman Bay. The first day we were slowed by head winds and so put into Croiselles Harbor and anchored for the night at Okiwi Bay. Everyone, me especially, was glad to get away from the distractions of leaving and to have a chance to get good nights sleep before the passage through the Marlborough Sounds and Cook Straits.
The next morning we were underway again, made French Pass with a fair tide about noon. The sounds were calm as a lake. Rounded Cape Jackson before dusk and met an opposing tide in Cook Strait. This slowed us down till just before midnight when the tide turned and pushed us out of the Strait. By dawn we were 12 miles to the east of Cape Paliser.
Becalmed under a cold, clear sky, the lighthouse at Cape Paliser was painted orange by the rising sun. We motored for half a day to get clear of the land. By evening that lighthouse was shining just on the horizon.
The first few days I didn’t get much sleep. Despite several mornings of sail training exercises in port before we left, the crew seemed mesmerized by the ship and the sea. If I ordered a sail change they would stand under the masts looking up at the maze of rigging as though there were some sign up there to tell them what to do. I would literally have to take them to the proper line and put it in their hand. I would say, “Haul, haul away”. They stare back at me wide eyed, dumbfounded. Then I say again, in lands man’s terms, “Pull! Pull-on-the-line! The message is transferred. They haul away frantically. (Then again, with our Japanese or Danish crew, who are not at-ease with the English language, would do the opposite and haul on lines that needed to be slacked.) So, I have to repeat and mime the order with gestures of hauling or slacking. Even simple maneuvers take 2 or 3 times longer than normal.
Cloudy days with light winds we slowly work our way off shore to the nor’east. By day 5 we are well clear of the land. The crew has picked up the basics of setting and furling sail. For the first time in weeks I can relax.
Here is a deck log entry for the evening of Day-7. 2000 hours. “The Fore Watch gets the “Bozo Award” for turning over the watch and leaving the deck with: 1. All the sails aback, 2. The ship headed in the opposite direction from the course ordered and 3. The gaff top’sls set for the opposite tack.” Initialed EL. It took me and the Main Watch about 20 minutes to get things sorted out. Later the Fore Watch said that when they get to Tahiti they plan to have T-shirts printed that read: Dumb Dumber Dumbest & Anne. Anne, by theway, is an aerospace engineer, a rocket scientist in real life.
By day thirteen we have moved on to plan “B” and I have come to a realization about finalities. Last year after we hauled out in Maryborough; we were embayed behind the river bar at Sandy Straits for weeks. Monitoring weather faxes I could see that, along with the sou’easterly gales that kept the river bar closed, there were easterly winds all the way across the Tasman Sea. We couldn’t have gone far, even if we could have crossed the bar.
One year later we have the same conditions. Caught in this stationary high we are pinned down with light to moderate nor’easterlies. Everyone wants to sail north into warm weather, but it will have to wait. We will have to sail farther south to find the westerlies. Running your Easting down in the roaring forties is the sort of thing one reads about in the great novels of the sea. Conrad, Melville and Villers all wrote about this cold, stormy highway across the Southern Ocean. Now it is our turn to follow the old sea route.
We will stay south of 40 degrees south until reaching 155 west longitude, then haul gradually to the north until reaching the sou’east trades, then sail direct for Tahiti.
Day 17, gray skies and drizzle, making fair headway ‘full and by’ across a cool Northerly breeze. The end of the booms sheeted out over the rail as Alvei rolls and dips her lee rail into the foaming sea. A couple days ago we had our Saturday Field Day, where we all spend the morning scrubbing the galley and then the rest of the ship. There had been some issues about cleanliness and late meals, so I started our weekly meeting with a talk about our galley routine and how it works, (in this case good tasting food) or in some cases doesn’t work (on the other hand, late meals, wasted food and poor hygiene).
