Arrived Savu Savu!

Arrived savu Savu at 3 am Monday morning - enough light to very cautiously find our way in - looks a nice place to explore -will get some sleep before clearing in.

Nanuku passage

8am Position 16 degrees 36 minutes S, 178 degrees 35 minutes W
Sailing at 7 knots course 281, wind 20 knots from 100, moderate seas, poor visibility in heavy rain!  5 miles from the turning point towards the entrance to Nanuku passage between the reefs and islands East of Fiji, looking at charts and cruising guides to see whether night arrival to Savusavu is OK, and, if not, whether there is good safe shelter off savu savu for the night (not a good idea to sail these waters close inshore at night, when charts are not always accurate and reefs wont be visible). At this speed we will not arrive in daylight.  Forecast is for 20 knots ESE, showers.

Striped marlin

Saturday position - 17degrees 42 minutes S; 176 degrees 14 minutes W.
Speed 7.4 course 300
Wind 16 knots from 116
158 miles to Nanuku passage, 278 to Savu Savu

When we left Tonga, its was on the first sunny day we had in ages.  An hour out we were distracted by catching 7 yellow fin Tuna (6 of them double strikes, meaning both rods went at the same time) - we only kept the best two - and then were entertained by a pod of whales nearby.  Just as we thought we had better get back on course towards Fiji, we were distracted again by hooking onto, playing and landing a beautiful striped Marlin - which we released.
Then the clouds and rain returned and it has been showery and cloudy since.  Forecast is for the weather to clear this afternoon.
Should sight outlying islands of Fiji tomorrow morning.

Leaving Tonga

Satphone report 10.30 local time.
Just leaving neiafu harour, Vava'u, Tonga, heading for Savu Savu in Fiji.  Weather forecast to be light S to SE today, becoming SE 15 - 20 tomorrow with moderate swell and sea conditions.  Hopefully three days sail to Fiji!

Tonga: Swimming with Whales in Vava'u

Early one morning, in the torrential rain, we headed out whale watching. The whale watching boat was like a really big dinghy, completely open to the pouring rain.  We huddled in the corner with our friends Tim and Cathy from the boat Helena May, in our wetsuits and wet weather jackets.  

With 2 huge 130HP outboard motors, we sped around the Vava’u Islands looking for whales.   It was lovely to have a tour of some of the more remote islands, but it would have been even better if we weren’t shivering and turning blue.

The day flew by, speeding around the islands with heavy rain pelting our faces like lots of little bullets while we munched on bikkies provided by the skipper.  By 2pm, we still hadn’t found a whale.  Feeling a little disappointed, and a little hypothermic, we began heading back towards home. 

Just before we headed into the harbour, we finally spotted a humpback whale.  With arms and legs in all directions, we put on our masks and flippers and threw ourselves over the side, following the instructions of the whale swimming professionals.  The sea felt surprisingly warm and we kicked as fast as we could to keep up with the instructor.  Suddenly, I turned my head to the side and there was a huge humpback whale only a few metres from us. 

We had been told not to move and just float while looking at the whale.  Completely relaxed, he rolled over and played on the waters surface then came even closer, seemingly curious and wanting to investigate us.  After ten minutes or so, he swam underneath us and disappeared into the deep blue.

The whale surfaced another four or five times giving us more opportunities to swim, taking turns with the other people on the tour.   Each time we swum with the whale, he got more curious and confident.  Gary was in the water with him, when he decided to get a good look, heading directly for Gary, within an arms distance, and then missing hitting Tim in the face with his tail by what seemed like centimetres.

With everyone in the boat now completely blue and ready for a warm shower, we headed home.  

(Note:  Video to load above - may take some time, but worth it!)

Tonga: Swallows Cave

Cruising in Vava'u is all about the Moorings Chart.  Visitors no longer have to struggle with pronouncing the long polynesian name of anchorages, instead referring to them simply by their number on the Moorings Chart.

