Captain's Log #17: Christmas in the Sun

Erica and Jeff enjoying Tonga

e spent a month in the Kingdom of Tonga, and if the cyclone season wasn't so fast in approaching, I would have stretched that month into several more. I will remember Tonga for its people and its perfect anchorage's. It is a place of ever-present smiles and warm relaxation. Even the weather reports made you smile. Each night I would get an update via email from the Tongan weather station which began something like "tonight the Kingdom will be mostly fine...".
Alas, I am not one to test Saoirse in the force of a hurricane so we left the placid, picture perfect waters of Tonga and all its beauty for New Zealand, which lies far enough south to be relatively safe from cyclones. To get there we had to cross an infamous 1000 mile stretch of ocean that has caught many a vessel in it's snare. All the weather in this part of the world comes roiling up off the Tasman Sea and meets no obstruction other than New Zealand until it slams into South America 6000 miles to the east. It is a short passage that nearly every sailor experiences some form of anxiety before leaving. Weather faxes run longer, caution in every voice on the radio, fellow sailors comparing notes and wishing one another well. Every day assessments are made on the "right" time to go. There are morning radio "nets", where all the boats that are making the run get together for a chat and try to feel comfortable about making the decision to leave. Mostly this overload of information just increases the anxiety level until you can cope no more and you just take off.
So we left Tonga on November 27th. Just to our south was a passing low front that had pounded us with biblical proportions of rain all morning and had turned into a mass of booming thunder and lightning. Not wishing to get hit by a million volts of heavenly energy, we disconnected all the electronics and hovered at the storm's edge for almost 6 hours. By nightfall we had made less than 5 miles good, and my patience finally broke. Jeff, A good friend of mine from home was on the helm.
"Let's go for it". He said.
"Sure". I said.
"Really want to?". He said.
"Sure". I said.

We were obviously ready to take this on. So we eased her south and purposefully took Saoirse into the maelstrom. We should have waited a bit longer. Two hours later, in 35 knot winds and lightning strikes around us every 20 to 30 seconds we put a ten foot rip in the mainsail. No worries, we'll just go on the staysail and small section of the jib. Then the wind died. No worries, we'll just motor. Then the alternator bracket just sheared right off.

Gavin enjoying "Wing on Wing" Surfing

So by morning of day one we had no mainsail and no motor. We had made 60 miles in the first 24 hours- tough start. The wind then cooperated a bit, (there being none of it) so we got the mainsail all sewn up and continued on. Good friends of ours were about 60 miles behind us (John and Stephi) so we started a regular check-in with them in case I couldn't fix the engine and we had no wind. In that case they could sail right by us and laugh hysterically, important in the keeping up of morale. So day three I spend mostly cussing at the engine and finally came up with a bracket made from an aluminum clipboard. We now had a workable engine and my crew were maybe going to stave off the mutiny for another day.

Day four we found ourselves surfing along at 9-10 knots before the jib exploded. OK, no big deal- we'll just continue with the staysail, albeit a little more slowly. That morning John provided us with some radio humor by stabbing his leatherman over an inch into his thigh. Apparently he nicked an artery and couldn't get the bleeding to stop. This would not normally be a humorous event but for the thick British accent and his self-effacing nature- that and his constant catching of large, delicious ocean going fish, of which I had never caught any, much to his amusement.

On the fifth day we received details of John's injury just after dinner, to everyone's delight, and we caught and promptly lost our fish big fish. This was a remarkable fish story because I actually saw it happen. Something huge swam right under me as I was relieving myself. I said, "hey, a huge fish is swimming right under me." Then I said "hey, it's going for our lure." Then the thing yanked my 500 pound test line, shock cord and tie knot right off the boat and swam away. I said "shit."

On day six we landed a 35 pound Mahi-Mahi and all was well in the world. On day eight we made landfall. That day we tied Saoirse up and strode with purpose to the closest pub and congratulated ourselves on a job well done. We've made it a third of the way around this planet and only broken 90% of the boat and 100% of my bank account. I couldn't imagine it any other way.