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Captain's Log 11: Ocean Passages and Niue
July 29 - August 18, 2008
July 29 - August 18, 2008
July 29 - August 4: The 1100-mile sail from Bora Bora to Niue
and Murphy's Laws of ocean passages
When we completed the 3100-mile trip from the Galapagos to the
Marquesas, we had this silly idea that we were done with long ocean
passages. Ha. Somehow we failed to notice all the open water
between French Polynesia and Tonga, between Tonga and Fiji,
between Fiji and . . . well, you get the picture. Lock down those
hatches.
Passages mean sailing 24/7 for days, even weeks, over open, rolly
seas. We share watches so someone is always in the cockpit and
awake (preferably but not always both). Our Monitor wind vane does
the steering, but it doesn't know how to adjust the sails, so that's our
job (in addition to staying on our feet and on board). We prepare
and freeze our meals ahead of time, but even warming up some
stew on a pitching and rolling boat requires Olympics-level feats of
dexterity. It is a life of constant lurching, rolling, and bouncing, and
the rule is that one hand must always be hanging onto something
stationary. Some cruisers love passages; others hate them. We fall
somewhere in between, with Joan closer to the "love" group and Jan
definitely leaning toward the other side.
The passage from Bora Bora to Tonga is 1500 miles, and with an
average speed of 5-6 mph, that is a long trip. We had hoped to visit
some of the Cook Islands, but the wind gods had other plans. Sailing
to the Cooks meant bashing straight into wind and seas (also known
as "beating"). And as all good sailors know, "Gentlemen never beat."
Neither do gentlewomen. So we set a more westerly course and
planned a stop at the tiny island nation of Niue, 1100 miles away.
We had strong winds most of the trip, which is good. We also had
steep, rolling seas, which is not so good. Following are some of the
immutable Laws of Passages that we learned.
So, sail away with us to South Pacific paradises. However, you might
want to use Boeing 747s to meet us at your desired destination,
instead of doing an ocean passage. Please bring wine.
and Murphy's Laws of ocean passages
When we completed the 3100-mile trip from the Galapagos to the
Marquesas, we had this silly idea that we were done with long ocean
passages. Ha. Somehow we failed to notice all the open water
between French Polynesia and Tonga, between Tonga and Fiji,
between Fiji and . . . well, you get the picture. Lock down those
hatches.
Passages mean sailing 24/7 for days, even weeks, over open, rolly
seas. We share watches so someone is always in the cockpit and
awake (preferably but not always both). Our Monitor wind vane does
the steering, but it doesn't know how to adjust the sails, so that's our
job (in addition to staying on our feet and on board). We prepare
and freeze our meals ahead of time, but even warming up some
stew on a pitching and rolling boat requires Olympics-level feats of
dexterity. It is a life of constant lurching, rolling, and bouncing, and
the rule is that one hand must always be hanging onto something
stationary. Some cruisers love passages; others hate them. We fall
somewhere in between, with Joan closer to the "love" group and Jan
definitely leaning toward the other side.
The passage from Bora Bora to Tonga is 1500 miles, and with an
average speed of 5-6 mph, that is a long trip. We had hoped to visit
some of the Cook Islands, but the wind gods had other plans. Sailing
to the Cooks meant bashing straight into wind and seas (also known
as "beating"). And as all good sailors know, "Gentlemen never beat."
Neither do gentlewomen. So we set a more westerly course and
planned a stop at the tiny island nation of Niue, 1100 miles away.
We had strong winds most of the trip, which is good. We also had
steep, rolling seas, which is not so good. Following are some of the
immutable Laws of Passages that we learned.
- When the hatches are closed and the cabin is airless and
stuffy, no seas will wash over the decks. However, the minute
a hatch is opened, a huge wave will smash into the boat,
throwing a cascade of sea water into the cabin. - An item left unattended on a counter will launch itself across
the cabin in one second. An unattended item with liquid in it
will launch itself in a millisecond. - A pan secured onto a gimbaled stove will not become
airborne. However, the uncooked scrambled eggs in the pan
will instantly launch. - A nonskid plate will not slide across a counter. However, the
spaghetti (sauce and noodles) on said plate will fly off the
plate and spread across the counter, oozing into the top-
loading refrigerator Joan cleaned the day before. - The number of bruises (aka "boat bites") Jan acquires during
a passage exceeds the number of bruises Joan acquires by a
ratio of 5 to 1. - Things break or fail only at night, never in daylight. Things are
especially likely to break or fail if it is a very dark, moonless
night with the boat pitching around in steep, confused seas. - The boat is most likely to make a sudden, unexpected, violent
lurch when:
- Someone has lifted the floorboards and is practically
standing on her head in the bilge, trying to diagnose or
fix a problem. (Of course, this is always in the dark of
night; see #6 above.) - Someone opens a cupboard door. The sudden lurch
will send all contents of said cupboard flying across the
cabin. - Someone is trying to warm up some soup, rinse the
dishes, cook some rice, wash her face, brush her teeth,
climb into the bunk, or perform any of the other usual
tasks that on land take no thought at all.
