Velella Cruising Log

After nearly 3 years in the Southern Hemisphere, we slowly made our way through unsettled weather, facing doldrums, squalls and thunderstorms across the equator. We went from summer to winter without experiencing fall. Yet despite our sudden change of seasons, our weather remained hot.

We left the Solomon Islands with help from the great westerly monsoon so common in December and January in PNG and the Solomons. Weather faxes showed westerlies that could take us along the equator as far east as Hawaii, a result of the western Pacific monsoon and a hurricane bending to the southeast of us passing Fiji and Tonga (which subsequently devastated one of our favorite countries, Nuie). We hadn’t realized that this route offered such potential for heading east at this time of year. We planned to head to Kosrae, nearly due north from the Solomons, but favorable winds tempted us to sail further east for Tarawa in the Gilbert Islands, also known as Kiribati.

Some 25 knot westerlies gave us a nice head start our first 2 days out, followed by lighter winds, then days of ideal sailing conditions, periodic squalls and calms. For as far as our eyes could see, there was nothing but heaving ocean. We did see a fishing boat on 3 occasions in the distance and even a couple of buoys, but otherwise little broke up the monotony of the scenery. Flying fish or dolphins which often offer a nice diversion were in little evidence, although we did see some huge tunas jumping several mornings. Yet the constantly changeable weather kept us busy.

We watched star constellations march across the sky during our night watches and worried about ominous clouds building on the horizon. Many of the clouds merely drizzled a bit of rain on us, sometimes a welcome relief from the relentless sun from which we hid in the small patches of shade created by our sailing awning. Other clouds packed a punch. One night during my midnight to 3am watch a squall hit with a vengeance. I sat in the driving rain wrestling with the tiller to run off in the big gusts. Not knowing how long it would last, I hung on. The rain gradually eased along with the wind, but I had only a temporary respite. Within minutes new strong gusts and heavy rain resumed in earnest, the wind way too much for the sail area we had up. Finally I resolved to make my way forward along the bucking slippery decks in the moonless blackness to drop the main until the squall passed. A good decision, for the squall continued my entire watch and our wooden tiller had cracked under the pressure. No opportunity for reading by flashlight or escaping into the dry companionway that night. Wearing merely a harness strapped to a pad eye in the cockpit, I kept a close watch on the course as we charged in the pouring rain until the squall passed at the end of my watch. No need to get clothing soaked and the cool rain was refreshing, although I eventually got cold. Only a hat kept the rain from running down my face. Finally, Garth came on watch and I warmed up with a cup of tea before heading off to sleep. His turn to face crashing sails as the boat heaved in the confused swell that remaining after the wind died. And few days later Garth was the lucky one with a wild ride his entire watch and then I faced the sloppy waves in the aftermath.

The passage seemed to go on forever, but thanks to a big stack of magazines another cruiser passed us before our departure, we had a few diversions to stem the boredom of days at sea without contact with the outside world. After losing the SSB and stereo to a voltage spike, we were unable to listen to nets, news or music to provide variety to our days. But fortunately we are voracious readers and we immersed ourselves in many of the books that overwhelm our otherwise light ship. We’ve indulged our weakness for good reading material, never turning down the offer of a good book despite our already overflowing shelf. We enjoyed some ginger beer that we’d brewed ourselves before leaving and made a significant dent in our special treats squirreled away just for passage making. We were looking forward to the fresh provisions that we usually can find upon arrival in port, but were not expecting much from the tiny remote atoll of Tarawa.

Like the Tuamotus, the Gilberts or Kiribati, pronounced KIR ee bass (an indigenous corruption of the name Gilberts), is made up of tiny coral islands only a few feet above sea level that are strung together along a reef surrounding aquamarine lagoons. (When people talk about global warming and rising sea levels, these are the kind of places that would quickly be wiped out.) Sitting just 70 miles from the equator, the dry climate and lack of arable land in Tarawa limit the variety of produce and most provisions are imported at great expense from elsewhere. Since we found limited supplies in the Solomons, we had eaten through many of our long stored foods and specialty items some purchased as far back as Mexico or even Seattle and the boat hasn’t been this empty (except for books!) in ages. Tarawa is not a place we can stay long, since it offers little protection. We also understand the lagoon is polluted, although the aquamarine water looks so fresh and inviting, and fresh water limited unless we can catch rainwater and direct it to our tanks from our awnings. (Catching rainwater makes a downpour a little more fun and fresh rainwater tastes so good.) We’ll check email, provision as best we can from the limited selection and visit a few remnants of WWII battles before setting off again, visiting a few other Kiribati islands nearby (Abiang and Butaritari) as we work our way north.

Cheers,
Wendy Hinman and Garth Wilcox
S/V Velella (Wylie 31)