With Moorings Chart in hand (thanks to my Dad who delivered it during his recent visit) we headed to Anchorage 7.  While it is a very pretty bay, we have been spoilt with so many perfect white sand beaches and out of this world snorkelling, that this bay only gets a 5 or 6 on our 1 to 10 scale. 

The bay, however, has the best access to the famous Swallows Cave, only a 10 minute dinghy ride away.  So off we sped in our dinghy, following the coastline and looking out for pretty birds or coral heads as we went, when a strange bird caught my eye.

                                 

                                 

We looked a bit closer and found a whole tree dripping with fruit bats, basking in the midday sun.

                                                

                                                

                                                

On we sped towards Swallows Cave, which was easy to find with it's wide, dramatic opening. We arrived just in time to have the cave to ourselves for a few pictures, before a hoard of Australian tourists arrived.  

Gary, with his extraordinarily long free-diving fins, wowed the kids by diving down 15 metres to the cave bottom, the only sound on the surface being excited high pitched screeches.

We gave Anchorage 7 the big tick, and headed off to continue exploring the islands the next day.

Tonga: Neiafu Township, Vava'u

To check into Tonga you are required to tie up to a very dodgy concrete commercial dock, scramble up 2 metres of vertical concrete to get ashore, and then lower 5 officials onboard.  Once onboard, most of the officials are really nice.  One official, however, after inspecting our alcohol cabinet asks for a bottle of wine.  We laugh and try to pretend it was a joke, but then he asks for half a bottle instead.  We look awkward and he then demands "at least" a beer, which we do give him.  After finishing off his beer, he asks for some of our ropes.  We don't have any spare rope and luckily he leaves without pushing the issue further.

Feeling a little disenchanted, we find a mooring and head into town. 

Neiafu township is, dare I say it, fairly charmless but full of lovely people.  We have a drink at the Bellavista Cafe and the owner couldn't have been nicer, offering a wealth of information and even her phone if we needed to call anyone local. 

The store stocks hardly anything and even less of what you might actually need.  But that's okay, because there is a market...if only the ladies charged something resembling affordable prices ($10 for 5 potatoes, $1 per very green tomato or $5 for a rotting lettuce).  It's a real shame because, had it had been affordable, I would have been inclined to try some of the more unusual fruits and veges they had.  We decide that we are happy to eat rice and tinned veges for our stay in Tonga.

After only a brief stop in Neiafu, we head out to the outer islands of Vava'u.

Bora Bora to Tonga: A tale of calm to rough

Our trip to Tonga from Bora Bora was broken into two parts: idyllic ocean sailing and rough “count your prayers” kind of ocean sailing.

The first six days were fabulous.  Although we were going painfully slow compared to most of our normal ocean passages, we were enjoying the ride.  We listened to podcasts of Hamish and Andy, BBC documentaries, and Radio New Zealand – being educated and entertained at the same time.  We were lucky that there was little rain and we slept on deck watching the stars every night. 

We knew from the start that our last couple of days was going to be different.  When we left Bora Bora, our weather forecasts were telling us that we were going to get 25kts of breeze for those last days but a normal sea state (about a 2 metre swell, but with a long interval).   We don’t even blink at the idea of 25kts, it isn’t a concern at all.  What really matters when you are at sea isn’t necessarily the wind strength, it’s the sea state that goes along with it.  As we got further into our voyage, the weather forecasts began to tell us it was going to be more wind and bigger seas.  Because the sea state for the preceding 6 days had been so idyllic, we didn’t believe it could get significantly worse.  Boy, were we wrong.

On Sunday afternoon, the wind began increasing and the seas began to build.  During the night, a squall came through with some heavy rain and I headed below to keep warm while Gary continued his watch.  On Monday, it just got worse.  The skies had clouded over and were a mean grey, the seas grew and grew until they were over 4 metres high, towering over the boat.  Then it just got worse from there.  While the average waves were 4.8 metres high, you expect to see, and we did, waves up to double this.