- Things go bump in the night. (Actually, they bang, rattle, and
crash, day and night.) It doesn't matter how many place mats,
towels, or hot pads you stuff into cabinets, or how many times
you rearrange everything--as soon as you turn your back, the
contents will once again proceed to bump, bang, rattle, and
crash. Sleeping through this is a definite exercise in Zen
meditation. - One sees ships, which can really hurt you, only at night. In
these waters the crew doesn't respond to our radio calls--we
assume they are sleeping. It always looks like they will mow us
down. It certainly interrupts one's reading time on watch.
So, sail away with us to South Pacific paradises. However, you might
want to use Boeing 747s to meet us at your desired destination,
instead of doing an ocean passage. Please bring wine.
August 5 - 18th: The island nation of Niue and
swimming with a humpback whale
Yes!! We actually swam with a humpback whale. He was
floating just below the surface and we swam to within a
few feet of him. Then we all hovered there looking at
each other, the whale gazing at us with his huge,
partially lidded eye--an eye filled with intelligence and
mild curiosity. That was a gaze we will never forget. Jan
swears he winked at her. After a few minutes, he flexed
his giant body and coasted slowly away. We followed him
in an Zodiac and slipped into the water with him a few
more times, watching with awe the smooth grace and
power of that huge body.
All of this happened off the coast of Niue, the tiny island
we reached after 7 rolly days on the open seas. Our first
impression of Niue was a bit of a shock--we'd been kind
of hoping for something nice--you know, maybe a
protected anchorage behind a reef, a sandy beach,
maybe a few palm trees. Instead we were greeted by a
huge, ugly concrete wharf, with stacks of fuel containers
and freight car containers. It looked like something out of
Barrow, Alaska. But first impressions aren't always to be
trusted--we quickly fell in love with Niue, freight car
containers and all, and spent two weeks there.
We'd never heard of Niue, and would guess you haven't
either. It is an island in the middle of the southwest
Pacific, east of Tonga, northwest of the Cook Islands,
southwest of the Samoa Islands, and a several-day
passage from any of those places. Captain Cook found
this little speck in the middle of the ocean twice; how he
managed that, I'll never understand. Niue consists of
100 square miles of low, wooded island, rising 220 feet
above sea level at its highest point. It used to be a New
Zealand protectorate, but is now an independent nation
of 2000 people. It's mostly subsistence living on the
island, the primary employment being government jobs.
New Zealand provides military protection and economic
support. We don't think Niue sent a team to the Olympics.
There are no protected harbors or beaches on Niue.
Instead, the jagged limestone shores, gouged by the
incessant seas into caves, caverns, and chasms, drops
abruptly to depths of 90 feet and more, making it
impossible to anchor safely. Instead, cruisers tie to
mooring buoys--which we hope are reliable. The water is
stunningly, unbelievably clear. We could clearly see
individual rocks more than 90 feet below our boat.
Getting to shore on Niue presents some interesting
challenges. The only access is the huge wharf, which
rises 7+ feet above the surging water. You have to bring
your dinghy alongside and then take a flying leap onto
some steps, scrambling to the top before a big ol' wave
sweeps you away. Then you have to attach a huge rusty
hook to your dinghy and haul it onto the wharf with a
crane. There were some pretty exciting times on the
wharf, especially in the dark after a party at the "Niue
Yacht Club" (of which Joan is a proud, card-carrying
member).
We paddled our kayaks up and down the coastline,
looking for more whales to swim with. With our British
friends Barry and Sue, we rented bikes and explored
Niue. And with other more musically inclined cruisers, we
enjoyed a sausage feed and jam session at the Niue
Yacht Club. Jan played the kazoo, much to the
amazement of the crowd. (I can't believe a 62 year old
woman would actually do this---but they don't know her
the way we do.)
It was hard to leave Niue, but on to Tonga.
swimming with a humpback whale
Yes!! We actually swam with a humpback whale. He was
floating just below the surface and we swam to within a
few feet of him. Then we all hovered there looking at
each other, the whale gazing at us with his huge,
partially lidded eye--an eye filled with intelligence and
mild curiosity. That was a gaze we will never forget. Jan
swears he winked at her. After a few minutes, he flexed
his giant body and coasted slowly away. We followed him
in an Zodiac and slipped into the water with him a few
more times, watching with awe the smooth grace and
power of that huge body.
