Sun, 28 Jul 2002
Heading north in another gale of wind.
Sunday, July 21, 2002, was our date to leave Coffs Harbor, on the East Coast of Australia to sail back to the tropical Islands of the Pacific. Once again we were fooled by the weather. Over four days we watched the forecasts and we'd decided that either Saturday night or Sunday morning would be the best time to go. There was a front due on Saturday afternoon or evening. After the front the wind would be out of the South, and good for sailing. We made plans. Saturday we saw the clouds ahead of the front, but no wind. We stayed in port. Sunday morning there was 10 knots of wind and a forecast for 20-33 knots, SW, easing Sunday. We thought we could deal with that. We left at 07:15.
At exactly 09:10 the weather bureau upgraded the forecast to a Gale Warning. This is the same thing that happened when we left Sydney. Again, we were 15 miles north our departure port, this time Coffs Harbor, And we'd already checked out of the country. I didn't want to go back, but I think Judy would have. Instead we secured for heavy weather and continued northward. I have concluded that the weather guys arrive at work at 09:00 and then they look at the situation and say, "Holy shit, its going to be a gale today." That's when they do their Gale Warnings. Of course this does not help any mariners who want to get an early start.
So it blew a gale of wind all day and most of the night. We plodded along under much reduced sail on a fairly easy broad reach. The wind wasn't too bad, mostly mid to high 30's, but the waves were difficult. We were taking them side on and steep comers were coming along every few minutes which would roll us violently, once putting the boom into the water, and we would round up for a few seconds. To keep the main from flogging we over trimmed it, which didn't help our speed or angle of heel. The decks were awash much of the time from waves which slapped us on the side then came aboard uninvited. The work we had done last year to seal the boat kept most of the water out, so down below it was fairly dry, but somehow some water got into the engine compartment and this splashed the regulator one time too many, so in the morning the engine wouldn't charge the batteries. That wasn't the only problem. Besides the charging system being down, there were leaks in the cockpit skylight, water in the rudder area in the stern, and the radio transmissions seemed to be garbled, or so said the people we were trying to talk to. The coffee pot got tipped over spilling coffee grounds everywhere. The crew, meaning Judy and I, were tired and grumpy, and a little seasick. I'm always queasy for the first two days at sea, and Judy was trying to do without her sea sick medicine, (don't ask me why she felt she needed to do this), so she was miserable. We had anxiety about the weather. The low point of the trip came Monday when a full cup of tea got spilled on our bed, right where we had been trying so hard to keep it dry. It was enough to make one cry. It just seems like the first 48 hours of any sea passage isn't much fun. For that matter, maybe the rest of it isn't either.
But we kept at it. By noon we'd cleaned up most of the mess, pumped out the water, fixed the regulator (sort of) and were starting to get out sea legs, but we were still grumpy and we still wanted to be somewhere else, but we were coping.
Late the second day the wind dropped, and things got easier. We rested and recovered, but then we found that we were both getting sick. Colds or the flu, I don't know, but soon we had fevers and bad coughs. We started to take cold medicine, lots of it. Then we were drugged as well as tired.
On day three we motored for 22 hours, no wind. This was a welcome break from sailing the boat in rough conditions, but the boat looked like a sick bay and sounded like a tuberculosis ward.
On day four the wind came back, with a vengeance. We had mid to upper thirties all day. We sailed fast and were thankful that the boat didn't need much attention, because we didn't have much energy to give. But we did have to do some things. A batten started to come out and we had to drop the main to fix that. We grabbed it just as it was ready to fly away and got it resecured. The main went back up. A bolt needed to be adjusted on the tiller, and this too required both of us. During that operation we had to take off the self steering and I performed an all-standing jibe while trying to help Judy tighten a bolt when I was supposed to be steering. Luckily the jibe was harmless, nothing broke except the fused link in the preventer. Meanwhile Wings was smoking, 8-9 knots. That night we took down the jib. We still covered 185 miles in 24 hours.
On day five the wind moderated slightly, and we jibed (intentionally) for the entrance to the reef around New Caledonia.
At sunrise the morning of the sixth day we saw land, and at 08:30 we sailed through the pass, out of the ocean, into the lagoon of New Caledonia. The passage was over.
Paradise re-found.
Here we were, back in paradise. The Pacific Island culture surrounds us, and gentle tropical weather waves the palm trees. We were still sick, but we could sleep in, rest, go to the doctor, whatever. Noumea is great. It is a little piece of France in a Pacific setting. The French have this place running smoothly. We were given a dock space, the telephone worked so we could do email. The officials each visited us at the boat, were courteous and check-in was quick. We went to the ATM and got a pocket full of Pacific Fancs, then off to the market for croissants. The people here are a wondefull variety of Polynesians, Melanesians, Europeans, and French girls. There was music of the South Pacific in the market. The first night we drank the rum that Geoff gave us back in Sydney, and in the morning we had Ceylon tea. We were happy.
Fred & Judy