We had seen big seas before when we were off the Colombian coast.  Massive 6 metre towers of water that reduced your world from seeing from horizon to horizon, to only the waves around you.  But that time, the sun was shining, there wasn't much wind and the waves were ordered.  I remember feeling at awe looking at the beauty of them, with the sun shining through the crests as they broke, and seeing that Caribbean turquoise colour.  

This time, it wasn’t like that at all.  The sky was grey and rainy, the wind was howling, the waves were dark and had veins of froth in them, they were breaking everywhere, from all directions and smashing into and over the boat.  The forecast had been changed from 25kts to a constant 30kts and the sea state “rough”.  The cockpit filled with water a couple of times from a wave breaking broadside, so much that the slop of waves forced its way down the companion way.

Gary has always dreamed of single-handed sailing, so when he suggested I stay below to keep dry, I agreed.  From down below, the noise of the waves smashing into the hull was like a tree trunk being rammed into the boat.  The boat was being thrown around so much that I had to crawl to get to the bathroom, but even then was thrown into the sides of cabinets.  

But sometimes, Gary needed my help up on deck.  Each time I came on deck, the waves had grown even more than the last time.  They got so big and messy that I felt paralysed looking at them.  By this time, we found out later, the local Tongan authorities had revised their forecast to be 30-35kts and the sea state rough to very rough.

At one stage we had to take down the main completely: even the tiny reefed part was too much.  To do this, you have to turn the boat into the wind, and also the waves.  I was on helm.  Turning into such massive and breaking waves is not fun.  As you go side on to the waves, water is coming in right at you and it feels like the boat is going to be rolled.  Then you keep on turning until you are looking right at the waves coming at you.  The boat feels vertical as you go up the waves, then the top of the wave breaks over the boat and washes over you, then it is the vertical trip straight down the wave.  So at this point, Gary has to go forward to pull the sail down.  I see the waves smashing over him and he clings on to anything he can.  He then has to climb the two steps on the mast to reach the sail, the size of the steps being not much bigger than a bolt. The boat is being thrown about and I am just hoping he isn't flung off the mast.  He finishes pulling down the main quickly and makes it back to the cockpit safely, at which time I dash back downstairs.

We made it to Tonga just on midnight.  Unfortunately, the charts aren’t accurate, there are small islands in the middle of the channel that are unlight, navigational lights that are meant to be there weren’t, and there was no moonlight.  We inched our way through the maze of islands, squinting our eyes to try and differentiate between islands and the mainland behind them.  Finally, we made it up the channel and into a sheltered cove.  Despite it being very late, we ate, drank water and showered, not having done any of those for a good few days.

After arriving and talking to other boats that had made it through the same weather we found out that some boats had hove to for 36 hours, some had run to Samoa while others tied up to a mooring in Niue and headed for shore.  We were fortunate to get through so unscathed. 

Arrived Tonga

Arrived at Vava'u , Tonga at 2300  - anchored in a calm bay just outside Neiafu harbour, something to eat and drink, then sleep - what a relief after a really rough time at sea.
Well done Toodles getting us here safe and sound!

Rough Night

Position 18 degrees 24 minutes S; 172 degrees 08.9 minutes W
sailing at 8 knots course 270 degrees
Wind 30 knots from 118 degrees
104 miles to go
Seriously rough last night with the wind 30 knots and gusting well into the thirties, very steep seas on the beam, wind has eased down to a steady thirty knots, but forecast to increase again this afternoon.
Looking forward to getting in to port sometime tonight.

Day 8 Bora Bora - Tonga

Position 17 degrees 30 minutes S; 169 degrees 09.5 minutes W

Sailing at 7.7 knots course 252
Wind 23 knots from 134
281 miles to Tonga
The wind has arrived - rising from 5-10 knots to 20-25 knots, gusting to 30 knots in 5 minutes. seas becoming confused and building quickly, raining in the squalls.  much more wind to come tonight and tomorrow.
Sailing with two reefs in the main and reefed genoa.
Hoping to reach Tonga tomorrow night.