Lao Tsu says, “The successful leader is seldom seen or heard, but when the job is finally accomplished, the people say, “See we did it all ourselves.” I prefer this type of leadership. It works when there is some of the former crew along to show the way. However, this time they are all new and the routine is faltering.
My pep talk centered on being responsible for yourself (cleaning up after yourself). And team work between the watches and the cook(s) to keep the galley uncluttered and with hot soapy water in the sinks. Three of the girls, Cambria, Lori and Star, offered to help make and post reminder notices to clean the stove and mop the cabin sole after dinner etc. It all seemed to go well enough, everyone was smiling at the end.
Becalmed 900 miles east of Cook Straits. By day 20 we had been motoring for the past 30 hours through a calm sea. Lori and Cambria announced it was time for a party. Just after dark we shut off the engine, furled all the sails and drifted in this gray foggy sea. A case of beer was produced and a noisy card game got started in the galley, however, by 2100 most of the crew had gone to sleep. We put the watches on anchor watch status and everyone got full nights sleep.
Since leaving Cook Strait we have been caught under the same high-pressure cell. It changes shape and intensity, but it is slowly moving with us across the Pacific. The weather people say it is stationary. Some times I feels like we are as well. We have had light northerlies the past 3 weeks, now we are in the side of the high that gives us southerlies. It’s nice to have favorable winds for a change. We’ve set a coupleof square sails and are starting to make our way north.
The 26th day of this passage and we are still south of 40 south. We have almost reached 155 degrees west, the point where we should start making our way north. But we have fresh northerlies and rough seas keeping us from making any headway to the north. Gray skies, gray seas and cold, humid weather. The sun came out for a few hours about mid day yesterday; it was a real treat. Everyone is holding on waiting for a windshift. We caught our 8th tuna yesterday, another BlueFin 80 centimeters long. After cleaning and filleting the fish I have them save the rest of it so I can feed the leftovers to the sea birds. The little Shearwaters and Petrels learn to find the food first, then the large albatrosses move in and take over.
Day 29 of our passage to Tahiti is Dogwatch day. Every two weeks we break the afternoon watch into two parts and thus set the watches back one 4-hour period. This way everyone gets to try all the watches. We are also in time zone 10 west, so we set the clocks ahead one-hour tonight. After 5 days of rain and a 2-day gale; we have our first sunny first full day of sunshine in weeks. About half the crew did laundry today; the lazy jacks are decorated with drying clothing.
That high-pressure cell, that has had us pinned down with northerlies for the past 3 weeks, has finally wandered off to the east, (hooray hooray). Now we are becalmed between a high and a low. There was a 4 meter sea still running from the gale yesterday, without much wind we were rolling around a lot. It wouldn’t have done much good to try to motor into that size swell anyway. Then in the afternoon, one of the Danes brought out his copy of our itinerary and reminded me we are supposed to be there by the first of June, so we are motoring today.
Day 30 we have drifted together with a low we have showers and a confused lumpy sea but there is a gentle southerly breeze. Tahiti is 1240 miles to the north and we are finally headed that way.
Day 33, the westerlies have returned to the Southwest Pacific our third day of fair winds, we are sailing north at the rate of a couple degrees a day. Each day seems a little warmer. Now 1500 miles east of Auckland we are entering an area of disappearing islands (Maria Teresa no longer exists) and breakers (reported in 1837) in what should be deep water. Need to keep a good lookout. Hans, one of our two Danes, was been hibernating in his cabin for weeks. He occasionally comes out of is cabin looking gaunt and solemn. He says he needs sunshine and warm weather. I’ll have to have a chat with him about how he’s feeling.
Day 38. I checked in with Pentacomstat a few days ago. Told them we were 1200 miles south of Tahiti and gave them an ETA of 7 June. Two days later we are set upon by another northerly blow and we find ourselves slogging away to the east through the rain and a gray lumpy sea. That ETA I gave them is looking like wishful thinking. This will be the longest passage I have ever made. The previous record being 41 days.
Tahiti is still 900 miles to the north.