All of this happened off the coast of Niue, the tiny island
we reached after 7 rolly days on the open seas. Our first
impression of Niue was a bit of a shock--we'd been kind
of hoping for something nice--you know, maybe a
protected anchorage behind a reef, a sandy beach,
maybe a few palm trees. Instead we were greeted by a
huge, ugly concrete wharf, with stacks of fuel containers
and freight car containers. It looked like something out of
Barrow, Alaska. But first impressions aren't always to be
trusted--we quickly fell in love with Niue, freight car
containers and all, and spent two weeks there.
We'd never heard of Niue, and would guess you haven't
either. It is an island in the middle of the southwest
Pacific, east of Tonga, northwest of the Cook Islands,
southwest of the Samoa Islands, and a several-day
passage from any of those places. Captain Cook found
this little speck in the middle of the ocean twice; how he
managed that, I'll never understand. Niue consists of
100 square miles of low, wooded island, rising 220 feet
above sea level at its highest point. It used to be a New
Zealand protectorate, but is now an independent nation
of 2000 people. It's mostly subsistence living on the
island, the primary employment being government jobs.
New Zealand provides military protection and economic
support. We don't think Niue sent a team to the Olympics.
There are no protected harbors or beaches on Niue.
Instead, the jagged limestone shores, gouged by the
incessant seas into caves, caverns, and chasms, drops
abruptly to depths of 90 feet and more, making it
impossible to anchor safely. Instead, cruisers tie to
mooring buoys--which we hope are reliable. The water is
stunningly, unbelievably clear. We could clearly see
individual rocks more than 90 feet below our boat.
Getting to shore on Niue presents some interesting
challenges. The only access is the huge wharf, which
rises 7+ feet above the surging water. You have to bring
your dinghy alongside and then take a flying leap onto
some steps, scrambling to the top before a big ol' wave
sweeps you away. Then you have to attach a huge rusty
hook to your dinghy and haul it onto the wharf with a
crane. There were some pretty exciting times on the
wharf, especially in the dark after a party at the "Niue
Yacht Club" (of which Joan is a proud, card-carrying
member).
We paddled our kayaks up and down the coastline,
looking for more whales to swim with. With our British
friends Barry and Sue, we rented bikes and explored
Niue. And with other more musically inclined cruisers, we
enjoyed a sausage feed and jam session at the Niue
Yacht Club. Jan played the kazoo, much to the
amazement of the crowd. (I can't believe a 62 year old
woman would actually do this---but they don't know her
the way we do.)
It was hard to leave Niue, but on to Tonga.
View through the companionway.
Who's driving this boat?!
Who's driving this boat?!
Poled-out headsail.
Checking our position on
Nobeltec, our electronic
chart plotter.
Nobeltec, our electronic
chart plotter.
Jan, trying to cook while
clinging to the counters as the
boat lurches and rolls.
clinging to the counters as the
boat lurches and rolls.
Tell us, Jan--What do you
really think about ocean
passages?
really think about ocean
passages?
| Our first view of Niue. Hmmmm. |
A supply ship unloading cargo.
| Casteele on a mooring buoy off Niue's wharf. |
| Launching "Dude" off the wharf. |
| Biking with Barry and Sue from "Crazy Diamond." A couple of wonderfully hardy Brits. |
| Jan had the best burger of her life at this funky little place called the "Washaway Cafe." |
| Wild surf and rugged coastline of Niue. Spectacular. |
| A traditional Polynesian sailing vessel--two kayak-style hulls lashed together. A group from the Cook Islands sailed it to Pago Pago for an Pacific arts festival and stopped at Niue on the way home. No high tech stuff on this vessel. |
| An oasis of sand deep in the jagged rock cliffs. |
| Cruisers' night out at the Niue Yacht Club. |
| Beer or ice cream? Ice cream or wine? These are the tough everyday decisions we must make. RIGHT!!!! |
| Jan, with her rattle and duckbill kazoo, jamming with the guys. Jan practiced all day to get her Quack Quack Rattle Rattle just right. |
| Launching the dinghies in the dark. |
Quite often, we don't know which is up
or down.........Such is our life.
or down.........Such is our life.
| Our Swedish friends Roger and Anna, from sailing vessel Crux. Sailing with cruisers from all over the world is one of the wonderful aspects of this life style. |