Day 44 of our passage to Tahiti. The Horse Latitudes. I should have thought of that. They don’t call this area by that name; there isn’t much traffic in this part of the planet anyway. (We have seen 3 ships, a container ship, a tanker and a long liner, since leaving New Zealand.) However, it stands to reason that between the Westerlies in the south and the tropical trade winds, there would be an area in between with light variables. And sure enough here we are motoring for several days now. I checked in with Pentacomstat and gave them a new ETA of 12 June, still 10 days and 560 miles away.
A couple days ago I had just come on deck after logging our noon position and daily run. Everyone was standing on the aft settee looking aft. Two hundred meters off the starboard quarter a fin whale breached the surface and blew. Judging from the width of the back it looked like a big one. We shut down the engine and began setting more sail. The whale stayed with us for an hour and a half. Sounding, then surfacing and coming almost close enough to touch. Comparing it to the length of the jib boom, it would be 15 or 16 meters long.
Day 49. Just as I finished the previous paragraph a sou’easterly breeze was puffing gently on the starboard quarter, so, shut down the main engine and set all 6 square sails. The peace and quiet was wonderful. The fair breeze died away by mid afternoon.We were ghosting along at a knot more or less, barely enough wind to hold the course. I left the engine off the rest of the afternoon and evening, expecting to have to start it again when I got up for the midnight watch. Woke up at 23:30 with the pleasant sound of water sluicing along the side of the hull. After that we had the four best days sailing of the whole passage.
After spending the past month hobby horsing along at 2.7 knots we finally found a fair breeze sailing 5 to 6 knots with a ‘bone in her teeth’ on course and headed for Tahiti. This new development tended to generate lots of smiles among the crew. I have sailed into Tahiti many times since the 1970’s, but this is the first time I have made landfall from the south. The view from the south is of volcanic spires and cloud hidden peaks, a truly enchanting view.
Still 10 miles off shore a fast tuna trolling boat comes alongside to say hello. A couple of smiling Tahitians come close along the starboard side and toss a large Yellow Fin tuna on deck.
Day 51, 23:30 dropped the hook off the beach in Papeete harbor. Being Saturday night we will have to wait till Monday morning to clear in. We’ll be here till the first part of next week. We went to the dock of honor at Papeete to take on fuel and water, then set sail for Moorea. After a couple of days there we did the overnight sail to Huahine. By the end of the week we were in Faaroa Bay in Raiatea. It was a good time and place to have one of our community PotLuck socials. We are usually the largest boat in the anchorage and can accommodate over a hundred people without getting too crowded. We provide a hot bar-b-que, a couple of salads and a large rum punch. The rule of thumb for these events to bring twice as much as you expect to eat and drink and arrive any time after sunset. We arrange all the platters of food buffet style and usually manage to assemble quite a feast.
This party was a good collection of yachts and Tahitians from around the Bay. We traded a bottle of gin for 5 stalks of bananas. Three guys with Ukulele’s arrived in their outrigger canoe. The crew from a mega yacht arrived with matching flower print shirts. There was noise, laughter and song till after two in the morning.
The next morning we set sail for Bora Bora, arriving to anchor near the yacht club just before sunset. Not long after dropping the hook a boatload of local guys arrived with a case of beer. This impromptu party lasted till midnight. With Bastille Day only 2 weeks away there is much dancing and parties around town.
Our 5 days here was over too soon, but we set sail for American Samoa on the 4th of July. With 14 on the crew, it was a fun sail. We only had 3 good trade wind sailing days with over a hundred mile runs, the rest of the time was light airs and calms. We had to motor the last 3 days to get Dominic here in time for his flight back to London.
Now anchored in Pago Pago, American Samoa, we will buy food stores for the rest of the season. Tutuila is a comparatively small island; traditional Samoan culture is still strong here. The people are relaxed and friendly.
Next stop will be Apia, Western Samoa, then to Vava’u, Tonga.